After a short Uber yesterday, we found ourselves at the
trailhead to hike up Table Mountain, the iconic backdrop for the city of Cape Town.
After a long stare up the ragged edge of the cliffs, we started along the
trail. It was arduous and breath-taking (literally). For the first hour of the
hike, visibility was clear, expectations were high, and altogether we were in
good spirits. However, just like with any long hike, about halfway up I started
to become a sentimental pastoralist, beginning to feel comically and ironically
close to the nature surrounding me. I took in the vista with hope and
enthusiasm as the skyscrapers below were becoming smaller and smaller.
Just as
I was settling into this mindset a sudden fog developed at the base of the
mountain. The mist slowly rose to our elevation and overcame everything around
us, blocking out the world beyond a ten-foot radius. And I was disappointed--this
meant the view from the top would be like staring at a blank sheet of paper
except for every angle and direction. But, then again, the mist brought a
certain peace. The mist lingered on my skin and in my hair, and I felt close to
the nature around me. I felt peacefully hopeless as I garnered no control over
the fantastic whiteness that overwhelmed me. The fog overcame the mountain as
well, and that brought a certain peace as well--to know that even the mountain
could not escape the fog.
The fog seemed to sum it all up for me as my South African
experience was coming to an end. I am a new student to the discipline of
history. But, for every place and people that I study and engage with, I am
given a mirror in which I can see myself. The mirror often lets me view myself
in a new light, becoming a new arena in which I can be critical. So, as we
studied the history of South Africa, the colonization, the apartheid struggle,
the new and enduring quest for direction in a young democracy, I saw a lot of fog
in the mirror. I was met time and again with moments on this adventure where I
was unable to feel anything at all--just mostly numb, like being surrounded by
a beautifully senseless mist. Only one truth and one feeling seemed to resonate
as I gazed into the glass, no matter if the circumstances were positive or
negative.
The truth: When I surveyed myself and took a long thoughtful
stare at my mind and heart, I realized that somewhere in there I am inherently
afraid of those things I bias as different than me. This was not easy to come
to terms with. But, I hope by realizing this I am able to combat it more
easily. And I believe it is somewhat present in all of us—empathy and tolerance
must be learned. They are not instinctual.
The feeling: Throughout it all, whether gazing at the
landscape, witnessing excessive wealth and poverty alike, or simply breathing
the sea-infused air, I only felt the profound sense of being alive.
It is clear that what is solving that hard spot and what is
allowing me to feel alive is travel. It is, and will always be, the greatest
and most powerful teacher. So, my advice to you who wish to escape, to wander,
to adventure, to work on themselves, to simply feel like you are alive, is to
travel. Go and experience the foggy complicatedness of the world. Fly, drive,
run, bike, walk, crawl, and if necessary drag yourself to the place in which
you wish to view yourself in the bleary mirror. And perhaps when you return to
your life, to this sometimes boring, monotonous life, you will feel free from
those hard spots in your heart. This is what I've felt in South Africa, and I
can only wish the same for you. Perhaps even you will be overcome by the mist.
Until next time,
Jacob F. Maestri
--
Follow Jacob on his
study abroad at http://ablogaboutsouthafrica.blogspot.com
For more information on the U of A Faculty-Led: South Africa, Past and Present program at http://studyabroad.uark.edu/safrica
For more information on the U of A Faculty-Led: South Africa, Past and Present program at http://studyabroad.uark.edu/safrica
