The Coolest NGO on the Block

A post-man that rode his bike through the township of Khayelitsha, began an NGO that was aimed to teach kids on how to ride BMX and road bikes. He got his first 10 bikes donated and refurbished them by reading old bike manuals.

I was not expecting to wander into a BMX park in the middle of a township, much less an NGO that has produced world-class professional riders.

The name of the NGO is Velokhaya, Cycling with a Purpose. The name derives from the French word ‘velo’ (meaning bicycle) and the Xhosa word ‘khaya’ (meaning home). The NGO’s mission to make cycling more accessible to disadvantaged kids living in South Africa’s poorest of communities.

Velokhaya was piloted in July of 2007  in London by Team CSC, what was at the time the number one cycling team in the world.

Hundreds of kids have participated in the program, many who launched professional careers in cycling.

At the moment, one of Velokhaya’s 12-year-old girls is number one in her BMX division.
Visit Velokhaya

Cape Point

Last weekend, we took a train to Simon's Town, a historical Naval town, and then ventured to Cape Point, one of the most Southern spots in Africa where you can see the Indian and Atlantic oceans meet.

Never Stop Writing.

I wasn’t expecting much when I walked into our most beloved Obs bar, The Armchair, one rainy Friday night. I was pleased to see our favorite bartenders, bouncer and Armchair regular, Taxi Mark. I decided to be anti-social and enjoy some solitude by sitting at the bar alone, while the rest of the crew was outside sitting around the fire pit.

Staring blankly at the muted television, I began to talk to Taxi Mark. Now, this legend is not only loud, outgoing and a complete character, he also has many friends. He was sitting next to the quiet, humble and unbelievably interesting, Mike. Mike was smoking cigarettes, alternately drinking red wine and Black Labels, and keeping to himself. Taxi Mark asked me again what I was studying in school and I cautiously said, “journalism.” Taxi Mark laughed and said, “Well, well.” Mike turned his attention to me and said, “Damn it, not another one.” I asked him why and he began to elaborate that three of his four sons were journalists.

            I gasped a big “I know. You have to understand, I have planned to do it all my life.” I thought I knew why he let out a sarcastic “not another one,” so I blindly ventured into a three-hour-long conversation with a living legend.

            Mike has dark gray hair that sits stylistically and happily atop his very wise head. He has a lighter gray beard that would get in the way while he sipped his ride wine. He lit a cigarette and began to ask me about music, my favorite subject.

            “Have you ever listened to Bob Dylan?” Mike asked me. I smiled ecstatically and replied with, “Of course.” Mike told me that first and foremost Dylan was a poet. Mike did not adjust the volume of his voice, regardless that the music and crowd volumes were getting louder. I had to listen carefully and while he was describing the impact one of Dylan’s lyrics had on his life, a tear slid down his cheek.

            We began to talk about his generation, the summer of ’69 generation. He told me that he was in his sophomore year at the university when Woodstock was happening and how he would have given anything to be apart of that. Music talk faded to more serious talk. Mike was the leader of a youth union during the apartheid. One of his best friends, Steve Biko, his fellow student leader, founded the Black Consciousness Movement. Biko was murdered in police custody and has been seen as a martyr of the anti-apartheid movement. “He was one of my best friends, it was horrible.” I knew that I had to be talking to someone great, but he would never tell me that he was something great. I dove in a little deeper.

            “I was sitting down on the ground leading peaceful protest and my worst enemy, Colonel Trey Marshall, came up to me his hand shaking with a gun pointed straight for my head. That was the scariest moment of my life.”

            Mike went on to say that if he saw that man lying on the ground dying of a heart attack, he would not help him. He would not kill him, but he would help him.

I asked, “Did you listen to your music to escape?” Mike elaborated that growing up he was very fortunate to have parents that supported his ideas and music interests and did not suppress his life, while the government did. He listened to Dylan, and still does to escape and to reflect on the past. He told me that he does not go a day without listening to Dylan. He went on to tell me that he went to school to be a minister and studied theology, studied philosophy, is a poet and an atheist. Mike mentioned that his 3 greatest idols were Nelson Mandela, Desmond Tutu and Bob Dylan.

The 60-year-old Mike excused himself and Taxi Mark leaned in and childishly whispered, “Do you realize you have been talking to the editor of the Cape Times all night?”

Mike returned and I let said, "Okay sir, your cover is blown." He nodded and I said, “Please forgive me, but what should I do next? I am 22 and confused.” He instructed me to travel the world and put it aside for a moment. Taxi Mark translated and said, “I know what Mike means is that you need to soak life up first and find your own voice before someone shapes and molds your writing.”

I asked Mike one last question, “What should I be doing right now?” He sat down his red wine, took a break from his cigarette and quietly said, “Never stop writing.”

             

Train Day.

We were not lost, however we did spend one of the loveliest Saturdays day being wanderers. You hear about those stories from abroad, even though they are the most miserable to live through, they are the most intriguing to tell. This story, being the first complete bust of a day, was driven by the innocent desire to pet a cheetah.

The group had made a bucket list of things we wanted to do, Spier Winery being at the top of the list. Spier is located outside of Stellenbosch, which is about 45 minutes outside of our super cool and laid back neighborhood of Observatory. Yet, that 45-minute distance conveniently stretched to a 3-hour distance. Spier is this beautiful winery that also has a cheetah reserve located within, where you can pay R110 to hang with an adult cheetah and R220 to hang out with the cubs, a price that is unbeatable in my eyes. We were very excited to spend the rare 65-degree day with the cats.

We had been riding the train into Cape Town, Claremont and the further away Simons Town. However, we had never jumped lines before. We daringly took on the “jumping of the lines” and obliviously wandered into a nightmare. We first took the train to Salt River, where it is a major depot. We waited for about an hour for our next train out to Ereste River, where we had to connect to get to Stellenbosch. A man was pacing back and forth, his scuffed dress shoes competing with the noise caused by the rails. He held his bible high, his scarf swaying with the motion of the locomotive and repeating, “You must get right with Jesus,” along with many other messages.

After the 30 minutes, we then hopped on to Stellebosch, where we encountered another minister. This one was younger, and was speaking about the tensions of the world and specifically Pakistan, Zimbabwe and Afghanistan. “I am not from Zimbabwe, but President Mugabe is in power because God wants him in there. He will continue to be in power as long as God feels as if it is right.”

We got off the train, finally at our destination, however we unknowingly missed the platform that was closer to the winery. We talked to some young South African students and were informed that it would be best to walk a couple miles up the road and try to find a taxi there. However, we were informed about a mile up, that there would not be able to find a taxi on the weekend, which left us all puzzled. 

We hiked back to the platform and huffed a bit. I sat with my back against a planting pot, and exhaled “We aren’t going to make it.” The cheetah reserve was only open until 5 p.m., and it was already 4 p.m.. What was even more depressing than missing the cheetahs was that we were going to have to get back on the train and jump the lines once again. We hopped back on an hour later, and when we arrived to Salt River we waited for over an hour. People were bustling, men were screaming selling their Smarties and Nik Naks, and grim was surrounding us.We had to ride back gleaming at Spier Winery, staring straight at our failed attempt.

After much waiting, the train back to Observatory finally arrived. Hundreds of people swarmed the doors of the train, men were pulling the doors shut while we were trying to get on, and my friend’s camera was stolen out of her purse. All I wanted was to pet a cheetah. 

working it all out

 

One of the most difficult things for me has been the inability to work out whenever I get the urge. The freedom to go and run down the street isn't a luxury that we have. It is winter time in South Africa, so it gets dark pretty early, usually around 6 p.m. There were some frustrations in finding somewhere to work out here. 

The first attempt I made was at a yoga studio literally right down the road from my apartment.  It was ideal and perfect...however, there was a huge misunderstanding in membership rules. We could not join unless we were willing to pay 3 months worth, even though we were told at first that we could pay per month. There is not a lot of flexibility in how some businesses are ran. Even though their website said one thing, it was another thing in person. 

You don't see too many people running around in our neighborhood, The Observatory a.k.a Obs. Reasons to why are not very clear, but your first thought may be "because it probably isn't safe." Yet, it isn't filled with workout obsessed people. The people are generally laid back, eclectic and go with the flow...something the whole group is hesitantly but enjoying adapting to. 

Tonight, a friend and I ventured to Claremont and paid a little too much in taxi fare to get to a yoga studio, Yo Yoga, where month-only memberships are offered. Halfway in my Upward Facing Dog, I couldn't believe that I was doing the exact same thing as what I love doing so much back home, yet with a group of  yogis in Cape Town, South Africa. It was wonderful and surreal...until I got completely put to shame by the intensity of Capetonian yoga.

learning to live

I have never been out of the United States prior to this trip, much less for two months. I am learning things that have completely blindsided me.  Before leaving my small hometown in Kentucky, my mother told me, “you aren’t going to be the same when you come back, you do know that this trip is going to change you?” Mom, I sense an evolution forming. Watching the way people across the world live, fighting off the fear of the unknown and setting myself free from the restrictions in my own mind. Being somewhere unfamiliar has made me kick in my survival mode and cancel out anything else unnecessary. Survival mode as in silencing the noise that makes it impossible for my mind, body and soul to fully live. 

Being away has forced me to not take a second for granted. While back home I unhealthily equated stress with productivity, but here I have the luxury to add in adventures and new faces. There is no reason to stress. I do not have an agenda, I don’t sleep with my iPhone, I don’t worry about anything other than the present. I don’t know whether to credit that to the South African style of timing or the beauty of getting away.

I have signed up to take yoga classes at a studio right by where we are staying. Not being able to work out has been extremely difficult, yet not to my surprise I have gotten used to it. I am an extremely solitary person. I work very well socially, but I prefer to be alone a lot. I am forced to do everything with somebody, which is hard too. Working out is usually my complete and exceptional moment of solitude, but being somewhere known for crime, you just can’t go too many places by yourself fresh off the plane.

I ventured today out to the Obs Holistic Lifestyle Fair that our neighborhood holds on the first Sunday of each month in the Winter. Today was one of those so-beautiful-its-heartbreaking kind of days, we all knew it was rare and would slip away, so therefore must be enjoyed to the fullest. The fair was graced with a 65 degree day full of sunshine and well-behaved winds. The fair had everything from tarot card readers to jewelry designers. I have always wanted to be one of the regulars to things like this back home, but somehow always seemed to busy myself up. Being away has allowed me to rethink what should be in my agenda. Most of all, being away has allowed me to take the time to learn how to live, and enjoy doing it.