Sobering Moments

Riding the Metrorail (aboveground subway system) home after what was supposed to be a lazy day at the beach, Seb, with one of his trademark, straightforward remarks said, “It seems like we keep having a really pleasant time, followed by a really scary time over and over.” His reflection exacted what me, Giulia, and Petra (two other roommates) had felt and experienced over the course of the day. There’s something about Cape Town and SA that occupies the grey space between poverty and plenty, comfort and insecurity, that’s really difficult to put your hands on. The Metrorail provides a perfect symbol of a public space that treads the middle ground of daily life here, where the oddities abound, and the people and incidents are often beyond my understanding. In fact, I could write an entire blog about the encounters on the Metrorail, though I have ridden it only three times. Here’s a rather brief introduction…

The rail operates all throughout Cape Town, but most students take it from the greater-campus area along the Indian Ocean side of the peninsula, where it makes stops at a handful of beautiful beaches and seaside towns. However, the rail is also a popular mode of transport for people coming from township communities, and it is rare to find many white people in its cabins. The most difficult part is determining what sort of socio-economic backgrounds certain people are coming from, whether they are beggars, working unskilled jobs, have desk jobs, or simply traveling somewhere everyday just to look for day’s labor. Often times you find yourself dumbfounded between the disparity of your perceptions and the reality. For example, there was a family (mom, dad, and a young son and daughter), who, based on clothing and behavior I had assumed came from an area of relative affluence (aka somewhere outside the townships). Turns out the family lives in Langa, Cape Town’s first and oldest township, which is way too overcrowded according to the father. Reading about SA and learning a little about poverty around the world, I had imagined areas like the townships to be a lump of people with an equal footing in poverty and despair. It’s interesting to observe the vibrant personalities and complexities of township life after coming in contact with an assortment of its people.

Here’s a small list of the people and things I’ve come across of the Metrorail: University professor who has traveled the world (previously mentioned), a number of musicians playing in the cabins working for tips – some really quite talented, a security guard, scores of vendors selling all sorts of foods, the family mentioned above, and a self-proclaimed preacher espousing his views - referencing Noah’s flood, the coming Armageddon, the United Nations as a false prophet, and some other Bible passages. A couple of middle-aged ladies were laughing hysterically at the preacher, who was really funny to watch, but he remained stoic throughout his brief sermon. The cabins are packed tight most times and the people are wide-ranging in age, wealth, and purpose.

Getting back to Seb’s quote and our day-trip to the beach, we were met with a number of provoking situations that immediately altered our frame of reference and left us temporarily speechless. It is like being at a high school party when the police show up and you know you’re screwed – your fun, yet unfamiliarly intoxicating night is immediately sobered by the seemingly dire consequences facing you. The unfamiliar incidents that occurred from Rondebosch (my town) to St. James Beach by Metrorail elicited the same type of reaction within each of us traveling that day (me, Seb, Petra, Giulia).

Our first sobering moment happened at the metrorail stop in Rondebosch, where we waited a looong time for the train heading to St. James Beach. Commonly enough, a bum approached me asking for a couple rand (SA currency), I said no, and then he proceeded to Seb with the same plea. Like most beggars he came with a tactic: the “You have everything, I have nothing” plea. At first it seems heartless to not give money to the more desperate beggars, but we’ve been told to avoid doing so in order to discourage the culture of begging in SA. After the initial exchange, the man started these slightly deranged mumbles, saying things like “You f******* pussy” and other phrases where we could pick out certain words among garbled gibberish. He was a white man who had just finished eating cupcakes and had crumbs and frosting all over his face – that mixed with something resembling a skin disorder around his mouth made him look like the Joker in the Dark Knight (even the hair was similar). That first transformation from an innocent plea to malicious gibberish threats left the four of us a bit on edge, not knowing whether an attack was coming or not. We had the comfort of strength in numbers and the mood of the locals was reassuring, seemingly passive about the situation – an indication of normalcy. Our conversations about the beach and the exorbitant temperatures that day became immediately silenced, leaving us speechless for a long and unnerving wait. The experience was chillingly real, instantly altering your state of mind from one of nonchalance to one of tenseness and insecurity. Unfortunately, this was only the first indication of what our day would entail.

The second half of the story is a bit too long to fit into this blog post, so I’ll be updating it soon. It’s kind of like the “to be continued” of a two part “It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia” episode. But I’ll leave you readers with some more upbeat plans I have for the upcoming week:

1. Yesterday, Tuesday Feb. 7, a bunch of students hiked up Lion’s Head to see the sunset and

full moon. The travel agency made it out to be a simple hike and didn’t give much cause for concern. There were a couple of freaky points on the mountains where you think you’re not afraid of heights until you have to take on some vertical climbs with ladder handles and chains. It was an amazing view, and felt like being an ant on an anthill with hundreds of other people going up the mountain.

2. Tomorrow, Thursday Feb. 9, a few roommates and others have an 8-person van rented until Sunday that we will be using to roadtrip through South Africa’s infamous Garden Route along the southern coast. Trip plans include the world’s largest bungee jump (216 meters) and this 3 hour kayak trip on Storms River, which starts on the ocean and meanders through this gorge with rocky cliffs. We may check out an elephant park, but some plans are still up in the air.