We got extra fancily dressed and went to an event at Clovelly Country Club in Cape Town, the first integrated country club in South Africa, in celebration of the work they do at the Ray Ackerman Golf Academy.  It was a beautiful and magical evening.  When we arrived, student greeted us and gave us tours of their facilities and described their programs and opportunities.  Eventually, they convinced us to try our hands at driving on the range.  That was crazy.  Jonathan broke the golf-ball holder, most of us struggled to even make contact with the ball (LOL!).  Meanwhile Dr. Clarke looked like a professional and some 15 year old boy proved himself to be the next Tiger Woods.

I was so glad when the students who’d taught me how to drive were seated at my table for dinner.  The students sang a rendition of Toto’s “Africa”, our unofficial theme song for the trip, speeches were given (including brief remarks made by moi), they put traditional makeup on our faces, and eventually showed us their ballroom dancing skills picked up in order to earn their presidential medals.

These youth were truly remarkable.  They were clearly well groomed and polished yet at the same time, so sincere.  They were genuinely happy to have participated in the evening and appreciated the opportunities provided by the program.

I was struck by a couple of things at RAGA that I thought might be unusual to see in the US.  First, the youth workers seemed genuinely excited about the accomplishments of the students.  They were encouraging the entire time, served the students meals first, they were considerate of the feelings and perspectives of the students throughout the entire evening.  When the formalities were finished, they allowed students to let loose and dance wildly on the ballroom floor to the music of their choosing.

I was struck by how I got this same feeling from RAGA’s donors.  There were clearly wealthy and powerful people in the room and they seemed to express this same interest and consideration for not only the students, but for the staff.  Everyone was so gracious, that I found it unusual.  Everyone was open to having their face madeup, no matter how wealthy or important to the organization.  Everyone got out and dance when students encouraged us to after their ballroom performance.

Outside of the refreshing perspectives I had on youth workers and those who donate to youth organizations, I was hit with a profound insight during the event.  A woman who worked for the government in the Western Cape who took interest in my research topics approached me during dinner.  She started asking me questions about whether or not I would dig deep into afterschool programs during my research on youth incarceration.  I was totally confused.  I told her that I was interested in writing something more theoretical and less practical as a way to change the subject to either after school programs or incarcerated youth. We discussed the various ways in which the federal government in the United States financially supports afterschool programs.  She told me about a school and principal in the Bronx that inspires a lot of the decisions that they make in the Western Cape.   Still, I couldn’t shake the fact that I had not understood her reason for approaching me to begin with.

 

Then it hit me.  In South Africa they draw a direct connection between education (and employment) and preventing incarceration.  The more educational opportunities a young person has, the less crime they will commit.  This makes sense in the United States as well but is only partially true.  It dawned on me, during the dinner, that in South Africa there is no school-to-prison pipeline.  There doesn’t seem to be a prison industrial complex at all, actually.  Shame and embarrassment.  That’s what I felt imagining finding the woman and clarifying everything.  Afterschool programs can be negligible because students, at times, are funneled directly from school to jail. Imagine trying to explain that to someone. I was completely mortified.  This realization was quelled by the young people in the room, enthusiastically asking us for our contact information.  One young man asked how I was so comfortable with public speaking, to which I replied that I cheated because I was a teacher and spoke in front of groups of people for a living.  We had a rousing send-off by the students dancing to some sort of South African rap music at the end of the evening.  None of us wanted to leave, except Jody, our driver he was ready to get home, chile.