Show Me A Good Time

Show Me A Good Time

South Africa is many things, but the aspect of its identity that I appreciate the most is that of Ubuntu. Ubuntu basically is the idea that the we comes before the me, that I am only when you are- meaning that I don’t become fully human nor come into being until you are fully human and have come into being. It’s the closest thing I’ve found that echoes Jesus ethos to “Do unto others as you will have them do unto you, and to love your neighbor as yourself.” On the surface it’s puzzling that such a culture even exists in a place rife with legacies of racism, separatism, massive unemployment, violence, decay, death, and corruption. I don’t mean to suggest that every person in South Africa follows the Ubuntu principle, but those that do are a beautiful portrait of love in action.

This past Saturday, a group of us went to a braii or a South African BBQ, of an Indian girl who was friends of a friend of someone in the program. We were going to take a train, but her father found out about that and picked all ten of us up in his car. It was a humorous sight to see ten gringos in the trunk of this man’s car, who came 20 minutes to pick us up despite not knowing anything about us besides the fact that we were “American.” Throughout the whole ride, he extolled us to use him as a resource, to call him if we need a ride, to talk to him if we are homesick, to stop by his restraunt if he is hungry as “South Africa belongs to everyone, it is the cradle of civilization. Africa is everyone’s mother.” The ride and the close confines was the perfect picture of South Africa- less than ideal, crowded, but a closeness and warmth that I have not found in too many places in America.

The BBQ was a wonderful show of community, of love, of Ubuntu as we were welcomes with welcomed arms and met many locals who promised to show us a good time in our time here. 2 20 somethings in particular I hit it off well with, although they spoke like a 1980’s Hood Movie. Exclamations and jokes were capped off with a “Playa!” and they were horrified to discover that I did not know anything of house music. The conversation with them was fascinating however, as once again I was reminded of the impact of media on shaping people’s ideas about the identities of others. They seemed to be fascinated by my “blackness” and my “swag” and even remarked that getting girls in Capetown would be no problem as I was a black American, and every black man has game. (LOL..if the shoe fits) All in all, the Braii was beautiful because it had South Africans of every hue celebrating the accomplishments of one girl and they welcomed us vistors not as strangers but as family. It was beautiful.

Saturday night, I received a text message from a coloured man we met on the beach in our first week in Capetown who promised to take us to hip hop spots during our stay here. He was at a lounge called Havana and invited us to come. Of course, my roommate Darren, myself, and our homie Jonah went. The place was beautiful, but even more beautiful than the women there or the festive mood was the way Marvin and his circle of friends embraced us and took us in. They introduced us to people, rapped to American songs with us and just seemed genuinely happy that they were able to share their city with us. Marvin even took us home at 3:30 am and promised to pick us up in 7 hours to take us to Mizoli’s.

Mizoli’s

Mizoli’s has been by far my favorite experience in Capetown. It is a massive meat making enterprise, club, church service, and family reunion and the South African township of Gugulethu. Despite the fact that it is in a township noted by some for it’s violence, Mizoli’s is wildly popular attracting tourists, and South African locals for it’s delicious cheap meat.

At Mizoli’s I encountered community and made a family. The people at the table with us refused to allow us to remain outsiders, but were so giving of their time, their personality, their food and of theirselves with us. They demanded that we eat their food, attend their 2 year olds pool party next week, go on a guy’s night out roadtrip with them next weekend, and feel at home in their home. They joked about me being Mike Lowrey from Bad Boys, Mase, and Jay-Z and were just as excited as me and my friends when Fat Joe or Empire State of Mind came on. We took pictrues, we murdered the week, we were a community, ubuntu. More impressively, we met 3 black Stanford law students who came to our table , and the table embraced them just as much as they embraced us. It was almost chills enducing how the walls usually put up against strangers were non-existant. It was happiness, it was joy and for that reason I called it church- as it was love in action, it was community, it was the breaking of bread, the doing of dances. It was what the Sabbath should be- a festive time of rest and reflection, enjoying life and unwinding before the start of another arduous week.

Towards the end of Mizoli’s the coloured band, or “minstrels/coons” as they are called in South Africa ( not a derogatory term here though, the ethomology of the word and how it got here deserves a wall post in its own right) came through, and being the extra person that I am , of course I had to march with them. I was doing my best house music moves, playing the drums, and going dumb. At that moment, I truly felt abroad and blessed to be able to experience this.

Let me also interject here and say that my experience on South Africa is largely predicated on the fact that although I am a black man, I am a black man from America and Stanford University who is able to enjoy the privledge that that entails. Hip Hop music has given black Americans both a good and bad rap abroad, but above all has made me an object of interest, has made me cool, and has made me able to transcend many of the racial stereotypes that poor marginalized black Africans can’t. Coloured people love Black Americans and Black American culture, although they usually don’t fratenzie with Black South Africans. White South Africans love to seem (or in some cases be) progressive by speaking with and helping Black Americans. So the concept of Ubuntu here is not simple but complex, in some cases it includes everyone, but in other cases it includes only those of the same race and then exotic Americans. It’s difficult to say, but I must be honest, I am confident that I would have had such an amazing experience with people of every hue in this country if I had not been a Black-American. Actually in South Africa the order is different I am an American-Black. American 1^st, a black man second.

Still, I am hopelessly in love with this country and it’s people. (Count how many times I say BEAUTIFUL in these posts) The fact that such joy and community exists in a township is not surprising to me, but seems to defy the mainstream image disseminated about what the township has to offer. The people that I’ve met in this country regard me as a brother and make it a personal mission of theirs to make sure that they show me a good time. Day after day, experience after experience, night after night, I feel like Drake and ask. “How did I end up right here with you?”