It’s hard to be misunderstood.
People talk to us like we’re fresh off the boat – which we are. We know very little about South Africa, really, and I for one feel like I have no idea what’s going on.
For example, there appears to be so much money here in the Western Cape – opulent wealth, even. New housing developments stretching out into what looks like the middle of nowhere. Huge malls. Expensive brands. Coffee shops and restaurants around every corner. And the wine industry! It’s outrageous. But there’s also extreme poverty – lots of it. Shanty towns (townships) also stretch for miles and miles. Hundreds of thousands of people scraping together what they can just to sustain who they are. Where does the money come from? Why is there so much at the top and so little at the bottom?
And then there’s the issue of race. Whites, Blacks, Coloureds (yes, they say that here), and a whole swathe of ethnicity in between. Each with their unique cultures, languages, and histories all tangled up into one, big messy “society”. There is prejudice and suspicion in all directions. And here I am, a white woman with a foreign accent who doesn’t know who I’m allowed to talk to or what I’m allowed to say.
There’s also the question of crime. Where is it safe to walk? Who is it smart to talk to? How late should I be driving alone? Are the warnings exaggerated because they think I’m green off the boat from Canada? What advice do I take with a grain of salt? What advice to do I obey?
There’s also the puzzling mystery of where to find “the real Africa”. For example, where is the market? Where are the fruit and vegetable stands, the cheap flip-flops, the plastic wares from China that I need for my kitchen? Where are the women sitting around swatting flies and gossiping? Where are the men hauling heavy loads? Where is the street food, the spices, he questionable, grilled meat? In other words, where is LIFE happening?
I am more than happy to admit that I am brand new to the Western Cape and I have no idea what’s going on.
But I am not fresh off the boat, and it’s hard that people don’t understand that.
I don’t expect what a green Canadian would expect. I’m not off-put or offended or frustrated by the things a green Canadian would be. My earliest memories are of a rural town in a tiny country tucked into the edge of West Africa. That is the “normal” buried deep in my mind, building the framework for how I interpret life. And decades of living cross-culturally in both large cities and rural landscapes has informed and shaped my interpretive lens. In short, I come with expectations and different eyes.
And different hopes.
I didn’t come here to save anyone. I didn’t come here to help anybody. I came here to live my life. To be a neighbour. To pursue friendship and justice. Just like I did in Dakar. Just like I did in Vancouver. Just like I did in Abbotsford. I want to live a humble, authentic life and love the people God puts in front of me.
And it’s hard that people don’t understand that. When I ask them to explain what’s going on here I’m not asking for a task list or a set of warnings. I’m looking for context, for a compass.
It will come, I know.
I will make a lot of mistakes, I’ll look foolish a lot of the time, but slowly, it will come. Slowly, culture will come into focus again and we will begin to see our way forward in this new normal. And it’s okay that people don’t understand. Hopefully, they will come to know us by our love, and accept or reject us accordingly. And that’s okay, too – even good. That’s life in transition, life cross-culturally, life anywhere, really.
It’s hard and messy, but beautiful in the end.