three months of winter

More than two months. I remember reading blogs of scholars last year and noticing that it was around May/June that everyone seemed to stop writing, leaving gaps of many months before writing again (if they ever did). I told myself that wouldn't be me. Except somehow I've let two months slip by without writing.

There's something to be said for a life normalizing in a place and realizing the moment that place is no longer "new." I've gotten so used to calling traffic lights "robots," knowing that "izzit" is synonymous with "really?" and understanding that "just now" means anything but now that I forgot I wanted to write a post on south african-isms. Going to a friend's unheated house and freezing because it's barely 35 degrees outside and somewhere between 34-36 degrees inside and feeling silly because when I left Michigan it was -25 degrees Fahrenheit outside loses its novelty. (Don't misunderstand: Jo'burg's winter, which has been here since early May, is like the perfect midwestern fall day every single day. But the moment the sun disappears, it turns from a comfortable warm to temperatures that don't exist in conceptualizations of Africa.) The FIFA Confederations Cup preview of next year's World Cup came and went, and with it the insanity of South Africa's contentious "vuvuzela," a simple plastic horn-like instrument that took over the city and country for two weeks, leaving everyone in its path wishing for earplugs and FIFA debating whether or not to ban it during next summer's festivities.

And where was I? I lost myself for a few weeks after the Drakensberg, in work, and in the cold, and in a small, often non-functioning dorm room. My work ended on June 15, when I had finished assignments and presentations and my thesis proposal. I wrote too many pages on how I plan to study the sociology of the policing of migrant children. I haven't begun yet, but the plan is that I will spend 1-2 months in a border town at South Africa's border with Mozambique, interviewing and observing, and hopefully gathering some interesting, original data. And for anyone who'd like more details on that, please email me.

I ran my first race, in the beautiful Cradle of Humankind outside of Jo'burg, and loved getting out and running. It's down to four marathoners for the November 1 Soweto Marathon (Linds, Chris, and Chris' wife Mary, and me), and officially establishing our cause has encountered some delays. It's coming, though, we promise. My chamber winds ensemble, which I still dutifully attend, won some kind of local competition prize, news that surprised us all. And...I broke down and finally found and bought a used car. I really never thought I would get to this point, but it has been the most liberating thing imaginable to be able to get to airports, coffee shops, friends, Rotary meetings, and what will probably be quite a few trips to near Mozambique in my very exciting 1996 Honda Ballade.

While Confederations Cup craziness descended upon Jo'burg, the term ended, and my dear friend Amelia arrived. The next three weeks were happy ones. We kicked off the visit with an immediate trip to Ellis Park to cheer for Iraq as they played New Zealand. Amelia's clothes in the abyss of lost luggage, we left soon after first to the Mozambican border (where I spent two days exloring my new home and in meetings) and then to Maputo. We met up with a good friend of mine from Jo'burg and spent four days exploring Mozambique's capital. Perhaps most exciting, besides the tropical-esque temperatures, was being in a city that was just that: a city. With streets and sidewalks and a feeling of urban security. We walked! At night! We found beaches, ate, drank, and were merry.

We returned to Jo'burg, promptly obtained tickets to the Confederations Cup finals happening two hours later, and cheered on the very outplayed U.S. team as their defense couldn't match for the Brazilians' beautiful footwork. The next day, my friend Kathy joined us via a very long trip from Michigan. We biked around Soweto, petted baby lions, fed a giraffe, ate at my favorite restaurant, and soon Kathy, Amelia and I left for winter break trip #2. The goal: show Kathy a microcosm of South Africa in seven days. It started with a trip to the mountains in which Amelia and Kat decided to give up migration work and become historians and tourguides of Lesotho and the Drakensberg. We climbed Hodgon's Peak after making our way up the treacherous Sani Pass (in a 4x4 manoevered by a brilliant guide), and spent fourth of July hiking through the breathtaking valley of Garden Castle National Park. After a night of dancing with a friend of mine in Durban, we went on to St. Lucia, about halfway between Durban and the Mozambican border on South Africa's east coast. We took a couple of safari drives and saw all of the Big Five (lions, rhinos, water buffalo, elephants, and even a leopard!). We spent a day relaxing on the glorious Cape Vidal beach. We explored the wetlands for which St. Lucia is known.

After one last beautiful morning walk along the Indian ocean, Kathy and I drove eight hours from St. Lucia through mountains straight to O.R. Tambo, where it was time for her to leave. I had another two days with Amelia before I was off to the airport again to say goodbye. Time for normality to resume, to start running again, to dive into coursework, and let my Rotary club know I still existed. And that, along with one last very spontaneous and laid back visit, is the end of the story of May and June and July. I'm taking only one course this term, which deals extensively with questions of identity and territoriality in the context of migration, and I'm really enjoying it.

I have one more trip planned, for now. I leave in a week for Europe, where I'll both be visiting family in Germany and traveling around quite a bit with a friend. It's an odd feeling to know I'm leaving southern Africa for the first time in six months. Or maybe it isn't. People here often ask me what it feels like to live in the third world. It's a question that makes me realize the irrelevance of these labels. Jo'burg isn't the third world, I say, but then again what really is? Senegal? Haiti? A South African township? None of these places are the same. I drive on roads here that, while the drivers on them may be crazier, are in far better shape than Michigan's. What does that mean?

And on a final, related note, South Africa's been in the news recently for strikes and protests. These strikes haven't been happening on Wits campus or in the areas of Jo'burg I see most frequently; rather, they're downtown and in other parts of the country. South Africa has joined the world in a recession, and the recently elected President Zuma won't have an easy time delivering the (many) promises he made during his campaign. It will be interesting to see how this plays out, especially as the world keeps watching in anticipation of "2010."

For now, I'm going back to reading about borders and their (ir)relevance. The moment I return from Europe it's going to be off to the border with me and from there, I promise another update.