My sincere apologies. I unfortunately haven’t been able to post in some time because I’ve been on a whirlwind tour of southern Africa with my family. The journey was amazing and breathtaking and simultaneously surreal. So many moments of being taken by the beauty of the world; equal number of moments of gratitude for being able to experience that beauty first hand.
Some notes and pics from the road:
April 21st – 24th
South African Safari: Kruger National Park, Timbavati Reserve
I must say that before arriving on safari I had my reservations. For all who know me, I’m not exactly a “camping” kind of girl, much less one trying to hang out in the bush. But after my first safari experience, I would definitely recommend it to anyone and everyone – even the most city of the city girls.
The truth is being so close to some of Earth’s most magnificent creatures is an unbelievably beautiful and humbling experience. For me, it was a consistent reminder that this place does not belong to us; as humans we’re simply borrowing parts of it for a bit of time.
There really is no effective way I can put the experience into words. In an attempt to capture each amazing moment my family and I took nearly 1200 pictures. Here are some of the best:
April 24th – 28th
The Path to India: Cape of Good Hope, Cape Town
This trip to Cape Town marked my fourth, so I thought I had seen it all. Turns out I hadn’t actually seen anything yet. ☺ The highlight of the four days was the Cape Peninsula tour. To simply drive around the peninsula doesn’t take more than an hour or two, but we spent the entire day leisurely stopping at each beautifully scenic point. (We also took a slight detour to an ostrich farm and penguin colony along the way. The more time I spend with animals lately, the more I see humanity in them and animals in us… sounds strange, but let’s just say having a diva ostrich snap at me when I tried to touch him taught me a lesson or two. =))
The Cape of Good Hope was a particularly interesting stop on the tour. It is perhaps the most tourist-visited site in Cape Town, as it is known to be the southern most point of Africa (although technically that point is Cape Agulhas). The area is crawling with buses and trinkets and retirees – signs of tourist hell. But upon arrival near the lighthouse, where one can get the best views of the actual “southern point,” all of that tourist-related anxiety melts away. The scene is stunning and you can actually feel yourself within the space of history.
For my father, the Cape of Good Hope had a whole other level of meaning. As a small boy studying in rural India he learned of Vasco da Gama and the explorer’s adventures to find the ocean route to India. Never in his dreams did he think he’d be standing at that very point one day – the point that in many ways linked east & west; the point that combined where he grew up and where he is today.
April 28th – 30th
The Smoke That Thunders: Victoria Falls, Zambia
At the moment I’m sitting in Livingstone, Zambia, “working” on my laptop literally ten feet from the Zambezi River flowing slowly before me. It is a gorgeous, nearly cloudless day, temperature at a near perfect 76 degrees, and every time I look up from the screen at the vision around me, I have to look again to make sure my eyes haven’t deceived me. It’s as if my mind can’t comprehend being in such a beautiful place while still getting “work” done. (I suppose it helps that our hotel is on the river. ☺)
My eyes have felt tricked many times over these past two weeks of tours, guides, hotels and airports. Earlier today I experienced the Victoria Falls. Standing in the thundering mist of the falls is incredibly invigorating. It feels like a wonderful shower in nature’s water, with the slight (ok more than slight) twinge that you might die as the water’s power pulls you in.
At one particular moment, we were crossing a very wet & slippery bridge to see more of the falls. This walking bridge is directly parallel to the car bridge that links Zambia and Zimbabwe. With everything happening in the region right now, it’s hard to simply be present without thinking about what Zim’s people are going through. But I did have a selfish moment, where I looked over the bridge at the gorge, water, and rainbow beside me. And in that moment, I felt completely at peace.
It has been such a privilege to see these sights and be in these places. As a spiritual person, I am aware of a divine presence all around me, but there have been many moments, like the one on the bridge, where that presence has felt incredibly intense. Perhaps it’s because I’m sitting before that which is unadulterated, relatively untouched by human interference. Perhaps it’s just the beauty of the places themselves. Not sure. I just know that I’m really grateful for all of it.
May 8, 2008
April 20, 2008
“You don’t travel South Africa. South Africa travels you.”
The quote comes from the cover of a beautiful coffee table book on South African fashion titled “Well-Souled.” Lately, through work, I’ve had the opportunity to travel around SA quite a bit, and nearly every moment reminds me of the truth in that quote.
Quick stories from some of the places I’ve been:
Orange Farm, Alexandria, and Langa
Whereas Soweto includes a burgeoning Black middle class, Orange Farm and Alexandria are Johannesburg’s “ghetto.” Alexandria (or Alex as it’s called here) is located literally next door to the super rich Sandton suburb. Orange Farm is about 40 minutes outside of the city. Langa is Cape Town’s equivalent.
Corrugated steel barely held together make up many of the “homes.” Violent crime is rampant. Unemployment is upwards of 60%. And HIV/AIDS is a very serious, very present issue.
Each of these regions are Black townships created by South Africa’s apartheid government, placed close enough to the cities to provide cheap labor, but far enough away so the people could not benefit. Today, the kids born in these townships are able to go into the cities without the previous regime’s pass laws and entry requirements, but there is still no effective system to help them benefit from the financial hubs so close by.
Interesting story: When I was in Orange Farm, I spent the day at the loveLife Y-Centre focus-grouping our mobile social network. The kids are all on MXit (SA’s mobile chat application), ao I asked them what they would want if they could create their own MXit. They didn’t tell me they wanted games, music, pictures or other prizes like I thought they would. They literally asked me for inspiration. “We need role models. Inspirational quotes. Maybe even the Bible.”
Ethenbeni and Port Shepstone
Ethenbeni is about an hour outside of East London in the Eastern Cape. Port Shepstone is about and hour and a half south of Durban in KwaZulu-Natal. Both villages are pilot sites for loveLife’s gogoGetters program, which is working to organize the already mobilized grandmothers of South Africa who are raising many of SA’s 1 million AIDS orphaned children. (Gogo means grannie in Xhosa.) Here’s the PSA:
All of the Gogos I met in Ethenbeni and Port Shepstone were as beautiful and vibrant as depicted in the PSA. Passionate, energetic, and full of life, they are very serious when they assert that they have watched their children die of AIDS; they won’t stand by and watch their grandchildren die too.
Painful story: The gogoGetter program is designed to help the Gogos achieve five things. (1) Make sure the orphans and vulnerable children feel like part of the community. (2) Keep the kids in school. (3) Help the children access government grants. (4) Ensure food security. (5) Work to stop sexual abuse.
When the loveLife program development team was discussing the final point with the Gogos, they asked who was the most likely perpetrator of sexual abuse? The uncle? The neighbor?
The Gogos responded that it was actually the younger men in the community. And that they would come to the Gogos’ houses in particular to rape both the children and the grandmother, because they knew no male figure would be around. As I looked around the room, my heart sank as I realized many of our beautiful Gogos had likely been victims.
Nongoma
Whereas Jo’burg feels like Los Angeles and Cape Town is like the south of France, Nongoma is National Geographic’s version of Africa – stunningly beautiful, pristinely natural, and heartbreakingly poor.
The poverty, however, is only one piece of Nongoma’s story. Located in Zululand in the northern part of KwaZulu-Natal, the beauty of Nongoma’s people is further enriched by the beauty of the land - green, lush, rolling hills for miles, complemented at random by circles of traditional, brightly-colored, clay homes with thatched roofs.
The people of Nongoma face difficult circumstances: Gender equity is incredibly tough to accomplish as many traditional rules still apply (the Zulu King still rules the area). Unemployment sits at above 80%. And the region has one of the highest HIV/AIDS prevalence rates in the world, reaching upwards of 50% in certain cases, such as mother-to-child transmission.
But Nongoma’s people have tremendous amounts of faith and hope, and those who can are doing what they can to give themselves and their families a better life.
Inspiring story: The young people we met at the Nongoma Y-Centre were like many of loveLife’s youth – hip, happening, passionate and on it. It didn’t matter that they were from one of the most remote parts of SA; they all had this immense sense of passion & style combined with a deep desire to succeed beyond their circumstances.
One particularly inspiring young woman had recently moved 60 km from her home in order to be able to simply volunteer at the loveLife Y-Centre. Just the travel alone would have been quite a feat for her in rural SA, but she made it to Nongoma and was able to organize a place for her to stay while away from home. She went to all of this effort because for her, like for so many of SA’s youth, loveLife’s Y-Centre is the only place even remotely nearby where she can learn computer skills, debate skills, motivation, or quite frankly, gain any form of skills development. And she was determined to get the skills she needed in order to get a scholarship to go to university to make her dreams come true.
Quick stories from some of the places I’ve been:
Orange Farm, Alexandria, and Langa
Whereas Soweto includes a burgeoning Black middle class, Orange Farm and Alexandria are Johannesburg’s “ghetto.” Alexandria (or Alex as it’s called here) is located literally next door to the super rich Sandton suburb. Orange Farm is about 40 minutes outside of the city. Langa is Cape Town’s equivalent.
Corrugated steel barely held together make up many of the “homes.” Violent crime is rampant. Unemployment is upwards of 60%. And HIV/AIDS is a very serious, very present issue.
Each of these regions are Black townships created by South Africa’s apartheid government, placed close enough to the cities to provide cheap labor, but far enough away so the people could not benefit. Today, the kids born in these townships are able to go into the cities without the previous regime’s pass laws and entry requirements, but there is still no effective system to help them benefit from the financial hubs so close by.
Interesting story: When I was in Orange Farm, I spent the day at the loveLife Y-Centre focus-grouping our mobile social network. The kids are all on MXit (SA’s mobile chat application), ao I asked them what they would want if they could create their own MXit. They didn’t tell me they wanted games, music, pictures or other prizes like I thought they would. They literally asked me for inspiration. “We need role models. Inspirational quotes. Maybe even the Bible.”
Ethenbeni and Port Shepstone
Ethenbeni is about an hour outside of East London in the Eastern Cape. Port Shepstone is about and hour and a half south of Durban in KwaZulu-Natal. Both villages are pilot sites for loveLife’s gogoGetters program, which is working to organize the already mobilized grandmothers of South Africa who are raising many of SA’s 1 million AIDS orphaned children. (Gogo means grannie in Xhosa.) Here’s the PSA:
All of the Gogos I met in Ethenbeni and Port Shepstone were as beautiful and vibrant as depicted in the PSA. Passionate, energetic, and full of life, they are very serious when they assert that they have watched their children die of AIDS; they won’t stand by and watch their grandchildren die too.
Painful story: The gogoGetter program is designed to help the Gogos achieve five things. (1) Make sure the orphans and vulnerable children feel like part of the community. (2) Keep the kids in school. (3) Help the children access government grants. (4) Ensure food security. (5) Work to stop sexual abuse.
When the loveLife program development team was discussing the final point with the Gogos, they asked who was the most likely perpetrator of sexual abuse? The uncle? The neighbor?
The Gogos responded that it was actually the younger men in the community. And that they would come to the Gogos’ houses in particular to rape both the children and the grandmother, because they knew no male figure would be around. As I looked around the room, my heart sank as I realized many of our beautiful Gogos had likely been victims.
Nongoma
Whereas Jo’burg feels like Los Angeles and Cape Town is like the south of France, Nongoma is National Geographic’s version of Africa – stunningly beautiful, pristinely natural, and heartbreakingly poor.
The poverty, however, is only one piece of Nongoma’s story. Located in Zululand in the northern part of KwaZulu-Natal, the beauty of Nongoma’s people is further enriched by the beauty of the land - green, lush, rolling hills for miles, complemented at random by circles of traditional, brightly-colored, clay homes with thatched roofs.
The people of Nongoma face difficult circumstances: Gender equity is incredibly tough to accomplish as many traditional rules still apply (the Zulu King still rules the area). Unemployment sits at above 80%. And the region has one of the highest HIV/AIDS prevalence rates in the world, reaching upwards of 50% in certain cases, such as mother-to-child transmission.
But Nongoma’s people have tremendous amounts of faith and hope, and those who can are doing what they can to give themselves and their families a better life.
Inspiring story: The young people we met at the Nongoma Y-Centre were like many of loveLife’s youth – hip, happening, passionate and on it. It didn’t matter that they were from one of the most remote parts of SA; they all had this immense sense of passion & style combined with a deep desire to succeed beyond their circumstances.
One particularly inspiring young woman had recently moved 60 km from her home in order to be able to simply volunteer at the loveLife Y-Centre. Just the travel alone would have been quite a feat for her in rural SA, but she made it to Nongoma and was able to organize a place for her to stay while away from home. She went to all of this effort because for her, like for so many of SA’s youth, loveLife’s Y-Centre is the only place even remotely nearby where she can learn computer skills, debate skills, motivation, or quite frankly, gain any form of skills development. And she was determined to get the skills she needed in order to get a scholarship to go to university to make her dreams come true.
April 16, 2008
Thank You
Many who read this blog have written me with incredibly kind words. And I wanted to share here how much those words mean to me.
When I decided to take this trip back in August 2007, I knew how hard it would be for me to be so far away from my friends and family. And I won’t lie; it isn’t easy. But being away has been a consistent lesson in gratitude. Gratitude for the amazing people in my life. Gratitude for the many wonderful life experiences. Gratitude for the love felt, shown and shared through those people and experiences, even when I can’t be in the same physical space.
So, thank you for making it easier. Thank you for joining me on this journey.
When I decided to take this trip back in August 2007, I knew how hard it would be for me to be so far away from my friends and family. And I won’t lie; it isn’t easy. But being away has been a consistent lesson in gratitude. Gratitude for the amazing people in my life. Gratitude for the many wonderful life experiences. Gratitude for the love felt, shown and shared through those people and experiences, even when I can’t be in the same physical space.
So, thank you for making it easier. Thank you for joining me on this journey.
April 8, 2008
The Work: Part II
When I said I would write more “tomorrow,” I actually meant next week. =) Funny enough it has been work that has kept me from writing about the work.
But now on to the why and how around loveLife’s mobile program.
Why mobile social networking?
1) Social networking plays directly into the key triggers of behavior change – identity, belonging, and purpose. Creating a profile is an explicit exercise in developing identity as you decide how you want people to see you; the nature of groups, forums, chats, etc. is rooted in developing belonging. And the core of this particular social network is around purpose.
2) loveLife’s massive physical network makes creating a virtual network a natural extension. Launching a viral product with a built in base of 20,000 people and access to 800,000 more is a marketer’s dream.
3) One of the core objectives of loveLife’s “Make Your Move” campaign is to link young people to potential opportunities. (Each year, millions of rand go back into the SA government budget simply because not enough people know about or know how to apply for government grants.) Another core objective is igniting initiative and self-reliance. Social networking tools provide a platform for young people to organize themselves. And since it’s all on their mobile, information dissemination (particularly around jobs, scholarships, and internships) becomes significantly easier.
So strategically, mobile social networking makes sense for loveLife. It may not be right for all NGOs, but it will bring this organization where it wants to be. How we came to create this thing, however, is a more interesting story.
The How
As a marketing consultant, I’m in the business of messages and ideas. In my past experience with non-profits, the messages have been forced to be watered down and the big ideas are hardly ever able to survive.
The difference with loveLife is their CEO, David Harrison. Spend ten minutes with David and you realize he’s a visionary. Spend thirty minutes and you understand why he’s a brilliant fundraiser. Spend an hour with David and you notice he’s a bit of an anarchist, or at a minimum, not a huge fan of conventional wisdom.
More important than all of that – he gets it.
I spent only five minutes walking him through Facebook (an exercise I end up doing with most clients over 35), when his eyes lit up. He immediately saw the potential I had seen of social networking on mobile, and simply asked me, “How much?”
I warned him about the challenges, the largest of which was that we wouldn’t be able to control or always monitor the social network, as doing so would kill it. He understood. I warned him that it would require multiple hires and a reconfiguration of content development from his media team. He understood. I warned him that if it took off, it would be huge, and he had to be prepared for both the good and the bad that comes with that, including a need for new sources of funding. He understood.
One week later I interviewed nearly every mobile development agency in SA.
Two weeks later we hired one.
Three weeks later we outlined the scope.
Four weeks later I ran around the country focus grouping the functionality.
Five weeks later we began endless partnership conversations to bring in music, games, fun and prizes to the network.
It’s now six weeks after I mentioned a simple idea to David and I’m writing a product launch strategy.
This June, the product will be live.
I often can’t believe this is all actually happening. What began as a personal journey to South Africa has become one of my most enriching professional experiences. More importantly, I actually feel like I’m creating something that will provide value to the youth of South Africa. 10 of them could use it, or a million could be on it, and it would still mean as much to me. Because each of those kids is one additional person who has access to more information and more people and more tools than they did before. And for me, that's exactly how media and technology can help create social change.
But now on to the why and how around loveLife’s mobile program.
Why mobile social networking?
1) Social networking plays directly into the key triggers of behavior change – identity, belonging, and purpose. Creating a profile is an explicit exercise in developing identity as you decide how you want people to see you; the nature of groups, forums, chats, etc. is rooted in developing belonging. And the core of this particular social network is around purpose.
2) loveLife’s massive physical network makes creating a virtual network a natural extension. Launching a viral product with a built in base of 20,000 people and access to 800,000 more is a marketer’s dream.
3) One of the core objectives of loveLife’s “Make Your Move” campaign is to link young people to potential opportunities. (Each year, millions of rand go back into the SA government budget simply because not enough people know about or know how to apply for government grants.) Another core objective is igniting initiative and self-reliance. Social networking tools provide a platform for young people to organize themselves. And since it’s all on their mobile, information dissemination (particularly around jobs, scholarships, and internships) becomes significantly easier.
So strategically, mobile social networking makes sense for loveLife. It may not be right for all NGOs, but it will bring this organization where it wants to be. How we came to create this thing, however, is a more interesting story.
The How
As a marketing consultant, I’m in the business of messages and ideas. In my past experience with non-profits, the messages have been forced to be watered down and the big ideas are hardly ever able to survive.
The difference with loveLife is their CEO, David Harrison. Spend ten minutes with David and you realize he’s a visionary. Spend thirty minutes and you understand why he’s a brilliant fundraiser. Spend an hour with David and you notice he’s a bit of an anarchist, or at a minimum, not a huge fan of conventional wisdom.
More important than all of that – he gets it.
I spent only five minutes walking him through Facebook (an exercise I end up doing with most clients over 35), when his eyes lit up. He immediately saw the potential I had seen of social networking on mobile, and simply asked me, “How much?”
I warned him about the challenges, the largest of which was that we wouldn’t be able to control or always monitor the social network, as doing so would kill it. He understood. I warned him that it would require multiple hires and a reconfiguration of content development from his media team. He understood. I warned him that if it took off, it would be huge, and he had to be prepared for both the good and the bad that comes with that, including a need for new sources of funding. He understood.
One week later I interviewed nearly every mobile development agency in SA.
Two weeks later we hired one.
Three weeks later we outlined the scope.
Four weeks later I ran around the country focus grouping the functionality.
Five weeks later we began endless partnership conversations to bring in music, games, fun and prizes to the network.
It’s now six weeks after I mentioned a simple idea to David and I’m writing a product launch strategy.
This June, the product will be live.
I often can’t believe this is all actually happening. What began as a personal journey to South Africa has become one of my most enriching professional experiences. More importantly, I actually feel like I’m creating something that will provide value to the youth of South Africa. 10 of them could use it, or a million could be on it, and it would still mean as much to me. Because each of those kids is one additional person who has access to more information and more people and more tools than they did before. And for me, that's exactly how media and technology can help create social change.
March 31, 2008
The Work
I haven’t written much about the actual project I’m working on here in SA. Part of that is the sincerely amusing irony that I work more now as a “volunteer” than I generally do as a paid consultant. So by the end of the day, when I do sit down to write, I’m often trying not to think about “work.” But lately, I eat, breathe, sleep, even IV inject my project, so there’s been no time for writing at all. (Much love to those of you who actually read this blog. Even more love to those who send me emails asking why I’m not writing. =))
When I first arrived I thought simple SMS information solutions would be the route to go for loveLife’s mobile program. In the US, it’s the cheapest, easiest and least technologically taxing of mobile tools, so it seemed like a logical choice. What I quickly learned, however, is that South Africa is in a whole other playing field than America.
For starters, SA has one of the highest mobile internet usage rates in the world. Forget the computer age, Africa (like many other developing countries) has leapfrogged directly into the mobile future. No need to lay cables. No reason to buy expensive hardware. Just access the web on your favorite personal device, your phone. Oh and by the way, it will cost you nearly nothing to do so. Data transmission rates are a fraction of a cent in US dollars, sometimes per hour of roaming.
Second, South Africa has a particularly unique combination of market forces: cosmopolitan (read wealthy) hubs of Jo’burg and Cape Town have created an incredibly sophisticated advertising industry + essentially little to no mobile regulation. So as mobile uptake skyrockets, advertisers are readily funding entrepreneurs to figure out how to reach people on their phones, who in turn have already tested all the possible models. The winner: MXit. 7.6 million kids, with tens of thousands joining each day, chatting away over the mobile internet (as opposed to SMS) using this tool. Ask any South African kid what they do all day, and they’ll tell you they’re on MXit.
The third piece of the project strategy puzzle is loveLife itself.
(1) loveLife has the most massive on-the-ground NGO footprint I’ve ever seen. Through youth centers, community partnerships, school & government programs, and a huge peer education network, loveLife literally reaches millions of kids with face-to-face interaction every year. On top of that, they have one of South Africa’s largest media holdings, with massive reach on TV, radio, outdoor, and the country’s largest youth publication, with a 650,000+ print circulation. Most in the international community don’t realize this, but no one can reach the South African youth market the way loveLife can.
(2) loveLife has learned that what works in other places, doesn’t work in South Africa. Kids here get the HIV prevention message; they hear it everywhere. They don’t listen, however, because they don’t care. Day-to-day life for most young South Africans offers little to no opportunity. You have no money, no access, no hope, and sadly thanks to the AIDS epidemic, likely no family or community to guide you through either. HIV is just a tiny bump compared to life’s many other hurdles.
In response, loveLife has moved from direct HIV prevention messaging to a more holistic approach. Their 2008 media campaign is working to shift young people’s perception of opportunity, while their massive on-the-ground program will give South African youth direct access to tools, skills development, and information to “Make Your Move,” the campaign’s tag.
(Here’s the campaign teaser ad, designed simply to introduce the concept of “Make Your Move” and get kids to call their Call Center to find out more.)
So after all of this explanation, what am I doing for loveLife on mobile: we’re developing (potentially/hopefully) South Africa’s largest mobile social network.
More tomorrow on why and how. (I have to sleep at some point. =))
When I first arrived I thought simple SMS information solutions would be the route to go for loveLife’s mobile program. In the US, it’s the cheapest, easiest and least technologically taxing of mobile tools, so it seemed like a logical choice. What I quickly learned, however, is that South Africa is in a whole other playing field than America.
For starters, SA has one of the highest mobile internet usage rates in the world. Forget the computer age, Africa (like many other developing countries) has leapfrogged directly into the mobile future. No need to lay cables. No reason to buy expensive hardware. Just access the web on your favorite personal device, your phone. Oh and by the way, it will cost you nearly nothing to do so. Data transmission rates are a fraction of a cent in US dollars, sometimes per hour of roaming.
Second, South Africa has a particularly unique combination of market forces: cosmopolitan (read wealthy) hubs of Jo’burg and Cape Town have created an incredibly sophisticated advertising industry + essentially little to no mobile regulation. So as mobile uptake skyrockets, advertisers are readily funding entrepreneurs to figure out how to reach people on their phones, who in turn have already tested all the possible models. The winner: MXit. 7.6 million kids, with tens of thousands joining each day, chatting away over the mobile internet (as opposed to SMS) using this tool. Ask any South African kid what they do all day, and they’ll tell you they’re on MXit.
The third piece of the project strategy puzzle is loveLife itself.
(1) loveLife has the most massive on-the-ground NGO footprint I’ve ever seen. Through youth centers, community partnerships, school & government programs, and a huge peer education network, loveLife literally reaches millions of kids with face-to-face interaction every year. On top of that, they have one of South Africa’s largest media holdings, with massive reach on TV, radio, outdoor, and the country’s largest youth publication, with a 650,000+ print circulation. Most in the international community don’t realize this, but no one can reach the South African youth market the way loveLife can.
(2) loveLife has learned that what works in other places, doesn’t work in South Africa. Kids here get the HIV prevention message; they hear it everywhere. They don’t listen, however, because they don’t care. Day-to-day life for most young South Africans offers little to no opportunity. You have no money, no access, no hope, and sadly thanks to the AIDS epidemic, likely no family or community to guide you through either. HIV is just a tiny bump compared to life’s many other hurdles.
In response, loveLife has moved from direct HIV prevention messaging to a more holistic approach. Their 2008 media campaign is working to shift young people’s perception of opportunity, while their massive on-the-ground program will give South African youth direct access to tools, skills development, and information to “Make Your Move,” the campaign’s tag.
(Here’s the campaign teaser ad, designed simply to introduce the concept of “Make Your Move” and get kids to call their Call Center to find out more.)
So after all of this explanation, what am I doing for loveLife on mobile: we’re developing (potentially/hopefully) South Africa’s largest mobile social network.
More tomorrow on why and how. (I have to sleep at some point. =))
March 19, 2008
When Load-Shedding Plans Your Life
It's getting colder in Johannesburg. Which means people are turning on their heat and using more electricity. Which also means Eskom has started load-shedding again. The papers have printed the load-shedding "schedule." Unfortunately, Eskom doesn't always follow it, but either way it's really not good fun. For starters, vanity goes out the door when you quickly realize you will not be able to use your hair dyer in the mornings (not to mention the fact that you're freezing out of the shower anyway since there's no heat). But much worse, if you're in the areas that have load shedding from 6pm-10pm, you can't make dinner for your children, relax with TV, or really do anything except sit and stare at each other by candlelight. And let's not forget the issue of the electric gates. Two friends have already called this week locked out in search of something to do until the lights come back on.
Perhaps even worse than everyone's individual annoyances will be the economic impact. Three days a week our offices now have no electricity until 10am, two hours after office hours begin. (And we just happen to be located in the same area as all of the banks, law firms, major high end stores, etc.) On top of that, every time Eskom announces price hikes or load shedding the value of the rand plummets. I can't complain about the exchange rate, but there are certainly plenty of reasons for concern around South Africa's electricity issues.
March 18, 2008
Cape Town
When I first decided to move to South Africa, the only thing I knew was that I wanted to live in Cape Town. The original plan was to “rock up” in CT (as they say here) and sort out the details of what I would do once I landed. For years I’ve heard about the beauty of Table Mountain and the serenity of Africa’s southern most beaches, and after my first visit to Cape Town, I must say everything everyone said is true.
But as fate would have it, the CEO of loveLife asked me if I would come to Johannesburg instead. He asked me to give him six weeks in Jo’burg to help develop the mobile strategy, and then if I still wanted to move to Cape Town, I could easily execute the strategy from there. Turns out I’m a big fan of fate.
For starters, I don’t think I’d ever get any work done in Cape Town. I could easily spend hours on end just staring up at the mountain or down on the gorgeous beach (and I’m certain I’m not the only one). Secondly, Cape Town – although incredibly cosmopolitan – is a beach town. And like any beach town, life just moves a little slower. On vacation, I think that pace is fantastic. For day-to-day life, not so much.
But perhaps the main reason I couldn’t live in Cape Town is the very obvious racial segregation. When my friend Mitch and I went to visit last week, we stayed in Camps Bay, which admittedly is one of the nicer parts of town, tucked directly in between the mountain and the beach with spectacular views of each. It is also apparently occupied by pretty much Whites only. On our first night out, we headed to a restaurant down the street and were both fairly shocked that there wasn’t a single Black patron, only staff. I know in many parts of the world this isn’t terribly uncommon, but White people only make up 9% of South Africa.
Then, the next night we went out to Long Street, essentially the Bourbon Street of Cape Town with literally a long stretch of bars, clubs and merry people hanging out in the streets. We began at the top of the street and realized pretty quickly that there were White bars and Black bars on Long Street. There was even one point in the night when we looked around and realized that all the White people were on one side of the street and the Black folks on the other. Mitch and I just stopped and looked at each other in awe.
Self-segregation probably doesn’t seem too terribly shocking a mere 14 years after the end of apartheid. But Johannesburg does not suffer from the same issue. Part of this is that proportionally there are a larger percentage of Whites in Cape Town than in any other part of SA at 23%. Another part is that Cape Town is largely a tourist town with a fair share of the property owned by foreigners. But the biggest issue is that unlike Johannesburg, Cape Town has no Black middle class to speak of. And even in the most gorgeous setting, the poverty is pretty in your face – literally with children waiting outside of restaurants begging for change.
In the end, I’m tremendously grateful that I’ve had the opportunity to visit Cape Town. Standing on top of Table Mountain is a spiritual experience, and I would recommend it to anyone. Driving alongside the mountain looking over at the Atlantic’s water crashing on the rocks is consistently breathtaking. And at any given moment while in CT you can turn around and be in complete awe of nature.
I will continue to visit Cape Town and visit often. But ironically enough I don't think I could live there.
But as fate would have it, the CEO of loveLife asked me if I would come to Johannesburg instead. He asked me to give him six weeks in Jo’burg to help develop the mobile strategy, and then if I still wanted to move to Cape Town, I could easily execute the strategy from there. Turns out I’m a big fan of fate.
For starters, I don’t think I’d ever get any work done in Cape Town. I could easily spend hours on end just staring up at the mountain or down on the gorgeous beach (and I’m certain I’m not the only one). Secondly, Cape Town – although incredibly cosmopolitan – is a beach town. And like any beach town, life just moves a little slower. On vacation, I think that pace is fantastic. For day-to-day life, not so much.
But perhaps the main reason I couldn’t live in Cape Town is the very obvious racial segregation. When my friend Mitch and I went to visit last week, we stayed in Camps Bay, which admittedly is one of the nicer parts of town, tucked directly in between the mountain and the beach with spectacular views of each. It is also apparently occupied by pretty much Whites only. On our first night out, we headed to a restaurant down the street and were both fairly shocked that there wasn’t a single Black patron, only staff. I know in many parts of the world this isn’t terribly uncommon, but White people only make up 9% of South Africa.
Then, the next night we went out to Long Street, essentially the Bourbon Street of Cape Town with literally a long stretch of bars, clubs and merry people hanging out in the streets. We began at the top of the street and realized pretty quickly that there were White bars and Black bars on Long Street. There was even one point in the night when we looked around and realized that all the White people were on one side of the street and the Black folks on the other. Mitch and I just stopped and looked at each other in awe.
Self-segregation probably doesn’t seem too terribly shocking a mere 14 years after the end of apartheid. But Johannesburg does not suffer from the same issue. Part of this is that proportionally there are a larger percentage of Whites in Cape Town than in any other part of SA at 23%. Another part is that Cape Town is largely a tourist town with a fair share of the property owned by foreigners. But the biggest issue is that unlike Johannesburg, Cape Town has no Black middle class to speak of. And even in the most gorgeous setting, the poverty is pretty in your face – literally with children waiting outside of restaurants begging for change.
In the end, I’m tremendously grateful that I’ve had the opportunity to visit Cape Town. Standing on top of Table Mountain is a spiritual experience, and I would recommend it to anyone. Driving alongside the mountain looking over at the Atlantic’s water crashing on the rocks is consistently breathtaking. And at any given moment while in CT you can turn around and be in complete awe of nature.
I will continue to visit Cape Town and visit often. But ironically enough I don't think I could live there.
March 7, 2008
The People of South Africa
I’m currently procrastinating. I need to finish packing as I fly out to Cape Town early in the morning, but I’ve reached that point in the night where sleep is fairly pointless.
One of the many things I’ve done tonight (besides not sleep) is to take a quick look back at my blog entries thus far. And I’ve noticed that I’ve spent a lot of time writing about South African culture and society, but I don’t think in doing so I’ve done justice to this country’s people.
Hands down, without question, the people I have met in South Africa have been some of the nicest, most caring and helpful people I’ve ever met (going above and beyond even the kindest of Southern hospitality, I must say).
I came to this country literally knowing no one. So I spent the four months prior telling everyone I knew that if they happened to know anyone in SA to let me know. Through that process, I’ve created a network of friends in Johannesburg and Cape Town who are in reality actually friends of friends of friends of friends (no exaggeration). Yet everyone has welcomed me with immensely open arms. They invite me out whenever they’re going anywhere. They constantly give me advice about places to go and things to do. They drove me all around town before I got my car. And they continue to check on me to make sure I’m doing ok, even one’s I haven’t had the opportunity to meet yet.
Through everyone’s kindness, I’ve been learning an interesting lesson about asking for help. Coming from New York, where fierce independence is a cultural norm, I expected to have to figure things out on my own in SA. But here, not asking for help is practically offensive. For example, I didn’t ask anyone to take me to the airport, as I assumed I should just take a taxi. But when I mentioned this to a friend, he looked at me like I was insane and said, “Why didn’t you just ask me to take you?” I honestly didn’t have a response; it just didn’t occur to me. He then said, “When you don’t ask, it makes me think we’re not friends.” I’ve never explicitly thought of asking for help as a sign of friendship, but I suppose that makes perfect sense.
Maybe I’ve just been living in New York too long. :)
One of the many things I’ve done tonight (besides not sleep) is to take a quick look back at my blog entries thus far. And I’ve noticed that I’ve spent a lot of time writing about South African culture and society, but I don’t think in doing so I’ve done justice to this country’s people.
Hands down, without question, the people I have met in South Africa have been some of the nicest, most caring and helpful people I’ve ever met (going above and beyond even the kindest of Southern hospitality, I must say).
I came to this country literally knowing no one. So I spent the four months prior telling everyone I knew that if they happened to know anyone in SA to let me know. Through that process, I’ve created a network of friends in Johannesburg and Cape Town who are in reality actually friends of friends of friends of friends (no exaggeration). Yet everyone has welcomed me with immensely open arms. They invite me out whenever they’re going anywhere. They constantly give me advice about places to go and things to do. They drove me all around town before I got my car. And they continue to check on me to make sure I’m doing ok, even one’s I haven’t had the opportunity to meet yet.
Through everyone’s kindness, I’ve been learning an interesting lesson about asking for help. Coming from New York, where fierce independence is a cultural norm, I expected to have to figure things out on my own in SA. But here, not asking for help is practically offensive. For example, I didn’t ask anyone to take me to the airport, as I assumed I should just take a taxi. But when I mentioned this to a friend, he looked at me like I was insane and said, “Why didn’t you just ask me to take you?” I honestly didn’t have a response; it just didn’t occur to me. He then said, “When you don’t ask, it makes me think we’re not friends.” I’ve never explicitly thought of asking for help as a sign of friendship, but I suppose that makes perfect sense.
Maybe I’ve just been living in New York too long. :)
March 6, 2008
Presidential Politics
At least once a day I get an email, SMS, or forwarded article about the US Presidential Election. For all who know me and my love of politics, there is both a sense of immense excitement in everyone’s messages and a nearly equal amount of awe that I’m “missing it all.”
The truth is that I calculated this trip so I would be away specifically during the primaries. I knew it was going to be crazy, and I wanted to step back and gain some perspective. Although I could have never anticipated it would be as crazy as it’s been, being on the outside looking in has been incredibly interesting.
For one, it’s much easier to see all the media bias. South African newspapers don’t believe America is capable of electing a woman or black man, so they’ve placed their bets on John McCain, “the old white man” as they say. (This coming from a country whose likely next President, ANC-Chair Jacob Zuma, faces charges of corruption, fraud, money laundering and racketeering. Not to mention he has four wives and eighteen children and is likely to marry a fifth soon.) The New York Times, on the other hand, clearly loves Barack. I used to think it was just the op-ed page, but now I see it pretty much everywhere. Part of that is Obama’s charm, part is the public perception of Hillary’s lack thereof. And part of it, from a true objective (and well documented) perspective is that the media has never exactly been friendly to Hillary.
As for my thoughts on the race - honestly, I don’t know. Every day, every poll, and every (generally useless) pundit brings in a new frame on what this race is about. More interesting to me than those reports are the stories I’m hearing. My twenty-two year old younger brother, for example, recently told me he’s become a Hillary fan. A self-proclaimed moderate who consistently disagrees with my progressive views, particularly when I wax poetic about women in politics, I was a little surprised.
“What brought you to that conclusion?”
“She really seems to have her act together, and I think she can get stuff done.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, but I can’t really tell anyone, because as a young person if you’re not a Obama supporter it’s sort of like you’re a traitor.”
“Really????”
Politics is rarely polite dinner conversation, but it’s much more unique for it to have infiltrated the social lives of America’s college age set.
This brought me to my second thought from SA – the surge of young people in politics this election cycle. I spent the last two presidential elections talking to tens of thousands of young people about why voting is important. The overwhelming apathy was resounding, no matter what cool new free stuff I was giving away. But with the right inspiration and the right candidate, a lot of that has seemed to change. Young people simply wanted someone who speaks to them. Makes sense.
And I am thrilled that young people are engaged and inspired, but I’m also a little bit worried, because I’m not sure it’s sustainable. Not all elections can be historic (In fact, local elections, which affect one’s day-to-day life most, are the LEAST historic. They’re down right boring.) And all candidates simply will not have the oratory skill of Barack, Bill or JFK. (Again, when’s the last time your Senator, Governor, or Mayor got you excited about something?) It is true that we expect the most from our Presidents, and to some degree they have a duty to inspire, but I feel like we’re all tuning in to watch Michael Jordan on the court without having a clue as to how the game of basketball is played.
So as I sit and watch the show from a continent on the other side of the world, I am both thrilled and frightened by the excitement of this year’s primaries. Everyone is plugged in like it’s the Super Bowl, but what happens when the game ends and the real work of governing has to begin? Will anyone stay tuned?
The truth is that I calculated this trip so I would be away specifically during the primaries. I knew it was going to be crazy, and I wanted to step back and gain some perspective. Although I could have never anticipated it would be as crazy as it’s been, being on the outside looking in has been incredibly interesting.
For one, it’s much easier to see all the media bias. South African newspapers don’t believe America is capable of electing a woman or black man, so they’ve placed their bets on John McCain, “the old white man” as they say. (This coming from a country whose likely next President, ANC-Chair Jacob Zuma, faces charges of corruption, fraud, money laundering and racketeering. Not to mention he has four wives and eighteen children and is likely to marry a fifth soon.) The New York Times, on the other hand, clearly loves Barack. I used to think it was just the op-ed page, but now I see it pretty much everywhere. Part of that is Obama’s charm, part is the public perception of Hillary’s lack thereof. And part of it, from a true objective (and well documented) perspective is that the media has never exactly been friendly to Hillary.
As for my thoughts on the race - honestly, I don’t know. Every day, every poll, and every (generally useless) pundit brings in a new frame on what this race is about. More interesting to me than those reports are the stories I’m hearing. My twenty-two year old younger brother, for example, recently told me he’s become a Hillary fan. A self-proclaimed moderate who consistently disagrees with my progressive views, particularly when I wax poetic about women in politics, I was a little surprised.
“What brought you to that conclusion?”
“She really seems to have her act together, and I think she can get stuff done.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, but I can’t really tell anyone, because as a young person if you’re not a Obama supporter it’s sort of like you’re a traitor.”
“Really????”
Politics is rarely polite dinner conversation, but it’s much more unique for it to have infiltrated the social lives of America’s college age set.
This brought me to my second thought from SA – the surge of young people in politics this election cycle. I spent the last two presidential elections talking to tens of thousands of young people about why voting is important. The overwhelming apathy was resounding, no matter what cool new free stuff I was giving away. But with the right inspiration and the right candidate, a lot of that has seemed to change. Young people simply wanted someone who speaks to them. Makes sense.
And I am thrilled that young people are engaged and inspired, but I’m also a little bit worried, because I’m not sure it’s sustainable. Not all elections can be historic (In fact, local elections, which affect one’s day-to-day life most, are the LEAST historic. They’re down right boring.) And all candidates simply will not have the oratory skill of Barack, Bill or JFK. (Again, when’s the last time your Senator, Governor, or Mayor got you excited about something?) It is true that we expect the most from our Presidents, and to some degree they have a duty to inspire, but I feel like we’re all tuning in to watch Michael Jordan on the court without having a clue as to how the game of basketball is played.
So as I sit and watch the show from a continent on the other side of the world, I am both thrilled and frightened by the excitement of this year’s primaries. Everyone is plugged in like it’s the Super Bowl, but what happens when the game ends and the real work of governing has to begin? Will anyone stay tuned?
February 28, 2008
Race, Identity, Soweto and Me
“Hello, white girl.” This was my welcome to Soweto.
One of South Africa’s largest townships, Soweto is most well known as the hotbed of youth activism against apartheid, particularly during the fateful June 16, 1976 Soweto Uprising when over 10,000 students marched against the government’s policy that education must take place in Afrikaans as opposed to English. (The apparent “logic” behind the ruling was that White’s taxes were contributing to Black education, thus Blacks must learn in Afrikaans, a language they had no background in.) The Soweto Uprising brought national attention to South Africa as police opened random fire on the students after a policeman threw rocks into the crowd and the children threw rocks back. 566 people died that day, and the senseless violence upon children was the tipping point to bring political and economic sanctions against South Africa.
Knowing this history, I of course wanted to visit Soweto. The guys at work decided that I wasn’t allowed to take a tour. “No, no, no. We’ll take you to the hood,” they liked to tell me. So I finally got them to commit to a time, and on Sunday Thabiso and Molemo (in the pictures below) showed me around their town.
For starters, their version of the “hood” is not exactly the Magnolia Projects. Perhaps I’m not sensitized as I might be if from here, but I certainly didn’t feel in danger at any point in time. Instead, I felt like I was in a low-middle income Black community, not so unlike Duke Dr. where I spent my early years in Kenner, Louisiana. Single family homes with lots of family coming in and out. Folks hanging out in the streets, strolling around on a hot summer day. People calling out to everyone who passed by ‘cause you know they know your “mama and ‘dem.” (Ok, so maybe we only say that phrase in New Orleans. =))
What was different were the clear signs of apartheid and the progress since. Soweto is where Gauteng Province’s Black people were forcibly moved during apartheid (and today 6 million of South Africa’s 42 million people live in Soweto). No one was allowed to own land. The homes were built practically on top of each other, so there are generally no “yards” to speak of. And quite frankly, there’s not a whole lot of racial diversity to be found in Soweto.
On the other hand, those who have been able have added extensions to their homes. So in between a row of modest houses are newly constructed two-story places. (However, interestingly enough, very few of these houses have the immense security walls found in the White suburbs.) At the “posh” local restaurants you do see some folks of other races. And perhaps Soweto’s most interesting sign of “progress” is the absolutely massive mall and the equally ginormous mega-churches. (I thought I’d seen some of world’s largest mega-churches when working in Ohio, but this is a whole other thing….)
Soweto, like most of my time in South Africa, also consistently brought me back to the conversation of race. The initial trigger came as Thabiso and I were standing outside Molemo’s house waiting for him to get back from church. Molemo’s cousin walked by and started calling out to me:
“Hello white girl. Come stand in the shade with me white girl. Don’t get burned white girl.” Thabiso just laughed and laughed.
My jaw dropped. “Thabiso, did I lose six shades of pigment since this morning?”
“Nah, you’re just White in Soweto.”
Hmm…ok. I could see how even in the Rainbow Nation the black/white paradigm would be powerful in the township. If you aren’t Black in Soweto, essentially you’re White. I could see that.
However, the next day is what really surprised me. I went into the office to tell my Sowetan tales, including my new found whiteness. I was certain everyone would see the humor in my “Hello white girl” moment and laugh with me at the story. Turns out several people at the office thought I was White as well!
So again, I ask the fairly inane question, “Did I lose several shades of pigment today?” The Johannesburg summer has been baking me, and I’m definitely a very toasty shade of brown.
“No, it’s not about your skintone. Your facial features are White. You don’t look like our Indians. And you speak proper,” says my White, Afrikaans-speaking co-worker. Apparently accents in South Africa tell you more about racial category than skin color.
“I thought you were White as well, but maybe Coloured (mixed). Although wouldn’t have guessed Indian,” says my White, lesbian co-worker, whose partner is Coloured and adopted daughter is Black.
“Why not Indian I ask?” South Africa has the largest Indian community outside of India. Surely I could be “recognized” Indian here.
“We don’t really know that there are any Indians from India in America.”
Fantastic. We need to get Kal Penn to do more movies.
I then ask a Black female co-worker and she says she couldn’t guess my racial background either. But she did notice that I had “Indian hair”...
So then I asked an Indian co-worker (in a fairly obvious move for acceptance) what he thought my ethnic background was. Surely he would take me for one of his own.
“I figured you were Hispanic.”
Great.
From what I gathered from him, most of South Africa’s Indians are South Indian, who are generally darker skinned than me. And as I was told by another co-worker, “Our Indians aren't usually ‘curvy’ as you are.” Ah, the curves…
In the end it became abundantly clear that my racial category had been a topic of office conversation, and the general consensus was that no one knew. Which also meant they didn’t know which social box to put me in. Well, except foreign.
Which got me thinking…
In America, I’m never quite American. Everyone asks me where I’m from. Not the American city I was born in, but where I’m “from from,” in other words my ethnic background. In India, I don’t have to open my mouth before it is assumed I’m not from India, simply in how I carry myself. In Argentina, I was assumed to be Brazilian. In Brazil, I was Venezuelan. In Ohio, I was Black. And in South Africa, I’m now apparently White.
I’m not complaining about playing racial chameleon. It’s actually often fun, generally interesting, and sometimes quite helpful. It’s just fascinating to me that race is still used as such a salient social construct, although it can’t be definitively defined.
Moreover, this whole experience has me thinking about identity. My personal identity is deeply linked to being “South Asian American,” but that construct has no value here. I’ve also grown up working with and for communities of color, but suddenly I’m seen as White here – not as part of the majority group, but as part of those with elevated access and power.
I’m not really sure what all of this means yet. But I am going back to Soweto tomorrow tonight. Maybe there I’ll find some answers, or at least some more questions...
One of South Africa’s largest townships, Soweto is most well known as the hotbed of youth activism against apartheid, particularly during the fateful June 16, 1976 Soweto Uprising when over 10,000 students marched against the government’s policy that education must take place in Afrikaans as opposed to English. (The apparent “logic” behind the ruling was that White’s taxes were contributing to Black education, thus Blacks must learn in Afrikaans, a language they had no background in.) The Soweto Uprising brought national attention to South Africa as police opened random fire on the students after a policeman threw rocks into the crowd and the children threw rocks back. 566 people died that day, and the senseless violence upon children was the tipping point to bring political and economic sanctions against South Africa.
Knowing this history, I of course wanted to visit Soweto. The guys at work decided that I wasn’t allowed to take a tour. “No, no, no. We’ll take you to the hood,” they liked to tell me. So I finally got them to commit to a time, and on Sunday Thabiso and Molemo (in the pictures below) showed me around their town.
For starters, their version of the “hood” is not exactly the Magnolia Projects. Perhaps I’m not sensitized as I might be if from here, but I certainly didn’t feel in danger at any point in time. Instead, I felt like I was in a low-middle income Black community, not so unlike Duke Dr. where I spent my early years in Kenner, Louisiana. Single family homes with lots of family coming in and out. Folks hanging out in the streets, strolling around on a hot summer day. People calling out to everyone who passed by ‘cause you know they know your “mama and ‘dem.” (Ok, so maybe we only say that phrase in New Orleans. =))
What was different were the clear signs of apartheid and the progress since. Soweto is where Gauteng Province’s Black people were forcibly moved during apartheid (and today 6 million of South Africa’s 42 million people live in Soweto). No one was allowed to own land. The homes were built practically on top of each other, so there are generally no “yards” to speak of. And quite frankly, there’s not a whole lot of racial diversity to be found in Soweto.
On the other hand, those who have been able have added extensions to their homes. So in between a row of modest houses are newly constructed two-story places. (However, interestingly enough, very few of these houses have the immense security walls found in the White suburbs.) At the “posh” local restaurants you do see some folks of other races. And perhaps Soweto’s most interesting sign of “progress” is the absolutely massive mall and the equally ginormous mega-churches. (I thought I’d seen some of world’s largest mega-churches when working in Ohio, but this is a whole other thing….)
Soweto, like most of my time in South Africa, also consistently brought me back to the conversation of race. The initial trigger came as Thabiso and I were standing outside Molemo’s house waiting for him to get back from church. Molemo’s cousin walked by and started calling out to me:
“Hello white girl. Come stand in the shade with me white girl. Don’t get burned white girl.” Thabiso just laughed and laughed.
My jaw dropped. “Thabiso, did I lose six shades of pigment since this morning?”
“Nah, you’re just White in Soweto.”
Hmm…ok. I could see how even in the Rainbow Nation the black/white paradigm would be powerful in the township. If you aren’t Black in Soweto, essentially you’re White. I could see that.
However, the next day is what really surprised me. I went into the office to tell my Sowetan tales, including my new found whiteness. I was certain everyone would see the humor in my “Hello white girl” moment and laugh with me at the story. Turns out several people at the office thought I was White as well!
So again, I ask the fairly inane question, “Did I lose several shades of pigment today?” The Johannesburg summer has been baking me, and I’m definitely a very toasty shade of brown.
“No, it’s not about your skintone. Your facial features are White. You don’t look like our Indians. And you speak proper,” says my White, Afrikaans-speaking co-worker. Apparently accents in South Africa tell you more about racial category than skin color.
“I thought you were White as well, but maybe Coloured (mixed). Although wouldn’t have guessed Indian,” says my White, lesbian co-worker, whose partner is Coloured and adopted daughter is Black.
“Why not Indian I ask?” South Africa has the largest Indian community outside of India. Surely I could be “recognized” Indian here.
“We don’t really know that there are any Indians from India in America.”
Fantastic. We need to get Kal Penn to do more movies.
I then ask a Black female co-worker and she says she couldn’t guess my racial background either. But she did notice that I had “Indian hair”...
So then I asked an Indian co-worker (in a fairly obvious move for acceptance) what he thought my ethnic background was. Surely he would take me for one of his own.
“I figured you were Hispanic.”
Great.
From what I gathered from him, most of South Africa’s Indians are South Indian, who are generally darker skinned than me. And as I was told by another co-worker, “Our Indians aren't usually ‘curvy’ as you are.” Ah, the curves…
In the end it became abundantly clear that my racial category had been a topic of office conversation, and the general consensus was that no one knew. Which also meant they didn’t know which social box to put me in. Well, except foreign.
Which got me thinking…
In America, I’m never quite American. Everyone asks me where I’m from. Not the American city I was born in, but where I’m “from from,” in other words my ethnic background. In India, I don’t have to open my mouth before it is assumed I’m not from India, simply in how I carry myself. In Argentina, I was assumed to be Brazilian. In Brazil, I was Venezuelan. In Ohio, I was Black. And in South Africa, I’m now apparently White.
I’m not complaining about playing racial chameleon. It’s actually often fun, generally interesting, and sometimes quite helpful. It’s just fascinating to me that race is still used as such a salient social construct, although it can’t be definitively defined.
Moreover, this whole experience has me thinking about identity. My personal identity is deeply linked to being “South Asian American,” but that construct has no value here. I’ve also grown up working with and for communities of color, but suddenly I’m seen as White here – not as part of the majority group, but as part of those with elevated access and power.
I’m not really sure what all of this means yet. But I am going back to Soweto tomorrow tonight. Maybe there I’ll find some answers, or at least some more questions...
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