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Not one to use “UGH”s, “freaking” and 3 underlines in my diary entries, but rage and frustration has gotten the better of me. Nothing deep here, not sophisticated or academic writing. I just had to rant and my diary is always a good listener. 

“I am trying to make moves on my thesis, but I am so freaking annoyed at:

1) Betsy DeVos being confirmed as Secretary of Education, basically because she bought her way in. Marco Rubio was paid almost $100,000 to vote for her, and he did it! Despite the thousands of calls from people using him - “our representative” - not to! UGH

2) Seeing a GoFundMe page from a girl asking for ~$3000 so that she can come to South Africa over the summer to help “restore hope and dignity to children affected by the HIV epidemic”. This makes me sick to my stomach. These kids have dignity, until missionaries come in trying to force their religion on them and pity their lives because they don’t live in houses with pools or throw food down a garbage disposal. $3000 should be used for ARVs, helping set up a local clinic, water filters...not a flight ticket for some white girl to go on a safari and place with black babies for a few weeks. :(”

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Mekasi

Like anyone with too much free time, I arrive 20 minutes early to meet my friend for lunch. As I walk aimlessly throughout the area, men in overcrowded taxi-buses shout out the window. I can’t tell whether they are cat-calling or trying to fetch riders. I feel eyes scanning me as I walk by, but I know I stand out: I’m the only small white girl white person on the street. I come across a dingy sign. “coffee”. I can’t help but scope out the place, in hopes of finding a quaint coffee shop to call my own (don’t you dare call me a hipster). I follow the sign. Behind a medium size building sits a shack and a courtyard with several wooden tables. As I leave to meet my friend, I see a boy, dark skin, hat backwards. I ask him what the building is and he tells me thats where they live. He explains that boys his age are allowed to live there as long as they are in school, and some of them help run the coffee shack. During lunch with my friend, I I tell her I’m bored. I enjoy the research I’m doing, but I have too much spare time on my hands. We discuss South African inequalities and politics (the two go hand in hand). After lunch I decide there is no reason to head back to the office, so I return to the coffee shack. I don’t want to be complacent. I want to be inspired, but I have no inspiration. 

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“a billion people died on the news tonight, but not so many cried at the terrible site”

cheers to 6 months living in South Africa (with a 5 week intermission in Israel)

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