Phrontistery

Phrontistery (n)- a place of higher learning

Phrontistery is one of my favorite words in the English language, next to Primordial soup (which I know isn’t one word, but it is an excellent sounding phrase, one I like even better than the infamous ‘cellar door’). 

My first week of South African phrontistery was an eye-opening experience with substantial insight into the foundation of South African culture. The relationship between teacher and student is most telling. Teachers, called lecturers whether an academic migrant or full professor, expect students to understand all information relevant to the course, whether the lecturer has provided that information or not. Lecturers are willing to help students, but reluctant to forgive their mistakes or provide second chances. It seems every opportunity is taken to embarrass an unsure or mistaken student in front of his or her peers. There is little allowance for mistakes but also little allowance for non-participation, as this indicates lack of intelligence. I think all this is a result of the combination of South Africa’s history and its staus today. Higher education is based upon the British system, where professors are demigods and students are expendable. However, South Africa as a developing nation means not everyone has access to higher education. Those that do are privileged and have to work hard to see their schooling through. It’s as if each student has to earn, or prove, their right to be there by being the best they can, if not the best in the class. Personally, I think similarly and I always try to do my best, but I’m somewhat unique amongst my American classmates. Here, I have already read and taken notes for next week’s lectures and I feel I’m falling behind compared to the South Africans. I had a tough week adjusting to a nutty scheduling system: biochemistry practicals will take place every second Thursday, zoology pracs will be every Thursday but every second Wednesday, lectures will start not when the timetable says they will, but when the lecturer decides they will, leading confused international students to think they have missed classes when they haven’t or miss classes when they think they’re right on time. The administration is highly unorganized and gives free reign to the lecturers to determine both class and exam timetables. 

There is a huge emphasis on passing the course, completing the degree program, and finding a well-paying job in a relatable field. My teachers speak of being marketable or in demand as a biochemist or zoologist when what I’m really searching for is information on protein folding or reptile skull morphology. Classes are only seven weeks, so the information is crammed in so students can take as many exams as they need to qualify in their respective fields. The university (which the German students call ‘Uni’ but which South Africans call ‘varsity’) is focused on preparing workers to be self-sufficient and to bolster Africa’s largest economy. All I want is information to better my understanding of the world and knowledge of how to preserve what I love. 

Perhaps it’s especially challenging because I am an outsider to the system. Apparently, everyone else understood the practical schedule and I should have realized my comprehension was flawed when I was the only one waiting in the hallway for class to begin. I receive weird looks when I ask for help or directions, but I think it’s more the accent that throws people off than my helpless ignorance.

I know that I’m here to grow and learn, that the challenges of deciphering a different system is one reason why I’m here, but I wish the international office would be more communicative with both students and lecturers. I felt largely unprepared to understand my own schedule; the timetables published online were incorrect and the administration can’t be bothered to fix them, so the lecturer’s word is law, but when the lecturer doesn’t explain how we change venues (rooms) in the middle of a session and becomes exasperated when international students ask irritating questions, it’s hard to know where to go. 

So, I missed a class. It was an accident, but I felt horrible. I felt helpless, enormously confused, and defeated by the diversity of culture and communication. I can’t figure out to prove to the health insurance company that I have paid my premium, the bricks here are all laid crooked so I keep tripping and hurting my knees and back, I had to wait in line for a total of three-and-a-half hours on three different days to get my ID card because only one man on one ancient computed makes cards for the entire student population. Ugh, what I am doing here, I thought. I should be in Humboldt, taking invertebrate zoo in Trinidad and keeping warm under blankets. Being here will grant me perspective on life in Northern California and an indication of how lucky I am, if nothing else. But I’m already more critical. I’m taking South Africa’s history into account of daily life so I can see what factors made things the way they are. I’m seeing how racist and intolerant people from supposedly civilized countries can be. I’m learning how to say ‘hello, how are you, I’m fine’ in isiXhosa (Molo, kunjani, ndiphilile enkosi). I’m learning about myself, about what it means to be independent, a foreigner, a scientist. I don’t mind being alone. I mind being lonely. I don’t want to drink or smoke or be around smokers even, which isolates me from all the other international students and most of the South Africans I have met so far. I learning what I like and what I don’t like, training myself gradually to be healthier, more accepting, more informed, and a little more social. 

Yesterday I went to get my ID card, went to the last ten minutes of the wrong class, went to all my right classes, walked home, was asked out by a man who said he wanted someone like me as a wife (I declined, politely), met my new roommate, went for a sunset walk in the rain, saw a South African rainbow over the Indian Ocean, came back, watched Isidingo (a ridiculous South African soap opera) and sat down to write.

Highlights of the week: dissecting a perch with my bare hands, wearing my first lab coat, using the South African postal system, understanding everything about genetics of biochemistry in my lecture, finding nine mermaid’s purses on the beach, a really interesting conversation about the degradation of communication with a young woman from Port Elizabeth, finding tortillas at the grocery store, and going to a St. Valentine’s day function in the townships. 

Today I went with my new roommate to SAMREC, the South African Marine Rehabilitation and Education Center. Their main focus is the African penguin and the occasional Cape Fur Seal that ends up stranded on the shores of Algoa Bay. A really nice woman took us on a tour of the facility, where we got to watch the rehabilitating penguins swimming and sunning themselves. The African penguin, formerly called the Jackass penguin (don’t ask me why), is incredibly endangered and is expected to become extinct in the next five years without the work of organizations like SAMREC. The penguins feed on fish that are brought by cold water currents that usually circulate off the coast of southern Africa, but apparently climate change in addition to overfishing has pushed the currents and the fish farther away. Adult penguins swim to catch fish for their helpless chicks, but the extra 30km of distance means the fish are already digested by the time the parents return and the chicks gradually starve. Furthermore, during molting, the composition of the feathers is altered such that the birds are not protected from the cold and cannot swim far nor stock up on body fat to sustain themselves. The construction of the harbor in Port Elizabeth has exposed the islands where the birds breed to oil, further reducing their chances of successful reproduction. It is estimated that only 21,000 breeding pairs of these penguins exist in the wild. 

I have applied to volunteer there, doing everything from leading tours, to scraping crates clean, to help feed and hydrate the birds. I’m quite excited for this opportunity.