The Beginning

Genesis 12: 1 “Get out of your country, from your family and from your father’s house, to a land that I will show you…I will bless you and make your name great; and you shall be a blessing..”

Sanibona (isiZulu for “Hello”) from Johannesburg, South Africa! I have been in Jozi (as it is affectionately called by young South Africans) since Jan. 11, 2010. Already, this new year has certainly presented a new location, challenges, and perspective for me. Three weeks into my journey and I feel myself settling in quite well. However, my transition has not been and is not without numerous, um, shall I say, “experiences” thus far…

First eye-opening experience occurred well before I even landed on South African soil. Midway through my 17 hour flight from Dulles Airport to Dakar, Senegal to Johannesburg, my salt and pepper-haired seat mate, a White woman from Cape Town, decided to engage me in conversation. Engage is a generous verb, in this case. You know the type of people who talk so fast and so much that they don’t really give the receiver a chance to reciprocate conversation? Yeah, she was THAT person. Anyway, she could not have possibly heard my voice in her deluge of words long enough to place my accent to a particular part of the world, but her line of conversation clued me into the fact that she assumed that I was:

1. South African

2. from Cape Town; and

3. Coloured


(Let me interrupt this story with a Quick History Lesson) South Africa has a very rigid and hierarchical race classification structure, predominantly perpetuated by apartheid laws of the past Nationalist Party of South Africa (for more info, look up “South African apartheid laws 1949-70, 1913, 1923). By law, one was classified as White, Indian, Coloured, or Black (the privileged to the disenfranchised). One’s racial status through law determined where one could or could not live, work, attend school, and what kind of education one could learn. This racial distinction dictated who one could or couldn’t marry, what sort of professional or trade skills one could acquire, and whether or not one could vote, among other depravities. Very similar in theory and practice to Jim Crow segregation of the States. And, just like segregation between Whites and Blacks in the US, apartheid spawned a culture of inequality, unequal resource distribution, and disempowerment of the darker peoples. Generations of living subservient to those whom the law deemed superior manifested not only in physical aspects of poor housing conditions, under-developed educational facilities, the deliberate breakdown of family structures, etc… but also the internalization of inferiority, anger, fear, and hopelessness for many. Like Pavlov’s concept of conditioning, the lower races became synonymous with terms like uneducated, unemployed, thieves, dishonest, unintelligent, and unsophisticated. Those considered “Coloured” were considered one step up from “Black”.*

*I’ve used the past tense in this paragraph, but many stereotypes remain the same today

How was a distinction made between the two groups, you ask? By very trivial and Willie Lynch type of division tactics highlighting physical features determined by a “racial advisory board”, like:

• Coloureds have sloping shoulders and shoulder blades

• Blacks have tighter-coiled hair and walk with slumped backs

• Coloureds are neater in appearance than Blacks and are lighter-skinned

And the list goes on and on! (I suggest reading Mark Mathabane’s Kaffir Boy
[shout out to Mayla H!] or Nelson Mandela’s Long Walk to Freedom for more insight). Now, considering that the Nationalist party wasn’t voted out of power until 1994, it goes without saying that stereotypes of each group still prevail. Back to my story…

This woman on the plane didn’t know me, hadn’t heard me say anything that would signify where I’m from. But, she took one look at my neat locs, (which grow in a loose curl pattern), my brown skin, noted that I had the resources to travel from the States to South Africa, and may have noticed that I chose fish over chicken for my meal (because all true “Blacks” eat chicken, right?) and decided that I was not Black, but Coloured. “Welcome to South Africa, Mia…”

I received a different reaction from the Black South African airport staff when I landed. As soon as I stepped into the airport lobby, many began speaking to me in isiZulu (there are 11 official languages spoken in South Africa, including English). isiZulu is commonly spoken by South African Blacks, so to those whom I’ve encountered, I am immediately addressed not in English, but in whatever mother tongue I am assumed to speak. Many are taken aback when I answer in English. Kind of how in the States, it may be expected that those we meet must speak the language of the land, huh? Food for thought…

Johannesburg, South Africa is not the city that many uninformed individuals would associate with sterotypical  “Africa” as perpetuated in media. It is not jungle-laden, people do not wear loin-clothes or swing in trees like Tarzan. Like many other regions of the continent, however, it is not without its social challenges. Yes, South Africa probably has the highest prevalence of HIV/AIDS in the world, with stats tripling those of India and doubling neighboring Zimbabwe. This issue compounded by seemingly lack of opportunity for many young South Africans who drop out of school for myriad of reasons, poor delivery of services such as water and electricity in surrounding rural and urban settings, like Orange Farm (pictured above) , and the underlying criminal element drives some to desperate measures. But the spirit of the country, the creativity especially of youth, and the countless initiatives promoting policy changes and individual uplift prevail. As the largest industrialized city of the continent, Johannesburg is very much like a Philadelphia or D.C. as far as its metropolitan district is concerned. People dress as those in Western societies, for the most part. Much of American music is blasted from car radios (and most sounds just as ridiculous here as it does in the States) Unlike Philadelphia or D.C., it does not have skyscrapers, many sidewalks, or SEPTA (or Metro). Which brings me to the topic of my next “experience”…………..transportation.
Until June, I am residing with my family who live in Fourways, Johannesburg which can be likened to what Chestnut Hill is to Philadelphia or what Silver Spring is to D.C. However, the HIV/AIDS prevention campaign and advocacy organization for whom I work is located in the Sandton area (metropolitan district) of Jozi. By car, it takes 25 minutes to get from Fourways to Sandton, without traffic, and 45 minutes with. During my first week, the organization generously provided a driver to take me to and from work. In this way, I could become familiar with the route. The second week, I was left to my own devices. Without a car, I have braved the local informal public transportation option: the taxi-bus.

These taxis are really just very old minivan type vehicles that fit 16 averaged-sized individuals comfortably. The taxis I’ve been on are holding more like 18-20 people! Like SEPTA or Metro, the taxis run between the major residential areas and the business districts. Unlike Septa, there aren’t any designated street routes to which taxi drivers must adhere, which means there are no predetermined pickup/drop-off stops either! To get off, one must holler, “AFTA ROBOT!” or “BEFORE ROBOT!”, to the driver (robot=traffic light). Fare, which is between 8-10 Rand, equal to about $1.20-$1.50, is not handed directly to the driver, but is passed to the person in front of you who may pass it to someone else who gives it to the driver. And God help you if you do not have exact change or at least small bills! You risk not getting change back unless the driver or someone on the taxi has it. If you sit in the front row with the driver, you are expected to not only handle the money on the driver’s behalf, but you better be good at math because you must count all the money that is given compared to the number of people on the bus, as well as make sure that all have paid and are given the correct change. PLUS, that front seat assistant has to be able to communicate with passengers in isiZulu!

A passenger has to be vigilant of where the driver is actually driving before boarding the taxi and while driving. For instance, to get to work, I have to catch a taxi from Fourways to Randburg and transfer at Randburg to another taxi to Sandton. To get onto the first taxi, I must walk about a mile to the main road (far in the distance as illustrated in pic on right), stand on the corner, and fashion my right thumb and pointer finger into the shape of a lower-case “r” indicating that I want to go to Randburg. To get to Fourways, one holds up four fingers. Other signals I’ve seen (but haven’t figured out yet), are the “three fingers up, thumb and pointer in O shape” sign, the “right fist over left fist” sign, and the “upside-down number 1” hand signal. Initially, I was not aware of the hand signs and figured that all taxis went down the main road. WRONG! The first time I tried the taxi, I ended up in downtown Jozi, about 20 minutes from where I needed to be. Getting off a taxi is a greater challenge. One would expect that drivers take the same route back, but in the opposite direction. Another incorrect assumption! Once, a driver went waaaaaaaayyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy past the stop I am accustomed to getting off at. Fuming, I marched uphill about 2 miles back to my stop (good thing I carry “commuter shoes”!). I learned the hard way that TAXI DRIVERS MAKE UP THEIR OWN ROUTE! Not only do they stray from the roads previously taken, but they make up their own road rules too! Sometimes, drivers may even decide that they do not want to continue driving to their destination and simply turn back around, making all passengers get out! They drive on designated pedestrian areas, on road shoulders, up hills on the sides of roads, cut in front of unsuspecting fellow drivers, run red lights, drive in turning lanes and then come dangerously close to ramming into other automobiles as they cut back into straight lanes, and speed like demons, all to avoid traffic and maximize the time they have to make more money. All the while, I hold on for dear life, try to look unaffected and not out of place, and adjust to the fact that people drive on the left and not the right side of the road. However, as crazy and unpredictable as the taxis are, they do get me where I need to go. (Here's my view from the back of a taxi).

Overall, I am very much enjoying myself and this vitamin-D rich atmosphere! One benefit to being without the comforts of familiarity is that I can concentrate on my spiritual, personal, and professional development without distraction of my cell phone, unlimited access to email, my car, or even relationships with people who are more distracting than anything else. Instead, much of my time outside of work, hanging with the family, or church, is spent alone and in silence, meditation, prayer, exercising, admiring myself in the mirror , reading, walking outside observing God’s African artwork of nature, getting lost in the street markets, spontaneous dancing (again, in the mirror) in the privacy of my room, and just listening to the outside and within. I am thoroughly enjoying my company.

Being quiet is one of the best ways I am able to commune with God, focus my thoughts on that which I feel ordained to pursue. True, one does not have to travel great physical distances to pursue peace and settings which inspire introspection, but it certainly does help. In my contemplation, I wonder what tomorrow will bring as a result of my today. Will I make a career out of international public health? Will I want to continue traveling or return home right away? Am I doing the right thing? What about my family and friends? Will my future significant other be revealed to me in this time? Through the process of time, all will happen as it is supposed to. I am currently reflecting on Kahlil Gibran’s concept of Time, as explained in The Prophet: “…if in your thought you must measure time into seasons, let each season encircle all other seasons, and let today embrace the past with remembrance and the future with longing…” I’m looking forward to what this season of my life will yield. Peace and Love…

Stay tuned for the next post! Topics I’ll be writing on will include my adjustment to South African lingo and languages, bicycle backpacking through the historical township of Soweto, and my encounters with the South African man!