Big White Smile, Big Brown Eyes

Big White Smile, Big Brown Eyes
by John Timothy Byrne

Our driver pulled the van off to the side of the road. We had arrived in the Cape Flats, a collection of settlements and townships on the outskirts of Cape Town, South Africa. As the engine turned down my anticipation for this moment became a mix of enthusiasm and nervous anxiety. A thin piece of glass is all that separated me from a world I had imagined to be so foreign, yet this neighbourhood felt strangely familiar.

Our guide, a tall, slender, South African gentleman, turned from his position in the front of the van. He had a soft voice, his accent a blend of the King’s English and his native Kosa tongue. In one role as an entertainer, and in another a scholar, he shared his life story. This story, like that of his nation, was a testimony of inspiration and hope leaving the listener with the message that South Africa and its people were moving forward into a new generation triumphantly. It was a message he hoped we would see in the community that we were to soon visit.

Stepping out of the van and into the dry warmth I erected myself. The hardness of the ground awakened my body, the scene before me overwhelmed my senses. Children playing, adults chatting, neighbors shouting at one another, all within the every-day pace of life. Our arrival caused little stir, the intrusion of a handful of white tourists was not so out of the ordinary.

For me this environment was out of the ordinary. It would take me a few minutes to become acclimated, to process my thoughts and decide what to do next. Stepping away from the van, I separated myself from the others, their presence highlighting the disparity between our lives and those of our hosts, a circumstance I hated. Slowly I moved toward the center of the road. With each step my movement became less mechanical. Stopping in the middle of the road, feeling more at ease, I managed to nod hello to the adults gazing in my direction. My eyes moved to their homes, a term I use lightly. Although this was one of the Cape Flats more developed areas, developed meant the homes were one-story with four brick walls, a single pipe with running water and a line for electricity. These were the “model” homes that the administration had committed to build 2 million of in five years. This would be a major accomplishment and a sign of the new era’s ability to move past the horrors and injustice of the past. Instinctively I began to determine the quality of each families life by assessing their individual properties, well kept or not well kept. It was a sixth- sense I acquired years before when as a door-to-door salesman in Baltimore I would determine the households most likely to purchase one or more of my Electrolux vacuum cleaners. Today I did not see any potential buyers, but I did see happiness and pride.
`
In between a few of the homes I noticed what appeared to be businesses. Moving closer I discovered these to be a bar and the neighborhood grocery store. Aroused by the rhythm of the music and enchanted by the chiming of glass bottles, I was drawn toward the pub, my cousin Annie by my side. In only a glance I could see in her eyes an expression of caution, bordering close to disaproval. Speaking without words is a gift of hers and at this moment she was telling me to hold back, if we acted on my thoughts we would not be leaving this place until the next day. A condition neither of us feared, but one that would throw us off of our itinerary for taking in the other offerings of the Mother City.

But I had to act, my body, my mind would not let me leave this place strictly an outsider. This, after all, was not the Smithsonian. I was being given the chance to interact, albeit, only for a few brief hours. I looked back to the market, then over to a group of children. I glanced over at Annie, this time I had her approval, my thoughts in line with our overall plan. Toward the store I went. Passing through the open door I entered into what was a small shop, no isles or walk-in coolers, only chicken wire and a counter separated the customer from the goods. My body tightened, I took a deep breath and cleared my throat. Although we both spoke English the store attendant and I had vastly different versions. It took a little effort but we managed to sort through the confusion. The exchange was made, done deal.

Exiting the store I took a few steps in the direction from which I had entered and was once again the middle of the road. Within moments I realized that things could get a little beyond my control. I would need help and fast, circumstance I had found myself in before, and many times since. This is the predictable consequence when one practices the philosophy of do now and ask later. Thankfully on this occasion my help was readily at hand.

“Is it Ok ?” I asked.
“Of course, the chidren will enjoy a treat.” Our guide replied

We both smiled as the first of the children approached me. As quickly as one appeared there came a second, then a third, soon five...ten...a handful that quickly became a large mass. Stepping forward our guide took command, ordering out the rules of engagement.

“No candy for anyone who acts out” he barked. His voice losing any reflection of the softness I had known.
“All of you in que.... only one piece for each” He finished, sternly.

The children obeyed, hastily moving into order. I think they had been threw this drill before. Soon in front of me stood one child, a line of others behind, each no taller then my waist. The first little hand reached up.

“Here you go little dude, enjoy !” I passed along a treat.
“Thank you sir” he replied, accepting my offer.

The process repeated itself over and over again. After a short time I becaame more and more anxious. Would I have enough?.......Thankfully I did, the children disappearing at the same time as the candy.

Soon the brilliance of day faded into early night fall. We collected ourselves and boarded the van. I settled into my place in the back, reversing the steps I had taken upon landing here. The engine started, we began the slow rumble down the dirt road. I gazed out the back window, my eyes caught upon one target. I struggled to keep it in focus as the distance became greater and greater. Finally the dust took over and distance prevailed, my memory locked on one image - Big White Smile, Big Brown Eyes.

Straight talk on staying straight

In its October 26th edition the Citypaper published an interview with Tod Lending who's documentary, Omar and Pete, aired on PBS as part of their P.O.V. series. The reporter closes with the observation that veiwers, like himself, will be left asking temsleves what else could be done do to help individuals like Omar:

"This documentary brought into clear light the many difficulties we face as a community when confronting the problems of crime, addiction and poverty. Certainly our community would benefit if more resources were directed to the individuals and programs dedicated to supporting those attempting to make a transformation from person A to person B. However, I am critical of the use of the term disease when applied to addiction. Omar Mason was criticized on several occasions for not to taking personal responsibility for the consequences of his actions. This is difficult for even the average person when overcoming everday problems, therefore we can understand that it is extremely difficult and challenging for an individual with the deep sense of self-centerdness, fear and faithlessness often find in those who are alcoholics/addicts /substance-abusers. Why then add to the challenge and confusion by relying on the concept of “disease” to rationalize what is only learned behavior? Is it not a contradiction to insist on personal responsibility and choice, then, in the next breath, refer to this individual as having a disease? There are several *studies which have found the “disease” concept to be invalid, and, as such, it often becomes an excuse used by individuals as to why they have chosen to break their commitment to change. In the October 26 article it is speculated that viewers will be left asking themselves what more can/could we do. Perhaps if we as a society, in specific the treatment community, would alter the language, and remove this concept from treatment programs, we would see a higher rate of recovery. "

- John T. Byrne. A letter to the Editor , Baltimore City Paper. November 2, 2005.

* Refer to the following for research countering the accepted role of disease in alcoholism/addiction.

http://www.baldwinresearch.com/alcoholism.cfm