As I travel along the streets of the Seapoint suburb of Cape Town, I’m overcome with a sense of déjà vu.
No, I have never been here before, but something about it all seems so familiar to me.
Initially, I attributed part of this familiarity to Seapoint’s beaches and close proximity to the ocean.
The glow of the horizon at sunset, the weather (ever-so-changing yet never going below 50 degrees), and the salt-tinged breezes of wind have all reminded me of my home state, California. Each time I walk by the beach, I am reminded of home and of the fun-filled days I used to spend with family and friends.
It’s not just these aspects of Seapoint that I’ve observed, though. Each day as I walk along Seapoint’s brick roads, I take a look at the faces that pass by. I’m shocked to see that most of these faces don’t look like me.
When people visit Africa, most expect to see residents who are dark-skinned and wear kente cloth. This stereotypical perception, however, does not reflect the reality of South Africa. In fact, it’s the exact opposite, especially here in Cape Town, where many residents look just like people I often see back home: blonde, slim, and dressed head to toe in designer clothes.
The prevalence of white people is something I’m used to, especially being from a state with a large white population and being a student at Yale, a predominantly white institution. Yet, I never thought that I would continue to encounter such a significant white presence on the African continent.
I’m not only shocked by the prevalence of whiteness but by the prevalence of homelessness in Cape Town. California has one of the highest rates of homelessness in the entire world. I grew up accustomed to seeing people with cardboard signs begging for food and money. Used to passing by tents and encampments where unhoused people would live. I wasn’t prepared to come across a similar set of circumstances here in South Africa, one that in some areas appears to be even more severe. Here, I continue to see cardboard signs and unhoused people, this time sleeping directly on the bare sidewalk.
So far, with the two weeks that I’ve been here, I’ve realized that it’s not just the beaches or the faces I pass on the street that create this sense of déjà vu. Rather, it is the coexistence of privilege and poverty that reminds me so much of home. As I continue to navigate and discover more of Cape Town, I hope to gain a better understanding of not just the city itself and its familiarity, but also the social structures and inequalities that have long shaped it.