A Great Day

Today was a great day. Aly and I went shopping with three of the girls (Nokubonga, Nomzekelo, and Linda) at Kenilworth Centre near Claremont. It took the girls more than two and a half hours to get to the mall, as they came by train from Khayelitsha; when the train got stuck on the tracks they had to take a taxi the rest of the way. Oh, we had a great time. My goal was to find a pair of blue jeans and possibly a plain long-sleeve cotton shirt. The girls adamantly informed me that I do not have a sense of style, and before I knew it I was in the fitting room with an armful of clothing, including a brilliant yellow and rich fuschia jacket that I had no intentions of buying. (They wouldn’t even let me take the plaid shirt into the fitting room.) Still, they insisted that I acquire something fashionable and so, being the good sport that I am, I tried on all of the clothing they had hand-picked especially for my unfashionable self and modeled each piece for them. And so I left the store with a pair of “skinny jeans” which I described to them as feeling glued to my legs. They downplayed my complaint and explained that this is precisely what skinny jeans are supposed to feel like – that’s why they’re called skinny jeans!

I’ve never been much of a shopper, so I especially enjoyed the after-shopping affairs. After our shopping adventure was complete, we went to the grocery store to get some foodstuffs to take home for dinner, as the girls would hang out with us for a bit at our house near campus. So, on our dinner table, we had a heaping plate of homemade hot chips (French fries) with salt and vinegar, a loaf of white bread, a Styrofoam box of baked chicken, pea and onion samosas, and a bottle of Coke. Aly commented that this was just like having lunch at Equal Education, but with plates! I can never forget the first time I saw these kids eating chips on bread (French fries on bread, that is). I could feel my arteries clogging with every bite.

My favorite time of the entire was after dinner when we all sat on the floor in the living room, playing guitar and singing. First we sang Hallelujah by Leonard Cohen, complete with harmony and everyone joining in full force on each chorus. Afterward we sang some songs in Xhosa, drawing a crowd of housemates who were keen to listen in. There is something about trying to speak or sing in another language that truly draws different language speakers together; it is as if the honest desire and attempt to understand the other person is more important than whether or not you can actually accomplish this.

Before we knew it the night was over, and the girls had to catch a taxi home. Next time, we decided, we need to make this an all-night affair. No shopping, just hanging out together. Perhaps we’ll have a sleepover. And, before we leave South Africa, we’re going to make a recording of some of our favorite songs. I'm looking forward to it.