humanity

When we were kids we used to have "staring contests" where were would keep our eyes wide, staring down our opponent as we felt our eyeballs water in a futile effort to keep them from getting that gummy dry eyeball feeling. The victory of winning a staring contest was always a little sweeter because you are staring into your opponent's eyes at the moment of their defeat. I'm telling you, these contests could be intense.
A few days ago my staring contest training from childhood finally came into good use. One of the principals I work with has ignored my advice on computers for literally months because he doesn't want to put the work/time into getting his school's computer fixed. The other day the computer crashed completely. It wouldn't even turn on. When he realized what had happened our interaction went something like this:
him : "what is wrong with it?"
me : "err... umm... well... yeah. The computer won't turn on."
him : "well, fix it Refilwe"
me : "I don't know how."
him : "fix it"
me : "I'm an art teacher"
him : "fix it"
me : "I think you need to take it to get fixed" (the three hundred thousandth time I've said this)
him : "fix it"
me : "really, I don't know how."
him : "fix it"
And then the staring contest began. I really think that he believed that he could silently bully me into obtaining computer skills I don't have. I stared. He stared. I tried to smile. He remained very serious. I stared. He stared. It was tense. There was another woman in the office and she watched with rapt attention, waiting to see who would win.
Of course, there was no winning for him. I really couldn't fix the computer so no matter how long he stared at me I wasn't going to fix the computer. Finally, he looked away and left the office without a word.
I tell this story not only to show off my staring contest skills, but also to illustrate that even after all this time working with people here there are some people who still see me as a machine, a tool to use when they need it and to ignore when they don't.

South Africa has a long history of dehumanization, of racism and violence beyond what most Americans of my generation can even imagine. Tribalism, racism and xenophobia are all symptoms of this history of dehumanization and I sometimes find myself an object and not a subject in my life here.

Two days ago a teacher who I know pretty well and have worked with on a number of occasions told me she was feeling sick and then said to me, "Refilwe, do you know what menstruation is?" in the same way people will ask me if I know what a traditional ceremony is. After I told her that yes, of course I know what menstruation is she was shocked. Totally shocked. I was a little offended by her shock, so I told her "you know, I'm a woman too. I menstruate". She didn't know what to do with this information so she just looked at me with a "no way" facial expression and walked away. She couldn't even fathom that we have something that basic in common.

These moments, in some ways, are similar to the moments when I am called a racial slur or harassed by strange men on the street. They are about distance and dominance, about asserting that the person doing the staring, laughing or harassing is better, more human than me. I remember studying dehumanization in college and thinking I "got it" because I could imagine situations in America when people were dehumanized. Being objectified is a totally different experience than witnessing the objectification of another. In my glimpses into what it is to be dehumanized I have gained a clarity in my understanding of what it is and how to diminish dehumanization so people can begin to relate, respect and learn from each other.

These moments also make me really appreciate all the wholly human moments I have here. I have a lot of people who I care about and who care about me. People who have made an effort to see past my foreign-ness, language and race and see me as a fellow human, as a person seeking understanding and connection.

I have a friend who is an older woman and her son has been "sick" and lately it has been getting much worse. When I know they are at the hospital I call periodically to check on him and she sends me text messages about what the doctor says. A few times we have just hugged each other, hoping against hope that things will turn out ok. She talks to me about how hard it can be to be a mom, and once she said it must be really hard for my mom to have me be so far away. In this moment of empathy for my mother I saw so clearly that she has made a real effort to see what things are like for me just as I have tried to empathize with her situation. Neither of us can really understand, but we try and in that we honor each other's humanity.
When I told my host father that I was leaving for China where I was going to teach at a university he was overcome with pride. He kept telling me that it was a "big big promotion". I tried to explain that I would still be a Peace Corps Volunteer, just in a different place but he wasn't convinced. It also became clear to me that he is a man who values education and takes great pride in his children and he has adopted me as one of his children and he is very proud of me. I am so honored by his pride. So I let it stand and I think most of the people in the village have heard from Kgosi that I got a "big big promotion".

My life here is still a mixed bag of dehumanization and human connection. For awhile there I wondered if I would ever have real connections with any South Africans and now my life is full of them. I am learning to cherish the connections I have made and be grateful for the efforts people have made to create space in their lives for this strange, American, white woman. I am learning to value the people who show me kindness and acceptance and to place my focus on those people instead of those who refuse to see me as a fellow human struggling through this world. I am also learning to be more accepting, to make the effort to see beyond "otherness" and welcome people into my life.