They Love Us, They Love Us Not
Let me start by saying this: anyone who knows me knows I don’t mind getting up in front of people. Speeches, presentations, plays, songs, you name it – I enjoy it. I’ve never been shy about being under the lights, which is why I was so shocked to be genuinely afraid to participate in a scene exercise about how African townspeople view Americans.
In our time in Cape Town we visited numerous townships: Langa, Imizamo Yethu, etc. We handed out lunches to kids, played with them, bought a few of the township creations, and went on walking tours. It was definitely an eye-opening experience to see people living in these conditions quite literally across the street from the upper middle class. Amazingly, it seemed everyone in the townships was genuinely happy to see us. They would all wave, ask how we were, wish us a happy new year, and all that friendly small talk jazz. It seemed very happy for the situation.
We talk a lot about service and giving back. A good number of the discussions in the class portion of this course have had something to do with the aforementioned positive attitude of the people living in these townships. But during the scene exercises, the actor leading the workshop switched my thought process about this – twice.
We performed two scenes in our groups; one was a very basic depiction of something shocking we noticed during our time in Cape Town (for my group it was the positive attitude). The second scene was supposed to have us see through the Africans’ eyes – step into their shoes, if you will. He introduced the thought of what the people say when we are out of sight. Do they curse us out? Do they expect more help? Do they in reality hate us and this positive vibe is just a well-planned facade? He wanted us to believe that we were almost hated.
This sparked the first change, which was a complete 180 degrees from where I was originally. It went from me thinking we were the heroes rolling up and solving world hunger to me thinking we were just the pretentious Americans who gave one meal to a very select few children in one township – just to get a picture for Instagram to show the world how “cultured” and “humble” we are.
I hated to think we were hated (almost as much as I loved to think we were loved), but it started to seem much more realistic. It made me think about how little we actually do. We walk into the township, take pictures with our iPhone, serve lunches for the next half hour, and then off we go to the nearest high-class, beach-front restaurant. Our class discussion quickly went from us being seen as the knight in shining armor to the blood-sucking vampire. This is where my second change in mentality came in.
I started to think about time, and the fact that we’re not even here for one month out of the year. I thought about what happens the other 11+ months of the year, and the question hit me: do the people care at all?
There is the stereotype about Americans (and Europeans in some cases) where everything is about us. We feel a little guilty after bartering down a price in Langa, or walking through Imizamo Yethu with designer bags and smartphones, but even then the thought is always “what do they think of me?”
In the argument whether the townspeople actually like or despise us, has anyone brought up the possibility of straight apathy? We aren’t the first people to walk through Langa, and we certainly won’t be the last. We probably weren’t even the last group to walk through and purchase a few items that day. If you choose not to buy something, you probably aren’t ruining the seller’s life. Why? Because it’s on to the next one for them. They know not everyone will buy something, they know you will try and barter, they know you’re trying to get a deal that will impress your friends. As much as we play the game, they play it just as much, if not more (why do you think the starting price is so high?).
We can never know how individuals think of us – unless you were a true fly on the wall – so why are we trying to assume that they love or hate us? This is the part that I had the most trouble with in the scene work. I hated putting words in someone’s mouth, whether positive or negative. It made me very uncomfortable, which in essence was the goal of the exercise, so I applaud it for that. I had trouble coming to the conclusion of why thinking that South African townspeople hate Americans was any different from expecting them to love us.
Basically, it’s not about us, it’s never been about us. In the short time we spend in South Africa as a whole, let alone in one city, let alone in one township, it’s a minuscule drop in the massive poverty bucket. While we may feel good about ourselves for helping when and how we can, we significantly overvalue what we are doing on this trip. Having said this, helping is helping, and no matter how small it is, it goes a long way. We just cannot fall into the “I’m the hero” trap. We can’t for a second think that the sellers and the townspeople rely on our one purchase a year to continue living. They will be there tomorrow and next year trying to make a deal. It’s what I really learned during the scene work exercises and it was only cemented in my minimal experiences in Johannesburg along with the readings and class discussions. Time goes on, and the people will find a way to keep themselves afloat. They always seem to do just that.
