Group on Signal Hill

Group on Signal Hill
Back row: Avery, Kelsey, Ainsley, Patrick, Wylie, Erin, Ethan, Janiel, Larissa: Third Row: Tekowa, Anna, Audrey, Jerard, Andrew, Carl, Allie; Second Row: Elise, Aimee, Vara, Carolyn, Melissa, Morgan, Liz, Erica, JR; Front Row: Savitri, Brianna, Sharon, Lindsay, Andrea

Welcome to Our Blog

WELCOME TO OUR BLOG

As anyone who has participated in this program will attest, there are no words or pictures that can begin to adequately capture the beauty of the scenery or hospitality of the people in Cape Town. Therefore, this blog is merely intended to provide an overview of the program and a glimpse at some amazing adventures and life-changing experiences had by the students and staff of this program who have traveled together as co-educators and companions on the journey. As Resident Director and Faculty Advisor since 2008 it has been a privilege and honor to accompany an incredible variety of wonderful UConn students to a place we have all come to know and love.

In peace, with hope, Marita McComiskey, PhD


28 January 2013

Janiel: Band-Aids aren't enough to fix a broken bone


Janiel recognizes viewing things from a distance is not enough.
Orientation week is winding down and soon we will no longer be riding around on a big tourist bus. Although thankful for getting to see the breathtaking beauty of this city, I was still feeling disconnected. My eagerness was amplified from previous students who spoke about the richness of Cape Town and the imprint that was left upon their hearts. The week was coming to an end and I hadn’t felt such spirits. My optimism was still bright because we had now been back from the mountaintops and were beginning to see the inner splendor of my new home away from home.

Arrival at the District 6 Museum heightened my awareness about the recent history of this town. Upon entering the museum, placed on the wall, a plaque read: “ALL WHO PASS BY, remember with shame the many thousands of people who lived for generations in District Six and other parts of this city, and were forced by law to leave their homes because of the colour of their skins. FATHER, FORGIVE US…” It’s different to learn about history from behind a desk at school; walking into the museum and seeing the faces and words of real, beautiful people left me in tears. In a singular movement, people were kicked out of their homes and rushed to live in areas where Table Mountain, which was once tangible, had now become a taunting backdrop. 

Make no mistake that the separation between Blacks, Whites and Coloured was made evident. Homes that seemed too expensive to touch, separated by a highway, and on the other side shacks made of zinc and board, clearly unstable, brought me to a mixture of tears and anger. The hardest part to grasp is the fact that only a couple days back I had witnessed this; it wasn’t a picture from many years ago. People fail to realize that pretending not to see an issue doesn’t mean the issue is not apparent. We’re all here for a purpose, so to let greed and ignorance fuel our decisions is shameful. It has become too easy to forget that Band-Aids aren’t enough to fix a broken bone.

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