Winter Solstice

A few weeks ago it was the Winter Solstice of the Southern Hemisphere.  The shortest day of the year, it is when the sun is at its lowest and weakest. It is also considered to be the turning point of the year, after which the light will grow stronger and brighter.

Many traditions around the world celebrate solstices. The winter solstice (in December in the Northern Hemisphere) was dubbed ‘the Birthday of the Unconquered Sun’ by the Romans.

Pagan Scandinavia’s festival of Yule involved drinking mead as minstrel-poets sang ancient legends around bonfires.  

The last few years, I have developed my own tradition of marking the solstice (despite that earning me membership in what my friend Deb calls the ‘Woo woo club’).

June 21^st this year was no exception. In addition to being the solstice, it also happened to be one of those Cape Town winter days that rests in your bones - complete with heavy winds and rain.

Despite knowing that we wouldn’t SEE the sunset, three of us decided to brave it and go outdoors anyways. We found a west facing piece of beach on the Atlantic ocean for our reflections.

Incense on car dashboard :)

Sitting in the car, we lit some incense and wrote intentions for the upcoming year. My friend Allison, determined to find something close to mead (honey wine used traditionally in ancient solstice celebrations) produced some sweet wine to drink at sunset.

Allison (the mead provider:-P) and myself

Fortunately, the rain subsided to a drizzle and I took a few minutes in silence after writing my intentions, wrapping them around a rock and throwing them into the ocean.

To many, Winter solstice represents a triumph of light over darkness. After that day, every day will get a bit longer, a bit more sun-filled. I look forward to the lengthening days and new light in my life.

Despite being a wonderful time full of learning and growth, these past six months have also contained a lot of loss and grieving.

Coming here, I grieved leaving my family for a second year living in Africa. Soon after arriving, my Uncle Greg passed away unexpectedly.

South Africa has also given me some space to come to grips with my experience in Malawi, one of the most eye opening times of my life. Malawi taught me a lot and as grateful as I am for it, it wasn’t always easy.  I have taken some time to grieve the injustice of the crushing poverty. I left Malawi feeling like the rug had been pulled out from under me -I was flying through the air not knowing where I’d land. I lost my naive innocent belief in own ability to change things and began to grasp the enormity of the complexities and challenges of development.

The way I saw and understood the world had changed completely. It felt like the very foundation on which I had spent the past twenty something years had crumbled and I was having trouble situating myself in a new knowledge. These past months in South Africa have been my start to emotionally integrating this learning.

I’ve also been grieving from a tough break-up which resulted in my ex getting on a one-way flight to Norway. After moving to South Africa together, the man who had been my support system, friend and lover in some of the most exciting, challenging and heart-wrenching experiences of my life and I parted ways on very sad and unpleasant terms.

Being the longest night of the year, it felt like a pretty fitting summation to the grief and loss of the past 6 months.

Sorry for all the drudgery and whining, but to sum it all up, the world that I previously been so in love with has revealed a different, harsher part of herself to me. I was ready to start seeing more positivity and light again.

As we entered into the longest night of the year, I released some of the pain that I’d being carrying around from all that loss and grief. As the sky darkened, I knew that the next day would be longer and prayed that I be open to receive the light that each lengthening day brings. 

A photo walk through Woodstock, Cape Town

Woodstock (Table Mountain and Devil's Peak in the background)

Art & Words

Cape Town is a sprawling city, containing many ‘suburbs’ that used to be small towns in themselves. Woodstock is one such suburb, about 1 kilometer from the city centre (or ‘town’ as it is called here’).

My introduction to Cape Town two years ago was in Woodstock. This is where I lived and volunteered for a month and a half on my first visit to the city. Woodstock continues to draw me back – I find myself coming back to this area often.

It is a fascinating and intense space:

Van taxis swerve and squeal through traffic while the conductors shout their destinations. 

Vendors line the streets selling their wares.

Funky cafes, art galleries and antique shops abound.

Devils Peak provides a stunning background to the myriad side streets adorned with brightly painted houses.

Pigeons and the occasional scroungy dog pick through the mounds of trash. 

Circles of barbed wire line virtually every fence.

Beauty & barbed wire

Woodstock has a unique history as one of the areas that remained integrated during apartheid, escaping the forced removals that saw its neighbouring suburb; the once vibrant District 6 bulldozed and classified a ‘white only’ area. Today it continues to be a diverse space.

Elaine was a resident of the former District 6. She was forcibly removed during apartheid and moved to Woodstock years ago to be close to where she grew up. 

Cape Town has been selected by the International Council of Societies of Industrial Design (ICSID) as the World Design Capital for 2014 (the last two awards were giving to Helsinki and Seoul). The objective of the award is to recognize and showcase cities that are dedicated to using design for social, cultural and economic development.

Woodstock really stands out to me in this regard, using design for social, cultural and economic ends.  

Although it is a microcosm of the inequality present throughout South Africa, I believe that this place has something really special. It is full of beautiful and uplifting street art and crammed with visuals of hope, vibrance and beauty.

The graffiti is a combination of esthetics, inspiration, politics and poetry.

Here are some offerings from today’s stroll through Woodstock with a camera...

Feeding the Pigeons

You've Got the Whole World in Your Hands

Part 1 - Evolution (?)

Part 2 - Evolution (?)

Part 3 - Evolution (?)

Removing the greyness from the soul is the job of musicians, artists and poets...

Wearing their hearts on their sleeves

Spray Paint Poetry

An imagined window

Imagined windows

Outer wall of Children's Home

Outer Wall of Children's Home

@ a Children's Home

Finding Hope

During my time in Malawi I’ve done a lot of questioning.

I’ve often wondered if I have imposed myself by coming here to work in development, a field that I know little about.

I’ve been questioning systems and structures of development and watching my optimism dissolve into a realization that they aren’t always all that they’re cracked up to be.

I’ve found out that the type of development that we imagine is happening is oftentimes broken and that we can’t expect that our best efforts will always translate into a full stomach or a sustainable solution.

I’ve discovered that we (myself and similar minded individuals) can’t possibly believe that the way that WE think development should work is absolutely right.  I’ve learned that the ‘dollars = higher moral ground’ equation deserves some serious questioning.

At times I have felt hopeless and helpless and have left the country twice during leave time to take a break.

One of these times I had the privilege of going to Ethiopia.

I will put details about my Ethiopia trip in another post, save for this.

I was sitting in a hostel in North Western Ethiopia when I met a man whose name I fail to remember but whose words are entrenched in my being.

He was Ethiopian, working as a professor in international affairs and development at a nearby University.

I asked him questions on certain aspects of development, curious to hear his thoughts and desperate to gain some perspective.

After answering my questions, he asked me what I thought.

I admitted to having little development knowledge or background.  

Admitted that I, like so many other well-wishers had hoped to ally and support my Malawian counterparts in their development work.

Admitted that I didn’t know anymore if I believed that international development can actually work

‘Why?’ he asked.

I found myself searching exasperated for an answer.

I finally sputtered ‘it is more difficult than I ever imagined…. the problems with development work are so BIG, the issues we are fighting are so BIG, the challenges are so BIG…’

We sat silently in the wake of my awkward admission. When I raised my eyes to meet his, he held my gaze and offered me one of the most profound gifts I have received in the form of a seven single syllabled words. 

‘That is why you need BIG hope’.