"I will never be poor" OR "Ode to cheeseburgers"

After a stable life in Cape Town for the past 5 months, I prepare for Tuesday when I will stradle my two worlds on an airplane. A brief stay in Johannesburg, where I started my sojourn 10 months ago, allows me a moment for reflection.

My students have been excited for my departure to America - excited even more for my return so I can tell them "all about America." "But," I say, "I can already tell you about it, you know that!" And they start with cheeseburgers. "How big are the cheeeese buh-gahs in Ah-meh-rrr-i-ca?" & "Can you bring us one?!" Oh boy! What did I start?

My cousin Leigh asked me yesterday if people treat me like I'm an American here. A multi-faceted answer - yes & no. Many of my well-traveled friends consider me not to be American - or at least a "typical" American. My SA heritage supposedly discounts me from the heavy stereotypes. Meanwhile my students want to know if I've seen Beyonce or Chris Brown & if I can bring them an amazingly huge cheeseburger. These stereotypes that individual countries and continents run on create interesting, yet often times, pointless divisions.

Ask any person in SA who has been to other parts of Africa about poverty and 3rd world conditions and they will tel you "THIS is not Africa." While, in fact, it is. No different from the comparison of 3rd world Rio Grande Valley in Texas where people live in half-built shacks, to the rest of the 1st world USA; South Africa is mostly first world in comparison to the rest of the African continent. Meanwhile, IN South Africa, many of my students come to school hungry. Their parents have enough money to send them across the city, but their education comes as sacrifice to proper nourishment.

My standards of poverty may not have changed as dramatically as they would have had I gone to Ethiopia or Uganda to work. I have not faced malaria, HIV, or cholera on a daily basis. Debilitating malnutrition has not impacted the school community severely. Clean water is an issue in some areas, but my students benefit from higher urban standards (though not always the best). When I started my work in Cape Town I expected I would work in the townships and deal with these issues more regularly. Instead, I am at a school quite privileged in its staffing and resources compared to many government schools. But poverty is still there and these students suffer its consequences.

Which gets one thinking, what is poverty? Having set out to work with underprivileged groups, I am not working with the MOST underprivileged. It's easy to start feeling guilty and to wish to tackle all the worlds problems, which becomes a bottomless pit for the humanitarian soul. But I have had to learn to keep my head above and to find relief in my work rather than guilt. For where do you draw the line with poverty? Who is too rich to deserve your help?

Is is someone lacking one of the major three needs - shelter, clothing and food? Is it substandard access to all three of these areas? Is it a lack of love and a supportive community? What does it take to help one succeed - to have the tools to live a healthy life? Is it a mother sacrificing food to send her children to school? Is it parents sacrificing all free time with their children so they can feed them? Through many long conversations with my Dutch friend Karlijn who worked in a poor, rural area of Ethiopia I have begun to see I will never be poor; I have not even the capacity to be poor.

My first world status elevates me above all else in a world where most standards of living are less than that of the USA. Secondly, my racial, economic, and educational background will always give me reach for opportunity. Even someone from America or Europe of a contrasting background to me will find that their currency will enable them a last minute medical visit, surgery or ticket home in case of emergency. In other words, we 1st worlders will almost always have a way out.

As my life opens here in Cape Town, as an educator, an illustrator, a social worker, an artist, a foreigner I feel as though I have never had so many options spread before me. It is spectacular to behold that my dreams to be here have come true. And that there are even more to be dreamed. It is this beautiful excercise of dreaming that has enabled chance in my life and room to explore multiple avenues. In a "first world" country such as South Africa, where 25% of the population is unemployed, it is the lack of dreams that embitter and entrench many. I have had such privilege, love and encouragement in my life and this is why I will never have the capacity to stop, to allow myself the label of poor or broke. I will always have a way out. Or, better put by a woman I met recently, "You have one leg up girl. You have one leg up." (Incidentally, she was a toothless woman from Asheville, NC living in Hermanus!)

the Oranjezicht Neighbourhood

L-R: Great example of positive, local graffitti; Street sign for where I reside; Lions Head poking through some residential greenery.

I thought it might be of interest to many of you to see the area in which I live. Breda (Breh-Dah) is the name of my street. Oranjezicht is my neigh"bour"hood. It derives it roots from the Dutch word for "orange" and the famous South African Oranje River. It is a lovely, old neighborhood with many Victorian buildings. There are lots of beautiful adaptations of the Cape Dutch style and also a great variety of other architectural influences.














L - R: An example of the many fences required for people to feel safe in inner-city Cape Town; Cape Dutch-style facade with cascading hibiscus; my favorite - the door which goes nowhere (actually, I think it leads to the above ground resevoir, hidden behind the hill.










L-R: Street view of a grouping of Cape Ducth-style houses with Signal Hill poking out in the background; a great example of the gorgeous bougainvillea vines which provide for a great cover of the fences surrounding most houses; tennis blacktop that is falling by the way-side from falling economy and provisions.









L-R: Three different examples of Victorian gingerbread on house-facades.










L-R: Corinthian columns; street view looking up towards an overcast Table Mountain; my street corner view of Devil's Peak.

Passport No. II

Pools of gold & rust tinged grape vines fill the valleys of Franschhoek. Autumn's spectacle, today the vineyards were glowing red while platforms of jubilant farm laborers trailed behind tractors singing loudly for Zuma. They echoed the excitement filling me just hours after visiting the Department of Home Affairs in Paarl.

Successes from my South African citizenship application seem to fall in line with other great markings of democracy. On November 4th when Obama claimed his election victory I finally obtained my birth certificate after 3 years of waiting. Today, on May 9th, I have in my hand my new South African passport concurrent with the presidential inauguration for ZA’s president elect, Jakob Zuma.

As I was standing in line, shifting from hip to hip, I had a couple of hours to weigh in on all this. Dirty floors with large cockroaches making their public debut and small toddlers crawling about, the environment was quite hushed. Standing in line for close to two hours, I mused that lines are rarely this long in America. I thought about the endless hours black, coloured, and Indian South Africans stood in line in previous eras, waiting for their infamous Pass Books.

Nobody is angry or agitated for waiting so long, except perhaps for a few white folk cynical about this government. Most black and coloured people here waited their turns in line for decades and obviously no one sees just cause for getting their feathers in a ruffle. I find this quite astonishing and rather relaxing. I’m taking a course on positive thinking and it’s helping me understand how infectious the relaxed-spirit of Africa truly is.

I often feel challenged in these situations (be it waiting to get supplies, for packages to arrive, the internet to work, etc.) to be more patient. Now suddenly, I cannot imagine the hustle and bustle of New York City or Chicago, the impatience over delayed trains and aggravated people waiting in line. Perhaps I have turned a corner, I see how spoilt we are in the 1st world. Everything is instant and on demand. From having mail delivered right to your front door to decent public education to services that run smoothly most of the time. Direct deposit, self check-out counters, reliable public transit, iTunes, free parking, unlimited cell minutes, free local calls, year round avocados, multitudes of convenience food,… All these things and more, save affordable healthcare - but let’s leave that for another topic!


My new passport designates my nationality as South African - what a step. It is a proud day for me, even as the majority of the Western Cape sits uneasy with Zuma’s arrival. It’s an entirely different citizenship than that I feel and know for the United States. I didn’t grow up here. ALL of my historical attachments have been distantly received via reading, my political perspective is weak; however, my mother breathed it as a child, her parents turned its soil and protected its name in WWII, their parents sweated through depression, their parents fought in civil wars, and on, and on. Today I am here, working through the problems created by past generations - much like in America. Compared to most immigrants, I’ve had it easy in my application for citizenship; but somehow, having had to apply I feel I’ve worked towards it rather than been given it as a hand out. And that is especially rewarding.

Library Update & Request

At long last, I am almost through with the re-construction of the library at St. Paul's Primary School. This has been an ongoing and seemingly never-ending project; from re-organizing the bookshelves (weeding out-dated donations & non-English books), to typing up every title, coding & labeling every spine, and finally - designing a book-lending system the school will be able to continue using past my departure. To run a library without a librarian takes a lot of organization and a lot of foresight. We’re getting there and I’m hoping by the 3rd Term students will be able to check out books from the school for the first time in decades.

Having a school library is pivotal for enabling reading and progress in literacy. This is true the world over. The students I deal with daily do not have books at home. I think back to all the books I had on my shelves (enough that I used to “play” librarian as a child!)…and I think of all the books collecting dust in attics throughout America. My overseas friends, it would be economically irresponsible to ask you to send those books to my students in Africa (the cost of shipping would far outweigh the books’ value), but I urge you to go through books your children no longer read & donate them to an under-resourced school in your town.

At St. Paul’s Primary School we have a strange proportions of books - far too many advanced reading books (when most of our students are below grade-level) and not enough beginning level picture books. Unfortunately, until there are enough beginning level books, Grades K through 3 will not be allowed to check out books. I know these are tough times, but I would like to ask you all to consider a contribution of at least $7 (ZAR60) for a used book and/or $12 (ZAR110) for a new book purchase for St. Paul’s Library. This will move stones, create paths, and encourage an understanding of the world beyond the corrugated-tin shacks that house many of my students. For a small sum, this offers you the chance to make big waves in the lives of children who are struggling to keep abreast with their education.

Many of members of my regular audience have already contributed to my being here! I appreciate the support you have offered in the past and duly note it. For those of you with pocket change to spare, contact me at sbrinklee@gmail.com for information on where to send donations. I and the students of St. Paul's Primary School thank you in advance!