Daily Post Photo Challenge: Mirrors

DSC06471

Northern B.C. – I think

As I continue to explore ways to engage differently with this blog – although I will get back to South Africa once I start digging into my data –  I decided to try participating in The Daily Post’s weekly photo challenge. This week’s challenge is mirrors.

IMG_1440

Algonquin Park, Ontario

When I think about photographs and mirrors, my mind automatically casts back to some of my favourite times with my butt in a boat. When the water is like glass and the tranquility and vastness of the nature surrounding me is the only thing that exists in that moment.

IMG_1439

Algonquin Park

It also allows you to forget the times when paddling is just so hard – when the wind is in your face and you feel like you move back 2 feet for every foot you move forward, or when I’m desperately trying to keep up with Christina from Dam Good Trips (and check out her site – her trips are  incredible!).

IMG_1421

Algonquin Park

I haven’t spent nearly enough time in a boat this season, but I know there’s always next summer. Just one of the many parts of living in Ontario that keeps my wandering feet happy when I’m home.

Happy Labour Day!

IMG_2562

Massassauga Park, Ontario

This week’s theme at the Daily Post Photo Challenge is mirror. Thanks for the inspiration Zimmerbitch!

“The Sweetness of Academic Life”

IMG_4764

Oastler Lake Provincial Park…camping with baby

Well, Ontario summer unofficially comes to a close after this weekend. Those of us who are learners, including those of us who refuse to join adulthood, are back to school on Tuesday. How did that happen? I left South Africa when I did for a couple of reasons, but one of the big ones was that I wanted to be home to enjoy all that Ontario summer has to offer. My advisor is NOT going to be impressed when she realizes how little work has gotten done over the last 6 weeks, but I have loved every inch of my summer.

Highlights include swimming and paddling with the adorable nephies in Georgian Bay:IMG_20160710_160410919[1]A visit with A&B and my other adorable little nephie at the Ottawa River, the place that is the heart of my family in Canada:IMG_4673

IMG_4741

There was also a family reunion at the Ottawa River a few weeks later. Only the descendants of my grandparents were present and there were over 100 people there. Apparently, I’m shirking my inherited family duty to breed like rabbits:

IMG_4727

Family talent show. We  have more fun than normal people.

IMG_4749

Cousins  xox

Incidentally, the blond crazy cousin above teamed up with the Ginger crazy cousin and talked me into going tubing, like we used to when we were 15. It was terrifying and I ached for days. I am officially too old to tube.

I also got to go camping with my lovely friend Meg…and her new baby. Babies don’t like camping. We tried. Next year he stays at home 😉

IMG_4761

Despite all this summer fun, and all the twigs and sand that are now in my car, I did manage to get a tiny bit of work done. I have had the privilege of getting involved with the Critical Tourism Studies group, a loosely affiliated group of scholars that are interested in issues of gender, poverty, social justice, and race (among other things), and decided to initiate their own conference when they became frustrated that “we” weren’t being represented or respected at mainstream tourism conferences, which are often focused on marketing and economic perspectives. This summer my university hosted the first ever CTS conference in North America! In cottage country! My presentation at the conference was about what I learned through keeping this blog as part of my research process.

I know I was struggling to come up with what that might be leading up to the conference, but I managed to cobble a presentation together. I was literally in the middle of delivering the presentation when I realized the point, the “so what?” of what I was talking about. Here are the things I’ve decided I gained through the process of blogging my research:

  • reduced feelings of isolation as I worked through living and working cross-culturally;
  • a place to trouble by own subjectivities;
  • a space to share my perspectives with my friends and research participants;
  • sharing the stories and photographs that the research participants would like to share (an ongoing process, once I get back into that work);
  • an accessible record of the thoughts, questions, uncertainties, and joys that I experienced throughout my research; and,
  • a space to practice my writing.

So yay! I learned things! So much so that I think I am going to write a journal article about the process. I have found this to be an awesome reflexive tool in my research process and I think that there are some learnings there that I would like to share with others (and I need more publications for my CV!).

The other very cool thing about the CTS conference is that it is a very supportive and loving academic community, which is pretty rare in a field that often specializes in petty and patriarchal. For instance, this was the scene at the keynote presentation, delivered by the brilliant and inspiring Ana Maria Munar from the Copenhagen Business School:

IMG_20160804_135041286_HDR[1]

CTSNA 2016 – my academic Hillside

As academics, I feel like we are so often focused on what is wrong in society; social and gender and economic and racial inequities, lack of access to resources, barriers to participation, etc. Because it’s important. And it’s important to talk about and try to disrupt. But Ana spoke to us about the joys and privileges of being an academic; the joys of inspiring students, freely exchanging our most deeply held values with colleagues, embarking on new projects, and that sense of having found your intellectual home. She shared a poem with us which brought me to tears, and which she has given me permission to share here. This is why academia has meaning, and this is why I always come away from CTS inspired and invigorated. Thank you Ana xox:

The Sweetness of Academic Life – by Ana Maria Munar

The moment when my whole class bursts out in laughter, the warmth of the coffee mug in my hands during class breaks, a student speaking passionately about one of her experiences, checking on my colleague Adriana to see if she is at the office and discovering that her light is on, spending too much time talking with a colleague and pushing the duties of today to tomorrow, opening the email and recognizing the name of a beloved colleague, discovering a book one can’t wait to get the hands on, forgetting space and time in a writing flow, feeling anxious that what I wrote yesterday and was proud of seems now worthless and does not make sense just to realize that it is not so important …no matter what, it is not the end of the world and everything will turn out ok …; sensing the energy of the intense buzz of engaged talking at a workshop, the unexpected praise of a stranger, the smile of a colleague on the street, after class …walking back to the office with the feeling of the work done, an email from a student saying that he misses my lectures; including something provocative or funny among the slides, walking happily to the printer to get the pages of my latest manuscript, reading a speech out loud only for myself, reading a beloved passage of a book out loud for others during dinner..during breakfast…on the train…opening my book for the first time, conquering the feeling of vertigo when expressing a complex idea, the joy of listening to an inspiring speaker, the hug of a colleague after the job done and before a difficult presentation…the warmth of the voice of Kellee coming through on a group Skype meeting, reading without purpose, buying books I know I don’t have the time to read, but buying them anyway…for the future…for optimism… granting extensions, receiving extensions, writing papers and having meetings in an old café, comforting a colleague in a moment of distress, sending good news ‘congratulations, your abstract/chapter/article has been accepted!’, praising the good work of others, saying thank you!, presenting a courageous idea to test if it can fly, sharing secrets, dancing at conferences, planning with colleagues crazy outfits for themed Christmas parties, listening to full volume music when editing, discovering during a presentation how brilliant, or daring, or creative a colleague is … like seeing this person for the first time …transformed; reading an article and discovering that the work of a beloved colleague is quoted there, listening to the confidences and doubts of a younger academic and feeling the trust in the room, sharing the joy and pride of the family and friends of the student that just finished the examination of her master thesis, looking at how beautiful everybody seems at the graduation ceremony, reading with love and expectation the publications of loved ones, drinking together, … feeling nostalgic and remembering sweet memories at the office on a cold and dark winter afternoon, laughing non stop imagining professor Brian Wheeller giving a presentation while dressed in my red bikini and with a gin and tonic ..after sending him detailed instructions as how to do that, smelling the aromatic oil made by Kate and thinking of what a kind and original idea that was, being courageous on a polemic issue and pressing send on that difficult email, the feeling of freedom when receiving the news that a boring meeting has been cancelled, making with others crazy happy plans that can never happen, fixing dates of conferences years in advance and feeling that now I have a date with fabulous colleagues, finally managing to say no, happily saying yes! , discovering a new word, entering my new office for the first time …closing the door and feeling the ownership of that little space, putting my legs up the window, thinking how to go about preparing a lecture but instead daydreaming looking at the sweet photo of my daughter, throwing out old papers and old exams, receiving an intimidating message from the academic patriarchy and smiling ironically at their sense of power, discovering how smart a student is, blushing because my PhD supervisor said he was so proud of me during a panel debate, being included in the personal conversations among my undergraduates during a train ride, days and days trying to find one of my favorite philosophy books and discovering that my son Anton is the one that has ‘stolen’ it to read it, the sweet comfort of talking to a good colleague after a conflict …Sensing the energy and drive of walking fast through an airport playing my role as ‘international’ researcher, understanding something for the first time, explaining a difficult concept in class and experiencing an aha! moment in the eyes of the students, trying something new like joining dancing classes because a colleague recommended it, having a change of heart/mind and accepting it, meeting an old student at a bar and listening with expectation to what he is now doing, making a favor, receiving a favor, phew …the relief of the last exam or project graded – done! Finished!, surprising myself being able to design a website and liking it, managing emails with determination – with short sentences, getting to the point, feeling talkative and writing loooong emails… mixing personal stories and anecdotes and book quotes and photos and many emoticons and hugs and kisses, rejoicing over the personality and variety of the greetings of amazing colleagues – ‘blue skies’, ‘take care Ana’, ‘lot’s of love’ …. Sending emails to Tomas or Kellee like in a chat, many…with only a few sentences… or a smile, writing and feeling that whatever I write will be welcome on the other side, receiving the link to a funny Youtube video on a long tedious day, noticing the comfort of being financially safe and knowing that I can provide for my family, getting emails of support by strangers after a heated debate on TRINET, making sketches on a field trip diary, savoring the sense of independence of travelling abroad, reading on the airplane, packing a dress for the gala dinner and then another…just in case, staying up until too late with colleagues knowing I will feel sleepy tomorrow but not giving a dam anyway, writing late at night when everybody at home is a sleep, discussing an issue and defending a position for too long until it becomes non-sensical.. and then laughing at myself.

 

Sunday chill, Township style

I am no longer a reverse-vampire. I have to say, having a car makes all of the difference in the world in living at Mama’s in the Township. I was renting a car here and there to get to meetings, and it just gives such a measure of freedom that my Dutch roomie and I decided to go halfsies and keep the car until she goes home next week. And yes, driving a standard on the wrong side of the road does make me feel cool.

Walking around here is really unsafe. The family we stay with worries about our safety a lot, and most of the people I know here have been robbed. I had lunch last week with a man who had been stabbed twice on the weekend. No one here is free. Looking over your shoulder and being worried about theft and violence is part of the everyday. It sucks.

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA

But that, of course, is only the crappiest part of living in the Township. I am much happier and having way more fun here than anywhere I’ve lived since arriving in SA. I’m making friends. I’m spending lots of time at Amazink and starting to feel like a welcomed temporary member of the community. And there are lots and lots of fun parts of life here, not the least of which is the amazing music (which will get a post all of its own one of these days when I get around to it).

IMG_20160513_212803443

I have a friend here called Patrick who took me out on Sunday to experience ‘real’ Township life. We went to a shebeen – a tin-shack pub tucked into a narrow alleyway with a pool table and a jukebox mounted on the wall. From there, we were invited to his friends’ house for the rest of the evening. The front door stood wide open and people and kids and dogs wandered in and out continually. The music was blasting and people took turns gathering some cash and darting out to the shebeen for more of the giant 1 liter bottles of Castle beer that stood lined up on the floor for anyone to help themselves.

DSCN0069

Our hosts got me a glass to drink out of. According to Patrick it is not okay for me to drink out of a bottle after a man has, despite these all being communal bottles. I’m not sure if those rules apply to all women or just me. The lady of the house dug out a lovely crystal tumbler and washed and dried it thoroughly before handing it to me. At first I was embarrassed – I don’t want any special treatment! But I quickly realized that I would do the same thing for a guest that I wanted to make welcome in my home. That little house was full of laughing and singing and dancing. No pretensions. Just a ‘Sunday chill’ with neighbours.

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA

Patrick made me promise repeatedly that I would publish that he is a Legend. And he is. He took wonderful care of me the whole day and made me feel welcome in a part of Township life that I would never have known about otherwise. He treats me a bit like porcelain, which we’re going to have to work on, but I’m pretty stoked to be hanging out on the other side of the fence for a change.

Patrick is a Legend. Even if he wouldn’t let me take his photo.

 

Reflections on Township Tourism III

DSC06163

I have finally begun collecting some data from my participants (yay!), and as expected (once again) nothing has gone as expected. I thought that I was being clear in asking participants in the study if they would take pictures in the community, with the cameras that were given (and once again, many many thanks to all you beautiful folks who donated your cameras!!!), of what tourism is and what tourism could or ought  to be. I’ve left the question deliberately open-ended in order to allow for a multiplicity of responses and perspectives that I could not have anticipated as an outsider to the community.

The first woman I met with arranged for me to speak with several people in the community who had experiences with tourists, including the ‘sheeps’ head lady,’ a man who sells arts and crafts to the tourists, and someone who lives in one of the old residences. She also brought along her friend to photograph me as we made our way through the township. Hm. I was really just going there to give her a camera, but we can roll with this.

DSC06117

The ‘sheeps’ head lady’ tending her fire

DSC06153

Interviewing the ‘sheeps’ head lady.’ She told me that a couple from ‘Swederland,’ a couple that she does not remember meeting, decided to pay the school fees for her two children after having met her on a tour. Her children have been attending private school now since 2011.

DSC06171

The front room of the apartment of the man who sells arts and crafts to the tourists is crammed to the ceiling with his wares.

The second man I spoke with took it upon himself to conduct a full community survey. I really hope he didn’t think I asked him to do all that work, but awesome! He conducted interviews with dozens of people around town, and sent out opinion polls on Facebook and What’s App that buzzed with responses the entire time we spoke. He had even typed and printed out four pages of responses from the interviews that he conducted in the community! Again, really not what I was anticipating, but so cool!

I have to say, I was feeling a little dismayed at what I perceived to be a lack of criticality regarding the socio-cultural impacts of tourism among the people I spoke with. Maybe this was due in part to the fact that one of my main methods of meeting participants was through engaging with the tours myself as a client? Or maybe I am completely wrong-headed about the whole thing – the financial impact of the tours is very evident, and maybe this is enough to make them be wholly valued by the communities? Maybe I’m just being too pushy with my own perspective that the tours can be harmful?

DSCF2037

This man, who has a physical disability, spends quite a bit of time outside the local liquor store, which is across from where many of the tourists park their cars. He has taken it upon himself to protect the cars, chasing away would-be robbers and vandals. For this he receives no ‘tip-out’ from the tour guides, and the tourists have no idea the role he plays in keeping their valuables safe.

But, then I heard another tourist say that ‘Everyone back home should go on a tour like this’ and I felt all of my insides clench. I’m sorry, but I just can’t get on board with the notion that we all ought to go look at other people’s poverty for our own edification. And I saw repeated examples of both tourists and the guides reinforcing negative and harmful stereotypes about the Township residents, for instance that young African fathers are not present in their children’s lives. I went back to my proposal in search of a little guidance and grounding, and re-encountered this gem of a video:

Camps Bay Reverse Township Tour

So it is not just me.

One man told me that people in the poorer parts of the Township really want tourists to come through because it means so for much for them to have ‘superior’ people walking through the same streets that they walk. When I prodded for an explanation, he told me that the white people are the superior ones, and that some people feel that to be seen by white people, to have a chance to interact with them, means that you are a person too, it means that you exist. Holy Fuck. Please bear in mind that is this (hopefully obviously) not what I think, nor is it what he thinks, but rather what he thinks other people think (I think). Tourism is not responsible for the racial disparities in this country, but hearing stories like that doesn’t make me think that it’s helping a whole ton either.

DSCF2021

This lady owns a shebeen in the Township. She doesn’t like seeing the white tourists walk past, because her pub is unlicensed and she is afraid that one of them will report her to the police

Another told me that some people will come to the Township to film their music videos, because it makes them look edgy and ‘fresh’ – that they pay the residents a paltry amount of money to act a certain way for the cameras – ‘thuggish’ – and that to him this was exploitative and abusive, as many of the people did not know what they were consenting to, they just saw an offer of money. Some musicians, like Skrillex for example, have come to the Township and have stayed and mentored young local artists, but to my young friend others just come and take and perpetuate negative stereotypes about the people who live there.

IMG_4552

The residents of the Township gathered to take part in a music video.

Lots of the people that I meet in my day to day tell me that they are studying tourism – I mean lots and lots of people. It’s a bit astonishing to tell you the truth. But then you see how much more money those involved in tourism are making than many other people in the community. And in parts of the community where many people struggle to make a living, you can imagine how divisive and political these imbalances can become.

DSCF2013

This young lady is studying tourism at her high school. Like many people I have spoken with, she views tourism as a field in which she has the potential to make a very good living.

Please keep in mind that I have only formally interviewed a handful of people, and have casually chatted with many others, so don’t take anything that is said here as some sort of conclusive statement about the ‘Truth’ of Township tourism – only a few early observations that have stood out in my mind. I would love any feedback from others’ experiences or opinions on the matter!

*Also please be aware that all of the photos published on this page were taken by the study participants, and the participants and the people who appear in the photos have given full informed consent to have their photos published and used for the purposes of this study. I would respectfully ask that other people not reproduce these photos for other purposes.

DSC06165

Recycling in the Township

 

Interested in reading about some of my earlier musings about the role of tourism in the Townships? Check out Touring the Township (and playing Andrea) and Reflections on Township tourism II. Thanks!

Poetry & Politics

IMG_4154

The arts and culture space in the Township

I had the privilege of attending the InZync Poetry Session last night at the Township’s incredible arts and culture space with Esme and the Dutch student who is also living at Mama’s. The venue was jumping, crammed full of mostly young people, white and black, all very cool and hip and arty. The line-up was pretty stellar, and included a Syrian now living in France, a Nigerian, South Africa’s Dissident Poet, South Africa’s Poet Laureate, and a number of exceptionally talented young local artists.

The caliber of the poetry was like nothing I have have ever witnessed before. Spectacular poetry. I was particularly impressed by the amateurs who performed. So, so moving and evocative and powerful. Clearly I am not a poet, because I am utterly at a loss to describe how bodily and emotionally and intellectually I was moved by their words and performances. (Obviously I forgot to bring my audio recorder, so I tried to catch some sound using the video setting on my camera).

I have had a number of conversations with various people over the past several weeks about the surprising (to me) lack of anger that I sense in many of the people I have met here. I feel that if I were living in a Township, after having been forced to leave my home community because the ruling minority decided that my part of town was ‘desirable,’ if I saw these prosperous gated communities and massive wine farms and old white people driving Bentleys and Aston Martins I would be PISSED. One incredible Mama that I met, who had been a social justice advocate at a time when her colleagues were being assassinated, told me that it takes too much energy and eats away at you to hold on to all that anger and resentment. Another incredible Mama told us about when people had to wear a large placard around their necks, known as ‘dompas‘ (literally ‘dumb pass’), any time they wanted to leave the Township to go to town; this while she hosted my dad and I for lunch in her home and laughingly encouraged me to keep trying to learn to cook chakalaka.

IMG_4391

A pink BMW convertible drives past Mama’s house in the Township

These conversations generally lead to talking about how the students are angry, and I have touched on the student protests already in a previous post, but I don’t think I have adequately expressed how PISSED they are. I got a real taste of just how angry some of the students are last night.

The poets spoke about their anger at living in townships, about having been taught a history that glorifies their colonial oppressors, about being robbed of their culture and dignity, about the stupid wine farms. About seeing white people clutch a little more tightly at their bags and edge a little further away on the sidewalk when this particular young black man approaches. There were lots of fists clenched high in solidarity and protest. There was singing and cheering. I didn’t understand all of it, as a lot of the poetry was in Xhosa, but believe me when I say that I felt it. And I know that I barely grasped a fraction of what was going on due to my total lack of understanding of what it is to be South African.

IMG_4392

In this photo you can see the white suburb on the right, wine fields, the farm manor house at the far left, and the shacks on the lower right.

At one point, a performer asked the other poet on the stage, ‘Do you hate all white people?’ as part of the dialogue in their performance. Without missing a beat, someone in the front row shouted, ‘YES!’ and the room erupted. There was laughter – the outburst didn’t feel hostile or threatening – but there were for sure a few ‘Damn straights!’ in there as well.

Now let’s put this in perspective (from my perspective): easily 40-50% of the people in that room were white. Two of the poets were white, as was the DJ. And the white poets spoke very evocatively about the need for change. In that moment I felt strongly how little some South Africans feel has been accomplished in terms of achieving racial equity. At the same time and upon further reflection, I’m fairly certain that a mixed-race crowd erupting into laughter and cheering at a statement of ‘I hate black people’ would literally be national news.

A short while later, the MC came on stage and asked that these discussions be held respectfully and without hostility. He said that these are issues that must be discussed, in spite of discomfort and awkwardness, but they must be discussed in the spirit of friendship and reconciliation. Afterwards, Esme told us just how rare these discussions really are, that honest conversations about race and all that implies, in her understanding at least, are almost taboo among many South Africans.

And did I feel guilty, standing there in the back of that room? You bet I did (thank you Catholic upbringing). Shame flooded over me when the young man talked about seeing white people grasp at their purses at his approach. I may not have pulled that exact move (I hope), but I have been guilty of wondering if certain black men in a crowd are looking for an opportunity to snatch something of mine. To be fair, my white skin stands out like a neon sign in the Township, and at any given point in time I am usually carrying enough sellable stuff to literally change a person’s life (I’m saying literally too much, but it’s true). I have also been robbed by young black men at least six times in various countries in Africa. And the family I am staying with is constantly advising against my leaving the yard alone, to the point that they come and stand on the sidewalk in front of the house to wait for the bus with me (yes, it feels exactly like kindergarten). On Sunday afternoon I wanted to bring something to a Mama who lives half a block away and had to be accompanied by Mama’s daughter and three little kids. Are they acting in an overabundance of caution? Probably. And is it unfair to the residents of this community, who have been nothing but kind and welcoming to me? Absolutely. But guess what the narrative becomes if something bad happens to me or any other visitor to the Township? What then gets told of what is ‘true’ about this community?

At any rate, last night’s experience at InZync is not one I will soon forget. It has given me a lot to ponder about race, rage, and the powerfully painful legacies of colonialism (one of which, of course, is my presence here).

 

Travels with Dad

I have been a little more remiss than usual of late in posting to the blog. My dad is visiting from Canada and we have spent the past week touristing it up to the max. So far we have visited Table Mountain, Robbin Island, the V&A Waterfront, Camps Bay, the Cape of Good Hope, penguins(!!), Camps Bay, the Slave Lodge, the vineyards of Stellenbosch, the aquarium, and all about Cape Town’s wonderful city center. We are both exhausted! The weather has been wonderful, apart from one day where we had a kick-ass storm that truly demonstrated the power of winds that blow unimpeded across the ocean from Antarctica.

IMG_4069

The view from Table Mountain

IMG_4174

Dad at the aquarium

IMG_4182

Nobel Square

IMG_2960

Mandela’s cell, Robbin Island

IMG_4214

Trying to avoid killing the penguins

IMG_4221

IMG_4242

The Cape of Good Hope, from Cape Point

IMG_4259

Standing at the edge of the world

Our travelling about the city has also included some time spent in the Townships. I was eager to get back to reconnecting with people after my segue in Thailand, and Dad was curious to learn about the places that I was aspiring to work in. We arranged to join a tour that was being offered through a local not-for-profit organization. This was the first tour that I have encountered here that was a side project whose stated objective was to support the community building efforts of the NGO, as opposed to being primarily about tourism. The tour took us to three different Townships and four community projects: a community garden, a women’s economic empowerment collective, a creche (pre-school), and a senior’s group.IMG_4138IMG_4143

IMG_4146

The kids really enjoyed Dad’s bionic knee

IMG_4148 This is the audio of the senior ladies singing us out. I thought we were going to have to drag my Dad out of there.

I think Dad had a really great experience in the Townships, and has been talking a lot about how startling it is to see these communities and the degree of poverty that is visible as you drive down the highway from the airport, and then to contrast that image with the warmth and welcoming nature of the people that we met.

For me, it was great to get a chance to reconnect with the people that I hope to work with over the next few months, and I was able to give five cameras to people who have agreed to take photos in support of my research project! Back in Canada, friends and family donated ELEVEN digital cameras to me before I left to give to people in the Townships. People are so awesome 🙂 The idea is to ask Township residents to take photos of their experiences of tourism in their communities, both good and bad, and then tell me about the photos they have chosen to take.

I am VERY excited to see what people will choose to share with me. I have explained my objectives as clearly as possible, I think, while also trying to not proscribe what I want people to tell me, and I’m trying not to stress about ceding control of what information gets produced.

One young man said to me the other day, “I wonder what they [the tourists] think about us.” This is exactly what I wonder too, only from the other side!!! We are going to have some fun chats he and I. Can’t wait to see where we go from here.

So, only a few days left with Dad, and then back to work full time. We’ve been cooking a lot in the Mouille Point apartment that Dad rented for his visit. Tonight’s dinner consisted of an oddly-gendered beer (am I allowed to enjoy it, seeing as how I am neither a champion nor a man?), South African staples of samp, spinach, and sausage, Dad’s dessert, and a sunset over the ocean 🙂