They told us to simply listen to their stories. This was the only piece of advice, we, the Bafana Bafana’s were given before our surprise trip to Sir Lowry’s Pass to spend the night. It may have seemed lacking at the time, but nothing could have prepared us for our encounter. Anything gained had no doubt been truly experienced; it had been soaked in from all angles. I’ve come to realize the heart of this trip has been a beautiful combination of observation and analysis.
We started out blindly by listening to the voices and stories of the people, our new families. We saw the bare feet, the cinderblock houses. Nobody missed the mangy dogs or the trash lining the road. We could smell the amazing meals wafting out of the windows of the houses, and they tasted even better. We smelled the soap the people used, since many don’t have showers. Nobody will forget how little legs feel wrapped tight around our waists, and the feeling of little hands running themselves through our foreign hair. Or the way the wind sounded as it blew straight through the cracks of the little houses.
All these feelings, sights, smells - they all contribute to something bigger. Because that extra long hug I got from one of the little girls wasn’t just another ordinary hug. After soaking everything about Sir Lowry’s Pass, I knew we were giving the people there something they could hold onto long after we are gone.
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