Earshot

I got news this week that was so good it necessitated going out to Dizzy’s on karaoke night and singing “Like a Prayer” on stage with my friends.

Really, I probably would have done it anyway.

But I sang under the guise of celebrating my offer of admission to Carleton University’s Master of Journalism program.

I applied to the MJ programs at Carleton, Ryerson, and Western, with Carleton as my first choice all along because of its distinguished reputation in the field and its location in Ottawa, the epicentre of Canadian politics. I was never sure that I would get in. The competition is stiff – only twenty students are taken into the program every year.

But I'm told that they want me to be one of them.

(They obviously didn’t hear me sing.)

I’ll be Ottawa-bound in September, armed with an entrance scholarship, a paid TA position (Teacher’s Assistant), and the certitude that this is what I want.

I see journalism as a mix of travelling, learning, analyzing, and writing...which I do by choice already.

This week, for example, had me out playing with penguins on a daytrip, sitting in on a meeting at parliament for my job, discussing South Africa’s electricity crisis, World Cup woes, and leadership uncertainties with my co-workers, and submitting edited articles for our magazine, which goes to the printer’s next week.

I feel ready for it.

After just a few more months of dancing to African drums.

New Moon Rising

It’s all happened much more quickly than I expected.

I have made friends with other international interns living in my downtown high-rise apartment. I have a diverse crowd of co-workers whom I greet every day at 9 am. I have a little blue car that I drive on the “wrong” side of the road all over the city.

I have never felt so grown up.

My car is called Herbie. His full name is Herbie the Half-Loaded Hyundai. Half-Loaded because he can't get past 40 km/hr on a hill, or 100 km/hr on the highways.

I did feel disoriented and dissatisfied my first weekend back. There were too many plans being made with too many new people. But I have a knack for landing great roommates, and when Jessie moved in on Sunday, everything started to come together. She’s interning as a photographer with the Cape Times for a month and her insistence that we do everything South Africa has to offer before she goes has rekindled my enthusiasm. I’ve come around. Completely. Cape Town is fantastic.

My new roommate and I at lunch in the Winelands outside Cape Town.

My days are devoured by the intense workload at the Treatment Action Campaign. TAC is South Africa’s premiere HIV/AIDS NGO. Their primary aim is greater access to HIV treatment for all South Africans. They work at this through both legal and educational means. Zackie Achmat, its HIV-positive founder, famously refused to take ARVs, the drugs that prevent HIV from escalating into AIDS, until the cost of the drugs was reduced and they were made available to all South Africans. His stance attracted the attention of Nelson Mandela, who visited him at his home and pleaded with him to begin treatment. He wasn’t swayed. The government announced that it would make ARVs available in the public sector in 2003. TAC is also behind the HIV-Positive t-shirts that have caught on around the world. The shirts were inspired by the story of the Danish king who voluntarily wore the yellow star that Jews were forced to wear during the Nazi regime, symbolizing his solidarity with them.

TAC throws real work at me every day, which is both exciting and intimidating. In my first few days alone, I had an article to write on HIV education in South African schools, a second one on sexually transmitted infections, a third on AIDS orphans, then a brochure to compile on how pregnant women who are HIV positive can prevent passing the virus on to their babies. I love the immediacy of the results – the brochure, for example, will be distributed to public clinics as soon as it has been printed. My co-workers are just as busy, but we do socialize during lunch or after work.

As soon as I step foot back in my apartment after 5 pm, there are already plans being made for evening activities. Living in the heart of downtown and having my own car has opened up a whole other world of entertainment possibilities. My friends and I hike up Lion’s Head or stroll along the Sea Point boardwalk for exercise, hit up bars and restaurants on more social nights. Jessie has plotted out daytrips for all the Saturdays and Sundays to come.

The "tablecloth" effect on Table Mountain, as seen from the top of Lion's Head.

I’m still finding Naartjie’s hair on my clothing and still missing dinners with my South African family, but –

I’m beginning again.