"No matter how slow the film, spirit always stands still long enough for the photographer it has chosen."

"L.I.F.E. as they know it" begins at Rhodes University this Monday. There will be dozens of photos up on the Eden Grove concourse that each tell a fragment about somebody's life story. The happy, the sad, the inspiring, the illegal: the kids came through in a monumental way. They captured their lives, or segments of their lives, in 27 frames. They'll have a chance to show Rhodes University, and greater Grahamstown, how they live. Their thoughts. Their stories. They did the task at hand; not all of them, but many of them, and I couldn't be prouder, or happier.

Here's the poster that's been put up all over town--and all over campus--that advertises the show. I've received RSVPs from dozens of faculty and administration at Rhodes who say they'll be there for the opening. The kids arrive at 7. The guests arrive at 7:30. There will be gum boot dancing from Eluxolweni Shelter guys and hopefully, plenty of conversation about the kids' work. Here's hoping -

Everyone has a story. This is theirs.

The photo exhibit at Rhodes begins next Monday. I wanted to write up something small that people can read just before walking in. My aim in these couple paragraphs is to tell people about the project, about what the kids did, and warn them about some of the images contained within. I hope I struck a good balance. This is what the board at the front is to say.

"L.I.F.E-as they know it"

At the beginning of May, every child in grades five, six and seven at Amasango Career School was given disposable cameras through a grant provided by the Rochester, New York based SNAP "Seeking Needed Actions for Peace" Foundation (www.snapfoundation.org).

The assignment for these young men and women was really quite simple—and extraordinarily difficult. The children were asked to document their lives through the lens of a camera. They could take the camera wherever they wanted, whenever they wanted, for as long as they wanted, taking photographs of whatever they wish. The only catch was they had just 27 frames to tell their story: to provide people with insight about what makes them happy, what makes them sad, what frightens them and what inspires them.

It is my hope that these photographs—moments frozen forever in time—provide everyone with just a little insight into the lives of these children; that these photographs showcase the humanity of children who are too often treated as less than human; that these photographs serve as a reminder that despite the fact that we may come from very different worlds, eventually, we must come to the realization that we all live in the same society.

Contained within this room are fragments of the lives of more than thirty children. As you walk around, keep in mind that these photographs are just part of a life, the beginning or middle of an ongoing story. Their laughter, their families, their joy, their pride, and yes, their problems. Life isn't always easy. Life isn't always fun. The photographs reflect that.

Everyone has a story. This is theirs.

- Jason Torreano

"The truth is rarely pure and never simple." - Oscar Wilde

I picked up the contact sheets yesterday from Kodak Grahamstown.

32 children returned their cameras and many of the photos are remarkable. Through this exhibit, and through the photographs, the children will have given anyone who looks at this exhibit an uncensored look at their lives. There are images from school, images from Eluxolweni Shelter, images of family and friends, from around town, and images in the township.

There are also 5 or 6 images of kids doing drugs. Crystal clear images of faces, pipes and what is believed to be Mandrax. I suppose it shouldn't surprise me. I asked the children to take pictures of anything in their lives that tells a story of who they are. The student photographers who took these photos of their drug use--and abuse--were perhaps the most honest and most faithful to the task at hand: of taking photos of their day to day lives.

While I appreciate the honesty conveyed in these photos, should they be shown? I don't have any qualms with showing the images when I return home to New York as the abusers are half a world away. In Grahamstown though, they're right down the street. I am going to talk to Kodak about seeing if faces can be blurred. The exhibit promised to be an enterprising, gritty look at the lives of children from Amasango. Without these photographs, the exhibit won't be entirely truthful. Drugs, and issues surrounding drug usage, are a part of these students' lives. It shouldn't dominate the exhibit, but in my opinion, it shouldn't be excluded.

I asked them to tell a truthful story about their lives through the lens of a camera. I suppose I got exactly what I asked for.

Not black and white

I was walking through Rhodes yesterday with a friend of mine from Zimbabwe and she and I ran into a mutual South African friend of ours, Atha (and fellow Rhodes student). I hadn't seen Atha in a while so we took a couple minutes to catch up.

I am still quite angry about the racial-profiling and socio-economic profiling (as in poor looking people are immediately suspects) at Rhodes, so I was telling her about that. I also told Atha I felt odd being a white, foreign guy standing up to black security guards about the rights of black children.

She shook her head in disgust about what had happened to the kids and said "Jason, you want to see some of the most prejudiced people? Look no further than blacks on other blacks. It's not just white on black, no no no. It's a class thing. It's really not just white against black."

Her words really struck a chord with me. She's a black South African. Apartheid fell only 13 years ago. Her parents would not have been able to eat in the same place as whites, or live in the same place as whites, or really exist, except as domestic workers (butler or maid or gardener) in the same place as whites, and there seems to be no hard feelings. She doesn't see the South African fight against inequality in black and white terms.

For her, and for countless other whites and blacks I've met during my time in this country, it's never been a fight where it's white versus black. It's a fight with the ignorant versus the informed ; where fair and unfair square off; a battle with just versus unjust, it's a fight where millions of South Africans, regardless of skin color, have often found themselves on common ground.

There are nice white people and nice black people. There are terrible white people and terrible black people. Skin pigmentation has no affect on how informed or misinformed you are.

Atha says so. I believe her.

Rhodes response

Dear Jason:

Thank you for your email dated 21 May. I regret these incidents and
have asked the Vice-Principal, Dr Colin Johnson to deal with the
matter.

Yours sincerely,

Saleem Badat




Dear Jason:

Thank you for you email to Dr Badat which was brought to my attention. The issue of the RU culture and what we project is of great concern to us. The equity committee is in the process of addressing the matter, the challenge is to change practices and how to communicate at the coal face.

Regards,

Dr. Colin Johnson

Racial-profiling and fighting back

I brought a couple more students from Amasango to Rhodes with me last week. No, wait a minute; I tried to bring a couple students from Amasango to Rhodes with me last week and was stopped by the security guards. I was allowed to come onto campus, but they were not. I argued and argued and argued. It didn't work. Shortly after this latest incident, I spoke with my former professors and they advised me to write a letter. The letter will be sent to the Vice-Chancellor, the Dean of International Students, and the Dean of Students. I found it a total reversal of roles to be a white, foreign guy arguing with black men about the rights of black children. Here's the letter, and here's hoping.

Dean Marius Vermaak:

My name is Jason Torreano. I was an international exchange student at Rhodes University from February 2006 – June 2006. During my time at Rhodes, I volunteered several times per week with Amasango Career School and Eluxolweni Shelter.

I returned to Grahamstown this past April to volunteer full time with the school and shelter. I’m also a visiting researcher in the History Department under the guidance of Ms. Carla Tsampiras.

As part of a project I’m pursuing with Amasango, I’ve given out dozens of 27-shot disposable cameras to children in grades 5, 6 and 7. The children were asked to take pictures of anything that sums up their lives. I’m printing the photos and they will be on display in Rochester, New York sometime after I return home in July. They’re also going to be on display at this university in early June. I’m writing to express some concerns I have with Rhodes.

During the week of May 14, 2007, I brought a couple of the students I’m working with on this photo project at Amasango and Eluxolweni to Rhodes. I have been taking a couple students on campus with me each time I come so they can see Rhodes, experience just a small slice of life at a university even if it’s just walking around the grounds for 10 minutes, and perhaps plant a seed in their head that if they work hard, they too, might one day be able to attend a university of this calibre.

As we were walking onto campus, we were stopped by a Hi-Tech guard and questioned. I explained to the guard I was a former student and was currently doing research under the History Department and that these students were with me. He refused to allow us to enter and called over an officer from the Campus Protection Unit. I explained to this second officer that these students were with me and that we were going to walk around Rhodes. This second officer informed me that no visitors are allowed on campus and said I may come, but that the students with me would not be able to walk any further. I was not willing to comply with this ludicrous arrangement nor was I in a state of mind to speak with this officer regarding his assertion that no visitors are allowed on campus, or how these guards determine who is a visitor and who’s not. Therefore, we all left.

I understand that Rhodes University must protect its students, staff and faculty. I understand that there are incidents with theft and violence within the boundaries of the Rhodes campus. I understand these guards have a difficult job to do. I do not, and will never, feel it is fair to suspect every young, black, male who so much as places a foot on this campus of being a liability.

I did go speak later in the day to people at CPU about this incident and they said as long as the children check in with me at CPU headquarters, they will be permitted on campus. I have since brought a couple students back on campus with me and did follow CPU’s wishes. The first day I went to check in, the officer at the counter seemed to be baffled as to why I was bringing these students to show him. It was obvious the officers I had spoken with the day before never communicated to their co-workers what they had told me. I decided at that point to not bring the students to CPU any longer. It is a degrading practice that I regret going along with at all.

I feel as though if these students were dressed in St. Andrew’s uniforms, they would not have been stopped. I feel as though they were singled out, again, because they were young, black, male and not dressed like typical Rhodes students. Rhodes is always stressing that it is a part of the Grahamstown community, but events like the ones from the week of May 14 make me seriously question the validity of that statement.

I do hope that you take the time to consider all the ramifications for Rhodes, and for these Amasango students—fellow Grahamstown residents—of kicking them off campus.

Sincerely,




Jason Torreano

"Desperation is the raw material of drastic change. Only those who can leave behind everything they have ever believed in can hope to escape."

Mr. Knife came to school today. He was released last night from jail. He's a minor, so they don't keep him locked up for more than two days.

I really didn't want to see him. I didn't want to be near him. I didn't want to talk to him. But he wanted to talk to me.

He came to the 7th grade classroom I was in and asked me to come outside. A bit angry and a bit sad, he told me he wanted to run away. "Jay-Sen, my name, it's dirty now," he said. "Everyone knows my name and it's dirty."

I'm still pretty angry about Saturday and I wasn't willing to give him a free pass, so I looked at him and said "And who did that? Who made your name dirty? You did that."

He started again with "but he said I don't have a father and.."

I had it at that point and cut him off. "You can't go around stabbing
everyone who says something you don't like," I replied hastily. "I stood up for you at Rhodes. I put my reputation on the line when I told the guard you wouldn't do anything and you came back and stabbed him. You lied to me. You are the reason you have a bad name."

He looked at me and started crying. The boy who whipped out a knife and stabbed a kid in the back three times was in front of me with tears welling up in his eyes. "It's best for me to run away. My name, it's not good here anymore," he said again. "And they want to send me to Queenstown."

Queenstown is a facility that helps students like this boy overcome tremendous obstacles and hopefully rehabilitates them in a way that keeps them out of prison.

I looked at him again and said "I have fought very hard for you (and I have). I think it is the best thing for you to go. I'm not happy that you have to go. It will be sad to see you leave, but you must go. You need help. You're smart, but you have issues with anger."

He said, "I can work on that (his anger). I would like to stay till July then I'll go because you'll be gone then maybe I will go."

"No," I replied. "You could do something that will put you in jail again by then. You really have got to go now." He started crying again. I want him to go. I think somewhere in himself he realizes he's got to go. The principal wants him to go.

It's odd how quickly my anger wears away. On Saturday, I really didn't want to see him ever again. Even this morning, I wasn't fully prepared to see him. When he came to school, I was prepared to just ignore him. When you sit down and talk to him and realize how lost he is, you can't help but let that anger fall away. He just doesn't know what to do and you can't help but feel sorry for him. You can't help but see the humanity right under that tough outer shell. You can't help but see the vulnerable little guy that's caught up in drug addiction, and yes, unspeakable violence. You can't help but want to give them a second chance.

"But you say you want to see me," he said. "Right? You say you want to see me. You won't see me again if I go to Queenstown."

He's right. I won't.

But maybe, just maybe, he'll be given one last chance and he'll take it.

"Jay-SEN, he told me I don't have a father and that makes me very angry. I want to cry but I have to be strong and I will get revenge."

The kids at Amasango School and Eluxolweni Shelter have begun to figure out that I have favorites. In an attempt to try and calm this tension and jealousy, I told the boys at the shelter that anyone who wanted to come do a video workshop at Rhodes could this Saturday. It was an open invitation of sorts. I thought I might get two or three kids and I would have been perfectly happy with just two or three. Thirteen eager kids showed up at the arch, ready to learn. I thought thirteen kids, two cameras worth hundreds of dollars would be a recipe for disaster. To my surprise, it went very well.

The kids were fantastic (all thirteen of them). We (Judy and I) took them to Dulce, an ice cream shop in the wealthier, whiter part of town and each kid got a small cone.

Another boy who used to live in the shelter, but now lives in the township was tagging along. I had the kids come into Dulce two at a time, choose their ice cream, and then go stand outside. Having them all come in at once was going to be far too much. The thirteen shelter boys were okay with doing this. The one former shelter boy was not happy with this arrangement and refused to stand outside. I told him "if you don't leave, I'm not going to buy you ice cream."

He didn't leave. He didn't get ice cream. Unhappy with this arrangement, he walked outside and stole one of the kid's ice cream right from his hands. There was a brief exchange of words in Xhosa. I walked across the street and tried to get the ice cream back but he wouldn't give it to me. I knew he had a knife with him, so I just let it go.

The shelter kids, Judy and I were walking back toward Jane's house with all the equipment and this child pulled his knife and was trying to stab the boy whose ice cream he had stolen! A couple shelter boys quickly got between the two and the knife-wielding child backed off. Though he distanced himself from the group, he kept following us, so I told the kids (who were carrying all the camera equipment) to walk right through the center of Rhodes University. They usually walk around the perimeter of the campus because they know they're not welcome but I said "You're with me and Mama Judy and you'll be fine at Rhodes."

I figured if this boy tried to pull his knife at Rhodes, the guards would be there to take him out. When we got on the Rhodes campus, I had the other kids sit by themselves and I just talked to Mr. Knife because he and I do have a decent relationship. We talked. And talked. And talked. And talked--for close to two hours.

He told me he was sorry he had stolen the ice cream because he knew I had paid for it but that this boy had gotten him "very angry."

I asked him why. He looked at me, looked down and shook his head saying nothing. Again, I asked "why?" Again, he said nothing. I tried once more, "Tell me, what did he do that would make you want to stab him."

He looked up still very angry and said, "Jay-SEN, he told me I don't have a father and that makes me very angry. I want to cry but I have to be strong and I will get revenge."

I begged him to give me the knife, but he wouldn't. The shelter boys just sat on the lawn playing with the camera equipment, waiting for me. I thought I had gotten through to him and he said he'd go and apologize to this boy. I took him up and he shook the kid's hand, said "Sorry" following it up with a couple sentences in Xhosa. The other boy smiled, responded with a "sorry," again accompanied by a couple words in Xhosa. Though I didn't know what they were saying, they both smiled so I figured we'd diffused the situation.

Just as the two were finishing their apologies, the guard approached me and was ready to escort the boy, who doesn't have a stellar reputation, from campus. Knowing that he had a knife and believing that the knife would resurface if the guard grabbed him, I told the guard "He won't do anything...I'll just walk him off thanks."

This boy returned to campus about 5 minutes after I escorted him off, grabbed the boy who he'd just apologized to and stabbed him three times in the back. By the time I realized what was going on, it was over. I pulled the stabber off and shoved him. He ran away. We called the shelter. The house parents from Eluxolweni rushed to Rhodes, grabbed the stabber and put him in the car. The victim was taken to the hospital. He has three stab wounds in his back/shoulder area, but he'll be alright.

The other boy is now in jail.

"Ghetto children do ya thing, hold ya head up little man you're a king." -Nas

As Xolisani and Mango and I were walking back across the Rhodes campus yesterday, something struck me again about why I admire these two guys so much. They don't change who they are to fit in, even when it might be easier to do so. They are who they are. You can take them or leave them...but what you see is what you get. Here's what I mean:

Xolisani had too much water at dinner and really needed to pee. He told me to "hang on a second." He needed to go to the bathroom. Rather than waiting to get to a toilet, he was prepared to just go in one of the lush,immaculate, manicured, landscaped gardens at Rhodes. Aside from the problem of going in a garden that people spend hours maintaining, there was very little privacy with people walking around. But, with Xolisani, if he had to go, he had to go.

When I explained to him that he'd have to wait until we found a bathroom, he said "I do this all the time in Joza. It's not a problem"

Joza is the township on the other side of Grahamstown (the "other" Grahamstown not filled with high-end cars and money). I eventually convinced him that whipping it out and just going in one of the gardens would be something that would probably be frowned upon at Rhodes. He didn't agree, but he did, for my sake, wait until we found some porcelain, to relieve himself.

After this little adventure, we were walking down a flight of stairs outside one of the new buildings at Rhodes. Rather than use the hand railing, they decided it would be fun to slide down the rail.

Was it something most Rhodes students do? Absolutely not.

Was it something I did when I was a student here? Nope.

Was it something I might have wanted to do, but never did because I was afraid of the looks I might get? Absolutely.

They weren't hurting anyone. They weren't hurting any property. They were just being themselves and having a grand old time.

After this little rail adventure, we were walking down High Street and Mzwabantu (Mango) was happy about the good day he had just had. In high spirits, he smiled, waved and said "hello" to a stranger walking by us on the street. The man, not bothering to listen to what Mango had said, picked up the pace and said "I don't have any money."

Mango laughed, looked at me and said, "You see that? I say hello. He says, 'I don't have any money.' You see? I don't ask for money. I say hello he says 'I don't have any money.'" Mango shook his head, laughed it off and we kept walking.

This man has probably been in Grahamstown a long time and has had kids like Mango come up to him day after day after day and ask for cash. But, how long would it have taken him to just listen to the "Hello" and discover for himself that Mango's "hello" was just that: a "hello." It was not some attempt at getting his cash. It probably would have taken this man a second, maybe two seconds, but instead he kept walking.

People walk by these kids every day and just dismiss them as troublemakers. They're probably the same people who want to slide down the rail at Rhodes...but don't because they afraid of the looks they'll get. These "troublemakers" could probably teach some of these uptight Grahamstownians a lesson...if they could only utter a few words before somebody hurries off with a "I don't have any money."

South Africa: the rainbow nation where some get all the sunshine, but most get only the rain.

Week 1 at Amasango has gone rather well. While it might not be right, I definitely favor two of the older students. Mzwabantu (Mango), who I really liked last year, and one of his friends: 7th grade student Xolisani.

Yesterday, after school, we walked to Rhodes University where I had the two of them read letters that kids from Williamsville, New York wrote to their "South African pen-pals." Mzwabantu and Xolisani were so excited about the prospect of writing to kids in America that I thought I'd bring them to the computer labs on campus so they could compose an e-mail and I'd send it off.

While we were walking across campus, two security guards approached the three of us and were speaking quickly in Xhosa. I had no idea what the guards were saying but Mango looked really angry and hurt. When I began speaking, the guards switched over to English and asked me what they (Mango and Xolisani) were doing on campus. He wanted to escort them to the street because he thought they'd cause trouble.

I understand that crime is a very real problem in South Africa. I also understand a lot gets stolen from Rhodes. However, these two kids were not breaking car windows or sneaking around behind bushes. They were walking happily along a path in Rhodes. They were singled out because they looked poor. They had on tattered clothing--which apparently set off alarm bells for these guards.

I assured the guard that the two of them were with me. He said "what are they doing here?"

I replied "They're with me."

He again asked "Yes, what are they doing here?"

I replied again "They're with me," a bit angrier this second time.

Again, "Yes, they're with you, but what are they doing here?"

I wanted to say "F--- off buddy. They're with me and it's none of your damn business." but I said "They're with me and you have nothing to worry about. I was a student here and I'm taking my friends around, thank you."

With that, he said "okay" and let us go. The moderately well dressed American who had been a student at Rhodes was the only thing that kept the two of them on campus--and that's really sad. If it weren't for me, it seems as though a walk around a university that caters to "haves" in South Africa was totally out of the question for "have nots" like Mango and Xolisani.

Although we may have won the battle against the guards and we were able to go to the computer labs, the damage was already done. Mzwabantu and Xolisani knew why we were stopped. They were poor. They looked poor. They were at a university for rich kids; a place they didn't belong. Xolisani seemed a little hurt. Mango was really angry.

The anger Mango possesses is not a good thing, but in some ways, at least to me, it's admirable. If I had not been there, Mango probably would have ended up back outside the borders of Rhodes, but he would not have gone quietly. He would have become the bad kid the guard assumed he was. He would have run. He would have kicked the guard. He might have even stabbed the guard had he had any sharp object with him. In short, Mango would have ended up on his ass outside, but the guard would certainly have some war wounds from the altercation. It's not good to have this anger, but how many of us would be alright knowing we weren't welcome to even walk around a place because of our appearance?

South Africa's always talking about bridging the gap between rich and poor and diminishing the scars of apartheid. Throwing poor looking people off campus certainly isn't a way to accomplish this goal.