Philisa Abufasi Bethu

A summer that changed my life.

Beyond its phenomenal mountains, gorgeous vineyards, and beautiful oceans,Cape Town, South Africa, has another world:  broken-down tin shacks, gangs, violence, and poverty-stricken families. Cape Town has been my home for the past five years, and during the summer of 2012, I learned about the differences between the lives of the rich and the poor in ways that will stay with me forever.

That summer, I began my internship at Philisa Abufasi Bethu, an organization that means Heal Our Women in Xhosa. I became a leader of a youth workshop there, and taught young women aged 13-17 about HIV/AIDs, the importance of education, and ways to avoid and combat violence. As time passed, I developed close bonds with some of these young women and listened intently to their stories. One story stood out in particular.

A 17-year old girl named Shannon was recently kicked out of her house. Her parents were constantly arguing and her father was a drug addict. Shannon dropped out of high school, and the family struggled to put food on the table. The previous night, she had returned home with a terrible stomach ache. Her mother immediately accused her of being pregnant. Her mother was ashamed, and  kicked her out of the house, shouting,

“If you die, I won’t bury you!”

Shannon fled through the township and turned up at the doorsteps of Philisa Abufasi Bethu. Lucinda, the founder of the organization, invited Shannon into her home. Shannon’s stomach continued to throb. Lucinda called the local doctor to organize an appointment. The next appointment was two months away, and the emergency line was 10 hours long. Thousands of people in the township were in desperate need of healthcare.

Four days later, I asked Shannon what she wanted to be when she was older. She gave me a look of defeat and failure, and slowly mumbled

“Nothing.”

“Why nothing?”I asked her.

“What’s the point?”

I realized then how hurt she was.  It wasn’t her physical pain that struck me, but her emotional devastation. I needed to find a way to help--not just Shannon, but women and children throughout Africa who struggle daily against poverty and violence. When I left three weeks later, Shannon had still not received medical care.

Cape Town is just one city in Africa, a vast continent facing complicated problems.  In addition to South Africa, I’ve lived in Senegal, Gambia, Kenya, Uganda, and Gabon. I’ve been a part of French and English speaking communities, majority-Muslim and majority-Christian, urban and rural. I understand that the problems are not easy to fix, but I am determined to help find solutions that will make a real impact on the lives of young people like Shannon.

While in Cape Town, I have devoted my time to helping children in need.  I volunteered at a preschool in the Imizamo Yethu township, where I assisted teachers and helped with the feeding program. At the Desmond Tutu HIV/AIDS Youth Center, I taught kids how to use computers, and mentored teenagers including a 13-year old rapper who later performed for Barack Obama. I also volunteered to help teams of young soccer players at a community awareness event with first lady Michelle Obama.

I have learned that while powerful leaders and organizations contribute a great deal, it is the day to day work that matters most. Some of my best moments were simple ones and required little money--when communities organized talent shows, when the kids played soccer in the streets, and when we shared stories in the garden. But I have no illusions, the problems are complicated and so are the solutions.There is so much more I need to learn about economics, society, leadership, social health, psychology, and community development. I know that this learning occurs both in the community and in the classroom; that is why I am grateful to Shannon and the experiences I have had, and that is why I want to go to university.