photos by: Krista Osmundson
"Hold fast to dreams for if dreams die, life is a broken-winged bird that cannot fly."
I saw smiles on every street corner of Langa. The township was bright with bustling school children and markets. I saw what poverty smelt like, tasted like and looked like; and in some ways it wasn't what I had expected. The poverty was rich with positivity. While heartache lives in just about every community, I saw more smiling faces today than I have in my own neighborhood back West in years.
There was gratitude...an instant gratitude.Not the kind of instant gratification you get when giving a friend a helping hand, this one was deeper than that. Sally, our tour guide, gave a band of toddlers oranges and lolli-pops and I have never seen such joy in a child's eye. The little girl, who Sally had known since she was in her mother's tummy, had only socks on, and did not have clothes that fit. The toddlers were maybe 2 or 3 years old. They did not beg for attention or money, they were just happy to have a treat. I felt a surge of joy in seeing this act of kindness and act of appreciation.
I saw something that I was not expecting to see...pride. The township was not full of sad faces and hopeless dreams. There was a sense of pride in their community. The community center was lit with young talent and I felt joy in contributing to it. The art brought joy to me, and to the people that made it. The Beverly Hills of Langa, which were similar to the western working middle class homes, was where local doctors and lawyers chose to reside. Many successful people from Langa do not move out to the glittery homes of Cape Town, but instead stay within the community that built them.
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