Chris Biles' Guest Blog Entry

Chris Biles, who is studying in Stellenbosch, South Africa through CIEE, recently contributed to the program's blog. The text of her entry can be found below: 

As all international students will say during their time spent studying abroad, time is flying. There is so much to do and you are busy busy busy. Not only are you a student, taking on a normal course load with readings and papers and presentations to focus on and prepare for, but you are also a visitor to this country and you want to see and do as much as possible. It is a balance that's difficult to find and even more difficult to maintain.

While there are two distinct sides to being an international student (the studies and the touring) it is important to recognize that these two parts blend and merge together at all times. The things you learn in class (both academically and through the interactions with and observations of your professors and the other students) and the things that you experience while touring the area (the places you go, the things you see, the people you meet, the discussions you have) all play into your learning abroad. The hard part comes when you try to think about, pick apart, and reflect on all of these stimuli while still in the midst of it. It never stops coming at you!

Constantly you are bombarded with differences from your life at home - the languages and odd phrases, the bar scene, street vendors, transportation and the way people drive, the wine, the mountains surrounding you, the sports played, the price of a coffee, the dynamics of a group sitting and chatting on the library steps, the homeless man who comes and sits down across from you at a picnic table where you're working... And there is meaning behind everything! You can't forget that! But that is what is so overwhelming about it all. It's difficult enough absorbing everything that happens around you. But then you must take that next step and try to understand
what lies beneath the surface of what you see and of what you do. AND you must do this dissection of experience while you are still experiencing! What?! It is a constant process of simultaneously observing and reflecting, of simultaneously absorbing and picking what is absorbed apart. It's hard. It's very hard. But it's also worth it.

I had one experience recently that really moved me, and I'd like to share it in the form of a poem. (Please note, though, that I have not had any time to revise this yet...)

Stare at the Stones

"My name is David."
he puts down his grocery bag
with the loaf of bread sticking out
from the top.
"I have children."
I nod, then break
our short moment of eye contact
to look at the tiny ants
crawling over the stones on the ground.
He walks down the steps behind me
leaving his bread
in its bag
on the bench
across from me.
I hear the light splatter
of his urine making contact
with the cement down below -
behind me, thankfully.
I picture it making a coloured
yet clear
pool.
I picture it splashing upon itself
and up onto his old, worn-out work boots.
I look at the stones on the ground,
at the ants.
He comes back,
sits down across from me.
I stare at the stones.
"I have children."
His words slightly slur.
A Friday, late morning,
sunny, beautiful day.
Yet his words slightly slur.
The days of rain before have ended,
the clouds have lifted
and left.
Yet his words slightly slur.
I know he watches me.
Like a challenge
he watches me watch the ground.
I look at him.
A blue work suit - a cover-all,    
tattered, faded,
mouth held open to reveal
stained teeth, absent teeth,
the gray hair is a layer of fuss
covering the face, the whole head,
eyes full of life, expectant.
Stare at the stones.
"I have children."
Stare at the stones.
"My name is David."
Stare at the stones.
"Miss, I love my children."
Stare at the stones.
I know he won't leave.
I must.
"Please, Miss."
I gather my things,
take one last glance.
His eyes say no,
no,
please don't go.
The round, curved, glistening pools
have life, something within
that lives without,
that has always lived without,
but has LIVED.
They are pure, childlike
in their expectant,
ever-hopeful way.
And they focus on me.
Stare at the stones.
I stand.
"Miss?"
I say, "I hope you enjoy the sunshine,"
then walk away.