Arguing with myself

I live in a bubble.

I often do my work (transcribing interviews, writing manuscripts, playing minesweeper, etc) away from the office these days at the Woolworth’s Wellness Cafe. It’s a lovely big, open cafe with big windows overlooking the main road that let the sunshine stream in. I come for the free internet, the relaxing atmosphere, coffees, smoothies, and the delicious lunch buffet similar to Weaver Street.

Yet in my head, my constantly running inner dialogue continues to point out how this place is an obvious haven for the wealthy white population. That while in Africa, I have found a place where white people come to be served by black employees wheatgrass health shots, super-protein blasted banana smoothies, and organic chicken salad with lemon garlic dressing and fresh fruit.

I’m not sure what it means, and exactly how bad it is. By coming to the Wellcafe to write up conversations about the most marginalised people in South Africa, am I continuing a cycle of hypocrisy and supporting all those buzz words like “structural violence,” and “disempowerment”? Or is the simple reality that I enjoy being here—where I can leave my computer to go to the bathroom without fear that it will all be gone when I return, and sip overpriced yet delicious coffee—enough to silence my inner dialogue and allow me to simply enjoy the moment?

At what point does enjoying the nice things in life mean I’m actively participating in the unfair inequalities of the world?

A good friend of mine told me that he visited a township very briefly during the first few weeks of moving to Cape Town and sees no point in ever returning. “I’ve seen slums all over the world, Cape Town is no different. There is no reason for me to ever be there.”

And in a way, it’s perfectly true. If you’re not going to do anything about it, then there’s no reason to be there.

But if I DO plan to “do something about it,” do I still have a reason to be there? Or can I do just as good of a job while living my comfortable life?

I think I’ve decided—at least for now—that it’s all a balance. For me, I need the inner dialogue that notices how privileged I am to have a place like the Wellness Cafe. And I think what the biggest problem is with places like this isn’t the fact some people live very comfortably, but that most people’s inner dialogue have been silenced by years and years of comfort. We get lulled into a false sense of “normalcy” in our little bubble, we think we deserve it, we remind ourselves how hard we’ve worked for this comfortable life, and we forget there’s a whole big world out there that doesn’t get to have lamb stew and Moroccan couscous for lunch.

But if actions speak louder than words, there’s no difference between me eating a fantastic lunch in a comfy place and “feeling bad about it,” and the person who eats the same meal and is oblivious to the fact they’re incredibly lucky. At the same time, I’m not doing any significant good by moving out to the townships and vowing to a life of poverty.

All this arguing with myself is kinda exhausting—I think I need a pick-me-up latte before I start work again.