By: Brook Buesking
Coming back to the States after twenty two days of service learning in Cape Town, I recall I felt an immediate sense of guilt; a feeling that began to infuse every emotion that I've had in the following weeks. It all began when I stepped off our twenty hour long flight from Cape Town to Atlanta and I broke with my group to go find some lunch. I found myself craving a latte, and went in search of a Seattle’s Best Coffee Shop. I ordered my soy (something that just didn’t exist in the few coffee shops we visited in Cape Town) latte and took a seat against the wall on the walkway in Concourse C. I began to engage in my favorite pastime at airports: observation and reflection. What I saw sent me into a spiral of sadness, guilt and frustration.
I began to notice all the men and women around me and what they were wearing, what they were eating, what they were talking about, and how they were interacting. I saw freshly pedicured toes, huge Prada bags and Ray Ban sunglasses, freshly spray tanned bodies sporting every designer’s name on their bodies. I saw people watching people: sizing each other up; I saw men watching women, I saw women watching their reflections, I saw people avoiding people.
And there I sat: a tired, weary body that hadn’t been washed in two days, clothes that I had worn for the past four days, hair and skin dry from the day long plane ride and belly hungry from not eating almost the entire plane ride. I sat and watched as people ate half their meals, and then threw the rest out without a second thought. I watched as people pulled out their Gucci wallets, stuffed with those green and white bills I hadn’t seen in nearly a month, and bought overpriced T Shirts from gift stores, candies to eat on the plane ride; Coca Cola’s, Vitamin Water, M&M’s… I all of the sudden got this strong sense of inadequacy. I wasn't living up to the American standard, I was in grungy sweat pants and smelly shoes; my hair was uncombed, my skin blemished and flaking from the dry airplane air. The realities of living in a society of mass consumption/commercialism hit me in a new and profound way right then and there.
As I continued to sit and watch, I found myself thinking about how much Rand each item I saw on that woman's arm, or in that guy's bag was, and how much could be bought in Cape Town with that much rand. That purse is about 5000 rand! That’s enough to buy an add on to a single room shack made of corrugated iron (see image above) in the Townships. That outfit is 4000 rand…that’s enough to make sure everyone in that house eats regularly for a month.
I sat. I watched. I drank my coffee, and felt guilty. Here I was, happy to be back stateside where I could bathe whenever I wanted to inside my home that has running water and electricity that isn't shared and doesn't shut on and off throughout the day; lucky to have every imaginable food possiblity right there for my convenience, lucky to not only have plenty of bathrooms, but ones without bars and locks on the doors and ones with soap and paper towels. And behind me were all those learners at Fezeka High that were still there in Cape Town, without these and many other luxuries. Where was their reprieve? I found that since I was aware of this fact, I was unable to enjoy my reprieve.
I found myself there, on the tiled floor of Concourse C, crying. Crying as I had done every single day in South Africa--and these were not tears of hope and joy, but of loss. I was longing for the hospitality I had received in South Africa- the way the people almost intuitively knew what you needed, the humble nature of the kids, the gracious smiles and open arms of the women we met there. I longed for the feeling of purpose and depth that I felt in South Africa, the feeling that I regret to say has been lost upon this arrival. I longed to return, to get back on the plane, to go back and dedicate a life in Cape Town, a life that would not only give me the meaning I've longed for long before going to South Africa, but also meaning for the people I would be in contact with there as I forfeit some of my privilege in order to bolster theirs. Alas, the clock struck 1:30 p.m. and I was brought back to reality: my plane was boarding to Norfolk International, bringing me yet further away.
I now approach my two week mark for re-entry. During this time, I've gone through a range of complex emotions, realizations and joys. I have learned to take that feeling of guilt and frustration that I felt upon my immediate arrival, and reorganize it in a way that positively fuels my future commitments for change and passion for service to my fellow humankind. I've taken these observations about being a conscious consumer and applied them to my everyday life. I've taken these lessons from my fellow Sisi's and Bhuti's in Cape Town on grace, hospitality, courage, hope and Ubuntu and kept my humanity alive...despite all those advertisements for the latest "Prada bag", "Gucci glasses", or the latest episode of The Swan. ...more to come...
photo credits: // top (prada bag): http://rubystyle.files.wordpress.com/2008/02/prada-fairy-bag1.jpg
Township Shack: H. Davis // Me in the ATL Airport: R. C. Hunter // South African Ladies at GAPA: H. Davis
local delicacy: smilies (goats head)
