Letter from a client

A while back, we received a letter from one our clients – refugee from Zimbabwe who is extremely friendly and personable. Reading this makes all the work worthwhile.

“I couldn’t help stop tears streaming my cheeks. I am touched by the way you treat people (refugees) here. First I eavesdropped the white lady explaining one or two instructions to one refugee and later on I felt at home for the first time since my 2 years in RSA. I felt like not leaving this centre.

You Like people, you like your jobs. Once again, thank you. Keep the good work. Refugees are people they need you.”

LHR Boat Cruise

As a thank you gift to the interns, the entire staff was treated to a boast cruise that included a three-course meal. We worked until 10:30am, then – in an attempt to reach the wharf in time – sneaked across the railroad tracks toward the wharf (I’m sure this was not legal, but it was awesome seeing the attorney’s “breaking the law”). We had the entire boat to ourselves. It was fun and relaxing and refreshing to see the staff outside the context of the work environment. The weather was also beautiful: breezy and warm, the sun gleaning off the surface of the water. This was a great end to an amazing summer.

Enjoying the 3-course meal (I had mango chicken salad, curry rice, and some kind of chocolate dessert). Yum.

Khuli (one of the attorneys) and I prepared to save the world -- with my slingshot.

Dinner with Natacha and Family

Over the weekend, all of us interns from LHR invited Natacha and her husband to dinner at Ande’s flat (helping to set the table was the extent of my assistance since I didn’t know how to cook). Natacha, a client from our office, is a Rwandan refugee whose entire family was killed during the 1994 genocide. She and her family will most likely resettle to another country (the U.S., we’re hoping!) because of the constant harassment and threat from the man who trafficked her to South Africa when she was 7 years old; she is so afraid, in fact, that she never leaves the house—except with her husband. Natacha is only 21, but has experienced so much pain and trauma in her life—stuff you cannot even imagine. And since never attended school, Ande has been going to her home to tutor her math and English.

Unfortunately, Natacha’s adorable 4-year-old daughter, whom I met for the first time in the office, could not make it to the dinner. I still laugh when I think back to the image of the rambunctious little girl running around the office and helping to correct my Zulu (apparently, my clicks were wrong). She would also interrupt me in the middle of my work to tell me she was thirsty; and I would poor water from my bottle into her mouth, after which she would smile and giggle. We were all bummed to not see her that night. But it was a very fun night. Everyone enjoyed the food. And I even performed a few card tricks (the choose-the-card, find-the-card-in-the-deck trick) that surprised almost everyone, especially Natache and her husband. I even performed a magic trick where I purported to stick a coin through my neck and pop it out of my mouth. Seeing the shocked expression on Natacha’s face was priceless.

Natacha never laughed so hard in so long. Her husband told Ande and Melissa this after they dropped the two at their home. For someone who experienced so much pain and trauma from such a young age, we were surprised to see such a warm, cheerful person … a normal person. She appears not phased by her traumas, and, according to Ande, speaks of her past with little emotion. The human mind is extremely fascinating—the way a person (who has suffered incredible pain and ineffably inhumane experiences) can suppress their feelings, to the point that they become numb to their emotions. But it is Natacha’s sincerity and her will to overcome that has led all of us interns to fall in love with her and her family—to the point where Ande and I fervently explored the option of helping Natacha’s husband attain a study permit to attend a community college in my hometown (at least this would hasten the resettlement process, which lasts at least four years). For now though, seeing Natacha smiling and laughing and enjoying herself for the first time was definitely a highlight of the summer.



View from the 13th floor of Ande and Melissa's flat (located directly across from the beach!).

Zimbabwe

I have developed a keen interest in Zimbabwe. Not just because a large base of our clients are from the country (during the week of the initial outbreak of xenophobia, our office met with nearly 500 Zimbabweans). But also because of the (serendipitous) interactions with Zimbabweans — both in and outside of work — that has given me a profound understanding of its people and insight into the horrifying/repressive economic and political conditions that has driven thousands of refugees into South Africa and other neighboring countries.

I had a very interesting encounter at Europa. I was reading an article on Zimbabwe when the waiter, intrigued by a photo of President Mugabe displayed across the page, asked about the article’s content. It turned out that he is a refugee from Zimbabwe. He had left only 4 months ago immediately following the April elections that rendered Mugabe the illegitimate victor. Fascinated by his story, I began asking a bunch of questions, which he appeared happy to answer. (He actually thought I was a journalist.) But after telling him about my work with refuges at Lawyers for Human Rights, he asked if I could assist with his asylum status to which I was more than happy — and now much more comfortable and well versed — in offering advice. It was shocking to hear that 5 billion Zimbabwean dollars is not enough to buy even salt in his country: “I’m not sure how people are even surviving there right now,” he said. In Zimbabwe, unemployment is at nearly 80% and inflation is over 100,000%. Which is why he ended up escaping in the middle of the night to South Africa. We have plans to meet up at some point so he can tell me more about his story.

Yesterday at work, I met with a Zimbabwean teenager who came to South Africa with his mother. He is 18-years-old, and though small in stature and adolescent in appearance, came across as very articulate and precocious, though soft-spoken and nervous during our conversation (he barely looked me in the eye). MW left Zimbabwe 6 months ago due to severe economic conditions. Apparently, the monthly salary of teachers in Zimbabwe is 130,000 billion dollars, the equivalent to 1 USD! Teachers from MW’s school left because they were not making enough money. Which is why MW expressed a desire to continue his education in South Africa; but this was not possible without the appropriate documents.

I felt bad because our attorneys do not consult with clients on Fridays … but I took him to see the attorney anyway. I was somehow compelled by MW as he is one of the kindest, most sincere kids I have met, even in the short time that we spoke. In a sense, I was rooting for him. I wanted for him to succeed, to transcend the obstacles and barriers imposed upon him and all those who had been displaced, tortured, and repressed as a result of the government’s dictatorship. The reality however, is that MW does not qualify for refugee status based on the reasons stated for leaving Zimbabwe—namely economic and not from any form of persecution (his claim for asylum status would eventually be rejected). The next step is for MW to go to the immigration office to attain a study permit, which I am not even certain will be met with success. I ended up giving MW R50 to assist him. As I walked him out the door, I told him to use it wisely (which I’m sure he will) and wished him the best of luck with his endeavors. I understand that handing out money is not the solution, but this was the only thing I could—and wanted to do—to assist MW. I mean, all he wants is the opportunity to go to school—something I think we tend to take for granted.

The life of Zimbabwean refugees I meet everyday is an interesting contrast to the life of my friend Simu, who grew up in Zimbabwe but received a scholarship to attend boarding school and now med school in the UK; he is currently working at hospital in Durban as part of his elective. We met through my British roommates and have become good friends. After a long night of card playing and ridiculous imitations of each other’s accents (the British outnumbered us Americans 4 to 3), Simu and I stayed up till 2AM chatting. He shared his life story—from his perspective on the current Zimbabwean crisis to his personal dilemma of wanting to actually practice as a doctor to his ambitions of one day attending the Harvard School of Public Health.

What I appreciate (and will certainly miss) about this summer has been the opportunity to meet people with such diverse and interesting backgrounds. Fortunately I live in the bay area in California and attend one of the most diverse colleges — ethnically, socio-economically, and intellectually — where meeting interesting people is not unusual ... but somehow, it's just not the same as being in South Africa.

My roommates eating at a restaurant across from our flat (Simu is third to the left).

Tando’s Wedding, Oribi Gorge, and more Birthdays

Within the span of three days, I found myself toasting a speech at a South African/Congolese wedding, jumping off the edge of the world's highest gorge swing, and celebrating another friend's birthday at a very cool South African restaurant. The adventure continues …

Friday night, Melissa and I were personally driven to the flat where Tando’s post-wedding celebration took place. We walked into a room crowded with many (already drunken) people, most South African and the majority Congolese (the groom is a refugee from Congo); we sometimes joke with Tando that she met her husband as a client at our office. I was a bit paranoid when the attention shifted to the only two Southeast Asian people walking across the room, but I was pleased to see everyone smiling and waving with delight, excited that we were there. A few guys actually asked me if I could help them resettle to America, but I just smiled and chuckled awkwardly, as if they were joking. Don’t think they were though. I was even more surprised with Tando asked Melissa and I to present a speech on her behalf (her friend at the last minute became too scared and backed out). So there I was, front and center within 30 minutes of arriving, greeting the room in Zulu and telling everyone how Tando had played an influential part in making my experience at work so memorable. Melissa chimed in as well and throughout our speech, the room would erupt into clapping and shouting. The vibe was very fun, filled with so much joy and energy. I wanted to stay longer but my roommates and I had plans that night to road trip along the south coast for the weekend.

The three of us stayed at Mantis and Moon Backpackers, one of the most innovative hostels I have seen. Trees and plants covered the entire place, which made for a very cool tropical feel—I felt as if I was in the middle of a jungle. We even stayed in a tree house (with a tub in the corner of the room) on the second night! During the day, we walked to the beach for surf lessons. The waves were rough and the conditions not ideal for surfing, but it was fun — and still extremely challenging — nevertheless. By Monday, we packed our belongings and headed for Oribi Gorge where I launched myself off the edge of the Lehr’s Falls into the abyss of the world’s highest gorge swing. I wasn’t nervous leading up to the jump but my heart started pounding as I stood on the edge of the cliff, looking 120m below me. But I leapt from the edge (as if to fly) and experienced the ultimate rush. (I tried to attach the video but the file was too large.) Pete and Gabs, both of whom have bungee jumped in the past, were deathly afraid of heights and refused to do it. Later that afternoon, we hiked around the gorge and relaxed on the edge of the cliff, staring into the picturesque mountain ranges displayed before us. From the peak of the cliff, I can definitely see why Oribi Gorge is one of KwaZulu-Natal’s most spectacular natural settings.



Preparing for the Gorge Swing.


Gabby, Me, and Pete standing on the waterfall on Lehr's Cliff.


Enjoying the trip back to the top of the cliff. It was amazing—from the moment of the jump to the time I was slowly lifted back to the top.



When Gabby and I returned to Durban that night, we went to Moyo to celebrate a friend’s birthday. The design of the restaurant was very innovative and unique, definitely one I have yet to experience. We sat next to the beach area where they provided blankets and cushions for comfortable sitting. We even got our faces painted as Zulu warriors, and toward the middle of the night were treated to an acapella version of “The Lion Sleeps Tonight.” The food, as always, was amazing; we ate an assortment of South Africa dishes—family style. By the end of the night, I was stuffed and exhausted and ready to collapse on my bed.

Rwandan Ministry of Justice Visits LHR

The Rwanda Ministry of Justice (13 officials that included men and women) visited our office last week to learn about LHR’s operation as an NGO. We were all excited for their arrival. If our Rwandan clients knew of the Ministry’s visit however, there might have been protests—as had happened last year when the head of UNHCR visited Durban to address the Rwandans about voluntary repatriation, which was met with widespread protest. It was particularly striking to see that most of the officials were fairly young, yet holding positions of power in their country. During lunch, one of the delegates, who is director of an organization that works with youth in his country, adamantly insisted that I come work in Rwanda, eager to establish a “partnership” between the U.S. and Rwanda. (He would cross his hands together to illustrate the bridge between the two countries.) It was interesting speaking with him, though it was difficult to comprehend everything he was saying. But the idea of working in Rwanda? Definitely something I would be interested in.



Rwanda has such a fascinating yet tragic history, cast in the shadow of the genocide that resulted in the brutal slaughtering of millions of Rwandans. Most vividly illustrated in the film, Hotel Rwanda, and in the powerful book, We Wish To Inform You That Tomorrow We Will Be Killed With Our Families, the horrific stories came to life as I conducted an RSD interview for a Rwandan refugee whose application to remain a refugee indefinitely had been denied by the Department of Home Affairs. SB was my first client from Rwanda, and I was eager to hear his story. The interview took 2 hours — with details from the outbreak of the genocide in 1994 to the time of his arrival in South Africa in 1997 — but could easily have lasted another 5 hours. Terrible, horrible, scared, and killed were words often repeated throughout the interview. Although SB has lived in South Africa for the past 11 years, the DHA rejected his claim on the basis that the current Rwandan government has implemented lasting peace and reconciliation between the Tutsis and Hutus, and have abolished policies that had created and deepened ethnic divisions. Moreover, the Standing Committee could not find current evidence that our client would face persecution or events seriously disturbing public order if he were to return his country of origin. My supervising attorney is working on a similar case with another Rwandan refugee; together, we will be working to draft a heads of argument that will be presented before the Standing Committee to appeal their decision.

Weekend Fun

Tomorrow rounds out my fifth week in South Africa (three more to go) and I must say that I am having the time of my life. Yes, I still wake up each morning pumped about going into work. (Today, 13 delegates from the Rwandan Ministry of Justice are visiting our office to learn about how we operate as an NGO.) I attribute this great experience to a combination of things that, altogether, have made this one of the best experiences of my life thus far: the amazing food, hanging out with roommates and friends, the craziness of living next to a hostel, laughing everyday in the office with my co-workers, and most definitely the work I have grown to love.

First off, the food is to die for! One of my goals this summer was to finally teach myself to cook (besides just scrambled eggs and jelly on toast),but I quickly gave that up, regretting that I never heeded my mother’s advise as a young child to watch her as she cooked all these wonderful Vietnamese dishes. So eating out has become much easier—and much more fulfilling. During lunch time at work, I have become a regular customer at Krishna Vegetarian Cuisine where the other interns and I frequented everyday for the first few weeks. For only R20 ($3), I enjoy a delectable roti — freshly baked flat bread with a choice of various ingredients — and an order of soji dessert on the side. My mouth waters just thinking about it. Recently however, we have been eating lunch at the café in our building. The chef, whom we have become good friends with, is an extremely skilled cook and makes a variety of Indian and South Africa dishes each day for lunch, often times topped with what I consider the best (looking and tasting) dessert I have ever tasted, on the house for us interns. A bold statement, I know, but true! And occasionally, my roommates and friends dine at the plethora of most popular of restaurants throughout Durban. Yesterday, I had Lamb Shank and Ostrich Fillet with white wine on the side … you can’t beat that.





I have become much more comfortable with the public transportation system in Durban. Occasionally I take the city bus, but by the second week, I’ve mustered up the courage to take the combi—the most popular source of transportation in Durban. Combis are like mini vans and can fit up to 20 passengers, everyone jammed packed when full. The streets of Durban are swarming with combis, their music blasting at a ridiculously (and unnecessarily) high volume as they drive by with someone’s head sticking out the window, whistling and shouting for your attention. Many of the White and Indian locals refuse to take the combi as it can be intimidating, but quite the experience. But for only R3 (40 cents), it’s definitely worth it.

There is always something fun and exciting happening each weekend. On the 4th of July, the twenty of us Americans gathered in the penthouse across the beachfront to celebrate America’s independence. Everyone (besides me … I ended up buying dessert at the store) cooked various comfort dishes that included: hot dogs and hamburgers, guacamole dip and apple pie, and, of course, fried chicken purchased from KFC. Brent and I won nine consecutive games – yes, 9 games! – of beer pong, which by the tenth we decided to let others share in fun of inebriety. It was funny … the night before, without even thinking, I invited my British roommates and asked if they celebrated the 4th of July. “We can celebrate it if you want us to,” they said with a smile. Toward the middle of the night, Sam Enumah ’10 (another Weissman Fellow working in Pietermaritzburg) and two other Harvard undergrads joined in on the fun. What a night it turned out to be.

”That same weekend, Kevashinee took us to Phoenix — a former Indian township during apartheid — for the celebration of the “Festival of Chariots. The event is a commemoration of the Indian Lord Juggernaut, regarded by followers as lord of the universe. The opening of the festival, which we took part in, included the pulling of the chariot where a large photo of the lord was displayed. (It is believed that pulling the chariot purifies one's soul.) The girls dressed in traditional Indian saris while Brent and I wore shorts and a t-shirt. You are probably thinking that we were being rebellious against the dress code, but the truth is that Kevashinee did not have any traditional men’s clothing for us to wear. Really. We all had a fun time participating in the pulling the chariots; energized by the music and excitement of the crowd, I decided to jump into the center and join in on the dancing and clapping. Fruits and packets of water were thrown from the chariots to the crowd, with water splashing in all directions as people reach out to catch them. Being the immature person that I am, I decided to sneak up on Brent and throw a water packet at his back (as if it was tossed from the chariot), which bounced off and fell to the floor. His reaction was priceless! After pulling the chariot, we ate some spicy briani and soji and then headed inside a temple where it was much cooler and less hectic. It was a great cultural experience. By the end of the day, we were pretty tired — but definitely not tired enough to go surfing at the beach the following day.

This past weekend however, was the best experience yet: a 3-day horse trek through the vast and scenic mountains of Lesotho. This I will have to dedicate a separate blog entry for. And tomorrow, I'll be attending Tando's wedding (my first South African wedding!), after which my roommates and I will be road tripping along the west coast for some bungee jumping, zip wiring, and an overnight stay at a hostel (that is really a tree house) located in the middle of the forest. Until next time ...