First Impressions

The first time that I went to Africa, I went with an amazing organisation, The Cunningham Foundation, to one of the poorest countries in the world- Ethiopia. The experience was amazing. I had properly prepared to go to ‘africa africa’ and filled my immunization record with exotic shots like yellow fever. My second time back on the continent was so incredibly different. I had accepted an internship at the University of Cape Town. I sent three emails confirming my placement and my dates of travel. That was it. Perhaps it was six straight weeks of exams or that my mind was preoccupied with the joys and lack of responsibility of student life- but I didn’t really think twice about my choice. I made a choice and that was the end. I got on that plane with some vague notion of a summer filled with research and put the majority of my energy into saying goodbye to those who I would miss over the next two months. 29 hours on a flight later and I woke up amidst a pink and orange sunrise over the mountains, as I tried to stay awake.

I arrived and after making the necessary purchase of an adapter, I then preceded to have two panic attacks convinced I had lost and/or my blackberry was stolen. Five minutes later the same thing happened with my purse. They were, like usual, at the bottom of my bag. But unlike ‘usual times’, I was in South Africa- the country notorious not for peacefully overcoming apartheid but for the crime ridden streets and rape capital of the world. I was terrified. I was also tired, a bit delirious and frankly unsure of what the hell I was doing. I was picked up by a guy with dreads and a car that shook to the beat of ‘gangsta shit’. I got in and quickly made friends discussing the joys of the world cup (I quickly became a massive football fan) and the easiest conversation starter- drinking.

I unpacked, showered and started the next two months of life in cape town.