Ocean View Homestay

Last weekend, the organization that runs my study abroad program, organized a homestay in a township for everyone. We went to Ocean View, a community of people displaced by apartheid. It has the lowest violence rates of any of the townships and supposedly a great culture with great people. Unfortunately, I didn’t really experience that.

On Friday night, we met our families at a big dinner at the local high school. Luckily I was with my friend Ellie, and we met our host parents, David and Alice. We didn’t talk much during dinner, but we learned she grew up in Ocean View and he had just moved there recently (about 15 years ago). After dinner, we went back to their house. They had a small covered patio, a living room, a dining room covered almost entirely by Alice’s fake plant collection, a kitchen with a few cabinets, one bedroom (where the children sleep), a side room (where I think David and Alice sleep), a garage (though they don’t have a car), and a bathroom with only a sink and a toilet. It was definitely not the accommodation we were used to, but we were glad to experience how they live. When we returned to their house, they asked us a few questions (such as how old we were, and they were shocked to discover I am 20 and Ellie was 21, they thought we were 18), and we tried to ask them about life in Ocean View, but they kept speaking Afrikaans to each other. Shockingly, Ellie and I don’t speak or understand one word of Afrikaans. Despite their conversations in a different language, there were still many awkward silences. Apparently they experienced these more severely than we did, because the second Ellie and I yawned, they ushered us off to bed. We insisted we could stay up longer, but they insisted we go to sleep at 10:30 pm.

On Saturday, we went to the Navy Festival in Simon’s Town. It took about an hour to get there (a guy who we assumed was a family friend drove us) and when we got out of the car, we discovered there were about 20 mph winds and it was 90 degrees outside. We walked around a little, and then decided to wait in line to take a boat ride. After finally boarding the boat, we literally waited for an hour before the steam boat took us on a 5-10 minute ride around the small bay. Next we went to the main arena, a grassy area where they had presentations and shows every 20 minutes. We watched a gun show and a few other presentations before watching our “sister” play “When the Saints Go Marching In” with her youth marching band. After baking in the sun, we left to go home, or so we thought.

Knowing how long the drive was, Ellie and I gladly accepted their invitation to sleep in the car. We woke up when the car stopped, excited to be home, but we realized we were picking up their other daughter at badminton practice (we learned from the newspaper clippings in her room that she on the Western Province under-15 team). Ellie somehow recognized this area as somewhere about 10 minutes from where we live. Feeling as though we couldn’t ask to be dropped of at home, we kept quiet and squished 5 people in the backseat of the car and drove back to Ocean View.

On Saturday night, we went to the birthday party for one of David’s relative. This time, we fit 8 people in the 5 person car. The position I was sitting in was unbearable, and when I asked how much longer the drive was, my question was met with laughter. This was the conversation:
Alice: “Are you comfortable?”
Katie: “I mean, how much longer is the drive?”
Alice: “Ha ha”
Katie: “No seriously, are we close?”
Alice: “Ha ha ha”

Finally we arrived. I always thought of birthdays as secular events, but this celebration was easily one of the most religious occasions I have ever attended. After an hour of songs such as “I Know I Will Be Okay Because He Is Alive” and many prayers (all in Afrikaans), we were served food. Luckily, Ellie and I told them we were vegetarians so we didn’t have to eat most of the food. After the dinner, we went outside to socialize with the rest of the family. “Socializing” apparently means being borderline sexually harassed. The guys there confessed their love for us, proposed, and kept asking us to kiss them. I think David may have witnessed this and we escaped soon after to go home and go to sleep.

At our homestay orientation, we were told that Sundays were a big family day, where people cook all day and that we would spend it talking to our family or doing their planned activity. Ellie and I asked Alice what our plans for the day were and she responded “relaxing.” We weren’t leaving until 3 pm. Despite the concert via speakers blaring outside of the wall next to my bed, we were able to sleep until 10 am. We went to the living room to see if we had any plans, but Alice just repeated that we should just “relax” until David came home from prison (he was preaching) and we could have lunch. Ellie had her iPod and a book (I didn’t bring anything because I was told we would be busy), so we took turns listening to music and reading. Needing to get out of the house, we decided to go for a walk. We told Alice, and she told us not to get sunburned. As we turned the corner, another family who was hosting students asked us what we were doing and informed us we could not be walking around alone. We retreated home to Alice. The conversation that followed:
Ellie: “We tried to go for a walk, but they told us we couldn’t walk alone.”
Alice: “Ha ha.”

We went back to the room to “relax” and watch the clock tick until 3 pm. On Sunday the temperature reached 100 degrees, and air conditioning is rare in even nice houses in South Africa, let alone in townships. At 2:45 David walked us to the high school where we met the bus. He was very nice and invited us back whenever we wanted, but I doubt we’ll be returning, at least to visit their family. Back in our house, everyone was raving about their experiences and their families. I was definitely expecting a different experience, and wished I would have learned something about life in Ocean View, but I ultimately am glad that I saw and lived a completely different lifestyle, even if only for the weekend.