Division…it is something that we are taught early in our education, in the
foundation phase around grades 1 and 2. Our enthusiastic teachers help to
demonstrate the concept of division with play dough and pizza (who KNEW that
learning could actually be fun?). It continues to be taught throughout our
schooling days, teachers edifying us on fractions and on how to do long
division. Division even creeps up on us as math becomes so foreign I’m really
not sure why they still consider it math (Calculus, you are your own beast).
So, yes, division, in many senses of the word is a mathematical term. However,
what other implications, what other meanings does the word division
carry?
Division is something that I have thought about a lot in my time
here thus far in South Africa. I think about it in many aspects of my life
here; it is something that exists in many facets of everyday life, whether
people would like to admit it or not. I think that division is something that
needs to be discussed in order to, hopefully one day, be rid of.
A few
months back, I was visiting and helping another PCV/my closest friend – Jillian
(“Xongile”). We are working together in doing teacher workshops at our
respective schools since we figured two heads are always better than one (Jill
is better at Science/Maths while I have the English/Education edge; plus,
Jillian really wants to get her idea of “Friends Corps” off the ground and
running). While I was at Jillian’s site, she put on a brilliant lesson
discussing the idea of “labeling,” trying to get her Grade 7 learners to realize
that we should not judge a person based off of looks/appearance. So often, we
label people. Before getting to know a person, we make snap judgments based on
what someone is wearing, where someone is from, how someone speaks, what
language someone speaks, how old someone is, what skin color they are, etc. If
you are currently sitting in your chair and reading, thinking “I have never made
a snap judgment before,” kudus to you, really. You are a much better person
than I am since this has sadly become so engrained into our culture. With
labeling, we make divisions. We put people into different groups, separating
“us” from “them.” Once this division is made, it is hard to go back. Prejudices
are created, discrimination begins. This lesson really got me thinking about
division based off of things like race, age, gender, wealth, etc.
In
South Africa, Apartheid (literally “separation” in Afrikaans) ended in 1994, not
so long ago. The Apartheid was a great struggle of racial separation lasting
from about 1948-1994, and the tension still exists between the different races
in South Africa (whether it be whites, colored’s, Indians, Asians, blacks). I
especially see this tension between the blacks and the whites (the Afrikaners)
where I am stationed. Whenever I am in my shopping town, I hear “mulungu” or
“legkoa” at least 10 times before going home. Yes, I am a white person, but
never before did I think I would be called that. I have never thought about my
skin color so much as I do now. In addition to being called by my skin color, I
am constantly asked for money. Since I am white, the assumption is that I am
also rich. As much as I’d love to help out by giving my rand to a good cause,
little do they know that I am a struggling volunteer, scraping together two rand
for magwinya (okay, that’s a bit of an exaggeration…). The reason for this is
that there are hardly any white people in my shopping town. So, when I do my
shopping with my other PCV friends, we call a lot of attention to ourselves
simply because of our skin color.
The other week, I went to my larger
shopping town with my host brother, Tumelo. Even in a shopping town with a
larger percentage of Afrikaners, we still got attention. When we got home
Tumelo talked about how he loved how many people looked at us. He said they
were all surprised to see us (a black young male and a white young female)
together. This should come as no surprise. Why can’t a white female and a
black male be seen together? Why does there need to be this division of races?
Why is it that I am the only white person living in a village (something that
people here are still utterly shocked at when they learn where I live)? Why is
it that there are still sections of town designated for “coloreds?” The village
life is great – people are friendly, relationships are cherished, food is
delicious, and cold drink is flowing! Let’s cross this racial divide and come
together. Let’s really embrace the idea of “The Rainbow Nation.”
This is
not to say that this racial divide exists everywhere. I do see hope at some
points, on certain days. We often have Afrikaners come to our schools, selling
things like kitchen ware to the teachers. Also, that same day that I was
shopping with Tumelo, I went to get a much needed haircut (I just can’t give way
to cutting my own hair yet, sorry!). At the salon, there were two boys – one
Afrikaner and one black – who seemed inseparable. We really need to learn from
this new generation. Skin color does not, and should not, ever define who we
are.
“The men eat too much meat.” This was the reasoning my best friend
in the village, Sylvia, gave to me when I asked her why the men and women had
separate food lines after every funeral. We had just returned from the burial,
it was hot, I was hungry, and the line for food for the women was 30 minutes
long. The line for food for the men, on the other hand, was non-existent. I,
clueless like always, asked Sylvia why we couldn’t get food from the other
line. Apparently, “men eat too much meat” and my village has laws about men and
women eating separately. The men have their line, the women theirs. This even
crosses over into lunch at one of my primary schools. All of the male teachers
eat together, and all of the female teachers eat together, never daring to
comingle. The male/female duties in the household are also much divided: the
woman does all of the cooking, the cleaning, the washing, etc. (just imagine all
of the women here wearing “Superwoman” capes) while “the man of the house” waits
to be served his food (pap and meat) and drink. Again, I am seeing hope for the
future that this will not always be the case – my host brothers help with the
wash and cleaning the house, and it is my host brother Tumelo who taught me how
to hand wash my clothes (sheesh, was I terrible at this when first arriving!).
For me, sometimes I feel like I am between the two in my village (that
is, not quite the level of a male, but also not the level of a female). It’s
like I am floating above any gender expectations. Whenever I go to a gathering
in the village, and all of the women are on the ground on straw mats while the
men are seated in chairs, someone rushes to get me a stool or a chair. Again, I
assume this comes back to the issue of race. While during the first few months
in my village I submitted to taking the chair to appease my community, I no
longer allow it. I might not be breaking gender inequalities by sitting on the
ground, but I sure will not keep any race barriers in my village. I am
integrating.
South Africa has one of the highest economic disparities in
the world. You can take a taxi for a little over an hour from my village,
escaping the third world and enter into the first world (or darn close to it)
just like that. All of the sudden you have left the dirt roads, the schools
with only half of a roof, and the thatch-roofed rondavels; you suddenly find
yourself surrounded by tarred roads, schools with beautiful sports grounds and
facilities, and houses that seem to have appeared from “Better Homes and
Gardens.” There are families in South Africa who can hardly afford to put
porridge on the table, while there are families in South Africa who can afford
to send their children to the top-notch schools. My fellow volunteers and I
often joke that we have “first world problems in the third world” but it is so
true. Sometimes it can be a bit jostling switching back and forth.
As
I discuss this conundrum of division in South Africa, I reflect back to my life.
Even as a volunteer, I myself feel divided at times. In the village, I
sometimes feel pulled in one million directions. I don’t know who or where or
what to help with at times. I divide my time between three schools – 2 days at
one primary, 2 days at the other primary, and 1 day at the high school. I try
to divide my time evenly in helping all of the educators. I try to divide my
time amongst my classes of 50, trying to work with each and every student. I
divide me time with family time. So many divisions. I wish that I could be
everywhere at one time, but I can’t. Some days, I wish there were 10 of me.
Additionally, I sometimes feel divided between two worlds – my life at home
in America and my life here, at my new home, in South Africa. I often catch
myself thinking about family and friends back home, wondering what everyone is
up to. As one of my best friends is about to graduate from grad school and
start his new job, as my Mom is about to run her biggest race (woot woot
Broadstreet!), and as my older sister is about to have her first baby, I can’t
help but think of home quite often. I can’t help but feel a little guilty that
I am missing all of these momentous occasions. I can’t help but be a little too
attached to my Blackberry (again, first world problem). However, as much as
this is true, I need to be more present, as do all of us. I need to remember to
live in the moment, not in the past or in the future. I need to be fully
present, my whole self. A divided me won’t do any good for anyone. Neither
will a divided nation, a divided village, or a divided anything really. I know
that sometimes I can be too much of an optimist, and that things are far easier
said than done, but let us try to live in the moment. Let us try to forgive
past faults. Most importantly, let us try not to make snap judgments. Let us
try not to divide “us” from “them.” Because, in the end, division just doesn’t
add up.
Ke a leboga kudu!
Meg :)
As I work with about 20
other Peace Corps Volunteers on “The Books for Peace” library project, please
feel free to check out the following link in an effort to bring literacy to
rural South Africa.
https://www.peacecorps.gov/index.cfm?shell=donate.contribute.projdetail&projdesc=674-072
Meghan K Downey
Peace Corps Volunteer, South Africa
Education and
Community Resource Specialist
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