10.29

at&t phone bill for the month of october: $646. that's all from calling matt the one week we were apart. that's $2.50 per minute, $2.50 per text. oh, yes. ouch.

tomorrow we are going to chatsworth to visit a contact of matt's. it is home to the temple of understanding and i hope to get a peek at it.

other than that, matt is on the phone with all our banks because they've all frozen our accounts. they didn't know we were out of the country and we've been trying to get to them for nearly a day now. but with phone cards and all that business, it's taken us way long.

matt tells me he had a really great meeting with this fellow david who was just in brazil, which is fantastic. i think his project is really taking off and that's exciting! next week there is a court case followed by a march and i'm hoping to get some great footage of that, weather permitting.

we've decided to go hiking so i can get the hell out of the city for a few days which is extremely necessary to my state of mental health. and matt's, probably.

it's a bit past 5 here which means everything has shut down, no cafe's and no hang out spots so i'm gonna go make myself comfy in bed with a book until dinner time. oh, also! i've been on antibiotics for a few days now because i have some sort of a something that is making me feel something other than wonderful. hopefully after all this damn medication is over i'll be back to my chipper self, but don't hold your breath.

10.28

I know I consistently repeat myself when I say it’s really hard for me here. Matt is all I have and I depend on him entirely way too much. I can’t really leave the hostel without him and I have no car to get around. I wish I could rebuild my independence and my strength and not have to depend on a man. This is not his fault; this is merely the situation I have placed myself in.

I want to be so much more optimistic, summer hasn’t started here yet and, perhaps, it will be different with more tourists around. Perhaps, it will be safer. I don’t know and, so, it’s all a guessing game for me.

I was quite sullen this morning when Matt was leaving for Abahlali and I think that hurt him. I couldn’t stop myself and now I feel poorly for having been so relentless.

Sizani emailed me to tell me she contacted a few groups that might be interested in my photography but needed more information about how it could benefit them. It’s a very touchy situation and most people don’t want to be identified as AIDS victims and so it’s makes it very hard for me to do my project. She even said that they might want to contact their local government, though I’m not quite sure what for and I certainly don’t want to get involved with local politics. Everything here is very convoluted and I’m constantly having to explain why and what I want to do and reassuring everyone that it’s not exploitative.

I feel as if it’s so hard getting anyone here excited about the projects that I want to do and because of that I feel defeated.

10.27

Yesterday was wonderful. Matt woke me up to a bottle of Tia Maria and a bangle he had picked up for me. He made me a breakfast of rice, honey and almonds. The sun was finally out so we headed down to the beach but it turned out to be extremely windy and we couldn’t lay down. The sand whipped at us. We decided to overcome our distaste for the typical tourist spots and ventured inside a cabana. I’m almost ashamed to admit this, but we laid on the lounge chairs and ordered a series of whiskey and gingers…and I quite enjoyed myself.

Maxwell and Sabine met us later on and we went to a Moroccan restaurant in the suburbs where I had the most delicious rose petal mojito quite possibly on earth. We came back to the hostel to relax but our guests, members from the Abahlali Youth League, arrived just then. We sat, talked and drank for many hours before Matt began making dinner for everyone. It was all incredibly wonderful.

Matt bought me a sketch book, pastels and pencils for my birthday because it’s often too rainy and cloudy to photograph anything here. He put so much thought and energy into this day to make it special for me, it was really incredibly sweet.

10.25

The reason for being morose yesterday was due to a series of unfortunate events that made up the day. The sun was finally out after days of rain and we decided to head to the beach. We arrived and the wind was so strong that we couldn’t stay long, the sand was blowing up everywhere. We left and I convinced Matt to find the print shop that I’d been wanting to go to for days now. We hadn’t realized that it was in a part of town you just do not go into. As we approached the area near “The Wheel”, our uneasiness increased. People stared at us, people began to follow us a bit. We were heckled. We made a wrong turn down an alley and a group of boys were banging on cans and yelling at us. It is in those situations where the only thing you can do is divert your eyes. Luckily they didn’t storm after us, but it they easily could have. In those situations, your safety is no longer in your hands. We sat and rested for awhile, seeking solace in the gym of all places. For us the gym is a safe space, a space you pay a high price for and a space that does not allow poverty inside its doors. Now, please don’t misunderstand me. Not all poverty breeds violence but poverty does sometimes hold hands with violence. And for people mistaken as tourists, this can be alarming.

After leaving, on our way back to hostel, a very aggressive, dirty and heavily tattooed man followed us. He had tattoos and was interested in mine, repeatedly asking where I got mine and how much I paid for it. He was very close to Matt, practically on top of him and trying to reach around him to get to me. We didn’t want to stop to engage him in conversation, it’s sometimes in those instances that you are robbed and attacked, so we kept moving at had to yell at him and cross the street. It was frightening. We finally got inside and crashed out because of the anxiety.

However, I must add that I did hear from Sizani about setting up appointments for the shoots which is terribly exciting! And I received a bottle of South African Merlot for my birthday from an artist who was staying in the hostel, Jethro. He is terribly sweet and unconventional and I’m sorry that he left so soon after someone here called him “dodgy” and he decided the energy was bad. Shame.

10.24

Misery. Sweet, unwavering misery. Here I am, hidden in the depths of an unforgiving city. I am a spectacle, an animal on display. The people eat me with their eyes and I am uneasy. In passing, I divert my eyes and I feel small in doing so but realize I have no choice. Here I am, in this unforgiving city and my heart bleeds. I long for the comfort of New York, the familiarity. The acceptance. I long for the smile of a stranger. I long for a café where I can sit and think and read. A café where I can chew my pen, my lips, look up and rest my eyes on a corner in space that is filled with energy. Not monotony. Anything but this.

Still, Matt is nurturing and sweet. Sometimes he weakens and the both of us feel defeated, resting on each other for comfort; leaning on each other for support. More often, he is strong for the both of us. He is truly beautiful. And although I insist we should go to Costa Rica, I realize we cannot abandon our projects prematurely.

10.22

The proposals are finished and I sent them out this morning.  The first proposal is for the Rural Women's Movement where I will be working with Home-Based Caregivers and photo-documenting their day to day struggles as well as the HIV/AIDS patients that they take care of.  The second proposal is for the Abahlali Youth League to create a visual exhibition and hold a viewing at the completion of the project.  Hopefully, the kids will be excited about this and want to take part!  I'm INCREDIBLY excited about both of these proposals.

A group of about 60 school kids arrived at the hostel last night around 12pm.  This was truly unwelcomed since Matt and I have been going to sleep about 9ish each night.  We awoke and decided to have a midnight snack while we watched Sabine desperately try to keep them under control.  After finally getting back to sleep, we were awoken again at 6am when there was a mass exodus.  I am told they are staying here two more nights.  I am less than thrilled due to lack of hot water this morning.  

10.21

The waves are huge today.  The surfers are out today and one extremely large breasted blonde in a tiny, tiny bikini.  I can't complain.  There is an older woman who continuously paces back and forth behind  me.  It is a 5 minute walk to the beach from the hostel.  I went out today alone for the first time since I've been here.  Matt is at Abahlali.  I've gotten quite a few cat calls which never happens when I'm with Matt.   I feel a bit uneasy without him around to accompany me but I don't want to rely on him so much.  

10.18

Today the sun is warm and penetrating.  We have plans to go to the beach.  I've decided, much to Matt's horror (I think), that I need to give myself a day at the spa to compensate for the suffering I've endured the past few days.  Perhaps I am being dramatic, but I wouldn't be me if I wasn't being so.  

Post-beach, we are going to go to the gym which is an interesting bourgeois space here.  It seems to be a meeting grounds for the semi-upper crust.  The gym is a brand new building with top of the line equipment, a sauna, a jacuzzi, and a swimming pool.  They also have free internet available (!!!).  The gym is located right next to the Workshop which is a mall on a smaller scale.  In between the gym and the Workshop, street vendors put out their tables and fill them up with a variety of merchandise everyday and take the tables and tents down single day.  It's hard watching all this happen over and over.  

I feel gluttonous going to the market and spending R20 (about $2.50) on 4 plentiful bags of various vegetables.  

10.16

Matt and I have been through the markets twice now to get to the van to take us to Kennedy Road (Abahlali).  Lina says we are brave.  The markets are full of energy.  Madness.  People bustling.  Music blasting.  Various smells, some that you can place and others that you cannot...and do not want to.  It's odd to see what the vendors are selling, even dirt.

Photos: Abahlali

The following are photos of the children playing in the daycare next to the Abahlali Community Center...

All images taken by Miriam N.

Photos: Illness, Roaches, & Shoes

All images were taken by Matt W.

10.14

I want life on my terms.

10.13

Monday. A new week.  I met Sizani last night, a women's grassroots organizer, and I am in better spirits.  I have hope she is going to put me in touch with people and organizations that I can assist.  Anna, a friend of Matt's, stayed with us last night.  She filled us in on her work with USAID and the workshop she had just finished with Sizani and 20 Home Based Caregivers.

Walked over to Durban Art Gallery with Anna and Matt where I was approached by the curator, Bongani.  He told me about a Biennial they are planning in Capetown.  He seemed terribly excited and is looking for New York artists to showcase at the Biennial, which is focused on pieces/installations that deal with public intervention.  I am hoping to be able to get the "Screaming Wall Series" into production.  

10.11

Feeling a bit better today, though still in pain.  Have spent majority of past two days in bed sleeping.  Matt has been nurturing, ensuring all my needs are met.  I fear deep down he is annoyed at me.  I worry about distracting him from his work.  Everytime I stand up, I nearly faint.

10.10

I am unwell.  I have been mostly bedridden today.  I have severe abdominal pain.  Possibly, an inflammation of the pelvic region.  Either way, it is excruciatingly painful.

Was out in Durban getting supplies yesterday before I became ill.  It was warm and beautiful, but I felt completely out of place...I want to write more but this pain is great and nothing seems right.  After the sun came a splendid rain, washed everything down.  It rains often here.  Spasms of pain, I must lay down.  I feel weak, helpless, useless.

10.7

Air Tran to JFK: Michael was at Penn Station awaiting my arrival.  He was there, standing where we first met.  He looked sad, our eyes met.  Sadly.  Michael took my hand and gave me his oldest t-shirt.  He gave me a letter to read on the airplane.  I get upset thinking about reading it. These words begin to blur. I restrain myself.

To Michael: I did as you asked.  I sat in the first car, but two very large foreigners obstructed my view. Of course.

10.5

Choosing my words carefully.  So carefully, as if they hang before me in the air - delicately.  And I pluck them one by one...

I realize that I am often alone, when I am without the man I love.  It is not that I cannot have friends.  I am told, in fact, that I am quite charming.  It is my tolerance that betrays me.

My mother swarms around me, an angry gnat, persistent.  It will not leave me alone.  When I am angry at her, I often feel remorse and approach her to lay a hand on her head, as if she were a child.  She so desperately seeks my attention, any attention.  Attention that I generally deny her, only half-listening. And she, naturally, does the same to me.  I wonder, was it I who conditioned her to be this way or she who conditioned me.

Anais Nin writes..."Henry made a monster of June because he has a monster-creating mind.  He is a madman.:  I check the time today obsessively, as if I cannot wait for the day to be over, to be forgotten.  Perhaps I am monster-creating within myself? Within others? Within situations, permutations, seeking complications? Destroying my image to others, destroying others. Why is it that every female I have loved has left me?  Is it I who loves too fiercely or, perhaps, I don't know how to love at all?  Mercilessly, I want to hurt them.  Slap them, bite them, push them as if we were schoolchildren.

journal...

The simulacrum is never what hides the truth.  It is the truth that hides the fact that there is none.  The simulacrum is true. -Ecclesiastes

The following are excerpts from my journal...