This is still unedited, the product of 6 hours of typing today. Sorry about misspels, please leave comments. Outward Bound South Africa Chrysalis 04 Alpha Jan. 25th – Feb. 15, 2004 Author: Daniel Lilienthal E-mail:
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Day #1 5:05PM
Chrysalis began like most Outward Bound courses. Icebreakers, laughter, a tour of the facilities, and some rules. “I am the kind,” said Menzi. “This is my prince,” pointing to me, “and this is my princess,” pointing to Hermine. In the opening circle, in which approximately 100 students stood, dressed in the same blue uniforms and blue hats, Georgie, the course coordinator, gave a passionate locker room speech. She called on the students to make the most of every second of this 21-day course. Menzi followed up on this by asking the group what they knew about Outward Bound. “There’s snakes,” one student said, with the others nodding their heads in approval. “And they’re all in your sleeping bag,” another one added. “They make you sleep by yourself for two nights with little food.” “Lots of ups and downs,” “Hiking on cliffs.” These were just some of their responses.
Menzi pointed to the trapeze, a tall pole with climbing pegs and a small wooden platform at the top, one of the ropes course activities at the Willow Point base camp. “They never told you about that, right?” The students nodded. “They never told you about any of the good things, only the bad. But that’s ok. You can tell the next guys the same things you heard too.” The students laughed at this.
Menzi had the confidence of someone who has worked for Outward Bound South Africa for 5 years, and has done many Chrysalis courses before. His experience came through in his usual relaxed manner, enjoying himself, helping the students enjoy themselves, and being very thorough with every instruction he gave. “Those smiles on your faces, if you all follow the rules, they shouldn’t go away for 21 days. It’s once you start not following the rules that waters will get rough.”
We gave the students the gear they would need for the night. Menzi handed the keys over to one student, telling him to get enough spoons, bowls, and cups for everyone, while another students was instructed to get sleeping bags. While giving out these assignments, I watched the 12 sets of eyes, all with different mysterious gazes. What lay behind their eyes I could only hope to learn over the next 21 days.
Next, the students filled out student assessment forms, a sheet of 40 statements covering 3 life skills areas, self-awareness, self-management, and interpersonal relations. This survey, which was adapted from work done at John Hopkins University in my home country, would be compared to the responses of the students at the end of the course, to see what effects the program had on the students.
Before the night ended, Menzi gave the students another pep talk about the journey to come. He also gave the students a contract to sign, involving conditions such as striving to give one’s personal best, not smoking, and trying to live in a peaceful community. The students all voluntarily signed the contract, which they would again have to sign at the end of the course if they had made it through without breaking any conditions. I mostly watched as Menzi ran the show. I decided to just listen, and decided there would be other opportunities where my words would prove to be effective.
Day #2 7:23PM
Day #2 of Chrysalis was a disappointment. There were no fights or arguments, no stealing, no knives or drugs. No indicators of a dark and difficult past from the students. These are the things I had been told to expect. Instead, there was discipline, laughter, group support, perseverance, and a strong enthusiasm for all that was thrown their way. The activities included the Jacob’s Ladder, where the students first had to learn how to belay one another. They then climb a ladder that continually gets wider to the point that each step is almost as far as a person’s grasp. Naturally, this requires a great deal of teamwork to overcome, and to reach the top, where smiling students ring a bell. They also did an activity called the Limpopo Swing, where the group must swing on a rope a small distance onto a tire. Without touching the ground in between, they must successfully get the entire group to stand for 10 seconds on the tightly squeezed area. Finally, the students practiced their belay skills again on the rock-climbing wall. During the day, I also gave a lesson about navigation. Using mounds of sand to demonstrate how to read topographical maps, I saw a group of students excited and quick to learn.
For myself, it was a mission to learn all 12 of the students’ names. There is a great difference in how one thinks about a person, talks to a person, and treats a person once they have etched their face and name into their heads. That would come soon, I thought, although I realized that an instructor must see the group as unique individuals with unique needs and desires.
Day #2 left me completely exhausted. After the group finished climbing, I spent my 90 minutes of free time climbing myself along with two other instructors, then went for a refreshing swim in the vlei, which is Afrikaans for marsh, or lake. After dinner, I walked 2 hours into the tiny town of Sedgefield and back to buy some sunscreen and granola bars for the course. My eyes sagged on the walk back and my feet ached. The first of what I knew would be many personal lessons was learned, to monitor my energy levels better. To listen to my body. At the end of the day, I’m worthless as an instructor and a person if I’m too tired to stand or think. Earlier in the day, before my group attempted the Spider’s Web (an activity where ropes are strung up between two poles, creating a web of different size holes that the group must pass through, without touching the ropes or re-using holes), I told the group that planning would be important. My words had no bearing, however, on how they rushed into the activity. They learned planning through failure, although it was still to be tested how well they truly know and understand planning. I too had learned of an obstacle, my personal energy, and through failure I would have to learn to find a way to better preserve that precious resource.
Day #3
During morning meeting, Georgie made a prediction, “I think this is going to be a good course.” Another instructor followed this up, “I heard one of the tents singing last night.” At 8:30am, we gathered with the students for a morning meeting. After the morning quote was given, “It’s not the size of the dog in the fight, it’s the size of the fight in the dog,” someone complimented the students for their singing. This was followed by a spirited song of impeccable harmony. And like so many times while traveling, I thought of all the people and experiences in my life, and for some reason that helped magnify how real this one experience was, how unique and special is was, and how is was that my non-fictional past had led me to this present, that for the majority of the time has felt so much like fiction.
Day #3 8:45PM
The Trapeze is one of several activities located around the Outward Bound South Africa base camp. There stands a single pole, maybe 50 feet high, with pegs so it can be climbed. At the top is a 2-foot square platform for students to stand on before making a leap for the bar suspended several feet in front. For the students of Chrysalis Alpha, the first of 6 Chrysalis groups that would make their way to Outward Bound of the next 6 months, the activity was ripe with learning.
“Nothing is impossible,” said Eran. “You can’t be afraid, just go for it all,” said Yousef after successfully holding onto the bar. Menzi added an element to the activity, teaching the students, some older than myself, the follow through figure-8 knot used to attach the climber to the rope through their harness. It was then the student’s responsibility to teach the next climber the knot. This one act did so much. Besides learning a new skill, students were empowered to teach one another, and since they now knew how to belay also, they were essentially running the activity themselves. My role as instruct was then reduced to where it should be for most of the time, safety supervisor.
I used to have a wrestling coach who could bring down the entire team for 30 minutes straight, because he understood leverage, and managing his energy by using technique over strength. In the same way, Menzi demonstrated a way to both give the students a more powerful experience, while conserving his own energy at the same time.
In the afternoon, the students were briefed on using sea kayaks, which would be used to transport everyone to the first campsite. Later, the students figured out how they wanted to divide the week’s rations. I used that time to practice rolling the sea kayaks with Hermine, an honors student in recreation at Potch University in South Africa, who is observing on course as part of her studies.
The evening before the real work began was very relaxed. I sat with my CD player and hot tea on a couch in the staff lounge. An idea had come to me earlier to read my group parts of the book, “The Power of One.” Menzi told me to go for it. I saw some potential for good to develop out of this, and if it failed to go as planned, there would be no loss. I thought, besides believing the activity would fit in nicely with the course, that adding a component of traditional education in a non-traditional manner was something I wanted to try. I wondered, could an uncertified college graduate who took no literature classes, conduct a class about literature?
Day #4 9:47PM
Day #4 was eventful, as it should have been. The morning was a good prediction of the day to come. Morning meeting for the staff began at the usual 8:15am. All I needed was to ask for my laundry to be picked up in town, with the hope of beginning our sea kayaking expedition by 9:30am. As Murphy’s Law would have it, the one morning I’m pressured for time, everyone else is keen on making the meeting last forever. Frantically, I gathered my food together, got my laundry, debated over what footwear I needed, and fumbled about trying to fit my life into a sea kayak. The things that needed to stay dry were hastily packed into garbage bags, and jammed into the boat along with all my gear except my empty pack and water, which were strapped on top.
By 11:30am, we were finally off. It being an ideal day, was full of rain and choppy water that splashed onto my lap as the kayak cut through the waves. For 3 hours we paddled, and for 3 hours I interviewed myself about life, recalling many recent but seemingly distant memories of college. My relaxed mind entered a strange state, and the passing reeds took on many forms, bowing and waving and leaning, tossing about as if crazed fans, or devout worshipers. Although inexperienced, I had made it through, I thought. While I was enjoying myself, one of the kayaks, which all contained 2 students, was zigzagging bag and forth between the reeds. It was clear they couldn’t figure out how to make the boat go straight, but it was not my job to steer them, so I simply watched as they struggled, and watched as the rest of the group came to do the coaching.
When we arrived at shore, we then had to transfer all our gear into our packs. I found this to be quite difficult, realizing for the first time how much gear and food I had actually brought. As the group was ready to hike, I couldn’t even lift my pack. With assistance, the pack was heaved onto my back. I walked with items still in my hand, and with the belt around my waist rendered useless as I fought to not fall over backwards with each step, the weight in the back pulling me in every direction. The short hike to the campsite made me feel unqualified, pathetic, and embarrassed.
At the site, we took the group abseiling, or rappelling as it’s called at home in America. I went down first, then assisted the students as they came down. This gave me a chance to gain a little more familiarity with the students, and to put my mind off that dreaded first hike. For the first time since they arrived, I began to see the students as underprivileged instead of adjudicated. Several told me they had matriculated, or finished high school. Some had jobs, and most had aspirations of bright futures. Up until this point, the only question I had wanted to ask them was, “So, what’d you do?” and “What’s is like in prison?”
Stressed over my wet clothes and my packing ills, the blues of the day were just another learning experience. “OBSA is a learning organization,” I had been told before course. I tried to learn from Menzi, who style of instructing includes calling out problems before they happen. “You need 4 people to set-up a tent. If you have 3 people and I catch you, I’ll take away your tent!”
Dinner was Bulli-beef, which looks like Spam, but contains no pork. It was hot and satisfying.
My energy was pretty low at night. I successfully put up my tarp, my clothes were out hanging, and I started to come up with a plan for re-packing my food for the next day. This helped me relax, and made me think of the motto, “Things can always be worse.” I wasn’t hungry, and I had a warm dry sleeping bag to sleep in.
Day #5 1:50PM
By day #5 I began to feel a little settled in. I slept well under my tarp, my backpack was heavy but comfortable, and we had a good opportunity for community service. Our project was to help re-paint a small farm school in Rondevlei, and to gather up hay in the field.
After lunch, while the 50 or so chickens there tried to steal our food, I decided to conduct a somewhat formal interview with one of the students, Damien;
- So, why are you here?
- I want to change my life, make a better living for myself.
- What exactly do you want to change?
- My friends saw a better person in me, and they advised me to come. They saw a person who can do better things. I did drugs on the weekend. I wasn’t unhappy. I didn’t care about anyone else. I just did what I did.
- When did you start using drugs?
- I didn’t even smoke in high school. I felt left out and lonely, so I started smoking. I tried smoking, got used to it, and moved up to bigger things. My friend told me about a year and a half ago about ecstasy and how much he enjoyed it. I tried it, started doing it every weekend. It made me thinner (He shows me his bony arms).
- How did your parents find out?
- My mom saw me after a night out. She knew I was on something, but kept quiet. She wasn’t angry, she was upset. And I want to make it up to her. The craving for the drug is so strong. When you have money, it’s like you must buy. You must buy! I started a new drug called tik (He describes to me how the drug is used). My emotions would get 10 or 20 times bitter, and I would be awake for the entire weekend.
- How do you feel now?
- My mind is not set on drugs anymore.
- Would you say you had a happy childhood?
- Yes, very happy. I moved a lot, so making new friends was hard. You don’t get used to people.
- Has money been a big problem in your life?
- There were sometimes that there wasn’t enough food for dinner. But I got used to it.
- So what happened in school?
- Grade 10 was the first time I failed anything, because I didn’t study. Primary school I studied hard, that’s when I found things interesting. High school wasn’t the same. There were times where I took care of the family with the salary I got from being a paver.
- What do you friends think of you now?
- They’re proud. They see me making a change and they’re standing by me.
- You’re doing some amazing stuff.
- That’s why I love myself. I won’t do drugs after Chrysalis because of the inner trust I have with myself and because of my family.
- What are you future plans?
- To go back to school and finish my education. Go to college, study to be a pilot. That’s my dream.
9:25PM
Sitting in my Crazy Creek chair, my headlamp on, my body warming in the sleeping bag, I reflected on two worlds. The first was my world, taking place in a big open hay field, nestled in a part of South Africa that no tourist would ever visit. The field is part of the school where the community service project took place. Menzi spoke about the significant role service has played in the survival of this school. It’s hard to magnify a life that is now normal for me, in terms of the world in which I’ve come. In that world, it might be significant that all my students are of color. It might seem bizarre that the group stood in a circle holding hands and shared things that they appreciated for the day. It might seem touching that a student described all the metaphors he has experienced so far. It might appear cliché to hear students talk of abseiling as “representing doing something on my own,” or “requiring me to face my fears.” However that world might see things, the world where people live in separate dwellings, spend the majority of their lives indoors, and spend nearly as much time watching TV as talking with their loved ones, the world of Outward Bound is not simply an artificial way of life.
Sitting under the stars, I realized my thinking was becoming defensive to those who may laugh, criticize, or dismiss the legitimacy of how Outward Bound functions. I guess people like myself had been raised to be skeptical of things that claim to work well, and I was still convincing myself as much as anyone.
Dinner was macaroni and cheese. I eat together with Menzi and Hermine, but have observed from a distance that the students have been successfully cooking and evenly rationing their food.
Menzi had already become my mentor for several things so far, on the short trip. I’d been having difficulties with my pack, opening cans, and operating my stove. Whenever he commented on something I did, I’d feel like a fool because I couldn’t rationalize how I was doing things that could be done in better or more efficient ways. This would turn out to be an important learning for me.
After dinner, I cleaned my bowl, first by using my finger to get the excess cheese out. Then, I added water to rinse the last bits out, to the shock of Menzi and Hermine. But this wasn’t the end of the show. The combination of cheese and water was then poured down my throat, and finished off with a refreshing, “Ahhhh…,” to the horror of the onlookers. I explained how I’d been taught to leave nothing human when camping except when going to the bathroom, which had its own rules. This meant, not spilling out particles of cheese despite their possibly being good for the land. I’m unsure whether one way is objectively “better,” but its’ something to be left for personal ethics.
I began to sense the trip was about to pick-up. The group of faces I could now identify by voice. Randolph has taken the Outward bound metaphors to heart, and Yousef is always supporting a positive attitude. Jaco I had not heard speaking much English, but described the abseil as “flippin’” amazing. Most said they were scared to do the abseil, but felt exhilarated at the end. I was a little surprised myself at the amount of positive self-esteem expressed by everyone from this one activity.
So, course aside, I found myself wanting to learn more about the starts in the sky. Rodney said this was his first time seeing the sky lit up like this, since he’s from the city and has never been to a planetarium. I decided to file that away as an interest to be developed further later.
I was excited for the next few days. What lay ahead on paper was a great deal of hiking, but I believed there was a ton of fun, fitness, learning, growing, and experience just waiting to be had. I remembered an image from the previous day of the group sea kayaking in front of me. Six red boats, twelve orange life jackets, gliding through the water to the tune of the paddles. “This,” I thought, and said aloud to myself in a way fit for some kind of audience, “is my story. These people, these experiences. All I have to do is take it, it’s right there in front of me.”
Day #6 4:55PM
Day #6 was a test to my will. We started hiking at 9am, when it was fairly cool, fairly flat, and I felt fairly successful about finally managing to put my backpack on unassisted. Those feelings lasted maybe 30 minutes. The hike quickly turned hot, steep, and long. Each step was laboriously slow, and I wasn’t comfortable at all. My mind, which was at ease just days ago in a sea kayak, pleasantly playing past memories to myself, was not being drained and drowned down to my last reserves of energy and will. All my focus was on each breath, in the mouth, out the nose. As we broke for lunch, I thought to myself, what is the learning for me here? The words, “pain in temporary, prides is forever,” came to mind, as well as the fact that peanut butter and jelly never tasted so good. I thought, why do people do this, why do I do this? But it wasn’t really that bad, and the view and rest and the end were clearly part of the answer.
Menzi had been dealing with the group issues that arise. These included giving out coordinates and advice for choosing the next days’ route, dealing with a student who wanted to go home, and fixing a broken tent pole. Hermine struggled greatly with the hiking. As for me, I was keeping up, sometimes stuck making mistakes like a student, sometimes performing like a proper Outward Bound instructor. For example, I still struggled with things like gear organization, pack organization and hiking confidently. But at other times, I have strived with the opportunity given to me. For example, in the morning I ran the daily physical training session, using things from my wrestling workout in high school. I was later complimented for doing something fun and different during the morning routine.
In the afternoon, I found myself with a good amount of free time to write. The hardest thing for a writer and instructor is to find free time. The second hardest thing is to write about people, who are the reason I’m here and are the heart and soul of a story about an Outward Bound course.
There have been a handful of students who came onto the course with the Outward Bound philosophy already inside them. These are the inspiring ones, who speak inspiring words. Yousef is always optimistic and cheerful, even during the activities he admits are hard and scary. Randolph is a workhorse, and helped carry Hermine’s pack today after he’d already made it to the top. Damien has shared with me his story, and believes he is on his way to changing his life and making his mother proud. He has invested himself into learning navigation, and has offered to teach me Afrikaans songs. The group as a whole to that point had demonstrated a great spirit. They would sing in harmony songs like, “In the still of the night,” or Tula Mama”, a song which means “calm mother,” to motivate themselves as they hiked.
Another theme that began rolling around my head was the change from student to teacher. Only 4 months earlier I was a member of an Outward Bound group, and had 2 instructors of my own. Part of the challenge there was knowing the experience was for me, so I worried constantly about the type of experience I was having. Relationships with others in the group were important to me, and the small cliques that formed sometimes made that difficult. The entire experience, especially the role of the instructors, was a puzzle to me. At times we thought we were being cheated by their hands-off approach, but I eventually came to believe it was our responsibility to not feel cheated. And perhaps that was the hardest thing to swallow, that I was responsible for myself. It was not a lesson I had spent money to learn, but I was pretty confident it was a lesson that was worth more than money.
I thought also, that the difference from student to teacher was one of child to adult. Although I was still learning, my job was to monitor the experience of others. I would have my own experience, but could no longer depend on someone to shape it for me. For example, students require debriefs to help internalizes lessons. Instructors must debrief for themselves. By 6pm, I felt pretty exhausted by my writing. I reflected once more, that there were two stories, my person one and the story unfolding in front of me. It would be interesting trying to write the two.
Day #7 8:03PM
Despite a dizzying day of hiking, day #7 showed me some of the best parts of the job. During the debrief, the students described their day as, “exhausting,” “hell,” “my body was tired, but seeing others push inspired me to push.” “How many ups and downs did you hike today?” Menzi asked. “Too many to count,” replied Friedl. “Actually, there were two, but they were hell.” It was like most days, a day of extremes. From physical and mental punishment from the merciless sun, to a refreshing swim in a hidden pool of water by the campsite. The mood at night was dramatically light. The group was singing and laughing with each other.
I was frustrated and dehydrated much of the day. I kept telling myself, if I stop, of if I doubt myself, I have failed. Step by step, it was like an Everest summit, although this couldn’t have been nearly as difficult.
During the hike we passed many porcupine quills. The students began collecting them and sticking them decoratively in their blue hats. At other breaks we played a game called Egyptian dancing. Everyone gathers in a circle with one hand out to the side, and the pointer finger of their other hand placed in the person’s hand next to them. The instructor, that’s me, then says the word, “gotcha,” and each person must try to grab the person’s finger with their open hand, while simultaneously trying to pull away their own finger from the hand next to them. If a person’s finger gets caught, they are out, and the circle tightens.
After hiking, Menzi ran an activity called “Stones.” Each student was instructed to gather one rock for each person in the group, and to place them in a circle in a way they felt best represented the group dynamic. This helped to demonstrate the divides and cliques and the group, and highlighted the need and the actions needed to bring all the stones together to form one pile.
At night, Menzi gave a life pep talk, a common job to all Outward Bound instructors. He drew a metaphor between taking responsibility for getting lost hiking, and having control over the bad decisions made in life. “In the end you need to make you own decisions, and make your own destinations.” I watched Menzi a lot today. He has been advising students on drinking and preserving water, on sharing group gear, on always checking the map, and to look carefully for trails that aren’t always obvious at first glance. He also rescued Thembile, who entered the water during the afternoon, knowing he couldn’t swim. One thing I was trying to take away was how he lets the group make all of their own decisions, such as when to wake up and leave in the mornings. That way, the students are invested in their own time management.
Student profile: Donavan matriculated in 2001 and is from Oudtshoorn. He is a salesman, who couldn’t afford to attend varsity, which in America would be college, but he wants to study business management. He describes Chrysalis as, “the opportunity of a lifetime,” and added, “my mom looks forward to me getting a good job.” After speaking with Donavan, his mouth sparking with a gold tooth, my preconception of Chrysalis as a program solely for drug addicts and gang members continued to be shattered. It began to be replaced by a version where individuals came dedicated to building better futures for themselves, that their present lives and financial situations do not enable them to do.
Day #8 3:32PM
Day #8 I believed to be Super Bowl Sunday, possibly the biggest TV and sporting event in America. Sometime in the afternoon, people would be filling their couches with friends and family, filling their stomachs with nachos, burgers, and beer, and filling the evening with the newest ads, and the New England Patriots versus the Carolina Panthers.
Meanwhile, somewhere in the mountains of South Africa, I was sitting as always in my Crazy Creek, my sore feet dipped in a cold, quick paced stream. The campsite we were at was called overhang because of the overhanging rocks that climbed above our gear. Despite yet another day of will-tested hiking, the free time by the rushing water and sitting on the rocks seemed to move minds past the pain of the day. Some of the students wrote in their journals, or simply lay on their backs and take in the scenery of the first backpacking experiences.
During the long hike, while I fought off mental images of simply laying down in the middle of the trail for lions and baboons to have me for a snack, I thought about food. Despite the calories burned, I’ve been eating lightly and haven’t been hungry. My 3-liters of water have not been enough, but 3 meals and small snacks had been doing the trick. For breakfast, a bowl of museli, or granola, sugar, and powdered mild. With that, usually a glass of tea or Milo, which when I said I’d never heard of, received the typical local response of shock. “You’ve never had Milo!” So I tried Milo, and it turned out to be just an ok cup of hot chocolate. So, now I’ve had Milo, and that’s what it tastes like to me. For lunch, I have been munching on a seed loaf, which I found too dry to eat alone, and comes unsliced, which as an American where the greatest thing to happen was sliced bread, is a bit of a culture shock. Melted, oily cheddar cheese and tuna goes well with it, as well as peanut butter and jelly (Although jelly in South Africa is really American Jell-O, and South Africans generally put syrup, rather than jelly, on their bread). Snacks have consisted of a chocolate bar or two. Dinner has involved rice or pasta, some cooked vegetables, sauce, spices, and usually a tin of processed meat.
4:37PM
Menzi gathered the group by the stream, and asked them the question, “Who in your life is a leader?” He was planning on introducing a leader of the day job, and so this was his way of introducing the topic of leadership into the course. The focus up to this point had been on personal development and teamwork. The ensuing discussion went very well. Most students cited their mother’s as their leaders and role models. Most of their dad’s, including Menzi’s, were never really there to help them growing up. Menzi shared how he had to take a job to help his younger brother through high school after his mother passed away. “When your mom is no longer around, that’s when you really have to solve problems yourself.”
7:37PM
Looking up at the mountains, it was the first time since I arrived in South Africa two months ago that I realized just how far I was from home. And I think maybe that’s part of going into the mountains, is to help you think, help you realize things. Despite moments of pain and loneliness, I look up, think of my mom and home, and am comforted by the feeling that despite her motherly instincts to have me close to home, she is proud of the life I’m living.
During a deliciously cooked dinner again by Menzi, pasta with veggies, potatoes, and Bulli beef, Menzi told Hermine and I about his former lifestyle. I’ve learned to accept people as they are now, and Menzi had been nothing short of my mentor on this course. I was, however, surprised by the fact that he’s used certain substances while younger. Hermine also revealed herself to smoke cigarettes, usually 15 a day. Ever since college I have looked down on using substances (although I will drink). I realized, however, that just as the point of Chrysalis is to help change people from drug users or simply lazy people, into individuals with a new sense of positive direction, I can look at Menzi and see he too has changed. Sometimes it takes hitting absolute bottom before you can begin chasing the absolute top. I believe, after my transition from a mostly uninspired life as a college student, to working for Outward Bound and being a writer, that that lesson is certainly true.
Later, Hermine and I began discussing the hiking. What I had felt earlier, that the hiking was an extreme pace, was confirmed by Hermine, who described this not as hiking, but as a race. So much energy is spent on each step, that there’s little opportunity for chatting, although there is plenty of time since we arrive early to camp. Another affect is that before the sun even begins to set, I’m ready for bed. All this hiking just brings up more questions. Why do we hike these mountains? For the second time, the words, “pain is temporary, pride is forever,” comes time mind. After day 2, you forget about day 1. After day 3, you forget about day 2. Pain is temporary. What is pride? Doing something that makes you feel good, and required hard work in the form of pain or discipline. Completing this 21-day Chrysalis course will bring me pride. It’s funny how an Outward Bound course is a learning experience for both student and instructor alike.
While given the opportunity for reflection, I tried to develop some life plans of my own, although I realized that all plans of the sort are subject to change. I came up with three things I wanted to look into. The first was to pursue a future with Outward Bound’s urban programs that integrate Outward Bound philosophy into public schools. The second was to get my writing published. And the third, was to ensure that in between whatever it is I’m doing in life, that I devote my time to being with my family, who I should never forget are the foundation of where I’ve gone in life.
Day #9 4:27PM
On day #9, the mountains broke me. OK, so I made it to the campsite, and I should give myself some credit for that, but the manner in which I arrived must not be overlooked. I walked onto lunch already sluggish, arriving 15minutes after the group. The next 30 minutes were spent washing out the 5 inch long slash on my lower left leg, and trying to swallow a can of tuna while still catching my breath from the hike that had sent me tumbling a few times. By 2pm, the group was already up and running. For the next 2 hours, they sped off as they have been, fully capable of navigating their own way to the next campsite, Little Dam. For the next 2 hours, I could barely take care of myself. From the moment I lifted my pack and called upon the devil to take my soul in exchange for relieving me of my pack, I literally felt I was in hell. A small touch of nausea set in and suddenly all went weak. I would shuffle my feet for maybe 4 steps before clutching to a tree. As the trail grew steeper uphill, I found myself puzzled over how to climb over rocks only as high as my knee. My confidence in my feet and legs were gone. I would grab onto roots of thin trees, fully aware these things might not hold my weight. Then, 1, 2, 3, hoist, with all 4 limbs on the ground.
The next 45 minutes or so were surreal. I was fully aware of my weakened state, but couldn’t find anything inside me, be it a song, a motivational phrase, or anything else to keep my mind from getting further sucked into this quicksand of struggle. I heard Menzi’s voice up ahead, but it was mostly lost in the trees and suddenly I felt the trails had spun themselves into a maze.
I was in my panic zone. The mountains had beaten me. I took my pack off to rest, thinking camp was just a few climbs away, and maybe someone would notice me missing around sundown and come back to retrieve me. After my rest, I tried to push on. I found Menzi and we began moving at a healthy pace. My breathing grew heavy, and I questioned whether I was mentally inflicting pain on myself with the hopes my body would stop functioning, I would be taken off course, and I would wake up in my bed in Long Island, New York, with a glass of fresh orange juice to great me, warm hot bagels, the paper, my family, and my TV. Countless pleasures of home I thought about, and here I was fighting a losing battle with a South African mountain.
We completed the first part of the climb, which was on narrow, tree-covered trails, and arrived back outside on the side of the mountain, completely exposed to the afternoon heat. As my legs started to regain life, I peaked up to the top, and my spirit collapsed. I welcomed sadness. “I’m gonna cry,” I thought. “Just make it stop!” The mountain, full of lifeless dirt and stone, was never-ending and merciless in its personification of pain. Although my feet moved, my spirit was sunk.
As we came over the ridge, the dam was in site. The ground became flat, dry, and hard. My feet felt bare, each step hot coals beneath them. My face crinkled and began to heat up. I welcomed a showering of tears, although I was acknowledging defeat, not just to the mountain, but to life. “When thing get tougher than tough,” I though, “my resources run dry.” Instead of crying, however, I decided to scream. And rather than scream, “I’ve had enough,” or “Why won’t you just stop and please leave me alone,” I decided to just yell different notes. And magically, each yell released the pain. I tried to hike without yelling, but the fire on my feet returned to unbearable, so I just kept yelling.
In summary, the hike was a horrid experience. The gash on my leg would serve as a reminder, as did each prickly branch that sought to re-pierce the wound. The color and texture of my feet, bright red bottoms and wrinkled skin like a prune. The small trace of lunch that I finally did throw up, making me wonder again whether my body truly was running past its limits, or whether my mind was looking for that excuse to be weak, to be slow, to nearly give up.
At the campsite, I was already searching for memories of the afternoon pain like I was bobbing for apples. The pain was behind me, but I saw motionless and contemplative for some time, because dramatic experiences are what help us develop into stronger people. Meanwhile, Menzi was singing, “I will Survive,” although he didn’t know the words. Hermine came by and said I shouldn’t stress myself out like I did today. In the end, it may have just been undigested tuna that was the enemy. I decided I had contemplated this hike to exhaustion. It was time to enjoy the rest of the day.
Day #10 9:47PM
Day #10 was a day to turn a new corner. Starting with the morning PT session, I felt fit and confident, and that carried over into the hike. During one break, I introduced several riddles to the group, like the man who is in a room dead by a pool of water, and the students must ask yes or no questions to explain what happened (hung himself on a block of ice). At camp, we had a delicious briie of steak, wors, salad, and potato salad, all cooked by the group. Earlier, I ran a short activity that carried on and became the first group discussion about everyday topics, pregnancy, marriage, home, money, jobs, and past, and the future.
At one point, Friedl described his fear of being poor, and started revealing a past of smuggling ecstasy to make money. When I put all these kids problem together, I see a pattern of no jobs, leading to no money, leading to no education, leading again to no jobs and no money, leading to crime, poverty, and little opportunities to rise out of that cycle and become somebody. Chrysalis tries to end that cycle by providing the education that will hopefully lead to jobs and what all these students want, to stand on their own two feet and to live a better life.
Once an open conversation started, the whole group culture seemed to change. Suddenly the group realized that 2 guys, Lucky and Thembile, live in a part of the country, the Easter Cape that nobody had ever been to. They described their need to make money to help feed others in their community. They also said there is not too much crime or gang activity, something the rest of the group had all encountered in their lives.
During dinner, Jaco and Yousef asked me to teach them Piano Man, which I had sung the other day to help my spirits during the hike. Hearing them sing Billy Joel with their accents was priceless, but they were determined to learn the song before Outward Bound was over.
I also had some time to have a long conversation with Zainol, an instructor who came over from Outward Bound Malaysia and had become my roommate and friend during our staff training. Being able to discuss my course with an experienced Outward Bound instructor, peer to peer, was a boots for me. Zainol said how he’s had time to appreciate the things given by the Malaysian government that are not given here. We also discussed the learning curve of working in a new place, and shared experiences about dealing with packing and the long hikes.
Day #11 3:55PM
Day #11 was cloudy and cold. In the afternoon, my group was put on solo, a 48-hour period of time where they are given water and food, but instructed in spend time alone in reflection of the course. Then, the first incident of the course arose.
Ruiter quickly came out of solo with a nosebleed. I went to fetch some toilet paper, but Menzi was less sympathetic. “I want to go home,” Ruiter said. Menzi laughed, and radioed base camp. He was more than willing to have Ruiter sent home, it was not his job to force students to stay on course. However, there would be no vehicle for two days. Menzi sent me to return Ruiter to solo, but he refused. His lowest person was showing, no desire to finish the course, wanting his mommy to bring him to the doctor, although he had had nosebleeds for years, and he would have them for many more. I saw in this young adult myself as a kid, getting myself to be sent home early from summer camp. The night I got home, I cried because I did like camp, I just wanted to build up this negativity and not give in, just like Ruiter was doing.
8:35PM
After doing my best counseling to find out what was really wrong with Ruiter, he finally returned to solo. I then returned to a festive staff briie, since there were several groups staying at the same site. The meat was little this night, but there was plenty of grilled cheese, or toasty sandwiches as they’re called here, and of course the social atmosphere that is the essence of a South African briie. For a couple of hours we stood around the wood fire, laughing about our trip, the hikes, the games, and the students.
I am not the type of American who tries to defend every aspect of my country, but despite my full endorsement of the lengthy South African briie, I still support a bar-b-que with hamburgers and hot dogs just the same.
Earlier, I felt like I was in a life or death struggle to keep Ruiter on course, while Menzi had his own beliefs that the student already had a negative attitude, and decided to not waste breaths that would fall on deaf ears. I discovered most of Menzi’s suspicions were true. When I spoke to Ruiter, who at first was using the nosebleed as his reason for wanting to leave course, the subject quickly turned to homesickness. He claimed to be bored and hated everything, and soon it was difficult for me to talk to him through the blinders he was wearing. Later, I thought maybe this wasn’t the right time or place for him. He wasn’t mature enough to have a normal conversation with me, how could he be able to transfer lessons from here to home?
Earlier, I did some thinking on how a person is mostly a product of their environment. The fact that Menzi is a black African never crosses my mind, except that he defies the stereotype, at least of blacks not being nature or outdoorsy oriented. In fact, his skills are largely a part of his environment growing up. This is in the same way to the lives of these students changing in the woods versus in their neighborhoods. By changing the setting of someone struggling in life, you offer him or her a new perspective on life.
Menzi has been criticizing Americans as lazy, which, compared to Menzi, I am. He also noted I don’t observe well when discussing group matters. I thought Menzi did have a point, I could be more observant. I see, but I don’t observe. It’s similar to the movie, “White Men Can’t Jump,” where Billy Hoyle, played by Woody Harrelson, was able to listen to Jimi Hendrix, but he wasn’t able to hear Jimi. It’s a subtle difference, but an important one. I decided to take this feedback and work on observing both the group and Menzi’s actions carefully the rest of course. Although I didn’t begin a pro-con argument about America, I have realized that there is a lack of skill and craftsmanship, one of the four pillars of Outward Bound, as a result of technology. Menzi described how he grew up spear fishing, a skill that I’m sure would be fun to learn, and something that requires a set of skills that using an ordinary fishing line doesn’t require.
Day #12 1:03PM
Day #12 of Chrysalis was my first morning of no PT, and no students. Still, I only slept till just past 7 as another group was up and counting exercises. Once again, I had the opportunity to spend time talking with Zainol, this time specifically about backpacking.
At the core of most Outward Bound courses, and most outdoor centers, is a backpacking expedition. You carry everything you need in your backpack, use a compass and map to navigate, hike, set-up camp, sleep, then begin a new day. However, what makes backpacking difficult for most students and young instructors like myself is exactly that, we are still students, still inexperienced. Despite my struggles with the first 5-day of expedition to confidently manage my pack and my body while hiking, I was comforted by hearing that it happens to all of us. “It takes experience,” said Zainol, “Even I am still learning new things about packing better. My first course I hiked in jeans. Now, I’ll never do that again.”
As I looked to turn a new leaf on my experience and to observe better, I took note of Zainol’s pack. It was sleek. It was balanced, without a single bulge coming from anywhere. He explained how he uses his ground mat to help keep the shape by making it into a round shell and placing it inside his pack, above his sleeping bag, which is stored at the very bottom. He then has his gear laid out neatly, and begins placing the heaviest things, like his stove and canned food at the bottom. He places them in a way such that there is balance in the pack. Slowly he fills in the gaps until he has the most accessible things at the top, including lunch, raingear, and a first aid kit. I had been taught the ABC’s of packing on my Outward Bound course, accessibility, balance, and compression, but only through experience do these things begin to take form.
Things improve with familiarity. The more you do, the better you become. The key is to realize this and strive to learn how to do better, rather than suffer in the muck of frustration.
I have written much about Menzi, and to me he is just another instructor. But there is something to be gained, I think, by realizing the international aspect of my experience. The mixing of a South African Zulu, a Malaysian, and an American to do the same work might be viewed as impressive or inspiring to others, although I now take it for granted. Also, hearing others confirm your ideas becomes even more powerful when the agreement comes from other parts of the globe. For instance, Menzi says he tells students on anti-depressants to leave their pills, that they must discuss their issues on Outward Bound like anyone else, something I believe is a good idea as well. This doesn’t mean that either of us are objectively right, but by having my independent ideas validated by a South African Zulu of all people, is a sign of something to me, that maybe there is an issue that needs to be further examined.
8:20PM – THE BUSH
The task seemed a simple one. Take two 5-liter drums of water, and see if any of the kids need water. But like most tasks, I knew I would find the challenge in it. So, I began by looking for a 5-litger drum, but found none. The closest thing was a 25-liter drum that was partially full, though hard to carry. I carried it anyway, knowing it was probably the wrong one.
Then, the problem was finding the solo sites. Some students were visible across a short but brush filled valley. Not knowing where to begin, I head in. The bank was steep and made of soft band that crumbled beneath my tractionless sandals that I foolishly opted to wear. Already, I knew this job would be a battle.
Sliding to the valley bottom, I stepped forward onto some slick mud. Struggling, I nearly dipped into a mudpool, but quickly gathered myself. The massive jug of water I hoisted ahead of me, and managed to find steady ground for my mud caked feet. Three students were at this point, so I gave those water who needed. Others were further ahead, but tall reeds and leafless, sticky bushes stood in the way. Sweaty and frustrated, I decided to head back. After sliding back down the mud, I found getting up the other side no easy task. The jug had no place to sit, the ground rising a steep three to four feet. After battling, some reeds helped me up, but to no path. Pushing forward led to more of the same, and suddenly there was no view around except the reeds. This was not supposed to happen. A simple task turned into a mission impossible. Fighting my way through, my legs were cut and bleeding, my hands cut by thorns. A student waved his bottle, and I waved for him to come over. No way was I going back in there.
Shaking my head, I dropped the waterbottle, in front of Menzi. “I quit,” I said. “I’m seriously incompetent.” We both started laughing. Menzi sensed my frustration and quickly calmed me down. Later, we went together to bring water. Menzi explained how to do this seemingly easy, though actually difficult task. “First, scan with your eyes. Figure out where you want to come out then find a trail.” He explained how baboons create trails that lead through to the water, and showed me some tracks. “It’s much easier to follow animal tracks than creating you own.” After crossing one valley, Menzi had me lead. The bush was thicker than I realized, but I was now confidant there were trails heading through. After spotting one, Menzi showed me the preferred method of pushing the brush forward till you pass through, rather than lifting it over your head. “Here you must crouch low, but always keep your eyes open.” After finishing the job that had driven me mad hours earlier, the task was now passed onto me again, to retrieve the students at first light the following morning.
I felt like a rookie out there, getting shown around by the more seasoned player, then joked about it later. Along with observing Menzi’s bush hiking, I’ve been observing his attitude towards the job he does. At no time has he not been in control of a situation. That comes from experience, but he also brings an attitude that this is his world, and students must respect that. I told him how American kids would sometimes say, “You can’t tell me what to do, my parents pay your salary.” Menzi said his reply is, “Your parents haven’t given me a cent. They pay my company, and they’ve sent you here to my world, so you follow my rules.”
His policy on equipment is fairly black and white. Outward bound equipment is his equipment. If they misuse it, he takes it away. He’s already confiscated a raincoat for being improperly packed outside a pack. He nearly confiscated plates for being washed in a stream. Another instructor, Bheki, confiscated a stove because the group was arguing over who would carry it, so he said he’d carry it himself. People have a responsibility to follow certain rules, or suffer certain consequences.
Day #13 8:52PM
Day #13 of Chrysalis gave me too much free time to think. Dreaming of memories is an activity to treasure, but just as dangerous as precious. I began dreaming in circles of friends and college, but was left feeling empty by the things I can’t relive.
The students, 12 boys here to change their lives, 12 boys born in South Africa and never exposed to the activities of the past 12 days. During an evening program where each kids was asked to share their high’s and lows of the course so far, many had said the activities were their highs. Some said the knowledge, some the learning about themselves and things they never knew they were capable of. The lows were expected. Most missed home, most were low about the lives and mistakes they had lived, most grew upset when the group was not getting along. Ruiter, the student who was determined to leave the course just before solo, now placed solo as his high point.
It sounded like these students were sorting themselves out while here on Outward Bound. From where they came and to where they were heading, I still struggled to comprehend. They all seem to realize the opportunity, and show an amazing enthusiasm when discussing their new paths in life. On e students went to far as to acknowledge how important this program is to the youth of South Africa, who are caught up in drinking and drugs. Almost all of them have been living healthy and sober lifestyles that they firmly believe will stick after the Chrysalis program is over. Reflecting on solo, one student came to realize how drinking had cost him much money and stood in the way of his achieving his goals.
Many students also expressed appreciation for many things taken for granted in life, after their solos. “All I had was half a loaf of bread. There are people on the streets who don’t even have that.” “I was cold with a leaking tarp over my head, but I still had a warm sleeping bag. Some people don’t even have that to sleep with.” Another student said he grew closer to god during solo. “I began to pray, not for me, but for those people who have less than me.”
What I saw in these kids was not their reasons for going to Chrysalis. They told their stories of home, but I firmly believed those 12 South African guys were capable of whatever opportunity allowed them. It’s true, they can’t be anything they want to be. Those lives are reserved for the privileged, those that are rich or have the right connections to those paths in life. But these guys, who will become plumbers or electricians or police offers, had demonstrated that they could achieve success in their lives, and those successes will stand as tall as any others.
Day #14 9:52PM
Day #14 was nearly over, and still new issues were popping up making the past 13 days seem irrelevant. A cup went missing. That’s all it took for the first altercation between two students, Lucky and Friedl, shoving each other and wrestling for the cup like students half their age. This led to a powerful debrief about life. Menzi began with a story about two travelers, one who returns with complaints of fatigue, the other with joyous stories of the wonderful sites and people. I assigned that the next night everyone share their day’s travels as they wished to view them. The mater of the cup turned into a minor justice system in which two stories were told with nothing gained as a result. The bottom line was everyone would have to pay for the missing equipment.
Menzi and I gave a solid talk after that. We tried to challenge our students to consider the larger society they would be working in, and to learn to work in this simple society of 12. We reminded them that the skills Chrysalis would give them, the technical skills to get a job, would be nothing without the life skills we were trying to give them. “Every problem you encounter here,” we told them, “problems working with others, dealing with adversity, fulfilling your responsibilities; These are things that will present themselves everyday for the rest of your life. If you can recognize that here, and be successful with them here, then you will be able to recognize them and be successful for the rest of your lives.”
There was a lot to notice about the group during the day that led me to worry. While two people were reading the map, the rest of the group would impatiently take off in the wrong direction. On another occasion, Menzi had three students return from an uphill walk, so they could walk it again together with the whole group.
The campsite called Swimhole was a rocky one, with no real good place to sleep. However, it had a pool with a waterfall that looked as though it belonged in a celebrity’s house. Those are the free treasures that are paid to those who hike these mountains. The last stretch of hiking there were many pine trees burned black, with some scattered purple flowers. The contrast between the pines that looked like dead roses, and the sprouting flowers made for a beautiful image, life filling in next to death, with the backdrop of clouds spilling over the mountaintops.
Day #15 5:25PM
Day #15 of Chrysalis took us to a campsite called Stonehut. There lie a single stonehut with thatched roof and bare bunkbeds. In front of the hut lay more miles to be hiked, more brush to scratch at our legs, mountains to pour sweat into our eyes. Ahead lay many routes, leading to anywhere. Only the skill of mapreading would bring us to the right destination. The next day lay another day of unknown, and with that comes fear and dread, as well as joy and excitement.
As I sat writing, my trusty Crazy Creek chair supported my back, my body perched above some rocks. Nearby, there were orange painted rocks, with images of man and deer, most likely done by bushmen ages ago. All these sites were not part of my backyard, my temporary home. The mountains of which I had passed by so many that day, now laid still and posed for me. They would not move for as long as I gazed their way. Their distance and the sun made them appear featureless, part of a long chain of bumps rising from the ground. In front of the mountains was a full stretch of flat green land. The view close by told me that the green was of overgrown grasses and small prickly bushes. The paths through them were of gray rock and stone.
The hike to Stonehut began at 9:30am from the campsite east of there called Swimhole, which gets its name from the two waterfalls flowing into cool pools of water. From what I could recall, there were many mountains along the way, but out there, mountains are as common as trees in a forest, so it’s easy to walk by without noticing the splendor of each one, ridgelines forming their own abstract forms.
My memory of the day was mostly of the rock paths, since the loose gravel demanded my every attention. But this starting at the ground allowed me much time to think, and I thought that’s the one timeless tradition of the mountains. I thought a bit about my future, and I thought a bit about this program I was now a part of. Not just Outward Bound, but Chrysalis. For 3 months, these students are given a free opportunity to come into contact with things like the great outdoors that stand to improve their lives. What will become of their lives I cannot say, the world is still a difficult place to live in. But I believe there are invaluable learnings from these mountains and wisdom in these winds, that together with the teaching of skills at Chrysalis, is the right combination of environments to help in fixing a small problem, which will possibly help in eventually fixing a world that seems broken in too many places.
As an instructor, I hopefully add to the students’ outdoor experiences by providing activities and the occasional words of wisdom. With an afternoon of free time, some of the group swam, while other rested. We finally gathered in the stonehut, where I began a discussion about anything. The topic started about the hut, and soon made its way to a discussion about marriage and having a stable versus an unstable homelife. After, I told the group to do a 45-minute solo to write anything about today or whatever else they wanted, and to be ready to share at night. Before sending them on their way, they discussed the details for the next day. They planned on running a shortened 30-minute PT from 5am to 5:30, and to be hiking by 6:30 or 7 at the latest. The hike planned was a difficult one, and the plan was to arrive early, rest, then complete the following days hike at night. They were excited about the challenge of two hikes in one day, plus the opportunity to experience a nighthike, and to finish their hiking for the course one day early.
Day #17 4:47PM
I finally got a chance to write on day #17 of Chrysalis. As an added bonus to this tale, the author is now slowly dehydrating at Camp Zero, which you might guess, has nothing. Not trees for shade. No water to drink. The temperature is well into the upper 30’s Celsius, upper 80’s Fahrenheit. My mouth is too dry, and my mind even too exhausted to sleep. I no longer have my camera to capture the scene around me, but it fits many visions of Africa. A few boards of ridged metal, wide enough for one, long enough for two, popped up on backpacks to create the only protection from the burning sun. I can’t even imagine hiking anymore, fortunately, we knocked out four hours of the day’s hike last night, marching from 9pm to 1am in the morning.
Before the hike began, the spirits of the group were higher than ever. In the dark, they gathered in a circle and sang and danced for at least 30 minutes. If there is one thing I have noticed about blacks and coloreds in South Africa, is that they are fond of this type of celebration. The first portions of the hike were surreal. I’d never seen so many stars, but the trail we walked was still black as night. Without lights, we scampered up a steep hill that left me soaked in sweat. We paused as the moon began to rise over the silhouette of mountains behind us. Suddenly, the entire trail was visible. As we began heading downhill, the moon vanished and I had to use my headlamp, although I still managed to roll twice on loose rocks.
By 11pm I was asleep in my head. For the next hour we sped up a seemingly endless road before collapsing in an open field. Before I could close my eyes, we were pushing again, but it was a short while before some were too exhausted to continue. So, I got to experience my first night camping on the side of a South African highway, or any highway for that matter.
The nighthike came on the same day as a treacherous 6-hour hike, through overgrown pine trees that held onto your pack as you walked by. After lunch, I felt a familiar ill feeling of undigested food, and forced myself to swallow a ton of water in an effort to vomit up what was making me ill. This only worked slightly, and left me feeling mostly bloated with water. As soon as I forgot about my stomach, I realized my feet were once again, on fire. Every step, pain. I didn’t panic though. Going slowly, I grimaced my way to camp to find a soothing stream for my pained feet.
In between the two hikes, I had some good conversation with the students. Friedl told me about his life in a gang. Selling and using drugs like heroine and ecstasy and fighting with rival gangs. He showed me the scar on his chest that had left him hospitalized and nearly dead after walking in the wrong territory, the wrong part of town. Friedl described his drug dealing as the only way to make money in Mossel Bay, the popular beach and tourist town where he lives. “After high school, there were no jobs. Then I see someone with rings on his hand and I take them to make money.” He added “Selling drugs makes good money, but I don’t want to live that life anymore.” Friedl came to Chrysalis after being inspired by a fellow gang member getting his life straight and he said he hopes to inspire others to do the same. “I’ve learned a lot her,” he said, “each mountain is an obstacle I have overcome. When I walk by the burned black trees, I think that’s how my life has been, but now I wasn’t to be those healthy flowers that grow there.”
Randolph is a different story. He doesn’t sleep with guns under his bed, like some of the others in the group had told me. The last three years, since finishing high school, he has been a fisherman. Heading out in the early morning with his uncle, he spends his days catching hake or tuna, to support himself. He managed to pay his own way through high school, but college was too expensive. “Chrysalis is my opportunity to learn a trade that I couldn’t afford to learn on my own. It’s always been my dream to be a mechanic.”
Topic: So, what’s the point?
So, what’s the point of me writing this story, if I may take a break and ask? What’s it about? What do you think about it so far? Should I even continue to write, or have you heard enough already? The reason I’m writing, is to open eyes and minds, both others and my own. People are products of the systems they grow up in. Monkey see, monkey do. Another student Rodney said his experience being held up at gunpoint didn’t frighten him. “It’s a part of the life I grew up with. You’re not scared, and people get killed all the time. I’m ready for it.”
If you want to solve a problem, you first have to know the problem. The problem of violent crime in South Africa, as it probably is in America and much of the world, runs hand in hand with the need to make education more practical, and to help people gain access to the opportunities for education and for work.
The thing is, for me at least, is that once you see something broken, you know it needs to be fixed. But when the thing that is broken doesn’t directly effect you, you must experience it for yourself. Experience poverty, and you will want to do help those who cannot escape it. Experience hunger or thirst, as I am right now, and you’ll learn to appreciate what you have, and empathize with those who don’t. There’s a line in the song, “Why can’t we be friends?” by the band War: “I think I’d like to be the President. So I could show you how your money is spent.” I see a program like Chrysalis, funded by the South African government, and I wonder to what degree my own government in America is supporting similar programs.
Topic: My digital camera
The night at Stonehut, I went to go fill up my water at the stream. I didn’t see the trail, but could hear the water, so I pushed my way through some brush, before finding a waterfall. I wasn’t quite sure how I’d get to it without swimming. I cam across some reeds and stepped over a short gap that had water below. This put me on a rock, with a view of the waterfall, but not accessible to it. I went to cross back, and looked across the thick reeds to where I was sure there was shore. I took a leap, and felt nothing beneath my feet. Filling like a bungy jumper, I splashed into water waste deep. I immediately woke up to this nightmare reality that my camera, which had taken almost 200 pictures on the trip so far, was in my pocket. “OH NO! OH NO!” I scrambled to pull it out and put it above my head and onto shore, which was still difficult to find amongst the reeds. I then struggled to get myself out, the land soft mud about head high. Running back to camp, I knew the damage was done. The lens had opened itself and stayed that way. The camera was no longer responding, and Menzi had me take the batteries off and left the camera to dry. My pictures of Chrysalis Alpha possibly gone, my ability to capture and share more images of South Africa, come to a screeching halt. Surprisingly though, I stayed calm. “It could always be worse,” was all I could say to console myself. Luckily, the 2 journals, which I used to write during the course, didn’t get ruined. It’s scary to think that nothing in your life is permanent, except yourself. So, protect your brain and your memory, since those means of technology we use to do it for us, books, computers, videos and camera, can all come to an end in an instant.
Day #18 1:52PM
Day #18 of Chrysalis and the course was nearly over. I took about one hour in the early morning at Camp Zero, staring at the mountains covered in a morning fog. I wanted to figure some things out, nothing specific, but just sitting like that, one tends to figure things out. I started thinking about Outward Bound being a school. That made me a teacher, and for the past 18 days, for 24 hours a day, I’ve had 12 students. Although I didn’t actually teach much, there was so much learning actually going on.
Topic: The word “spoiled”
Menzi was my mentor on the trip. There were many seemingly simple tasks that I needed his experience to help me, from sharpening the pencil I wrote with, with a knife, to opening a can of food using a spoon. The point Menzi made clear to me is that too much technology can cause a person to be unable to complete simply hands-on tasks. For myself, that was certainly true.
However, we had ourselves a conversation about the word spoiled. I agreed that I had a lot in life handed to me versus Menzi, who grew up without luxuries on a farm, but I felt that labeling people with luxuries as spoiled was as damaging as labeling people without luxuries as unproductive or troubled. Take any two people. One is likely to be more privileged than the other. For instance, one may go to college on their parents’ money, and one may have to work their way through. The underprivileged tend to develop more life skills out of necessity, while the privileged may have the opportunity to do more things, such as travelling. Ideally, both are good. Ideally, the privileged can still develop the work ethic that the less privileged need to survive, while the less privileged can benefit from the generosity of the privileged, or on their own accord.
Menzi spoiled me on course by looking after my every move, from how much may o I put on my tuna, to how tight the straps on my pack are. The idea was for me to observe Menzi’s experience as an instructor, so I can later do things myself. I decided what I’d like to take away from seeing Menzi as a leader is how he is completely self-reliant, which then allows him to both help the group and myself. At times it was hard to admit things I didn’t know, but only by admitting I didn’t know, could I learn. I also realized that the wheel doesn’t necessarily need re-inventing. At 22, I may bring energy and creativity, but there is much to be learned from those with more life experience than myself.
In the afternoon, we did a debrief, recapping the entire experience on the mountains. I decided to give a short talk on the phrase, “Pain is temporary, pride is forever.’ Menzi spoke about how the mountains are sincere. They don’t change, go away, or bend. “Just like life,” he said, “the mountains will not more for you. You must push yourself over the mountains. That’s the only way to see what’s on the other side.” He went on. “You must never measure a mountain from the bottom. To climb even the biggest mountains, you must begin with one step. Then, when you reach the top, look back to see how much progress you’ve made, then continue your journey.”
This goal I’ve made to publish my journal has been the same way. A daunting mountain, that I’m approaching a day at a time. And I can see the progress. I’m still in my 3rd month in South Africa, and a full 3 more lay ahead. Whereas a semester in college tends to go quickly with routine taking hold, every day here brings new views, activities, or people.
Day #19 Time Unknown
In the morning, I had a chat with Damien. He said he’s learned a lot and is determined to finish high school, to make his mother proud, and to make sure he has an opportunity to achieve more in the future. “I was stupid to leave school,” he said, “but when I have kids, I won’t let them repeat my mistake.”
This course has been full of struggles for me. But I’m looking at all I did not so well as things to improve on, and taking the time to acknowledge my achievements. Finishing the course. Helping the students. Learning about myself. Getting in shape. Going without luxuries for 21 days.
“Without mistakes, we would learn nothing.”
Day #20
Spent the day sea kayaking back to Outward Bound South Africa’s base camp.
Day #21 6:52 PM
The activity:
I gave each student a different parable, or story with a lesson. After 10 minutes, they were to discuss the story and the relevance of the learning in their lives. After 10 minutes, I discovered several students were struggling to comprehend the reading. After a few minutes of helping those students understand the English, the activity continued. It was obvious that this type of activity was a challenge for most, but they all made an effort. Some voluntarily read out loud the passage with enthusiasm, although this made it clearer how difficult the comprehension was.
But the students managed to draw quite interesting lessons from their stories. Some more images of the lives they lived were revealed, drugs, violence, theft, under-privilege. You could see that this assignment was impactful. Students remarked how their passages seemed to speak directly of them, and how they wanted their friends to take 15 minutes away from their usual lives to read these simple stories.
According to Menzi, the purpose of Outward Bound, is to make people think differently. The technical skills, like the parts of a canoe or the different paddling strokes, are not what’s most important, nor are they likely to be retained. Instead, it is the learning that comes out of the activity that counts. “What can we teach people through using canoes?” is the important question. If this philosophy is carried over to traditional schools, we should ask, “What can we teach people about life and themselves through teaching English, Math, Science, or History?” After all, as most would agree these things are mostly forgotten or irrelevant in our lives except for trivia. However, these subjects should not be abandoned, but strengthened through the infusion of Outward Bound philosophy. Make a subject relevant to a student’s present life, and they will be more invested. More learning is bound to occur. Also, students like Damien will no longer be held back a grade, effecting their lives because they are behind on certain academic subjects. Peers will be part of a group. They will be seen by their strengths and weaknesses as individuals and as a group, not judged solely by academic skill.
Topic: So, what did they learn?
“I’ve learned to work with people, to communicate with people, and most of all, appreciation.” – Eran
“It was hard for me to enjoy nature because all I could think of was pain. Then I though, Dan and Menzi, they don’t complain, then I started to enjoy nature. It was like I was in a soap commercial living outdoors like that. The most important thing is mixing people, loud, quiet, violent, non-violent. I’m used to always being right at home. I learned to think, to plan, to work in a team.” – Rodney
“My self-esteem was growing and growing.” – Donavan
“Before Outward Bound, I had a short temper. I learned not to be so fast, to think instead of fighting. It was nice to be here with such different people and learn of their cultures. I’ve done stuff I’ve never done before, abseiling, climbing, kayaking. When you get one chance in life you must take it.” – Randolph
“I learned more to communicate with other guys.” – Lucky
“I learned to face a problem and to respect nature.” – Jaco
“I used to think to go to jail is the only way to become a real man. I learned at Outward Bound there’s other ways to become a real man. There’s many ways to become something you want to be.” – Damien
