Wylie's final day at TAC

My last work day at TAC was on a beautiful, breezy, sunny, autumnal day in Khayelitsha.  We had a “regular” workday, except with goodbyes and cake to celebrate our time there.  It was amazing to think about all the people we had come to know— the TAC leaders, administration, volunteers, and members.  So many people came in to the office over our months of working there, and it felt overwhelming to say goodbye to everyone.  It was particularly hard to say goodbye to Abdul, our doorman, who was perhaps one of the most incredibly kind, humble, and inspiring people at our workplace.  I miss speaking French with him, learning Congolese words, and talking about his engineering exams each morning when he greeted us.

After saying goodbye to the office, I went to my final BM branch meeting.  It was held in the same place as prior weeks, and I loved having the opportunity to say goodbye to the BM community.  Afterwards, my three closest BM coworkers gave me a final tour through the section, showing me where their families and friends lived, and where they lived.  I was invited into their homes and introduced to their parents, siblings, and children.  It was an incredible honor, and something I will never forget.  The sun was setting over Khayelitsha as they walked me to get a minibus—seeing Table Mountain in the distance was incredible.  It was a difficult goodbye, but I felt exceedingly thankful for all of my experiences in the township.     

My minibus ride to the Site C rank was long and quiet, and I spent the time thinking about Khayelitsha, TAC, and leaving.  I had so many emotions to wrestle with— sadness, thankfulness, love, anxiety.  I kept thinking about these things as I arrived in Site C and got into a minibus for Mowbray, and sat waiting for it to fill up.  After a while, I was distracted by a young woman with two young sons who got into the minibus—I realized that I needed to pull one of her toddlers onto my lap to make room for other passengers.  It was perfect: here I was, musing on all of my experiences in Khayelitsha, sad to leave, getting sentimental, and I had a final opportunity to do something that epitomized what I loved about this place.  It was my responsibility as a person, as a “Sisi,” to hold him on my lap.  This sense of community oneness is so special— strangers are expected to, and want to, help others with living.  The boy fell asleep in my lap on the way to Gugulethu, and I shared a smile with his mother.