Adventure Blog! The Big Rush Urban Adrenaline at Moses Mabhida Stadium

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During PRIDE weekend at Durban, I decided to do something crazy. Part of my plan during my summer in South Africa is to do as many adrenaline sports and adventuring as I can. Here’s my personal video of what happened during my jump, before and after.

200 foot free fall
Acceleration of 80 mph
Infinite amounts of adrenaline!

On Voluntourism

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 I was speaking with another volunteer at the NGO I am working for and she said 

 “Three months. You know your stay here in South Africa is actually quite short compared to the other volunteers who stay for 8 months, 12 months.”

 She was right. I have been with my Fellowship for three years and each year I am matched with a summer internship placement that lasts anywhere from 10-12 weeks. At all of those internships, I always ended my internship with the feeling that I was just getting started. It is difficult to get settled into any internship within a few months time, but trying to get settled into an internship in a new country in 12 weeks adds a whole new dynamic. So the question beckons, will what I leave behind here really have an impact on the future of this NGO?

 I came to this NGO with the staff knowing that I would only be able to spend a small amount of time with them. I can only imagine how this knowledge affects the amount of time they are willing to put into training me, what kind of projects they trust me with or how inclusive they make me when disseminating information for future plans. It would be understandable if I was often overlooked since the feeling of “Well, she’s leaving soon any way” would probably be present.

 But that is not how it is. I am trusted with more responsibilities than I thought I would be and although it is stressful, I know my work is going towards something bigger. This is when it hit me – this is the world of NGOs. Many NGOs, if not all, always need help. This particular NGO is in no position to turn any volunteer away since the demand is high but there is little staff to meet the demand. Hence why my work is piling up the more and more time I spend here. So what about the voluntours?

 Voluntourism – also called volunteer tourism, volunteer holidays, volunteer travel, volunteer vacation; the intersection of international volunteering and tourism; the practice of individuals going on a working holiday, volunteering their labor for worthy causes such as aiding or alleviating the material poverty of some groups in society; the restoration of certain specific environments or research into aspects of society or environment for various reasons in an organized way alongside touristic activities

 So, basically, vacation while doing the ‘help the poor people’ thing. In the U.S., college students are expected to have secured at least one internship prior to graduation to ‘gain experience’ but what kind of experience are we as students really getting if we are only there for a single semester? a single summer? a 3-week winter break? But more so, students are encouraged to get some experience abroad and do an internship or volunteer in a foreign country. We say goodbye to friends and family for a summer, we project manage and take pictures with the local people, we leave. I am not saying I don’t think that these type of experiences are helpful and eye opening. They certainly serve those purposes, but my point is that I feel that these experience serve the volunteer/intern more than they do the organization/the cause. 

 I work with 40+ kids… when I leave here in 2 months, will I remember all of their names?

 I think about the people I work with. They are mostly foreigners from the U.S., UK, Germany, Brazil who left their home countries to volunteer in South Africa. Why? Because they can. Most of the volunteers came to this NGO with no particular attachment for this specific NGO, but because they were “looking for some adventure” or “thought it would be a cool experience.” Okay, I get that. Everyone wants a “cool experience”, but how much does our want for some adventure affect the quality of work that we do for the organizations we are with? This really gets me thinking because I myself like adventure, but I also like doing a good job at whatever I’m doing. In order to maintain any type of organizations, there has to be loyalty. Loyalty leads to retention. Retention leads to stability. 

 I guess I am having a moral dilemma. I will be gone in two months. I enjoy my work but I  am still a foreign volunteer. I am guilty in the sense that I am also a tourist. I guess all that there is for me to do is to keep on doing what I am doing. Work hard Monday through Friday (sometimes Saturday and Sunday) and find things to do at my leisure when I can. I just hope that, even if I am not here in two months, something I leave behind is sustainable. 

Kinder Joy Toy Match

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I’ve heard of my friends who have spent time abroad, whether a semester or a summer, talk about how bored and lonely they get. I haven’t really experienced the boredom part until tonight. I opened up my first ever Kinder Joy Surprise, a chocolate treat in a Kinder egg that usually comes with a little toy. After trying to figure out how the hell the things was supposed to work, this video resulted…

Mkuze South Africa Weekend Trip

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After being in SA for three weeks while doing nothing but work work work, it was time for some R&R. Here’s a video of my weekend trip to Mkuze, SA for safari, boat ride and playtime with some big cats.

I plan on making videos of all of my excursions while in SA, so stay tuned!

Via

“If anyone gives you trouble, you tell them you have mother here.”

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For the 2 weeks I have been here, I have been lucky enough to get quite close to the family I am staying with. I eat my meals with them, I share my daily stories and they, especially the matriarch of the house, care for me as if I was one of her own. Before I leave the house, she says a prayer for me and blesses me. She fills my ears with words of encouragement and inspiration. She leaves a plate for me at every meal and she even folds my underwear (true sign of a mother). Today, before she left for her meeting and I for my apartment hunt, she said “If anyone gives you trouble, you tell them you have a mother here who protects her mother things. You are family now.”

Last week, I worked with my NGO to plant a vegetable garden at a local school. A staff member called for “10 strong boys and 10 strong girls” to turn the soil. 

“Strong girls? What are strong girls?” the students around me muttered. Pretty soon, deciding that they did not fit the criteria, the girls left one by one, leaving only 20 boys to turn the soil.

One day, I hope that these girls will be like the women I have come to know. Everywhere, I see strong women. 

Hey! Chinese Boy!

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I arrived at the mall and decided to try Debonair’s Pizza. I ordered myself a standard 

sized “Something Meaty” and a 500ml Orange Fanta. After my number was called, I found a table at the Food Court and just before I could sit down, I heard it.

“Hey Chinese boy! Yeah, you!”

“I’m not Chinese.”

“(muffled English) Got help me needa get home. Give 500 Rand.”

“Excuse me?”

I looked behind him and saw that he was not alone. He sat at my table and stared at me, but behind him were a group of fairly large guys staring at me. The man at my table turned to look at them, then looked at me and smiled.

“You speak English?”

“Yes, I speak English.” Much better than he could, I might add. 

 “You sure you understand me? What I say to you?”

 “I’m sorry, I can’t help you.”

 He keeps on talking. I cannot understand what he said. All I could focus on was being scared. I sat at a table between two families and they all saw what was happening. Before this man came, they were all chatting away, but now with this strange man at my table, their eyes were all turned to us, but they did not lift a finger. 

 “Sorry, I just want to eat my lunch now.”

 “Okay yah yah eat your lunch, eat your lunch.”

 I stuff the pizza in my mouth. I have a hard time swallowing but force the pizza down anyway, not really tasting, just shoving, just to get rid of it, just to have an excuse to leave. Because I felt like I was not allowed to.

 I felt nauseous. My body told me to stop, but my hands just kept picking up pizza like mechanics. He sat across from me, just looking at each bite I took. Staring and smiling. His friends behind him, laughing. I am in this adult body, but inside I was shaking like when I was a child. When I was the only Asian kid in an all black elementary school. When I was the only lesbian in my high school locker room. When I couldn’t catch the other person in “steal the bacon” for being too fat as a child.

 It is always the same feeling. Some days, I can handle myself. Some days, I feel like this. The confidence comes and goes. But when its gone, I feel vulnerable, weak and afraid. 

 I was very afraid. These men kept staring at me. The families on either side of me just watched. I think that is what made me most uncomfortable. It was that I did not know what was going to happen, but I knew that other people were watching just to watch.

I kept eating, but this time, slowly. I took my time, acted unafraid and then the man got up, slammed his chair back into the table, looked at me and then walked away. His friends followed him. After that, every few seconds or so I would glance all around me to see if they would come back. I looked to the family to my left and the mother was smirking. But I knew it was over and was thankful that I was in a busy mall and not an isolated restaurant. 

 I have had a few experienced like these. The NGO I work for had to do a school visit and I went along to help. Visiting the school was something like elementary school for me. I went to predominantly black elementary school and I was the only Asian student in the school. Today, I experienced classic micro-aggressions like:

“Hey, China!” 

“Do you know karate? Hi-yah!” 

“Can you do a backflip?”

 And of course, there was bowing. In one class, a group of boys actually lined up in front of me and bowed one by one. One boy even got creative and tried to imitate Chinese characters in his notebook and asked me to read it to him. Everyone was having a laugh at my expense, including my co-workers. It was all fun and games to them, but I was dying inside. It is not like I am not used to being the ethnic minority. I went to a predominantly black elementary school, a predominantly white high school and a predominantly black college. I am used to these things, but I am human and sometimes I just get really annoyed. I am grateful for my experiences in all the schools I have been to. I think that my schools are one of the biggest factors that have influenced my cultural adaptability. It helps me when I meet new people or when I travel. But it does get annoying when you know so much about other cultures, but they do not know about yours, nor do they try to learn. It does not help that no one can relate. I spoke to my super about today and mentioned what happened. “Well, they thought you are Chinese. Did you tell them you have a black belt in karate?” No, I did not tell them that. It would be untrue. I also did not want to hear a justification for their actions.

 A bunch of kids asked for pictures with me. Me specifically, as if I was a tourist attraction. I kept on having to tell myself “You’re a Filipino in Africa. You’re a Filipino in Africa. You’re a Filipino in Africa.” I laughed it off and entertained their jokes. Something told me that even if I tried to correct them, it would not work. The joke already happened and it would not stop. I told them I was Filipino and explained where in the world that was, but it was no use. I was already Chinese in their eyes. I have been bullied and made fun of for different things throughout my lifetime. For being a lesbian, for being overweight as a child, for being a bookwork and for being Filipino. I know I am older now and I know how to handle myself, but my inside still feels like when I was a kid. 

 I know I stick out in South Africa. I do not belong to any of the major ethnic groups that reside in KwaZulu-Natal: Black South African, White South African, Indian. This will all take much getting used to and many emotional phone calls to my family. I have so much more time here left to go. My mentors and past professors have always commented on my “remarkable ability to adapt” to new environments. Let’s hope they’re right this time. 

Konichiwa

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I have been in South Africa for almost two weeks now but have not really gotten the chance to explore places on foot. I decided that I would explore the surroundings of the hospital grounds where the NGO I am working is located.

I walked about 20 minutes out alone on foot to the closest mall for lunch. On my way, a group of boys yelled “Konichiwa” repeatedly and I turn around and say, “Hi, how are you?”

I had to walk along the freeway to get to the mall, since there really isn’t enough sidewalk. Most people just walk on the roads and scurry off to the side whenever a car comes. The roads were busy around lunch time, with both pedestrians and automobiles. I saw ditches along the road filled with garbage and what looked like parts of torn down houses. There were a few cattle in the ditches, too, looking for green grass that might be hiding under the debris. 

When I returned with my lunch bought from the mall, the mother of one of the other volunteers asked “Where did you go?”

“I walked to the mall today.”

“You went by yourself? You are very brave, yah? Tis not safe to go that far alone by yourself.”

I told my supervisor, who is black South African, what she said. 

“You know what, not that I am discriminating, but I find that Indian people are more worrisome, to the extreme.” (The person I quoted is an Indian woman)

I explained that I did not feel in danger at any point and that the only incidence that happened, apart from the staring, was the group of boys yelling “Konichiwa.”

“Oh, they are just making random noises because they think you are chinese.”

“Konichiwa is an actual word. It’s a Japanese greeting.”

“Oh, it is? See, we can’t tell the difference between Asians.”

I have been told that over and over again, that most South Africans just assume every Asian person they see is Chinese. I have had kids at the NGO I work at try to imitate Chinese characters on paper and ask me to read it. I have had kids start doing karate moves as I was passing by. I have even had people bow after I purchased something from their store. Micro-aggressions at their finest!

My supervisor and I have a running joke that I am the only Filipino in South Africa. I do not belong to any majority group, which are Black South African, White South African and Indian (mostly South Indian). I am fine with that. It’s not like I haven’t experienced episodes like this throughout my life. I guess I will just try to blend in. Whatever that means.