Molly recognizes some lessons learned while in Cape Town

In South Africa, I tried to notice every little detail. I noticed the spices in the food, the ways women looked in ads and on billboards, the number of churches in a neighborhood, the ratio of white to black to coloured people in any given restaurant or bar. I would try to store these details in the “hmm, that’s interesting” file in my brain, but in most cases these details would inevitably get shuffled into the analytical section where they would turn into observations/judgments about Cape Town. When people ask about Cape Town and it sounds like they want to know about more than the city’s weather, these observations/judgments can come in handy. They help me sound as if I learned something while I was in Cape Town. However, I also need to be careful not to overgeneralize, or to inadvertently lie about an entire city and the people who live in.

On my way home from the airport, my sleep-deprived brain was still in detail-mode. I looked at the women who were represented on ads for Hooters and Hooters knock-offs, I looked at that huge cross on that hill in Waterbury, and I realized that an observer may observe those as important phenomena in the overall “psyche” of America (whatever that may be), they don’t play a huge role in my American experience. I’ve realized that I can’t speak for all of Cape Town; I can also speak for my Cape Town experience. I’ve found myself becoming a little frustrated in conversations with people who have only gone to South Africa for vacation and who won’t shut up about how healthy and fresh the food is, when the only vegetarian foods I could find in the neighborhood of my internship were French fries and mac n’ cheese, but these differences demonstrate the many ways in which experiences can vary. In the end, everyone who lives in or visits Cape Town has a different experience, and all of the small details in the world can’t paint an accurate bigger picture of these experiences.

I’d like to think that my Cape Town experience has made me more comfortable with thinking about crucial yet touchy-feely things like ideals and values. I sometimes think of my growth into adulthood as a cycle of liking and not liking the hit 1996 Broadway musical, Rent (I promise I’m going somewhere relevant with this). I was first introduced to the movie version of the musical when I was ten, and I fell in love with its depictions of freedom and romance and art and friendship. I have fond memories of playing one of the show’s trademark songs, “Seasons of Love,” at theater camp and at cast parties, and as a high schooler the music inspired me to live life to the fullest and to try to live without regrets. After high school, I stopped doing theater partially because I thought the theater kids at UConn were too weird for a normal, cool college gal like myself, and partially because I thought that I should focus more on *serious things* like writing and community service and clubs that look good on resumes. I saw the movie version of Rent again towards the end of my freshman year, and I found myself hating all of the artists that I used to root for. Why couldn’t they just quit whining and start selling out like everyone else? I felt more sympathy for the “evil” landlord Benny, who just wanted to be compensated for the space that he’s rented out.

I’m not sure if my time in Cape Town has made me fall in love again with those struggling artists who wanted to live in apartments they can’t pay for, but it has made me more sympathetic with their commitment to not selling their values. “What You Own,” a song about not wanting to be bought out or live in isolation, has become one of my favorite songs since I’ve come back. It’s title sums up the message that in America, your value as a person is determined by your monetary worth. I’m not going to say that this mindset only exists in America, or that it exists universally within the country’s bounds. However, much of my time in Cape Town was spent with people who were more devoted to their values than to their money. Some of the people at my internship were understandably bothered by the fact that were monetarily undercompensated for their work, but they did the work anyways. My time in Cape Town has not made me want to reject all material possessions and live solely according to my values. I don’t even really know what my values are yet. As I plan out my future, there’s no denying that money is still a big driving factor. However, my time in Cape Town has shown me that there are other ways to live, other ways to be grateful, other ways to be happy, and other ways to be fulfilled.