The Water Bottle and the Bomb

I’d like to say that my lack of blog posts is a product of me “being.” Contrary to that elusive notion, it has much more to do with me “being” sick. But now that I’m on the better side of the common cold, I figured I’d better sit down and give you all an update.

There are two huge new components of my life in Cape Town since I last wrote: my internship and my research project. They have a great deal to do with each other, and they occupy my thoughts often.

I’m interning at Christel House, which is a very unique school. I’d definitely recommend checking out their website to learn more about them: http://www.sa.christelhouse.org/

I am continually surprised by my experiences at Christel House. On our first day, Rachel and I were struck by the enthusiasm of the upper school’s headmaster, Mr. Fortune, as he explained how the school worked and the potential tasks of our internship.  I have never seen an administrator more invested in success and wellbeing of students. As we walked around the school, he greeted both students and faculty by name (and we found out it was his birthday, because they wished him Happy Birthday in return!). Throughout the day, we determined exactly where we would be the most useful to the school. Rachel would spend some of her time in the advertising department and working with the Junior Achievers (think DECA), and I would help facilitate the media club. In addition, we would staff the computer lab, which has gone widely unused in lieu of proper, available supervision. We were also charged with creating an online database for the Christel House staff to transfer and store documents.

Rachel and I ate lunch outside the first day, and got a chance to hang out with learners in the primary school (grades R, or Kindergarten, through 7). They were incredibly polite – I’ve never been called “Ms.” so many times in my life. They were also very inquisitive. They wanted to know how old we were, if we were married, if we knew any celebrities in the States. One question I was not prepared for, however, came during our second week at Christel House.

We were sitting in the computer lab with a group of grade eights, when a boy came over to my desk.

“What’s that?”

I didn’t really understand what he was talking about at first, but then I saw him point to my water bottle. I told him it was just a water bottle, to drink out of. I couldn’t read his expression, he just looked at it and said:

“Oh. It looks like the gas cans that they throw.”

Again, I was caught off-guard. Gas cans that they throw? And then I understood: this thirteen year old boy thought that my water bottle was a Molotov cocktail. I am working in a place where a child doesn’t know the difference between a water bottle and a bomb. When I looked up, the boy was gone. I think about that interaction everyday I walk into Christel House. And I keep my water bottle in my backpack.