It's a different world over here.

Today we met a very special 80 year old man by the name of Ahmed Kathrada. He told us stories about fighting against Apartheid alongside Nelson Mandela. Both of them were imprisoned at Robben Island (for 13+ years), where we planned on sailing to later on in the day. He was joking with us about the time when he and a few other prison mates were released on a rainy day. They rented a car to bring them from Cape Town to Jo’Burg and drove the entire way with the windows down because they thought they were broken… to then learn (after being soaked) that there's a button that opens and closes the windows! Ha! Can you crank up the heat? It's kind of cold in here! (Above is a lovely picture of yours truely with Mr. Kathrada)

Mr. Kathrada told us what it was like to be kept in maximum security at Robben Island. (Here is a picture taken outside of Mandela's cell, which is the one on the far right). Mandela was treated worse than Kathrada because Mandela’s skin is “black” and Kathrada’s is “colored” (In America, he’d be Indian). (Hold on to your hat everybody, I'm about to rant here). Does it really freakn matter what color your skin is? This still goes on today in South Africa! Apartheid is still alive. People are labeled as COLORED. Barack Obama is COLORED. Anybody who isn’t black or white is colored. Indian, Asian, a mix, whatever it is. It’s pure ignorance. Is it that hard to label somebody by the name they were given at birth? Why do they have to be judged by the color of their skin? I just want to take these students with me to the states where they can get ahead by their intelligence and their dreams. I’m not saying that we’re perfect in America, but we’re definitely two steps ahead of South Africa.

Wow, sorry about that… Anyway, one last noteworthy point: The lecture with Mr. Kathrada ended with an African TSiBA student saying, “Thank you for sacrificing your youth so we could have our freedom.” (Sigh)… It’s a different world over here.

We made our way to the Waterfront and awaited the ferry to bring us to Robben Island. On the island, we got on a bus which toured the torture camp. We pulled up to the Limestone Quarry, the place where Mandela spent countless hours hammering away at limestone to bring it from one end of the quarry to the other, and then vice versa the next day. This is actually the place where he lost most of his eye site. There were some days that the sunlight was so intense that it beamed off the white limestone and caused eye damage that he still suffers with today. When photog’s take Mandela’s picture, he requests that they don’t use a flash. Here's a picture of the limstone quarry.

I'm signing off now, see you next time :)

GuGuLeTu. What a name!

Today we went to the Guguletu Township after class. This Township is somewhat economically developed. I hesitate when I say the word “developed” because what I really mean is that between the shacks, there are “shops” (Tire and exhaust services or cell phone repair shack). However, I did see an ATM machine, which means this area has to have some sort of money. I walked by 5 security guards (holding huge guns) filling the machine with mucho dinero. I questioned why there was a freakin SWAT TEAM around for that process and I was told that last week when they were filling the machine, a gang shot and killed the driver (and ran off rich). Oh, and along the same lines, Amy Beihl was killed in this exact Township, (whoever doesn’t know her, she was an American who came here for a community service project in '92 and after her death, her parents started a foundation in her name helping to reduce community violence in Townships.) Anyway, enough with the Negative Nancy!… On the brighter side, within this Township is a famous – very famous outdoor BBQ joint called Mzoni’s Meat. Braaing (what Africans call BBQing) is very big in South Africa. This country is well known for their love of meat, so if you’re a vegetarian, good luck finding dinner. When we got there, we saw a group of people playing music on the Marimba (wooden xylophone) and people singing and dancing to the music. Along the side of the Braa were stray dogs who haven’t been washed, neutered, or most likely pet in years eating scraps and chicken bones from the ground. Scavengers!



Tonight we're having a “pot luck” dinner, (not that I’m really in the mood to consume any more food), but I’m in charge of making Sangria (thank God). So we’re heading to the grocery store – Woolworths. I’ll try to check in tomorrow- Ciao!

She's got a CLICK in her name!!!

Disclaimer: I’m not a fan of using the term “blacks” but, it’s politically correct down here in Africa. I just don’t want to be offensive to anyone. To all my homies: Respect.



Today we met a group of the students from TsiBa Education who we'll be taking classes with for the following 4 weeks. I immediatly connected with the loudest one from the TsiBa group. Her name is Nqobile… she has a CLICK in her name!! She has the highest spirit and most energy out of the group and that’s why I like her. We took a bus ride to the Langa Township which is the oldest township in SA. Upon arrival, we met our tour guide who likes to be called "MC" (??) who then proceeded to walk us through a township lifestyle that we could never deem possible. In this specific township, the main language spoken is Xhosa, pronounced: (Click – osha)! Among the many instant shocks while entering the township, I noticed the blacks who were extremely ill, most likely diseased with AIDS. Their hands were gray and they could barely open their eyes as they stumbled down the road.


We took a turn off the street to walk in between the homes. The walk ways were piled with trash which has probably been sitting there for years (if it hasn’t decomposed yet). The garbage truck comes once a week to a designated part of the township where the trash is collected. The residents rarely make the time to gather their trash and haul it over to one of the three small trash bins across “town”. That’s why some of them bring their trash to an open area nearby to then light on fire (and then dance around it in circles, singing click songs)… just kidding, I have no idea.


Our first stop is a shack filled with a group of old black men sitting around the perimeter of the dark and raunchy room. In the back of the room are two metal bins. This is where these men are brewing Umqombothi, a traditional beer. One of the men takes a bucket and fills it to the brim with beer. He then says that part of the tradition is to SHARE, and at that moment, he lifted the bucket, took a sip, then passed it to his right. OH NO, I thought. This isn’t the time to disrespect their traditions! Fortunately, the people on his right were the students, not the locals. Each person took a VERY SMALL sip, and passed it to the right. I was about the 6th one in, said a quick prayer and took a sip. It was nasty, just like I imagined. However, I bet if it was bottled up and sold at a pub, it was taste much better. All about aesthetics, right?? Among the 10 of us from the tour group, we killed maybe 5% of the bucket – if that. By the time it passed over to the last of the locals, there was perhaps a sip left. All I have to say is, thank God for immunization shots.


Our next stop was a very small home made out of cement, which they call a hostel, not to be mixed with the hand-made shacks next door. There were three tiny rooms in the hostel where three families and a combined total of 1,000 kids resided…..Felt like it at least.





We made a stop on the side of the street to a place where three women were roasting lambs heads. One of the women was eyeing my bottle of water, so I handed it to her to have. Apparently, it’s a delicacy to eat portions of the head. They called a roasted lambs head a “smiliey” because once they put the head into the fire to roast it, the lips wither away and show the teeth, which makes it look as if the lamb is smiling- gross. 10 Rand bought us a head to share and this is where I was forced to eat my first lambs tongue. I was mortified when he handed me the piece of tongue, but I liked it so much that I ate the cheek after.



HEY! Just got a text from my new friend Nqobile:


“Hey my friend, it was nice meeting u. I enjoyed 2day’s tour & having a great energetic spirit.”


“Hey Girl, I was just thinking about you! My tongue hurts from practicing the click in your name, but I think I’ve got it down. See you tomorrow :)”



Tomorrow is class in the morning and a half hour long trip to Robin Island, where Nelson Mandela was kept for 27 years (among many other historic anti-Apartheid figures). Good night moon.