From the glorious panoramas views of
Hout Bay and Cape Point to the delicious Ethiopian, Capetonain and Thai foods I
have enjoyed, it is obvious this city has numerous cultural and exciting
opportunities to explore. However, I am also to beginning to see the divide
that marks this city.
Driving through the townships yesterday was on of the
most profound and emotional experiences I have recently experienced. The tin
shacks held together by mismatched nails and waterproofed by garbage bags
stretch as far as the eye can see, literally miles in every direction. Stray
dogs fight in the street, and all manner of goat, cow and horse wander. Hair
salons are run from empty storage containers and barbed wire lines the walls
around every school, community center and home. I have never experienced
poverty such as this. I felt ashamed. Ashamed to be American, ashamed to have
won some kind of cruel lottery that placed me in the upper 5% of the world.
Ashamed to think myself some kind of savior. We rode on a bus into this
township funded by the thousands of dollars each of us poured into this
program, each with a camera that could feed a family for weeks strapped to our
back. We were outsiders, tourists, alien. But feeling shameful doesn’t solve
problems. Nor does it help to feed families or help HIV patients. Shame
accomplishes nothing but instills in me a drive. A drive, a motivation to help
these people as much as I can. That because I was lucky enough to be born to
wealth, should contribute back. As a duty of being human.
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