Pococurante

Pococurante- (n) a careless or indifferent person

Consider this your fair warning that a carping rant follows, though not an unjustified one. 

Human Rights Day is celebrated internationally on 10 December. In South Africa, Human Rights Day is on 21 March because this day honors the people murdered in the Sharpeville Massacre of 21 March 1960. A brief history lesson: South Africa’s apartheid (Afrikaans for ‘apartness’) government made people designated as Black or Coloured carry pass books to verify their citizenship, employment status, and racial classification. Forcing people to carry pass books allowed the government to keep certain kinds of people out of certain areas in efforts to preserve developed urban spaces and suburbs for the sole use of European descendants. The children of Dutch and English settlers did not have to carry pass books to traverse the cities. On 21 March 1960, a peaceful protest was staged in which Black and Coloured laborers offered themselves up for arrest for not carrying their pass books. That morning, around 8,000 people showed up in Sharpeville, a suburb in the Gauteng province. Police, who were predominantly white at this point in South Africa’s history, were also present to maintain order. The protesters sang and marched, gathering a crowd of roughly 19,000. Police decided the unarmed crowd was becoming too rowdy. Using tear gas and low-flying planes to disperse the protestors, the police were unsuccessful. The protestors had committed no crimes other than not carrying their pass books or not having pass books that allowed them to be in the area. When people started throwing rocks at the police, the police opened fire, shooting protestors indiscriminately. Sixty-nine people were killed and over 180 were injured. The images captured that day show bodies scattered over the field, bullets in their backs as they fell face-first in efforts to run away from the police brutality.  The Sharpeville Massacre marked the beginning of apartheid’s violence. The oppressed racial groups became angry and the police only became more brutal in their attempts to suppress the tide of revolution.

 Myfundi entry for Sharpeville. Fundi means study in Xhosa and Zulu (graphic and important pictures)

Fast forward fifty-two years to a period of relatively peaceful democracy for South Africa. 21 March is a public holiday; banks close and people go home early to be with their families. The university takes the day off, too. I am furious that on this day, intended to honor the memories of those who were slain, all the international students are planning a massive party to celebrate having a day free of classes. They’ll be drunk, high, stumbling in at four in the morning completely unaware of the reason they have the day off. The students from other countries, supposed to be diplomats and role models, are largely flabbergasting in their lack of maturity. It’s all surfing lessons, elephant safaris, bungee jumping and binge drinking. There’s nothing wrong with having fun or taking advantage of the surrounding area. But how can these people, these supposed students of the world, feel no responsibility towards the country that we are engulfed by, the history that has shaped it, and the lives that were given for the people’s freedom? 

On a city tour, we saw a Xhosa mama having an audience with a statue of Queen Victoria outside Port Elizabeth’s Victorian public library. She was entreating her, over and over again, to help Africa’s children maintain their connections, to stay strong in the face of modern adversities, and to extend her regal powers for the good of all inhabitants of Africa. She spoke in perfect English as she flung her leopard skin kaross over her shoulder. Can you see the forces at work here, even if you know little about South African history? You want to know what one of the boys from California said? “What’s the big deal? We have people talking to statues in San Diego all the time.” I glowered. 

I see this kind of disrespect, of thoughtlessness, of indifference widespread in today’s youth. There is so little responsibility or altruism as we are taught to fight to the top. Litter is flung, words are scattered, morals are abandoned. By no means am I faultless but I am consistently disappointed by my peers. I recycle, I take showers with the water stopped halfway through, I learn about water sources and ocean currents, I pick up trash on the beach, I learn about the local wildlife, I volunteer as often as the opportunity arises, I feel affected by history. I learned the history. I want to spend my life working as a conservation biologist. If these are the kinds of people I have to fight against, the pococurantes who can’t be bothered to care one iota about anything outside the sphere of their ego, how can I have hope for the future?  Elie Wiesel said the opposite of love is not hate. The opposite of love is indifference.

Sphenisciformes

Sphenisciformes-(n) the order to which all penguins belong

Here is a list of what I have learned how to do this week:

-clean up after penguins

-do penguins’ laundry

-hold penguins for tube-feeding

-carry penguins without being defecated on or bitten in the face

-corral penguins

-stick medicine for penguins in the opercular chamber of fish

-inject fish with de-worming agent for penguins

-tube-feed dehydrated penguins

-feed penguins fish (it’s actually really hard!)

-record penguin health records

-pull apart chicken feet (yuck).

            I am a SAMREC volunteer! I went to SAMREC (South African Marine Rehabilitation and Education Centre) on Tuesday and I couldn’t stop thinking about the birds all week. I’ve never been particularly fond of birds, but these creatures and this place are amazing. Each bird has a unique personality, traits to watch out for and special handling procedures. What’s more, every volunteer knows each bird personally. Sammy steals other birds’ fish, Inge doesn’t eat well, Trigger likes to bite, Vicky eats beautifully, Rambo helps himself to the tray of fish, Puck and Rufus gang up on the feeder, Derek has a lame foot so you have to carry him to the feeding spot, Quentin never bites, and Agro is mentally challenged so you have to take the fish to him. Agro is quite sweet. He doesn’t like to swim but he stands on the rocks and looks around, rarely interacting with the other birds. Hero is kind bitchy. I handed one guy a bird saying, “Here’s Poncho,” and he replied with “Oh, shit.” She promptly bit my hand and made me bleed. I sort of hope I’ll have scars. 

                Everyone, save two, who works there is volunteer- some for two weeks, two months, two years, or ten years. The older people help in reception and the café while the teenagers predominantly work with the animal director, Jared. I was taken along to the vet’s office and watched examinations of birds take place as well as difficult decision making processes. Xenia was put down because he was infected with aspergillus mold in his air sacs and could hardly manage to breathe. The poor thing was wheezing, gasping, and hyperventilating for days straight, apparently. It was a hard decision for the vet and Jared, but it wasn’t really a sad one because it was obviously the right decision. The bird was suffering, plus birds have a bony keel of a sternum and it’s nearly impossible to access the lungs or splanchnic organs. 

                I really, really like it there. I come every time thoroughly worn out, covered in fish blood, fish guts, penguin scat, bites, scratches and entirely happy. It’s almost frustrating to have to go to school and work in a classroom just so I can do exactly this, what I’ve learned in only three days or so. Actually, I understood everything the vet said about the condition of the birds he examined, save medicine names, and I was able to explain it to some of the volunteers without scientific backgrounds. The zoo I love but I’m still bitterly resentful towards my biochem professor’s demands for memorization. 

SAMREC's general ward, with the penguins all tucked in for the night

SAMREC's outside facilities for the general ward birds: they get to swim and play all day

                For zoo, we have to take apart a chicken, clean all the bones, and put the skeleton back together, mounted and everything. I’ve never prepared a chicken for eating before so this is a completely novel experience. It was hard to go from wild penguins in need of rehabilitation yesterday to a dead chicken today. A simultaneously enlightening and disgusting project, this is. I have a newfound appreciation for animal bodies, including ours. So many ligaments, tendons, muscles, everything in its own little place. This is how I know zoology is my intellectual niche: the more I learn about animals, the more excited I am to learn more. It’s a positive feedback loop of curiosity and discovery, not to mention knowledge. I never imagined myself saying this, but boiled spinal cord smells terrible. I cleaned the vertebrae today, one by one, and had to pull the cord plus any blood vessels out from each arch. The feet are a nightmare. All tiny bones and cartilage.

I actually love hanging out with other zoo majors and the volunteers at SAMREC because they all have such passion for wildlife. That little place is making a huge difference: penguins are saved, future wildlife managers are given hands-on experience with wild animals, and people are taught to appreciate animals. Plus, it’s a lot of fun!

I’m exhausted and rather lonesome, but altogether happy. Sala kakuhle, sobonana Melika.

Troglodyte

Troglodyte (n)- 1. a prehistoric cave dweller. 2. a person living alone.

I'm focusing on school and taking daily trips to the beach. Everyone else seems to be making great friendships, cavorting off to game parks, camping trips, Pride parades, or Garden Route towns but I'm here. My biochem teacher is making us memorize the structure and ionization constants of all the common amino acids; my zoo professor is making us memorize the cardiovascular plans of each order of vertebrates. It's not all that challenging but I simply don't see the point. All of this exists in tables in books where we could consult them if we needed to know the venous system of squamatans for some curious reason. Memorization isn't learning, isn't exposing the relationships that underlie the foundations of the natural world. I have to dissect a whole chicken, clean the bones, and then mount the skeleton for marking. When can I go see the elephants? I don't want to take apart any more animals. At least I feel confident that conservation biology and ecology is what I want to be doing.

I went into Central with Melina on Saturday. We went to the Donkin Reserve and walked up and down Govan Mbeki Avenue, sort of the main drag of downtown Port Elizabeth. I'm pretty sure you could find anything you wanted on that street, from beadwork to fresh fish to clothes to cell phones, all sold by hawkers. The shops are an amalgamation of convenience stores, family-run operations, and full-on fancy corporations like Woolworths or Adidas. People were yelling, cars were honking, babies were crying. We took the taxi to get there, a mini-van that runs up and down the street honking while a man leans out the window and yells "Town? Town? Town?" to solicit your patronage. This was the first time I truly felt I was in a foreign place, not in the diplomatic sense but in the mysterious, hitherto unknown excitement.

 

I bought a bottle of high thujone content absinthe since it's illegal in the States and I'm highly curious. It is a lovely color but the taste is a bit abrasive. I've been preparing it in the French method because I'm afraid of lighting it on fire in the Bohemian fashion.

I swear, I did nothing to the color of the drink in the photograph; I just selected the green tones. Isn't it pretty?

Everything is fine and well. I sort of wish I could come home already. It's challenging to look forward to what the future may hold when the present is so unexpectedly dull. I expected it would take time to adjust but I did not foresee this crushing solitude. At least, I didn't foresee solitude being a problem. See how my friends and family have spoilt me? 

Back to fish hearts and chicken guts. Did you know there are four names for the same part of the fish heart? It's driving me nuts. I think I'm going to start my Peace Corps application this week. 

Happy Birthday, Alice.