Nyanga day 2.

Oh man, my time is winding down here. Just one more full day and then back to Boston, I can't believe it. I feel like I've been here for half my life and like I just got here this morning.

Today I packed. Gross. After that we met up with Noluyanda and her cousin and friend (I'm sorry, I can't remember their names, I feel terrible), and headed back to Nyanga. We went straight to Maphindi's for lunch - yum! The meat was, again, delicious. I got to speak to some of the guys that work the braii. They were hot and sweaty and enthused and had great laughs. I asked if they minded if I took photos of the braii, and not only did they not mind, but they totally hammed it up for the camera. It was an impromptu photo shoot!






Before our food was ready, Noluyanda scooted out without a word. We thought she was going to the cresch to pick up Lonwabo, but she was gone for a solid ten minutes. When she came back she was without her son, but instead had a Shoprite bag. After we devoured our delicious lunch, Noluyanda broke out the grocery bag. She had gone to the store to buy Lee Anne and I birthday goodies: a scrumptious chocolate cake and beautiful matching earrings and necklaces. She put my necklace on for me, and took photos with her phone when we cut our birthday cake. It was truly the most special birthday celebration gesture anyone has ever made. I haven't even known this amazing young woman for two weeks, and she has no space for extras in her life. Between paying for school and living expenses and diapers for her son, I can only imagine how tight her money is. Yet she felt the warmth and connection to make us feel incredibly special for our birthdays.

After Maphindi's we walked around Nyanga and went to the market by the taxi rank. While Noluyanda and I were walking down the street holding hands (everyone in SA is extremely affection - men and women alike hold hands and freely wrap their arms around their friends' shoulders) a man said something to Noluyanda in Xhosa, at which she responded to in genuine laughter. She translated, "he told us we look like sisters."

There were many moments of being uncomfortably aware of my whiteness and the attention I garnered because of that. One particular moment that stuck out was when the single-toothed elderly man angrily and insistently begged for money or food. The five of us were standing in a group together, but he spoke to me directly through committed stares. With resentment in his voice he questioned why I didn't or couldn't help. "Ma'm don't you understand that I'm hungry!" The ironic thing was that Noluyanda's cousin was carrying our Maphindi's take away, but not for a moment did he notice as his eyes were locked on me.

Later in the afternoon we were all in town, walking down Long Street. Noluyanda's friend was carrying the extra chocolate cake when she was essentially cornered by two street beggars. She screamed out as they tried their best to will the cake into their hands and mouths. It took interception on all of our parts to get the beggars to move along.

For some food is so hard to come by. It is a harsh reality and simultaneously unfathomable -- something that is so far from any reality I have lived. I don't like the god complex; why is it that I find myself in positions where I have the ability to decide if someone eats that day? And to think that for some reason or another I choose for that person not to eat. I don't like it.

And on that depressing note, I'm going to go lay my privileged head down to sleep. I am promising myself I will blog about the safari and the political rally and Thabo and all the bits that have been falling through the cracks. Please hold me accountable.