Although
I was feeling down all week due to the busy schedule and lack of sleep, there
were some positive experiences. The Apartheid Museum was incredibly powerful;
I was especially impacted by our tickets separating us as either “blankes” or
“non-blankes,” indicating that we had to go into the museum through different
entrances. As stages as it was, it sent a message to those of us that
were white, whom never felt or took notice to the ostracization people of color
have endured for centuries. I have to admit, however, that my favorite
part was seeing the display for Olive Schreiner, author of The Story of an
African Farm -- the book I chose for my fiction essay. Schreiner was an
ultra-feminist before it was trendy, exquisitely discussing race, gender, and
sexuality in the 1800s. Being wracked with white guilt, it was nice to
learn and see that not all white people were ignorant a$$holes during that
time. That being said, the Apartheid Museum actually wasn’t the most
emotional part for me -- the Hector Pietersen Museum was.
Seeing
Hector’s lifeless body being carried with his sister running alongside them,
wailing and screaming of heartbreak, brought tears to my eyes. It made me
think how destroyed I would be if one of my siblings were killed -- the pain
even being too much for me to think about now. I realized then and there
how similar she and I are in our love for our family, consequently uncovering
some unconscious biases I didn’t even realize I had.
I
recognized that not only are there racial stereotypes, but ones associated with
geographic location and class as well. I was so taken aback by Hector’s
sister’s grief because I believed that those who lived in impoverished areas,
who don’t have the same status as me, couldn’t possibly feel the same love that
I do -- couldn’t have the same pain with loss, the same compassion for others.
Ridiculous and sickening, I know. Thus, the images and stories that
the Hector Pietersen Museum displayed revealed to me a dark part of myself that
I need to work to change.
As
for the Boys and Girls Club in Soweto, I had a more pessimistic view. It’s not that the kids aren’t wonderful
little humans, I just don’t think it’s fair to spend a few hours with them,
have them get attached to us, and then, realistically, say goodbye
forever. I had two little girls crying
and hugging me saying they didn’t want me to leave – it broke my heart. They have a hard enough time dealing with rejection,
abandonment, and self-doubt as it is without us coming in there to play
hand-games and basketball with them to make ourselves feel like humanitarians
for a moment, always knowing that we were planning on likely never seeing them
again. I hate that. I hate that we think our actions are bringing
hope, but really we’re proving we don’t care enough to stick around. We’re no better than the CEO of Tupperware
who showed up in a suit that cost hundreds, only there to see what a “great
guy” he is for funding the program without actually spending genuine, quality
time with the children. We’re just a
bunch of white saviors who care more about washing the past than building a
durable road for the future.
Kruger
National Park was definitely the highlight of the excursion, but I felt I
couldn’t relax and enjoy it as much as I hoped.
With little sleep and a tight schedule, I felt pressure to make the most
of it while others were continually complaining about what animals they didn’t
get to see. Don’t get me wrong, I
would’ve loved to see a leopard dragging a kudo up a tree, but we did have two
male lions walking right beside our vehicle – I mean can I say AMAZING?! I just wish the atmosphere was more positive
about what we did get to see and not what we didn’t, but mostly I wish we
could’ve spent more time there. I am
thankful to have had the incredible experience to shine a spotlight on animals
in the dark, but I would love to go back one day to fully take in all of the
beauty and wonder Kruger has to offer.
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