Eat, Love, Braai

It’s been a full first week guys. I showed up Monday morning all bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, just raring to go. We jumped through the final hoops of getting me hooked up to the office computer system, and I now have my very own work e-mail. I’m thoroughly convinced this makes me much more legitimate.

Now that I’m plugged in on the technology side, it is amazing how quickly I’ve been sucked into the work happening here. My colleagues have patiently answered my questions all week, and laughed with me as I adjust to some of the norms here in SA. One of those norms is how openly, beautifully, and hilariously carnivorous this nation is. Everywhere I go I run into some form of grilled meat, and there are usually caramelised onions nearby. Portions are phenomenally large, vegetables only seem to make an appearance sometimes, and so far (just about) everything I’ve tried tastes amazing. The most social way to prepare meat is to have a braai, which is basically marinating the meat and cooking it over an open fire, South African-style. 

This is a braai (rhymes with 'try'). It smells like primal satisfaction and campfire. I highly recommend it.

South Africa is also famous for wine, and I have found that most people here are heathens like me. It’s so hot that white wine is actually served with a bowl of ice and a spoon, separate from the bucket of ice that the wine bottle goes in. Any idea on why? It’s glorious. They actually give you ice cubes to put directly into your wine. This is a thing of beauty and I want it to be normal everywhere. For years now I have been dropping an ice cube or two into my white wine to keep it crisply chilled, and that is generally frowned upon by wine aficionados. (Somewhere, my French host family is cringing in horror and they don’t know why.)

Back to the meat though. This past Saturday was Heritage Day in SA, and that’s a cause for food and celebration. Heritage Day is a national holiday where everyone in the Republic is invited to walk the streets, attend work, and generally live their lives in clothing that celebrates their heritage. This means that right off the bat I had the chance to see my colleagues step up and represent (culturally) where they’ve come from, which was really, really cool. Both of my officemates are originally Nigerian, and one is the daughter of a seamstress who deals in these incredible African fabrics. The colours are explosive, the patterns are bold, and the beadwork that goes with it all is pretty unreal. I am definitely looking forward to dropping by in the next few weeks, once they’ve stocked up again. Right now it sounds like it’s slim pickings. Heritage Day is a big deal, and everyone wanted to look their best, so of course the shop is running low.

This skirt that started it all... one of the attorneys in our office found this fabric while she was vacationing in Mozambique, and had it made into a skirt at the shop. We're like fashion lemmings, it's ridiculous. Now everyone at the office wants one.

Needless to say, several members of our office made a trip to this shop and contributed to the economy. The whole thing was fabulous. The head wraps some of the women elected to wear are called doeks, and even just aside from whatever other garments are being worn, a doek can be a statement in and of itself. They can be tied in flowers, a variety of bow-like figures, artistic knots, or flared right up and crinkled. There is a very fun young woman who works the reception desk at the college next door, and she regularly shows up dressed in Western business casual with a doek wrapped around her head. It’s a practice I entirely support, and I’m actually hoping they become more widely used back home. They are great flash of culture, colour, and fun. All things that are sort of shuffled under the rug in a business setting in North America.

  

Which brings me to an interesting place, and maybe you’ve pre-empted this already. When confronted with the dressing up that comes with Heritage Day, I promptly realised I was kind of stuck. Traditional Canadian clothing? What exactly does that consist of when you’re a third generation Canadian white girl? Initially I thought it was a bit of a silly problem, surely I could just dress in red and white (no differently than Canada Day), and be quite satisfied with that.

I was not satisfied with that. Not satisfied with that at all. The more I heard, the more I realised the purpose here was to celebrate a culture, not really a nation. There are many distinct cultures in SA, and it is totally normal for that to be reflected in everything from politics to fashion. For example, the riots that took place here a few months ago were much more grounded in the ANC’s attempt to run a candidate for office who was from a completely different tribal and cultural background than the community in the riding she was trying to win. Needles to say, it did not work. So it’s not like people were dressing up in patriotic South African colours and celebrating the birth of the Republic, or the end of apartheid, or even coming together. Really it’s about having the chance to celebrate your culture, your heritage. Also a chance to see where everyone around you comes from, and understand them better.

Remember those years I worked at the Calgary Stampede? That was a thing. It's ok, I know you're secretly terribly jealous of my hat and bandana. Please don't all applaud at once. 

This is when I started running into actual problems. What is traditionally Canadian clothing-wise? Ok before you yell ‘plaid!’ or ‘denim and cowboy boots!’, please note that yes, as an Albertan I did contemplate those. That being said, I brought exactly one very lightly plaid shirt, and certainly did not have room to pack my boots. I will also have you know that I was unwilling to show up wearing my toque, or red mittens, or a scarf. It is way too warm for that shenanigans here. I switched tactics:

I started asking around for what people here thought of when I said ‘traditional Canadian clothing’. It uh… didn’t really solve my problem. People overwhelmingly said they thought of traditional Canadian clothing as First Nations garments. Feathers, fringe, fine beadwork, moccasins and head dresses. That makes a ton of sense, but you will not catch me dead in a Stoney headdress, or a Cree vest, or wearing Blood facepaint. Cultural appropriation is a big deal. To show up with anything like that as someone who has never been invited to participate in a First Nations cultural event that involved my dressing up is pretty far over the line. I don’t think it would be alright to do it here just because there is (potentially) a lower risk for being called out on it.

Chief Hector Crawler. A fairly famous Chief of the Stoney Nakoda nation right next door to Kananaskis country near where I grew up, and a great example of traditional First Nation clothing. 

So… this left me in a bit of a quandary, what to wear to Heritage Day? My host initially suggested red plaid, and I thought about dropping by the mall to see if I could find anything lumberjack-appropriate, but then she came up with another suggestion: Why don’t I borrow a dress from her in a Kenyan pattern, and toss on some Kenyan beaded bracelets as well? I was thrilled by the offer. I’d get the chance to participate, and to do so in fun African colours.

Do you see the catch on this though? It took me a bit to realise what I might doing, and I’ve been thinking about it for a while now. If my host were a Kenyan woman, her inviting me to borrow her dress/beads and wear them to an event meant to celebrate heritage would have made sense. That’s an invitation to participate in culture from someone inside the cultural group, and I think invites like that are amazing chances. My host is not Kenyan though, and that got me wondering where the line is for cultural appropriation; what is appropriation, and what is not? By wearing a Kenyan dress and traditional beaded bracelets instead of a feathered headdress, have I just side-stepped appropriating one culturally significant thing and picked up another in its place?

Celebrating Heritage Day in my (borrowed) Kenyan dress.
Those beaded bracelets were by far my favourite though. 

Perhaps more importantly, why was I more comfortable wearing the dress instead of the headdress?

The conclusion I’ve come to rests on an uneasy balance between commercialisation and respect; and I’m still not totally sure it’s right. My line of thought is that by the very nature of a thing being for sale by a group with rights to it, an invitation is being extended to own and use the thing. For example: If it weren’t so warm here I’d be totally comfortable wearing a pair of Manitobah Mukluks.

If you haven't checked these out, I solidly recommend it.
They're a gorgeously made product, and the company makes sense to support from my perspective. 

In the end, the Kenyan dress and bracelets aren’t so different from the mukluks. Yes, I did borrow them from the woman hosting me, but I also could have picked up half a dozen dresses just like it in other Kenyan patterns at the market the next morning. I am way more comfortable with wearing something that is clearly commercialised, and not (to my knowledge) an appropriation of something sacred.

There is a flipside to this though. What happens when fashion steps in and pulls something that is sacred or traditional into the field of commercial gain? There's a great discussion of the problems inherent with that here. The short of it though is that a voice from inside the community needs to be leading the charge in sharing to really avoid appropriation, more like this. I think that’s where the balance has to come in though, and some buyer discretion.

For example, there is a Zulu headband here that makes me smile every time I see one. Just look at that white tuft in the middle! Look at it! It’s amazing! Be excited with me about it!

Ahem... this particular headband is only worn by married Zulu men.
As such, I lack all qualifications required to wear the headband. 

So there’s an example of something that is commercially for sale, but is grounded in tradition and still has some level of meaning in the modern world. Everyone I met who was wearing a headband was indeed married, and appeared to be male. (I don’t know if Zulu people are distinct looking, but my colleagues so far have indicated ‘no’.) That makes the headband exactly the kind of thing that pushes the responsibility of respect onto the buyer. Just like I wouldn’t buy a pair of mukluks and use them to dress up like a First Nations stereotype for Halloween, wearing a Kenyan dress and a Zulu headband seems pretty highly disrespectful.

This leaves my whole cultural appropriation conundrum in that wonderful (read: horrible) grey area of ‘do your research!’ and ‘be aware of what you’re buying!’. Optimistically, I’m going to take the ambiguity of it to mean I’m at least getting closer to the messy reality surrounding what should be a relatively simple kindergarten principle: Don’t take what’s not yours.

In case you're looking for a funny, easy, adorable read this fall.
Also a great lesson on things we were supposed to learn in kindergarten.

Visiting the Constitutional Court

[Update: Hi guys! Normally updates will be Tuesdays and Sundays, but my internet went down here last night. So with a slight delay for technical difficulties... here is your update!]

[Bonus: Want to see more photos of SA? Follow me on Instagram @kennarocket]

On my second day of work, the very first thing LHR did was pack up and take a quick little road trip to Johannesburg to see the Constitutional Court (CC) with some of my new colleagues from the Joburg office. I am going to admit my bias to you immediately: I really, really like this courthouse. I initially sat down wanting to write to you about all the geeky parallels between the Canadian and South African legal systems… then promptly realised that there was no way you wanted to read a full essay on a Tuesday night.

(But look at how the Living Tree is mirrored in -

No Kenna, let it go.

Look though! The methods used for Truth and Reconciliation in both –

No.

And the symbolism!

Drop it, you’re going to lose them.

… Ok ok ok ok.)

So instead, here is the abridged version!

South Africa is unfortunately infamous for apartheid. Apartheid was very evidently atrocious, and there is no shortage of horror stories and nightmares to come out of that period of history. As a nation South Africa came out of apartheid under Nelson Mandela very consciously, and with a clear purpose. The purpose was to create respect and equity between the myriad of difference peoples present here, and it seems to have generated an ethos that has popped up consistently throughout my first week here. The single greatest example of this ethos that I’ve found so far is the CC, so please bear with me while I gush about it a little.

For starters, the CC is built right on top of the prison site initially used to house Ghandi, and Nelson Mandela after the Rivona Trial. The court was built there intentionally, and it is probably the single greatest reminder of apartheid onsite. Not only can you tour it as the Apartheid Museum, there are sections of the prison still there.

Looking up at one of the old fort watchtowers through the trees in the courtyard, in front of the Constitutional Court.

Several of the watchtowers that were originally part of the prison fort have also been maintained, and they are now a part of the courtyard in front of the court. They are imposing, but they also have speakers hooked up to them that play music. I don’t know if it was a local children’s choir or tribal music or what, but it was very happy and very African. So much so that I turned to another one of the interns from Canada and said “Man… I wish our court sang to us!”. She agreed heartily.

So. Many. Official. Languages.
And I bet you thought listening to the boarding announcements for Air Canada in two languages was bad...

Notice anything about the 'B' from Bolokolohi? The official script of the CC actually adopted it. If you check out a larger version of the above photo, you can see it used there as well. 

The front of the courthouse itself has ‘The Constitutional Court’ written out in all 11 official languages. (Yes, you did read that correctly. There are 11 official languages here. Government offices must be able to operate in at least two of those. There is some negotiation as to whether or not this actually happens.) There is also a slab of stone that runs along the side of the courthouse with the signature of all 11 of the original judges to sit on the court. That signature in the bottom right that seems almost like a child wrote it? That is Justice Bolokolohi, and shortly after being appointed to the court he began to lose his sight. For the record, blindness did not stop him at all. He continued to serve the court faithfully until retirement. This man was on a mission.

So much diversity and inclusion went into this building. I haven't even started on the brail, guys.

As you enter the courthouse you step through these hugely tall, carved wooden doors. If you’re curious about the hands that have been carved all over the doors, they are sign language. There are 27 rights enshrined in the constitution, and each has a distinct sign in sign language that was incorporated into the door. The doors stand open year round, and the whole building is publically accessible with free tours. Now, my understanding is that tours and open doors are a pretty common thing with common law courts. I suspect it’s less common that the foyer to the courthouse is meant to be a public gathering area though. Part of the court being a public gathering area means there has been a huge amount of art donated to the building, and there is a gallery connecting the actual courtroom to all the other public offices, and the library.

I have soft spot for the tree pillars guys. Also, please note the wall behind the trees with photos of all the Justices who have sat on the court. 

Once you’re in the foyer the other main theme of the courthouse really starts to shine, and that’s ‘justice under a tree’. The idea being that traditionally many cultures in Africa would come together under a tree and decide how to proceed when there was a problem. The ritual was meant to involve everyone in the community in solving a given problem, and part of that involvement was the idea that by being a part of the solution, everyone was more invested in coming together to see it realised. I really like that idea, and it comes back strongly through the process judges undergo to sit on the CC.

So, how do judges make it to the CC, you ask? Well first off, they don’t actually need to be lawyers. (It’s ok to have a bit of an internal freak out when you read that. I definitely did.) Seriously, a judge on the highest court in the land could have never taken a course in law in their life. Initially that shocked me in a very negative way. How could anyone hope to understand the full ramifications of their decision without a legal background?! It seemed reckless and irresponsible, the judgements that come from this court are binding on an entire nation! The more I thought about it though, and let it settle… it actually doesn’t seem like such a terrible idea. In no small part that is because the selection process is (supposed to be) incredibly rigorous.

The ladder art piece represents the transition out of apartheid, and that third rung from the top is actually an elephant bone. The slogan lit up in light came back to SA with the MK movement, and is actually a transplant from Portugal because that's where many of the MK spent time when they were abroad. 

(For brevity this is a very loose outline of the process:) Once a candidate has nominated himself or herself to sit on the CC, they are placed under the scrutiny of a massive panel. The panel consists of teams of experts in various fields. There are academics, community leaders, politicians, legal experts… to name a few. Each candidate is then put through the wringer on explaining their reasons for wanting to sit on the court, and proving their competency to each team. Candidates are picked apart academically, personally, politically, legally, etc. before a list of qualified candidates is approved. What the end result is is a panel of judges hearing your case with vastly different backgrounds, and a significantly lowered barrier to entry than something like the Canadian judiciary. That has had some very cool impacts on the diversity of the court, and for keeping public trust in the justice system itself. That appointment process cuts away the sense of distance between something like the CC and the vast majority of the population. My little grinchy lawyer heart grew three sizes when I realised the significance of that appointment process. It was a good moment.

Remember that the CC is built right on top of the old prison site? They literally took apart the prison, brick by brick, and used the materials that made the prison to construct the courthouse. Not because they were short of funds, either. The old bricks were used because the architect wanted to recognise that apartheid could not be undone, but it could be learned from and used to build a better future. The theme of rough, old prison bricks next to smooth and freshly mortared bricks, is present throughout the whole building.

Looking down from the top of the African Steps, which run between the (now) Apartheid Museum on the left, and the new CC on the right. 

As you approach the CC up the African steps? Prison bricks at the bottom transition to new bricks towards the top. The remains of the prison, now a part of the Apartheid Museum, are on one side and the new courthouse on the other. The juxtaposition is intense.

In the courtyard in front of the CC? The courtyard is a distinctly different colour from the brick everywhere else underfoot, and that’s because they’re also from the old prison.

A somewhat fish-eyed look at the transition from prison brick to freshly plastered drywall at the CC. 

The CC itself? Oh yeah. The courtroom where the court sits is one big transition from rough prison brick, through newly pressed and mortared brick, to a cleanly plastered and painted wall. You can see the cleanly plastered wall on the left, and the oldest brick on the right.

Looking at the bench of the CC. 

I really like that about the courtroom itself, but I haven’t even gotten to where the judges sit yet, and that was kind of a big deal to me. It might actually be my favourite. First off, each judge sits behind a unique Nguni cow-hide. These are very prized by many African nations, and signify the diversity of the bench. A clerk sits below each judge, and the only assigned judge’s seat is for the Chief Justice. There is a lot of controversy about the current Chief Justice, and if you’d like to engage in some critical thinking/eyebrow-raising here is a link that sums the controversy up nicely.

Back to the building though: One of the most significant aspects of the CC is how flat it is. This is not a courtroom where counsel looks up to make their submissions; they stand at eyelevel with the seated Chief Justice. The long window that runs around the edge of the court is also meant to be a reminder to judges as they sit and hear cases. Through the window you can only see the legs of people walking past, from about mid-thigh to mid-calf. This is meant to be a reminder that it doesn’t matter who the person walking outside is, they are a person, equal to others, no more and no less. The justices also sit beneath the level of the sidewalk outside, and that is a reminder that their position is one of service to the people. The bench is not for dictators, and there is great responsibility that comes with the power of the position.

That looooooooong thin window is the one that is meant to remind the Justices of the service they are doing, and the humanity of each individual case they hear. 

Guys, I could literally go on about this building for pages. The takeaway is that it’s pretty amazing, and I am a huge fan of the thought and effort that’s gone into it. That doesn’t mean that everything here is sunshine and daisies, the racism that fuelled apartheid is much deeper, more complex, and less institutional than I was expecting. To weigh in on any of that right now wouldn’t make sense though. My understanding of the history and the issues here is still grossly shallow, and I don’t think it’s really even possible for me to say anything with real meaning about it at this point. So instead, here is the beginning of something I’d like to include in each post moving forward:

Local Context

1. Here is a very cool (short) article on the emerging African fashion scene. When this article popped up it kind of made my day, because a news source as big as the NY Times was publishing stories about Africa that focused on good news. You're going to be seeing as much of this as I can get my hands on in the future.

2. Here’s another (very short) article aboutsome of the youth activism that is taking place right here in Pretoria. The young woman behind this movement has taken the media by storm, and kudos to her for tackling an issue that plagues people of colour, and women in particular. There have been larger international news sources to pick up this story, but this piece actually has video from the day of the protest, and I think that is infinitely more powerful than any second-hand news account. 

Dear Mom, I've run away and joined the lawyers!

So, I landed this amazing opportunity through the Young Lawyers International Program (YLIP), which is run by the Canadian Bar Association (CBA). The short of it is that I’m being paid* to live and do legal work abroad. 

Specifically in South Africa.

More specifically with Lawyers for HumanRights.

Guys, this is a big deal. It is hugely thrilling, and honestly a little intimidating. I’m stepping out into legal work and immediately being handed responsibility for some seriously vulnerable people, so I am very intent on doing it right the first time as much as I possibly can. I should also make sure to say right off the bat that I’m really, really excited to be going back to Africa!

Passing through construction on the new terminal at YYC, and I laughed hard when I realized that to get between terminals, Calgary is going to use shuttles on roads inside the airport. This city's love of roads and cars is incredible.

A Little Bit of Context

Lawyers for Human Rights (LHR) is a non-governmental organisation aiming to promote awareness and protect the enforcement of human rights. The group’s activities originated in South Africa, but are slowly expanding abroad. LHR began in 1979, fighting oppression and the abuses of human rights that took place under apartheid. Their work is now multifaceted, and has grown to include projects related to voter education, refugee and migrant populations, housing, land, unsafe working conditions, gender violence, as well as penal and environmental reforms. First and foremost, LHR is a watchdog whose goal is to produce clear strategic policy that allows for the effective delivery of socio-economic rights for disadvantaged persons. One of the ways they do this is by providing free legal services for individuals (and communities), both non-national and South African, who have had their constitutional rights infringed.

My Role in the Field

It took me a little while to really internalize that what I’ve signed up for is kind of international aid work. My role with LHR is to provide as much support for their existing initiatives as I am reasonably able to. One of the reasons Canadian interns are taken by LHR is because Canada was very influential in helping South Africa redraft their post-apartheid constitution. For this placement, my support is focused on two projects in particular:

Project 1: Strategic Litigation Unit

The self-stated mission of the Strategic Litigation Unit (SLU) is ‘to use the law as a positive instrument for change and to deepen the democratisation of South African society. To this end, it provides legal services free of charge to vulnerable, marginalised and indigent individuals and communities who are victims of unlawful infringements of their constitutional rights.’

My work with the Strategic Litigation Unit (SLU) is going to involve refugees. The African National Congress (ANC) is the ruling party here, and is attempting to pass amendments to the Refugee Amendment Act (RAA). The proposed changes are alarming in that they are functionally proposing to strip refugees of many fundamental human rights. In some ways this is obvious as you read through the proposed changes. However, how far-reaching the impacts of many of these changes are is still only just becoming apparent to me. Although I read the proposed amendments before arriving, I am not intimately familiar with other South African laws. As I have started working my way through material for clients (think: the Refugees Act, the Immigration Act, and the regulations around identification and access to services) I am running headfirst into amendments that vastly change a person’s quality of life, their recognition as a person, and their chance at resettlement.

For a group of persons who already face abuses because of their vulnerability even with protections in place, the repercussions of this potential law are very scary. Litigation is already underway in an attempt to stop the bill from passing into law, and my role is to assist with research, drafting, and whatever other tasks my supervisor decides on as we head toward the Constitutional Court.

Looking out over Pretoria. Everything is red and green, even with the very serious drought South Africa has been facing over the last year. Water rationing is becoming common, and rain isn't predicted (even though it's the rainy season now) until November.

Project 2: Refugee and Migrant Rights Project

Dove-tailing nicely with the SLU, my work with the Refugee and Migrant Rights Project (RMRP) also clearly involves refugees. South Africa takes in one of the highest numbers of refugees annually; mostly from some of the less stable neighbouring nations, but also the rest of Africa. I’ve been told to expect that at least 60% of my clients will be French-speaking, and to remember to use my mandatory holiday time fully.

Both projects will involve taking a very hard look at some intense stories. Individuals can claim refugee or asylum-seeker status for a variety of reasons, but almost all of those reasons involve some level of loss, violence, or tragedy. While I am with the RMRP, I will be a part of the team that interviews incoming claimants and ‘triages’ their issues to help them navigate the government, and how to access the services their human rights and the constitution guarantee. (This appears to involve a lot of suing the government.)

Like many restaurants in buildings that are under construction in London, the South African government does not seem to particularly care that LHR serves them fairly regularly. 

As you might expect, there is a fair amount of overlap between RMRP and SLU. This is in part because the SLU takes cases from the RMRP to support class action-type constitutional litigation, and that is the crux of my purpose here.

So… there’s my next seven months in a nutshell, guys. If I can guarantee anything at this point, it’s that this internship is definitely not going to be the sort of thing where I am responsible for fetching coffee and dropping off dry cleaning.

So far, the trip has gone incredibly well. I stopped over in London for two days to fight off some of the jetlag, made it to my apartment without incident, and my first day at work mostly involved very routine things. Everyone at the office was wonderful, I can now access my office independently, and by Monday I should even have computer access. The keys here are hilariously old fashioned, everything I’ve eaten has come in huge helpings and been delicious, and the view from my apartment is pretty beautiful.

Catching the matinee performance of Stomp! in London. I highly recommended, seeing this if you can.

Childhood taught me that this is what keys are supposed to look like. 

I may have to 'forget to pack a lunch' once a week. 

Just to dispel any potentially hilarious assumptions:

Yes, I have hot and cold running water.

Yes, I sleep on a bed with a mattress.

Yes, there is a fridge, and fully functioning kitchen.

Yes, I can and do purchase food from a grocery store.

Yes, I do have (intermittent) internet, which means…

Yes, I 100% still have access to Netflix. I admit I was not expecting that one.

Yes, this is a developed city, and I do not wander the streets on dirt roads with livestock.

… although I freely admit that two other YLIP interns posted photos earlier today about the donkey and cow they encountered on their separate walks to work this morning. In Johannesburg.

I guess this is (still) Africa?

*(Kind of paid. It's a stipend and living allowance. You know, so that I don't starve while I'm over here. Definitely nothing lavish haha!)