Wakulla springs and the river that flows from there never cease to amaze me. While so much of Florida has been developed, this place is still so wild and enchanting. I am so thankful to call it a home.
I could spend a whole day underwater, fresh or salty, looking at fish and bubbles and swimming. What follows are a few clips from a trip down the Wakulla River, one that started as a misty morning. After that is a 3 minute study of humans plunging into the depths of one of the world’s largest and deepest springs.
I don’t know what South of the Border says about, America or stereotypes or road culture… People make caricatures out of cultures for entertainment and monetary gain? There’s probably more to it than that. It’s a bizarre, kitschy relic with dinosaurs and goofy bumper stickers and stereotypes. It feels mostly abandoned, like it shouldn’t be there any more but it is and so you had better stop and take a picture before it’s gone.
I asked my friend what the anglo American caricature is and she responded “Homer Simpson”
Isiqalo‘s Waves for Change is dedicated to educating and training youth in South Africa using surfing as a model for life. One of the primary goals is to encourage HIV awareness and testing.
I contacted the director, Tim, about volunteering while in Cape Town. Slightly self-conscious about the “voluntourism” thing, I still thought it seemed like an opportunity to learn and possibly contribute to a place I was visiting. I imagined myself going for a surf with a bunch of frothing groms and pushing them into waves but the timing didn’t work out for that. Instead, I met up with the crew for lessons in ding repair.
The man doing the repairs and teaching said that he had only surfed 4 or 5 times. He was too busy working to go out surfing and when he had his one day off a week, he was usually too tired.
Being self sufficient as well as learning a potential job skill were the themes of the day. While the resin cured we conversed about surfing, the program and the problems these kids are already faced with at such an early age.
During the ride back to Masiphumelele, a boy about 12 or 13 years old told me about kids he knew that were addicted to the drug tic. It’s hard to imagine how drugs could get any more toxic but tic was described to me as dirty meth. He couldn’t even have these friends in his house because they would steal from him the moment he took his eyes off of them.
As we rode through the township, I tried to take in as much as possible. We were joined by a family in need of a ride. They were in their Sunday best and traveling out of town for a funeral. Looking out of the window, a dead chicken had fallen by the side of the street. A woman stood a few feet behind, knife in hand. Two other chickens walked around calmly, oblivious. Kids approached the van, chatting and asking for sodas. We dropped one or some of the boys off at a home for kids with very green grass, said our goodbyes and continued on to the train station where I departed.
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Recently, for World Aids Day, Waves for Change was visited by Desmond Tutu where the kids demonstrated the lessons and exercises they have learned through the program.
