Amy Biehl Foundation

Be sure to check out the pictures below this from our Nature Tour and the entry below that which details our last two days in South Africa.

September 28, 2005
Cape Town

Excerpt from Heather’s Journal:

If we considered Monday a washout then today would certainly receive the same status. I found the field program to be a complete waste and was terribly disappointed in our experience at the townships. The trip was scheduled to last from nine thirty in the morning to five o’clock in the evening and we spent most of that time on the bus. I was so excited about the Amy Biehl Foundation and had hoped, according to the itinerary, to see the children at school learning how to read and playing musical instruments. Almost as soon as we stepped on the bus our tour guide told us that the kids were on holiday and thus the school would be deserted except for a group that would perform solely for us.

Our first stop was in the city at the foundation headquarters and took much longer than planned because a group of the students decided to stop for coffee. How thoughtful of them. Finally we drove to the township and walked to the spot where Amy Biehl was killed during the apartheid movement. It is a really touching story about Amy who was working to better the townships and killed in the political fire between the blacks and whites. Her parents have set up the foundation to continue her work and after the four men that killed her appeared at the Truth and Reconciliation Commission, they spent five years in prison and now two of them who participated in the stoning and stabbing have befriended the Biehls and work closely with the foundation. We were told that later in the tour we might have the chance to meet two of them.

Megan writes, “Wearing what I consider my most inconspicuous and unobtrusive apparel, blue jeans, tennis shoes, and a long sleeve gray semester at sea shirt, I departed for the Amy Biehl Foundation located in the city of Cape Town. The tour bus parked a block away and we were soon transported from the chilly breeze of the morning to the inside floor where our bags were searched and each person had to walk through a metal detector. Heather had to remove her belt, as she has so often done at airports. We met the people in the office and watched an eight-minute video about the project followed by a question and answer session. From there we departed for the primary school. No, no, I should probably be more specific. After waiting an hour for some students who decided the coffee shop was the next sojourn on our tour, we then left for the primary school.”

Our second stop was at the primary school where a small group performed, which was enjoyable, though far from the experience we expected. Before lunch we stopped at the Amy Biehl driving range that teaches children to golf and wasted time while some students attempted to hit some golf balls. Lunch was back in the township, which we did not eat because we were told it was thirteen US dollars and upon arrival they changed it to eighty rand, US dollars not accepted. Megan and I had prepared far in advance though for the likelihood that lunch would not appeal to us and had packed the largest grannie smith apples you have ever seen, peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, granola bars, Oreo cookies, Capri Suns and water. We ate our lunch on the bus while everyone else sat at the township restaurant and we were very glad that we did not eat with the group when we saw the cooks and waiters coming out from the kitchen into the alleyway to take a leak before returning to the kitchen and the task of serving the students. Kids were picking through the trash and pulling out used soda cans that they smashed flat, leaving the top and bottom to wrap around their sneakers to create a sort of tap shoe. It was quite interesting to see how much fun their aluminum coke can shoes provided them and the smiles on their faces.


Excerpt from Megan’s Journal:

Before that we made a brief hiatus to the spot where Amy Biehl was murdered. I should add that the Biehl’s (if you are not familiar with the story) later forgave the four murderers and that two of them actually work for the Foundation in helping to improve children’s lives. It is an amazing story of sadness, hope and future. The father of Amy Biehl has passed away but Linda, the mother, still has a special place in her heart for Cape Town and makes frequent visits. A special recording to the students on this trip from semester at sea was played for us later in the day. Additionally, one of the assassins was going to be meeting the group later, our tour guide informed us of this detail.

At the primary school we were told that it was a five-day holiday for the children and no one was around. The Foundation had managed to coerce a couple children to come perform, which was the highlight of the day (which isn’t saying much once you read the remainder of this fabulous adventure). I shouldn’t foreshadow too much though so, after about an hour we left the primary school in the township to go to the golf course. Golf is viewed as an activity for those with money and this special golf course is for “everyone.” Children from the schools are given classes and several of them hope to become the next Tiger Woods.

After half an hour we made a stop for lunch in which I decided not to participate. Heather and I packed an apple, granola bar, peanut butter crackers, Oreo cookies, and a Capri sun (some of the items we saved from our boxed lunch the day before). We saw several of the people while we sat on the bus; including cooks come out of the back and go to the bathroom. The place was dirty, littered with trash and the sanitation issue was a major concern for me. If only everyone else was aware of the fact that several cooks with red and white aprons came out to relieve themselves at the trash area of the building, there on the wall, in the dirt, and return to the kitchen, they may have been a little wary.

Excerpt from Heather’s Journal:

We watched the Sixty Minutes presentation about Amy Biehl and her killers on the ship before arriving in Africa and Megan asked me at the start of the tour if our guide was one of the men involved in the attack. “I don’t think so! Why would our tour guide be one of the men that murdered her?” I said. Well she was right! I never would have expected that. He has been very involved with the foundation and I am just shocked that we spent eight hours with a man that stabbed and stoned another girl our age.

Megan writes, “The most surprising element was when the tour guide told us who he really was. The entire day, a wonderful man, friendly, humorous, normal. He was one of the men to kill Amy Biehl. I would never have known. I understand the method, show us the real person now, and then tell us his past, but I was shocked. He said at the time it wasn’t just that she was white, it was that she was American. To kill a white American was like killing ten whites. Still I am speechless.”

At last we were able to take a tour through the township, and it is amazing to see the variety of materials that these people use to create a home. But they are so friendly and love to smile and wave as if they have not a care in the world. Of course the conditions are horrible and they have a long way to go to correct the injustice that these people have suffered. As we walked around the kids flocked to the group, mostly becoming attached to students that took their pictures and showed them on the digital screens. Somehow one of the little girls, the cutest if I say so myself, decided to walk with me and put her hand on my leg just above my knee which gradually worked its way up until she had a light grip on my back pocket, which loosely translates to my butt. It was so cute that Megan and I just laughed until she found someone else to cling to.

Excerpt from Megan’s Journal:

We left for the township once more and walked the dust-covered streets for twenty minutes, children following us everywhere. I have never felt to isolated. So many students taking photos of these people and their lives. I felt ashamed to be stealing their existence in the click of a camera shutter, to return home to my safe environment and travel the world. It doesn’t seem fair. I heard one man say to a girl who was taking an incredible amount of pictures of his home, “Are you going to pay me for that?” We don’t ask, we don’t get to know these people, say hi, or start a small conversation, we just take. In the end I took several of some children, one who walked beside Heather with her hand on her pant leg. The hand found its way to Heather’s butt and we all laughed. The little girl was so cute and smiled when she saw herself on the camera screen. Now that I am writing these events they seem more defined.

We left the township, our tour guide telling us that many of the people told him that we are better than the white people. White people refers to many of the South Africans in the area, not foreigners and it made me feel a little better, like we made some small difference in the day.

The shacks are small, constructed of wooden strips, tin slates and roofs, and battered doors. Electrical lines all flow directly into the main source. The constructions are like quilts, but flawed in their composition. It seems like everyday is probably laundry day. For people with very little, clean clothes is important. Even the barefoot children’s clothes appear clean, though covered in dry dust from their daily escapades.

Excerpt from Heather’s Journal:

Then we were finally on our way back to the waterfront when our tire became impelled with a rock and we were forced to stop and make repairs, totaling another hour and a half on a hot bus in the middle of the townships, and I had to use the restroom.

Megan writes, “We left to return to the ship, the bus breaking down and us stranded for an hour and a half. We could not get off the bus we were told, and the air conditioning seemed more like heat. It wan an oven. To sum up the day, a waste, a complete waste. Some of my musing now makes the moments seem a little more worthwhile, but I was disappointed. Feeling like I have wasted two days in South Africa it is a welcome relief to know we have two additional days.”

To make a long story short we made it back, changed some more currency over after locating the nearest ladies room and walked around the waterfront. We picked out a beautiful little restaurant called the Little Mermaid that looks out over the water and Table Mountain to have dinner at tomorrow and found ourselves at the Cape Town Tourism Center. Professor Eastman told us about a wonderful reserve she went to yesterday for a game drive that is two hours away. They were taken to the reserve in a Mercedes, served five star food, and were no more than four feet from a herd of giraffes. So it is not Kenya, and there are no Maasai, no hot air-balloons, and no elephants, but there are giraffes, lions, zebras, wildebeest, eland and ostrich, 4x4 jeeps, a wonderful lodge and excellent food. We booked a safari on Sunday from six thirty in the morning until five o’clock. On ship time is nine o’clock and we are told that we will most likely be back sooner than five. Professor Eastman said it was absolutely wonderful, and being a much smarter, wiser, adult than many students who have booked trips we decided to give it a go. Of course nothing can replace Kenya, but at least Megan will get to see her giraffes. It was only one hundred and thirty dollars, which is fairly reasonable in the way of a safari since it is a private game reserve called Aquila.

Excerpt from Megan’s Journal:

I had to tell Heather though that I would not buy one more giraffe, in which I could easily buy about three or four, until she purchased something for herself. She says as long as she is happy with her purchases it has nothing to do with how much I have. Of course she has practically forced me to buy this giraffe item and that giraffe item left and right. Tomorrow is our visit to Table Mountain followed by a day of shopping at the markets. Beads are the major item on our list. We will eat lunch at St. Elmo’s Wood Fired Pizzeria and dinner either at the Little Mermaid or the Blue Dolphin, which will include a glass of wine in honor of Nana’s 75th birthday. I am smelly and exhausted. Bad day. Good night.

Excerpt from Heather’s Journal:

When we returned to the ship for dinner we were greeted by the dining room staff, of whom many we have not seen in some time because they have been off duty and don’t usually work in the fifth deck dining room. Ormond asked about our day, which we explained was not so good, and upon leaving he presented us with a gigantic chocolate chip cookie for each of us, which of course made everything seem a little better. Extra brownie points for him, or should I say cookie points.

Tomorrow we are going to Table Mountain with another couple and would like to eat lunch at St. Elmo’s Wood-Fired Pizzeria, shop at the markets, and eat dinner at the Little Mermaid with a glass of African wine and think about Nana whom we miss very much and know that she will be that much closer to us on top of Table Mountain.