Blogging From the Future!

...well, six hours into the future, but the future nonetheless--beat that!


After 40 total hours in transit, I'm finally in South Africa!

The flight itself was calm and quiet. A little bit of turbulence here and there, but honestly, the ride to JFK in the car was bumpier. (Good job, Devery.) I was so tired that I slept through takeoff...I can imagine what I looked like when the flight attendants walked by...an unkempt, drooling hot mess. And with all the comments about airline food that I've heard over the years, I must say this time around the food was actually very good; though I may be biased since I love love LOVE Indian food.

I landed, picked up my bags, and expected to see just my father waiting for me; instead there was an entire party there, consisting of my sister Faith, her husband, son, daughter, and nephew, my sister Jackie, and my brother Vusi and his wife and daughter. It's a good thing they recognized me right away, because let me tell you, I would have not known to look for that many people!

The last seven days have been quite interesting. First of all, it's quite a task to get used to a sleeping in a time zone that's six hours ahead of what you're used to...let's just say thank God for Tylenol PM. Then of course there's the weather...a week ago I was literally melting away, and now I'm pulling out the sweaters, scarves, and gloves. It doesn't seem to get terribly cold here; I'd say it's equivalent to Autumn in the US.

Then of course I have to get used to thinking in South African Rands and not dollars; Celsius instead of Fahrenheit, and a bunch of metric measurements that I previously thought of as, well, useless. I have conversations with people and then realize that I have to translate all of these things to terms they'll easily understand. And speaking of tranaslating....

This country has 11 official languages. Yes, eleven. Seriously. Everyone I've met so far does speak English, but it's funny when people walk up to me, expecting me to be able to speak Zulu (which makes sense, since I look like a native), and I have to say, "No, no; English, please; I'm from overseas." i should soon be able to start picking upon Zulu pretty easily though. In the meantime I'm learning new words for things--traffic lights here are called "robots," for instance.

It's a bit scary to see people driving on the (wrong) left side of the road. I'll be sitting there in the passenger seat (on the [wrong] left side of the car) , just looking out the window, and turn my eyes back to the road suddenly, and think "OMG that car is going to HIT us! OMGOMGOMGOM...oh wait, never mind." Once you get past that, though, the traffic laws are basically the same.

It is interesting to be here, though, since the political climate is growing and adapting almost everyday. This is a relatively young democracy, so it's a privilege to be here while it's taking shape.

Upcoming events include: getting identity papers sorted out, opening a bank account, getting a driver's license (after taking multiple courses to ensure my adjustment to left-side driving), finding my way around, adjusting to cooking on a Celsius scale, and starting work.

This week, started off with a bang. The 16th of June is Youth Day in South Africa, commemorating the same day in 1976 when high school students in the township of Soweto protested for better education, and memorializes those who lost their lives in the struggle against apartheid and inferior education. Similar to the American holiday of Memorial Day, rallies and celebrations are held across the country, and families and friends visit the nations parks and game preserves and have braiis (barbecues--see? I'm already sounding like an African). So my father and I met up with my sister, brother-in-law, niece, and two nephews (who are 17 and 18, respectively--kinda weird having nephews only a few years younger than yourself) at the Suikerbosrand Nature Reserve. It was a beautiful, relaxed day of food, fun, family, and national history. Later on in the afternoon, after eating and playing a few games, we decided to take the scenic two-hour drive through the park, which was beautiful (pictures at the end of this entry). There weren't many animals out and about during the day, since there were so many people around, but I did get to see some baboons, zebras, and gazelles. As it got darker, and people started leaving, the gazelles drifted towards the road. Naturally, I and my nephew took pictures, but between the flashes of the cameras and the car headlights, I think we angered one buck (male gazelle). We were driving along later on, maybe about 15 minutes, when I happened to glance out the window, saw a flash of fur, heard my nephew scream in the backseat, and felt an impact on the rear of the car--the same buck had apparently hunted us down, and hit us! We were told it was mating season for the gazelles, at which point they become extremely territorial. Thankfully no one was hurt except for the car, but still--yikes!

The rest of the week was spent riding around town with my father to his various QuickBooks clients and helping them sort out their problems. Apparently his regular customers have heard all about me, so it was fun to actually be there in person--a face and an American accent to match the stories. WE even sampled some of the local cuisine, which is surprisingly diverse. But of course, there's still McDonald's, which, ironic as it might be, actually makes me feel a little bit more at home.

So what did we learn today, Yati?

You can travel halfway around the world, but eventually, a deer will still hit your car, and eating McDonald's will still land you in the bathroom all afternoon.

Picture time!




The view from my window on the plane:

My father and brother-in-law:

Sunset/Scenery at Suikerbosrand!







The beast that hit us:

The Damage:

Busy Busy BUSY!

So of course, my life has to explode these next few weeks, right? Let me explain...

The next four weeks will be increasingly busy. First off, this coming week is my last week at work (thank GOD), during which I'll be making a trip to the high school. The subsequent weekend, I have two going away parties; one for my friends and I, and our mutual acquaintance, booze, and another one at church, with my sister, and, thankfully, a day to recover in between events. Then it's Memorial Day, which, hopefully I will be spending in NYC with my long lost best friend, George, presumably until that Wednesday.

Then I'm back here, shopping for a delicious suit/rehearsing for my stepbrother's wedding on Saturday, where I will be tickling the ivories and singing during cocktail hour (and doing whatever it takes to keep the Crown Royal coming). So we're staying up there until Sunday afternoon, to return home and get ready for a three-night church revival, for which I will be providing the music, ending on Tuesday.

Wednesday, I travel to Boston to see my sister graduate on Thursday morning at 7 AM (Why does Harvard hate people?), do lunch with her, then hop on the bus bound for Rochester, NY, to see my aunt. I'll be returning to Easton on Saturday, have my last Sunday at church, then try as hard as I can to reduce my life to two suitcases, though it might have to be three, because I'd rather pay the $150 extra baggage charge than have to ship a 50 pound piece of luggage 10,000 miles, and pay some ridiculously expensive amount.

WHOO! Just thinking about all these things is tiring.


Anyway...today I think I finally accepted that spring is here. See, I'm a huge fan of Fall and Winter, and I'm more of an indoors-y type in general, and I feel that I perspire a touch more than the average perosn, so for me, going outside in the warmth is a big deal. Today I met a friend and his community action group for breakfast downtown, and this was the perfect morning. I walked there, and it was delightfully cool and sunny--appropriately enough, I put my iPod in shuffle mode, and what should come on but DC's "Happy Face." The breakfast was held at this darling little café (learn to use your keyboard, people) that I'd been meaning to visit for the longest time but never had the chance. The meeting was very informal; we ate outside! And I met the mayor--how random! All in all, a very nice way to spend a Saturday morning.

So, I'm off to enjoy the last few moments of peace and quiet before the craziness begins!




Listen: "Is You Is Or Is You Ain't My Baby?" - Louis Jordan (via Tom And Jerry - Episode "Solid Serenade")

Getting Ready...

So I'm starting to prepare for the Adventure of my life. I've started investigating the processes involved in getting a driver's license and other identification and a car once I'm there, setting up bank accounts, researching travel routes for various trips, looking at job opportunities, finding nice--SAFE--places to live, and, obviously, exploring my SHOPPING options haha. Hey, whatever makes me feel more at home, right?

The hardest part right now is telling people about my plans. So far, everyone has been very supportive and excited for me, but of course, it's hard to see me go. It's hard to say goodbye to the people who've been my family for so many years. But I can't help but be grateful for each and every person I've encountered these last ten years, because, even though there are a few I could have lived without, I've learned something from each of them. In their own way, they've made me a stronger person, a person who knows who he is, and who he never wants to be. Without some of these people I literally would not have survived. It's crazy to think about how much time has past and how many things we've been through. And even though it's hard to say "see you later," I've realized that, with good people in your corner, you can do anything, no matter where you are.


So the next month is all about real preparation: organizing my things and beginning to pack, shopping for things it'd be easier to purchase here, settling up things here, possibly buying a laptop, or at the very least, a webcam; making a mini-tour of Easton to all the familiar spots that make this place home, visitng George in NYC (could that be any more perfect?), and spending quality time with quality people. There's going to be a farewell party at church on Memorial Day Weekend, which I have to plan; along with a Yati night--dressing up, finding a divine restaurant to have a big dinner and drinks with all my friends, and of course, dancing. I'll throw in a couple more open-mic gig at Porter's, and will definitely try to see Post Junction at least twice. Maybe even pay a visit to the Rock...we'll see. So much to do!

To close out the post, some random "ruminations," as Jonathan would say:

• Wesley Snipes sentenced to three years in prison for tax evasion...wow!
• Apparently, to purchase songs on iTunes, your credit card has to have a billing address in one of 21 countries..one of which is not South Africa (yet, hopefully), so I'll definitely be looking for alternatives...tips, anyone? Hopefullyyyy myP2P options work there.
• How in the world am I going to get used to having summer in December, January and February??? A warm Christmas? So wrong...
• Not being paid in six weeks is not a fun experience; I wouldn't recommend it.
  
• Ear aches (or whatever is going on with my left ear) suck.
• Forget whatever blunders Jimmy Carter made in the Middle East---that Cheshire-cat-faced man is still alive?!
• HAPPY 21ST, GREG!!!!!!!
• And finally...

I want more cantaloupe.


Listen: "Chainsaw" (in all its various remixes) - Daniel Merriweather

The Color of Speech, or , "Heighth" is NOT a Word!

What makes us speak the way we do?

Over the course of my life I've been told on many different occasions that I "talk white," meaning that I don't speak in "ebonics." I've been told this both from people (mostly white) who meant to compliment me and people (mostly white) who were completely bewildered, almost to the point of being offended. On the surface, I can understand this kind of remark; it's a fast and easy way of saying that I articulate my words and lack the "accent" that seems to pervade "black" culture.

My problem is this: who decides what's white or black? Does being black automatically mean that I have to speak, dress, or act a certain way? Or listen to a particular style of music? NO.

Or does being white automatically guarantee mastery of the English language? NO.

Tonight I happened to be in the midst of people who believe that "slang", "ebonic", or "ghetto" speech denotes a lack of intelligence in the speaker. And that the reason that I did not speak in that manner is due to the fact that I am an "intelligent black man."

Whoa.

That reasoning implies (albeit indirectly) that any person, black or not, who speaks that way is unintelligent. Perhaps it was simply a poor choice of words on the person's part; I might have said "uneducated" or something along those lines, because even I can admit that sometimes excessive use of slang and an excess of mispronounced words makes the speaker sound uneducated.

But in order to be able to properly speak about anything, you have to first understand what it is you're talking about, and this person obviously didn't.

If I were to guess at the origin of "ebonics," I would say that it may have originated with African slaves in this country, who learned English from their white counterparts, mostly in southern states. From there it'd be easy to assume that through the years, as descendants of slaves settled in different areas of the country, and passed their speech patterns on to their children (as with any other language/speech pattern), patterns which eventually turned into today's "ebonics." For years, many--but certainly not all--of these families did not have access to the quality of education that may have taught them improved English skills. Add all that together, and it seems to me like a perfect recipe for the foundation of today's "ebonics."

And I suppose you could connect the difference in speech between two people to their respective levels of education. Personally, my mother's parents instilled in her the value of a good education, lessons which my mother passed on to both of her children. I was fortunate enough to have access to very good schools all of my life. For many others that is not the case.

Another influence on language is environment. English was my mother's second language, and the perfectionist in her drove her to learn it perfectly. Because of this, the "King's English" was exclusively spoken at my house, and our mistakes in grammar were always swiftly corrected. But there are others who have spoken a certain way all their lives. You can't discredit them for being who they've always been, can you? Or perhaps people speak and act in certain ways to fit in with those around them. Often different regions seem to almost have their own dialects of American English.

I'm sure my reasoning above may be flawed; it's really more of an off-the-cuff hypothesis. But whatever the reasons, there are a few things some of us need to realize:

1) speaking in slang or "hip-hop" terminology most certainly does not denote un-intelligence. There are plenty of educated African-Americans who speak in ways that might be described as "ghetto," and these are people who handle themselves with grace and sophistication. On a daily basis. A perfect example--Mo'Nique, especially on her show, Charm School.

2) People should not be defined by other people's cultural expectations of them. Being a young black man does not automatically mean that I wear baggy clothing, commit crimes, or speak a certain way, and no part of my personality is or ever will be predicated on somebody else's idea of what or who I should be. I'm not going to start behaving a certain way because that's what other black/white/whatever guys are doing. I'm going to define myself.

3) Please, look in the mirror before you point the finger. It's common knowledge that Americans--in every color we come in-- have butchered English over the years. It's very interesting to me, for example, that the people who seem to be the most outspoken in both forcing immigrants to learn English and criticizing minorites for the use of slang, are often the very same people who have the most trouble spelling common words, and in fact often misuse everyday English words on a regular basis. I don't know how many thousands of times I have a heard a white, "educated" person say "heighth" when the correct word is , in fact, HEIGHT. If I really wanted to, I could amass dozens of examples in which the English language is misused, no matter what the race of the speaker.


Haha, I'm not exactly sure how to end this one, but I'll say this: be yourself, not who someone else says you should be, but your own true self.





Listen: "Say It Right" - Nelly Furtado

I'm the "America" of Personalities...

If you were to ask people to define American culture, you'd most likely get more than a few different answers. If you were to use foods to identify different cultures around the world, for example, it would be easy to match them up with their respective countries--China, rice; Mexico, tortillas; Germany, sauerkraut; Italy, bruschetta; Colombia, coffee. But try to do that with America, and you arrive at a myriad of answers.

Why? Because America is the amalgamation of cultures. Its people come from all corners of the earth, and bring their respective cultures with them. Therefore one could say that American culture is really a combination of most every other world culture. Using my previous example, I think it would be quite a task to attempt to identify (with the exception of fast food) one food or food group that represents all that is American.

All of this to say that I've realized lately that my own personality is not unlike a "melting pot." I usually don't realize it until later, but it seems that I take things that I like about other people's personas and adopt them into my own.

Which isn't necessarily a bad thing. Certain traits, i.e., courage, integrity, honesty, strength, the list goes on--I wouldn't hesitate to absorb from others. But this is a pattern I repeat even with small things, i.e., words or phrases, gesticulations, even personal style. Now, I believe a certain amount of this is normal, as after a while we tend to take on a similar appearance to those we're with, be it a spouse, friend, or relative. But should this process account for the entirety of my personality?

I find myself constantly using other people's catch-phrases as my own, adopting their hand motions, even copying their fashions. There are a few things which I thought I liked, but only recently realized that the only reason I did like those things was because somebody else had/used them; someone who, from my perspective, personified "cool." It might have been a watch, a hoody, a pair of sneakers, a musical taste, whatever.

I would be remiss if i didn't point out that I might have missed out on some of my now- favorite things had someone else not shown them to me. But by absorbing others' personality traits, am I making up for some lack that I see within myself? Do I bore myself? Shouldn't I be enough for me, the way I am, without, well, out-sourcing myself? Am I losing my own identity? Or, more appropriately, what is that identity?

Have I ever been the real me?!

Listen: Pink - "Split Personality"

Keep It Together!

One of the most beneficial personal traits one can possess is organization. Being organized allows one to have more focus concerning the activities of one's everyday life, both in the workplace and in the home. With proper organization, goals and tasks can be accomplished quickly and efficiently. Also, organization is something people recognize and appreciate in others; it depicts strong focus, a solid work ethic, and indicates a clear, straight-forward way of thinking.

Personally, I try to stay very organized, and it has served me well in group projects or other environments where people were depending on me. Does this mean that my room is always flawlessly clean? Or that I haven't occasionally lost things? Absolutely not. But by developing a method of organization, I rarely have either of those problems.

Perhaps it was my mother who influenced me in this way. Some would call her a neat freak (a trait of hers which, having seen the alternatives, I love), but she really only had two tricks when it came to keeping home and office: 1)Keep everything in its place, and 2) Clean as you go.

Proper cleaning (dusting, vacuuming, etc.) is something everybody should do on a regular basis, so for now I'm going to leave that one alone and focus on #1--keeping everything in its place. This means designating one particular spot for certain things, and sticking to it. I keep all of my extension cords, power adapters, and other cords/wires, for example, in one specific drawer in my room. This ensures that I will always know where to look for any of these items when the need for them arises, and that I won't spend half an hour looking for something. And by keeping the entire home like that, it's easy to keep things tidy--and especially easy to return things to a state of tidiness in a rush.

While those things refer to the more domestic areas of organization, the topic is one that extends into one's thought processes, activities, and endeavors. I'm not saying that people have to be neat freaks in order to accomplish the things they want to, but (speaking from experience) a bit of togetherness never hurt.

This especially applies to people in all areas of leadership. As a leader, being organized means being able to communicate clearly with all involved parties, knowing all of the important factors pertinent to the project, extensively planning ahead (for every contingency), and being able to recall or quickly access information when necessary. If the leader is organized, the whole group benefits--flourishes, even.

Which is why, I suppose, I get extremely irritated when people who don't possess these traits (as not everyone does, but I believe everyone can get there if they try) attempt to lead. I'm currently working on a project right now with a good friend who fits that description. It's unfortunate, really, because I really would like to be involved, and I believe I can bring a lot to this project. What kills me is the lack of communication throughout the entire project. Rarely do I receive communication directly from said leader; instead, I hear about group meetings (if and when they occur) and such simply by happenstance. I'm not asking for miracles, mind you, but let me know what's going on! Things about this project keep changing, nothing is really solidified, and I'm sourly awaiting that frantic last-minute phone call that always arrives in situations like this. It's odd, really, when, in this age of Facebook Group messages, MySpace nulletins, email list-serves, hell, even group text messages--communication from one person to a group of others should be a non-issue. All of this has led me to a lack of faith in the success and fruition of the project as a whole, and a lack of faith and trust in the leader--sad because we're friends.

Granted, this may be the first time this person has attempted anything like this, a situation with which I can certainly understand and identify. Personally, however, in that situation I would make even more organizational strides that normal, but to each his own, right?

My advice to people considering leadership--in any forum--is simple: If you want to take the reins, be sure you are able to handle them! And, please, please, please...

Keep it together!




Listen: Danity Kane - Hold Me Down

There's a Leak In This Old Building...

...And My Soul Has Got to Move!


So begins the transition. The nest is crackling, not by any fault of its own, but rather I have outgrown it. No longer can I rest within its warm and familiar enclosures. It's time to move.

If everything had worked out perfectly (ha!) and I had been graduating college on time, this would be my last year; Graduation Day would be imminent and I would finally be free to move on to bigger and better things. You know, get my own place, a good job, and start building my life. While my life has deviated from what I thought it should/would be, it is time to free myself, to force myself to move on. I'm not a child any longer, I am a man, an adult. An intelligent, independent, self-sufficient adult who is capable of doing whatever he chooses. As such, I need to let myself be that adult. I need to stop living in fear of the future, to stop living in fear of change. These fears are justifiable, of course; I'm currently in the process of preparing to leave everything I've ever known: home, country, history, economy, government, culture, friends that become family. But no longer will these fears paralyze me, no longer will they keep me stagnant. I can't stay in this situation and expect to grow or become anything substantial. It's not beneficial to me to sit around and do nothing, and it's certainly not beneficial to anyone else.

Where this will take me, I'm not quite sure. I know the first step is returning to South Africa, where I can gain even the most basic things that are unavailable to me here. A car, for one. A legitimate, stable job. A home of my own. Not shared (unless I choose to), but mine. In short, a life. Perhaps I'll work for a while, then start school again. I'm not quite sure yet. But this will give me an opportunity to 1) connect with my family, and in turn connect with myself; 2) truly experience self-sufficiency in full, an environment in which I absolutely thrive; and 3) open myself to the entire world. Going to South Africa does not mean staying there forever. Here, I am limited to these four borders; upon leaving, the whole world is mine. And there are so many places I'd love to go--Australia, Japan, Spain, the UK, France, Germany, Italy, Mexico, Jamaica and the Caribbean--so much for me to explore and discover. No longer can I limit myself to what I see those around me doing.

It's almost like an itch, really. I feel that I can only go so far in Easton, as if there is some sort of glass ceiling, and I can see beyond it to where I should truly be. It's an itch that's growing increasingly difficult to assuage. An itch that says, Go! Go! Go!

Not to say I haven't enjoyed my time here. It's a part of me, and it's part of what made me who I am. The lessons learned and the experiences had are irreplaceable. The people will always be a part of my heart and my being. It's time now to apply all those experiences and lessons and, well, fly. It may be a journey I'll have to fly alone, but I believe i'm ready for it.

Graduation Day is here.




Listen: Beyonce - World Wide Woman