Trevor Noah visited his grandma in South Africa, and now we're basically in love with her.

Like him or not, no one can deny that Trevor Noah has lived a fascinating life.

If you haven't read Trevor Noah's memoir, "Born a Crime," you're missing out. The smart, witty comedian who took over Jon Stewart's "The Daily Show" has lived a life few Americans his age can imagine.

Noah was born and raised in Soweto, a township of Johannesburg, South Africa, during the era of apartheid. The son of a black mother and white father, he was literally born a crime, since it was illegal for black people and white people to have sex in South Africa at that time. His book is filled with incredible stories of his upbringing, his fiercely determined mother, his experiences in "black church" and "white church," and harrowing examples of what it meant to live under a blatantly racist system of government.


Some of the stories in his book include his grandmother, who played a big role in helping to raise him. Recently, Noah traveled to Johannesburg and took some time to chat with her and brought his camera crew with him.

One thing is clear: Noah's "Gogo" is a 91-year-old force to be reckoned with.

"First things first," Noah said, as he walked up to his grandmother's house in Soweto. "Whenever you come into an African person's house, you greet." Then he called through the doorway, using a Zulu term for grandmother. "Gogo! Gogo! Hello, Gogo!"

She invited Noah and the crew in, and the two sat down to chat. Their conversation veered from her exact age (91 years and 9 months) to Nelson Mandela ("Madiba!") to the Flying Squads of white police officers who enforced South Africa's racist laws.

"For young people," said Noah, "it's very hard to understand how scary it was to be a black person living in South Africa during that time. But everybody was scared of the police."

His grandmother said they'd get a knock at the door at 3:00am with police telling them, "Dress up, let's go!" just like that.

Noah pointed out that some people say since life is hard and some people don't have jobs in South Africa that it would be better to go back to the way it was, to which his grandmother responded with a quick "No! No thank you. It wouldn't be better . . . "

Whistling and shaking her head, she said that back then black people had to work on farms with no pay. Then she explained that if you were picking potatoes and one of the people picking potatoes beside you died of exhaustion, you'd have to dig a hole, bury the deceased, and then keep on picking potatoes.

No, not better.

When Noah asked her about his role in fighting apartheid as a child, she giggled.

Gogo tells Noah that he didn't know about apartheid growing up because he was just a kid. "You were born a crime," she told him. "How could you fight apartheid?"

"But I told them that I was an apartheid hero, Gogo," Noah quipped. "I wasn't?"

She giggled, then talked about how naughty Noah had been as a child. "When you were here, oh Trevor, you gave me a tough time," she said. When asked why, she answered, "Because you wanted to play in the street! And I knew the Flying Squad was going to take you."

She also said kids would run away from Noah because they thought he was "white." They had never seen a white man before—Noah's mixed skin was the lightest skin they'd ever seen.

"I feel so special now, Gogo," Noah joked. "To know that there was a time that I was white." Noah then tried to get his gran to say he was a good-looking kid, to which she whistled and said, "Energetic and really naughty."

"But mostly good-looking," prompted Noah.

"Like hell," she responded. "Those big bumps," she said, pointing to her own backside, "they know my slippers."

The whole exchange is delightful, but it also illustrates how vastly different Noah's upbringing was to what his life is now.

Looking around his grandmother's kitchen, it's clear that she lives a modest life. Some have suggested after seeing the clip that Noah should do more to make life better for his family in South Africa, but he pointed out in his book that his grandmother has refused offers of financial assistance.

She told him in the video, "It's a pity because I don't even wish to see where you stay. Flying over the sea, like this? No, not for me."

When he asked her if she's ever watched his show, she said the electricity goes out too often. And also that the cable isn't reliable.

Noah said he must get her a generator, and a fitter for the generator, and something done about the cable for her to watch his show. "I feel like I've been tricked into doing a lot of things for you to watch my TV show, Gogo," he laughed. She laughed along with him.

Watch the segment here:

Trevor visits his grandma in Soweto, South Africa, to talk about his childhood, her life under apartheid, and what...

Posted by The Daily Show on Monday, December 3, 2018

(P.S. The full episode has more of Noah's visit to South Africa and is definitely worth watching.)

Simon & Garfunkel's song "Bridge Over Troubled Water" has been covered by more than 50 different musical artists, from Aretha Franklin to Elvis Presley to Willie Nelson. It's a timeless classic that taps into the universal struggle of feeling down and the comfort of having someone to lift us up. It's beloved for its soothing melody and cathartic lyrics, and after a year of pandemic challenges, it's perhaps more poignant now than ever.

A few years a go, American singer-songwriter Yebba Smith shared a solo a capella version of a part of "Bridge Over Troubled Water," in which she just casually sits and sings it on a bed. It's an impressive rendition on its own, highlighting Yebba's soulful, effortless voice.

But British singer Jacob Collier recently added his own layered harmony tracks to it, taking the performance to a whole other level.

Keep Reading Show less
Images courtesy of John Scully, Walden University, Ingrid Scully
True

Since March of 2020, over 29 million Americans have been diagnosed with COVID-19, according to the CDC. Over 540,000 have died in the United States as this unprecedented pandemic has swept the globe. And yet, by the end of 2020, it looked like science was winning: vaccines had been developed.

In celebration of the power of science we spoke to three people: an individual, a medical provider, and a vaccine scientist about how vaccines have impacted them throughout their lives. Here are their answers:

John Scully, 79, resident of Florida

Photo courtesy of John Scully

When John Scully was born, America was in the midst of an epidemic: tens of thousands of children in the United States were falling ill with paralytic poliomyelitis — otherwise known as polio, a disease that attacks the central nervous system and often leaves its victims partially or fully paralyzed.

"As kids, we were all afraid of getting polio," he says, "because if you got polio, you could end up in the dreaded iron lung and we were all terrified of those." Iron lungs were respirators that enclosed most of a person's body; people with severe cases often would end up in these respirators as they fought for their lives.

John remembers going to see matinee showings of cowboy movies on Saturdays and, before the movie, shorts would run. "Usually they showed the news," he says, "but I just remember seeing this one clip warning us about polio and it just showed all these kids in iron lungs." If kids survived the iron lung, they'd often come back to school on crutches, in leg braces, or in wheelchairs.

"We all tried to be really careful in the summer — or, as we called it back then, 'polio season,''" John says. This was because every year around Memorial Day, major outbreaks would begin to emerge and they'd spike sometime around August. People weren't really sure how the disease spread at the time, but many believed it traveled through the water. There was no cure — and every child was susceptible to getting sick with it.

"We couldn't swim in hot weather," he remembers, "and the municipal outdoor pool would close down in August."

Then, in 1954 clinical trials began for Dr. Jonas Salk's vaccine against polio and within a year, his vaccine was announced safe. "I got that vaccine at school," John says. Within two years, U.S. polio cases had dropped 85-95 percent — even before a second vaccine was developed by Dr. Albert Sabin in the 1960s. "I remember how much better things got after the vaccines came out. They changed everything," John says.

Keep Reading Show less