After winning the presidency of South Africa in 1994, Nelson Mandela triumphantly declared South Africa to be "free at last!"

Although Mandela uttered the phrase more than a decade ago, my observations in Cape Town left me to realize that blacks are hardly free at last, as many still live in poverty in townships.

The systematic political and social separation of races, otherwise known as Apartheid, has left a deep wound for the majority black population of the country.

After the "Grand Apartheid" began in 1948, millions of blacks were relocated to townships.

By 1980, South Africa was the only country in Africa with a white government and a constitution discriminating against the majority of its citizens.

Apartheid made it impossible for blacks to share in their country's economic prosperity. Although Mandela legally ended Apartheid in 1991, South Africa remains a divided nation. Apartheid has left whites to occupy the beautiful real estate of Cape Town, including the various wine lands and harbors. Two minutes down the N2 highway from the manicured Mowbray and Rondebosch golf courses enjoyed by the wealthy is Spandau Township.

The rolling hills disappear, and the green grass and paved roads turn into sand as travelers near Spandau. I spent Friday with Operation Hunger in Spandau conducting malnutrition analyses of the children in the village. The Nutrition Surveillance Program comes to Spandau once a month to evaluate the nourishment of the children and to give them medical treatment when necessary. Operation Hunger worker Clement Summerton explained the sentiment of the children toward the care they receive.

"Some of the children are frightened by the clinic and will start crying," he said. "When they see the scale, they think of [vaccine] injections they've gotten in the past."

There were about 100 children, ages ranging from about six weeks to 12 years, waiting in line to be weighed and measured. Many of the younger children were terrified. Throughout the day, I was responsible for taking their height and calming them down.

At first I didn't know what I should be doing to calm the children. They were all so afraid and so frail, and I was worried that I would only upset them even more.

But then I realized many of them just wanted someone to try to ease their worries. I gave each one a hug and several stickers, and the interaction helped not only the children but me as well. While I knew I wasn't drastically changing any of their lives, I did see their spirits improve.

Further down the assembly line, other Semester at Sea students were measuring each child's weight. After all of the children had been weighed and measured, a process that took what felt like an eternity, we compared their height and weight to the averages and determined who was moderately malnourished and was extremely malnourished.

The townships lack a dependable agricultural industry and the dustbowl environment cannot produce food for the residents. These conditions, along with widespread general poverty, contribute to the high numbers of moderately malnourished children.

Of the 100 or so children, eight were extremely malnourished and needed immediate injections of various medicines to help them stay alive. We notified the families of the necessary medical attention. Operation Hunger workers, along with Semester at Sea students, then went to each home to build gardens for the families to grow what foods they could. Operation Hunger supplied compost to put into the sand to add the nutrients.

During this process, I was shocked by how undeveloped the areas were. Upon closer examination and discussion with some of the workers, I learned that there really isn't much for the locals to develop because of the characteristics of the land. In talking with one worker, I learned that until recently, Spandau's people lived in even worse conditions. It was difficult for me to fathom how things could have been worse for these people.

But just a few years ago things were a lot worse. "Three years ago the houses were all shanties made of zinc, plastic and cardboard," he said.

As I looked around, I noticed there were pieces of metal, cement and wood that have replaced much of the cardboard and plastic Summerton described. But these "improved" conditions were far from ideal -- they were deplorable.

More than a decade after Mandela promised freedom to blacks, the lives of township residents are still neglected by the South African government. It is repulsive that South Africa's majority race still lives in homes constructed from plastic, trash, old guard rails and curved tin roofing that are half the size of my dorm in Pollock Halls.

I left Spandau knowing I had contributed what I could to the area, but ultimately feeling sick to my stomach. On the way back, tears burned my cheeks as we drove past the golf courses frequented by the wealthy, and I noticed that many of the other students seemed to be affected in similar ways.

I had the rare chance to see a country rebuilding itself. Although I acknowledge that South African officials are making progress and slowing improving the lives of its township residents, these small steps don't appear to be enough.

While working with the children of Spandau last Friday, many of them asked me to take them back to America with me. Even though I obviously knew I couldn't, it broke my heart to tell them no. After being asked by a 19-year-old girl, I responded by asking her why she wanted to go to the United States.

Her one-word answer put everything into perspective for me: opportunity.