Cape Town Endings

 

 

              Our farewell to Cape Town included a final gathering downtown in the Company Gardens and many hugs and tears, and repeated long goodbyes.

              This group has been unafraid to sing, unafraid to lead, and a culminating highlight of the two weeks was the night before at the mamas’ braai when the Roosevelt students gathered the mamas and the teachers in the yard and sang for us—“Lean on Me,” “Stimela,” and “Yahkalipi koko”; they were leaping and jumping in excitement while the Isilimela teachers were shouting at each other in disbelief and joy, look at what the Americans are doing, our music, in IsiXhosa, singing with the students, correcting words in a total joining together. It was thrilling and so lovely, the encapsulation of what this group has been about.

              At Amy Biehl’s memorial today, I went over to talk to two men who were watching us from the gas station. Amy Biehl was a white Fulbright student was killed dropping off friends in Gugulethu the day before she was headed back to California in the turbulent moment when apartheid was just ending: her car was attacked by a mob and she was killed at the site of the memorial. The two men told me, if it was okay, they wanted a picture with all of us. I said, Probably—but first you have to tell why you want to, and I want you to be honest about it. They said they had moved from the Eastern Cape four years ago, and in all that time, they had never seen white people in Gugulethu before. I invited them to come, tell our group again why we were interesting to them, and take a picture. There was a great exchange of welcome and gratitude and questions. Amy Biehl was killed 35 years ago. Apartheid ended 35 years ago. But these men taught us so clearly the past is not past. Amos said what we have repeatedly also heard in Langa: we are not black and white—we are one people.

              In Kirstenbosch Gardens today in our terminal reflection, our students expressed such gratitude and ambitions for their broadened hearts and opened arms. They’ve learned how they want to be treated, how willingly they want to love. They want to be more observant, to train themselves to see as incisively at home as they have in South Africa. Samantha learned the difference between tourism and fully inhabiting oneself within a community. Sophia said that memory is a product of life and that remembering life as you’re living it is what it means to be truly living. Meg’s mama taught her to treat every stranger with kindness—a greeting, warmth, a sharing from one’s plate—because you never know about tomorrow.