All Along the Watchtower

This was so funny (odd, not ha ha) that I had to write about it before I forgot it.

Yvonne and I were delivering food parcels with two people from Minneapolis today. Aaron is a lecturer at the University of Minnesota. He is bringing some students here next May and is here doing some scouting for people to participate in his class discussions. Rebecca, his friend and a teacher, came along to see Cape Town and the townships to bring back stories for her sixth grade class. We went to the first house, the aunt of Shepherd and Loyiso (the two boys who are living on their own in Barcelona). We walked in and this scene immediately greeted us: Three women sitting quietly on their couches, listening while two young white men in white shirts and dark ties talked with them. Yes, the Mormons are in Guguletu. The four of us were quite shocked, as were the two guys. The auntie talked to Yvonne in isiXhosa, saying she was very confused and didn't know what was happening with these guys. She almost pleaded for us to stay, but Yvonne politely gave our regards and we quickly left.

It was a very surreal moment. I knew that Mormon missionaries came to South Africa, but I never expected to see them in the townships. That was pretty stupid of me since the majority of South Africans live in townships or rural areas. I feel a little bad that we didn't stop to say hello to our fellow countrymen (they didn't utter a sound while we were there, and we just basically dropped the food parcels and left). It might have been nice to see where they're staying and catch up on news from home. If they're around, though, chances are I'll see them again somewhere.

I also had another run-in with the man who won't take no for an answer. Today he brought his grandfather to the Centre. He wanted his grandfather to explain how bad things were at home because I wouldn't listen to him. He also wanted me to give money to his grandfather, as if I thought it wouldn't just be given to him when they left. I explained again how I understood their situation, that I knew they were struggling. I also told them, again, that I was focusing my efforts on people who did not have any income, didn't have any adults to help them, and didn't have any way to support themselves: Children and orphans. I told them I knew they had some income (his mother gets an old-age pension and his wife is working part-time) so things were better for them than for many others. I explained that I have dropped support for other people so that I could help more children. At one point, Sylvia, a woman who volunteers at the Centre and who knows a lot of the people in the area, interrupted us and told him that he didn't need any help because his wife works and he should stop bothering me. He didn't like that very much but he couldn't deny it.

When he continued to press me, I got a little angry. I told him the answer was no and I didn't expect to see him again asking for money. The requests got smaller and smaller (R200 to R100 to R50 to R20), until I said I had work to do and got up and left them. They then left, again unhappy and empty-handed.

I don't know how to handle the situation any differently. He has been called out by both Yvonne and Sylvia, and I've explained my position at least three times. I truly feel bad for him and his family, but they have means to live where many others don't. As the amounts got smaller, I saw that some of his pleading was to keep his dignity intact, that as the (presumed) head of the household he was trying to look good by bringing money home. I didn't think I could let that sway me or there'd be no end to the requests. I also feel bad for judging him, but I'm fairly certain that a portion of whatever I was to give him would go towards alcohol, which doesn't help his situation any. I'm sticking to my guns with this one. And watching my back as I go.

(Oh, and Happy Thanksgiving to everyone. Since there is no turkey to found in South Africa, I had to settle for half a BBQ chicken from the grocery store. Not even close to the same effect.)

More to come.