7/14: I tried to will the Internet to work for the better part of four hours at the library today, to no avail. But all was right again in the world when I stumbled into one of the home based carers with her two month old baby. I proceeded to invite myself into her home and pretended not to notice her scrambling to straighten it up as I lunged for the newborn. Eventually she began to hint at the need for her confiscated baby to eat, I ignored her. I grudgingly gave her up only when Fikile started to look alarmed and not a moment before. I then walked to my org to the daily cheers and fist pumps from a myriad of children, the novelty of which has yet to wear off. There I created yet another cultural snafu when I heard one of the few men employed at Zamimpilo yelling from our one office. Busi and I both went in to find him sprawled in one of the chairs, seemingly flaunting his protruding belly, with his arm outstretched with an empty plate demanding a refill. This scene is one that occurs almost daily but for whatever reason in choosing my battles, today I chose to fight. So when he said (all of which is translated), "Get me more food, oh and I want some tea too," I said, "Get up, why are you so lazy, you are closer to the tea and food than I am." While he looks at me with disdain, Busi scurries over to fill his demands. I tell her, "Busi, stop. Don't help him. He can do it himself." He then calls Sonto. I'm now creating a scene that all members of my org are watching with baited breath. I say, "Sonto, no, no, just stop. He can do it, really." You could here a pin drop, nobody's moving. Busi starts to grab the plate from me and knowing that I've more than made my cultural point, I went ahead and did what he asked. Only because I didn't want anyone else to feel as demeaned by someone barking orders through a door while propping his legs up to watch a poorly dubbed kung fu movie then I felt in that moment. I then sat down to eat after all of the men had finished and just got my first spoonful of pap near my mouth when another man, who just walked in, asked for some tea. I ignored him and he so generously reassured me that he could wait until I finished. I truly forgot when Busi came into the kitchen to ask why I didn't give him his tea, saying "Did you forget?! I'll hit you." I know she really wouldn't hit me but I realized then how hard I rocked the boat. None of the men talked to me for the rest of the day in some sort of silent protest to mark their scorn for my outspokenness. Point taken.
7/15: So I've been doing all Internet research for my org and Peace Corps business after work hours. Even though (and perhaps because) I don't do anything productive at work I still come home exhausted. This could be attributed to a myriad of things including but not limited to: my constant balancing act between respecting cultural habits and wanting to get something/anything done, the mental drain of being surrounded by a language I barely know and the absurd amount of MSG I'm forced to ingest daily. Regardless, it's dawned on me just today to work at home when I have PC reports or research for funding sources etc. so my time at home after work hours can be spent doing something other than working. Yes, that was truly a light bulb moment for me today.
7/16: I had a revelation a few weeks back that I can only control myself. It's fruitless to get frustrated by other people's definition of work especially when that time could be far better spent doing something productive myself. So today I took that to heart and cranked out all sorts of monitoring and evaluation forms for my organization and I even had tons of time left over for the afternoon round of gossip.
7/17: So today what should have been a four hour taxi ride to Pietermaritzburg turned into a better than fiction eleven hour epic journey. Waiting almost five hours for a taxi to fill up could legitimately cause someone to do unspeakable things. While in other circumstances a straight jacket would have been rightly called for, today I was so entertained by the enigma I sat next to I almost forgot that after this eleven hour jaunt I would have to turn back early the next morning to do it all over again. This fascinating man of only 21 spoke perfect English and knew more about American pop culture than any American I know. This was evidenced by questions like, "Do you know Rhianna? What about Chris Brown? Beyonce? Lady GaGa? Naz? Is he dead, I think he's dead. Do you know Madonna?" I swear this poor guy breathed four times in eleven hours, it was mind-boggling. Lucky for me, he would rattle off so many questions but never give me time to respond, which was fine with me because even though he was a fascinating specimen to watch I didn't necessarily want to play 20 questions all day. What was also clearly evident was the fact that he became proficient in English by watching television. Examples include, "I would never want to go to America." Now this I didn't believe. "Why not," I ask. "Okay I really really really want to go there but I wouldn't if I was an enemy of the State." "Why not?" "Because then I would have to fight the FBI and CIA by running through the streets with guns and doing covert ops." "Yes, it's best to avoid things like that." Another example: he asked me, "What do you think of the war in Iraq and Afganistan?" In typical Zangu fashion he answers his own question, "I think it was a matter of national security." "What?" "You know, it's like the Russian spies. Obama had to kick'em out, it was a matter of national security." So in the end we take an unprecedented lunch break during the taxi extravaganza, which was fine with me because I ate breakfast at 5:00 and it was 3:00. By the time I got there it was almost dark and I missed my Zulu teacher's family's tombstone unveiling ceremony (the reason why I came). I was, however, treated to a wonderful meal and good company. Amongst half a dozen hanging cow carcasses, I sat in a hut lined with men drinking a thick grey liquid out of white buckets which apparently is what 'Zulu beer' is. I then ate for the third time in three hours though this last one topped the rest as I went to an amazing- for-American-standards Italian restaurant with three other Americans. So fun.
7/18: I had a lovely, relaxing brunch on the porch of two former PCVs. Everyone was having such a good time that my insistence to get an early start after my marathon journey the day before went unanswered. I finally resorted to as close to begging as you can get with people you barely know. Eventually we get to the taxi rank but I knew, even in the best case scenario, how unlikely it was that I was making it to Nondweni tonight. So I got to Dundee when it was pitch black, which almost always signifies the end of the work day for taxi drivers, and still had two taxis to go to get back home. I opened the taxi when it was still moving to try to catch the last taxi to Nqutu. I soon realized this dramatic stunt, much to the cheers of my fellow passengers, was completely unnecessary when I found the taxi empty. I could have any seat in the house. I called my go go to tell her I was on my way home but I was going to come home after dark (after her bed time). I could tell when she picked up the phone that she'd been crying. I asked her what was wrong and she was so worried about me. When I called her back when I got to Nqutu to say that everything's fine but I'm going to stay with my American friend tonight because there aren't any taxis, she was hysterical. I tried my best to say that I will see her tomorrow morning, I promise, and she doesn't need to worry. 'I'm staying with another American and she's very good and nice.' She eventually calmed down but it just broke my heart that I caused her so much anxiety. Unfortunately, I wasn't so lucky in Nqutu. When I got to the taxi rank it was completely deserted. So I called the PCV who stays in Nqutu begging to stay at her place. She, of course, complies but explained that I needed to take a taxi to get there. I was under the impression that she lived in town so I started to panic. Okay, I'd been panicking about this exact scenario all day but now it was really happening. She actually just lived five minutes out of town so I swallowed all semblance of pride I had left after I offered the taxi driver a substantial sum to drive me to Nondweni which he proceeded to scoff at, to drive me just a ways down the street. Please. Please. Plllleeeeaaaasssseee. I think he just got fed up with me making a fool out of myself so he eventually agreed though just for suspense we sat in the taxi for literally ten minutes while he thought about it. Anyway, it worked out and even though it was quite traumatic it was nice to see a PCV I hadn't seen in a while.
7/19: I had quite the prodigal son homecoming today with people coming out of the wood work, running down the path to greet me. There were hugs all around from every lovely lady at my org. Our weekly meeting in the closet (office) was so full of women today that I literally couldn't fit another chair in so I happily sat on another grown woman's lap. It's so good to be home.
7/20: Today my supervisor seemed very excited about starting several projects, unfortunately the timing was horrible because I'll be in Pretoria for two weeks for training but i was excited that she was excited.
7/21: Several of the neighborhood children followed me home today so we all got out every People magazine I've hoarded since stepping on African soil six months ago. This meant a handful of five year olds and one older sister of about ten reading Hollywood trash in a foreign language for hours on end. But all hell broke loose when the older girl, Zanele, saw a picture of Justin Bieber. There was so much screaming in my tiny hut I was counting limbs. Never in a million years did I think anyone in my village would be aware of the tween pop tart. Ever so ironically, I searched under my bed and brushed the dust and bugs off of the Justin Bieber poster given to me by fourth graders at the American elementary school I'm corresponding with. She just about died. Lots more screaming. Now, of course, her younger sister and her are blowing kisses to the heart throb. I'm dumbfounded. Seriously speechless. When they turn to leave she regretfully hands me back the poster. I thought she was going to faint when I said she could keep it. Who would have thought?
7/22: So I was booty shakin' to 'put your a** into it' when a woman from my org stopped by. Luckily I saw her through the window before she saw me flailing my arms with my ipod blasting. She's taking an adult education class to study for the metric exam to pass 12th grade. It wasn't easy to explain 2nd grade level math problems to someone in a second language but I think we made it work. So two men with mental health issues tried to visit me at work today. This was very exciting to everyone but me. Apparently, if you have a 'crazy' man in love with you it's good luck and I have two that are ready to marry me! Everyone was congratulating me. Here's a little fun fact for you, so I spent the better part of this afternoon taking out my supervisor's weave, which by the way is not for the faint of heart. Because of the sheer expense of such a luxury, women here leave their weaves in until the edge starts halfway down their scalp. Another unfortunate casuality of the weave expense is the absurd amount of build up and stench associated with not washing your hair for months on end. All ten of my fingernails were filled with gunk about thirty seconds in. Also of note today was how I was washing my dishes in the bucket system I now have down pat with Zindle tied to my back jamming to a local radio station. I then stepped back and wondered how I will ever fit back into American society.
7/23: So one of the women I work with, Sindi, asked me to bring shampoo and a towel to work today, she was going to make me pretty. This prospect was very exciting. When the time was right she put about two inches of boiling water into a bucket and said she was ready. I tried to pantomine that the length and thickness of my hair is really not very condusive to such a small amount of water. She begged to differ. She then started to put shampoo on my dry hair which I tried, in vain, to tell her is skipping a step. Again, she politely disagreed. After she poured a good quarter of the bottle on my head she realized, a bit too late, that there wasn't, in fact, enough water. She then tried to just comb out the soap, which was only partly effective. At this point, several other ladies got involved toward their mutual goal of the perfect coif. They then used the pee bucket to pour gallons more almost boiling water on my head. This was a little overboard but got the job done. She surprised me with a blow dryer and started to dry one patch of my scalp until I thought all the hair was singed off. (I checked and all my hair is accounted for). She then gets out the baby oil. At this point, I've definitely learned my lesson in trying to voice my opinion about our beauty parlor play-date, so I just let this one go. She was shocked that the baby oil just did not seem to be working. I told her that no matter how much oil you put on my hair, it will never feel like yours. This again, was met with objections. Half the bottle was gone and my hair was wet with oil, dripping in fact. Everyone saw this as a really good sign. She then slicked it back into such a tight ponytail it almost hurt. I step out of the office to cheers from everybody. One of the men is breathless. Sindi then says, "I'm so tired from trying to make you pretty." Everybody was so relieved that I was going to look nice for my Peace Corps training in three days. I might even get a boyfriend, they said, if I was really really lucky. After that ordeal, which lasted the better part of the afternoon, I tutored the woman I helped yesterday with her homework. She seemed excited to learn and we stayed hours after everyone else left to finish. She was just starting to get it at the end, which was pretty awesome too.
Friday, July 23, 2010
Tuesday, July 13, 2010
7/2: So after several weeks of English Club behind me, I've finally decided to embrace African Time and arrive a bit late. To my dismay, the librarian calls me wondering where I am and I have kids literally lining all four walls of the room as I walk in...and I was only 20 minutes late which is borderline early here. Well with the initial trauma of my tardiness aside I decided to completely forego my lesson plan. The kids were entirely too young, aged 4-8, and I knew they just wanted to play. So play we did. The outdoor games were received with varying levels of success depending on how complex the Zulu needed to be in the explanation. For example, in explaining melting butter, where when you get tagged you 'melt' down for ten seconds but someone on your team can tag you before you reach the ground to save you or you're out, the tagged kids squatted like they were on the pit toilet then after some indiscriminate amount of time stood up again and kept playing. Red Rover was enjoyed by all though duck duck goose got the most cheers. Even though no English was learned, I considered it a huge success and an absolute blast.
7/3: Apparently Zindle's fifth birthday was two weeks ago but seeing as though I was not informed and she didn't have a party I designated today as the day we would celebrate. So I felt like I needed to do the significance of her passing year justice especially since she has been my shadow for quite some time now. (I literally step on her feet regularly she's always that close to me). So I baked a cake and brainstormed for quite some time on potential gifts. Seeing as though there is very little in the realm of industry here my options were quite limited. Think Halls cough drops advertised as candy. But luckily I made it to the post office the other day to find quite a stack of mail waiting for me. I was able to use the 'happy birthday' banner my mom sent for my birthday for Zindle and a coloring book, crayons and tons of stickers as gifts which were given to me by a friend for the kids in the village. My go go got out the special glasses and the nice (white) sugar for tea as they rolled the chocolate cake in balls with their hands. Of course this is how they eat everything so I don't know why this surprised me. Zindle was elated at her new toys. A few weeks ago I gave her a sheet of paper and a pen to occupy her during an especially riveting episode of the BBC World Service and she covered every millimeter of both sides of that paper, not knowing that I had a whole spiral full of paper just like that. We had a day long dance party, thankfully pre-cake. Unfortunately, my go go came running out saying, "Stop, stop running, you'll make her hungry." Anyway, I'm marking down Zindle's 5th birthday in the history books as a great way to celebrate turning 'one whole hand.'
7/4: So I was a little worker bee today, I washed every article of clothing I brought to this country...and my body...and my hair...and my dishes and floor. Needless to say I went a little crazy with the scrub brush today. And I found a top 40 radio station so I was able to shake my groove thang while doing it. I have to give credit to Zindle who was a great helper bee.
7/5: I cannot in good conscience say that I did anything productive today. I knew my plan to cure AIDS would be tabled for another day when 1. I realized how cold it was outside (no one could be expected to work with a chill) 2. my supervisor had a bit of a headache... or a stomachache...or some sort of phatom pain somewhere. So I grabbed my tea like a good Zulu and got to gabbing. Here's a sample of a few of my conversations: Tshengie: "You look pretty today, why?" Me: "Don't I look pretty every day haha?" Tshengie: "No." Me: "Oh." A completely unrelated conversation: Me: "So do you think anything has changed between (blacks) and Afrikaaners since 1994 (when the first democratically elected president, Nelson Mandela, was installed)?" Siyabonga (age: 24): "They broke our fathers spirits; they broke their hearts and for that I hate them. I. hate. them." And yet another: Sindi: "Why are you smiling today?" Me: "I don't know, I'm just happy." Sindi: "Ohhhhh ok you finally got a boyfriend, good." Me: "Oh, no, I didn't." Sindi: "Yes you did." Me: "Did I?" Sindi: "YES and I'm SO happy for you!"
7/6: So I noticed today that both pairs of my leggings, which I wear everyday in the Arctic Circle, have multiple holes at the seams. Also of note, the lovely ladies at my org today were discussing the brevity of my rear, with four sets of hands copping a feel in a debate like that akin to the analysis of an ancient aritifact. I feel like it is no longer possible for me to remain in denial about what effects daily carb loading can have on a body. Please do not let this message deter you from sending me peanut m&ms.
7/7: So as I was crammed in a closet sized office with ten morbidly obese women for yet another marathon meeting, two of which were sleeping, another two having separate conversations on their respective cell phones, I stand up, three hours into the meeting, flailing my arms with the agenda I so efficiently prepared in my hands, begging for some focus. I got laughter and head shakes. Crazy American.
7/8: I trekked through prairie grass and rolling hills to go on home visits all day today. My day started when the Home Based Carer I was working with made me tea and breakfast. I already ate breakfast but I think hell would freeze over if I would refuse food in this country (hence seams being popped right and left). My two breakfasts did not sit well as we went to a record breaking number of home visits to talk to people who have no source of income in a village with a 90% unemployment rate with no hope of industry. This coupled with a diagnosis of either TB or HIV has many of them choosing to default on their medication knowing full well that they can't survive without it. The extent of their suffering is no less than that of my own home stay family or neighbors but when it's seen with fresh eyes there becomes a renewed sense of urgency. The deplorable poverty surrounding me has become like wallpaper. Something that you know is there but you never really see. And it has to be this way. It's some sort of survival mechanism my mind has concocted to not be in constant pain. But invariably the curtain has to be lifted and what is seen is a cycle so impossible to escape that it renders the most optimistic hopeless. But lucky for them they have someone that is the most idealistic of optimists. This character trait of mine can also be described as delusional or crazy. Regardless of the adjective, I now believe more than ever, that income generating projects need to be my focus here. So stay tuned for what that will look like.
7/9: Today was the last day of my English Club as the kids go back to school on Monday. Even though my attempt at teaching them red light, green light was a total bust we had a ton of fun playing this game they made up called cats and dogs. Basically, you meow or bark as you try to catch the opposite animal. This game should definitely be brought state side. After that, I tried to help a young girl apply to university, with only minimal success. We resorted to printing out paper applications and hoping for the best. I have my fingers crossed.
7/10: So I'm somewhat concerned that two waterbottles in a row had a few unwelcome bugs in them. This is disconcerting because of the Peace Corps issued water filter that the water (and bugs) went through to get to my water bottle. Now if a water filter can't filter out something as large as a bug...how well is it really doing its job? Sigh. Well, I got a call this morning from my co worker saying they were playing with some orphans and vulnerable children in a clearing and having a brie (barbecue) to celebrate the end of the World Cup and that I needed to come, yep needed. This all sounded wonderful but I was still in my pajamas (and planning on staying that way all day) just baked some fresh bread and had a pot of hot tea waiting for me and amazingly the BBC World Service was crystal clear over my short wave radio, which was basically how I planned my whole Saturday on going in a nutshell. But I went and of course it was a lot of fun. I even attempted net ball which is yet another thing that everyone on the planet seems to know about except Americans. Well, for all you Americans out there it's a lot like basketball.
7/11: So I moved my day of relaxation to today, no harm done, and I can never get over how decadent it feels to do absolutely nothing. Though my go go tried to drop zindle off for another all day stint and bolt I tracked her down and pushed my guilt aside when I explained my need for some personal time. She then pretended she didn't understand me and plopped Zindle down. I repeated myself, "Ngicela ukuphumula oyedwa namhlanje, go go." She didn't talk to me the rest of the day. Other than the iron curtain, it was an absolutely wonderful day of nothingness.
7/12: I spent all day doing my quarterly report for Peace Corps, they don't call the American government the biggest bureaucracy in the world for nothing.
7/13: Today I visited a Dutch youth group who's building a church down the path from my organization. It's interesting because they're cycling groups in to build it but Nondweni has a 90% unemployment rate and a huge pool of competent unemployed construction workers. I, of course, have taken jobs out of an un/underemployed workforce to do the very same thing several times over so I am in no place to judge. I guess it just looks different when you're (almost) on the other side. After three days of my go go giving me the cold shoulder I asked her what was wrong. She was pretty short with me so when she went to my organization for the weekly go go summit I asked my supervisor to talk to her. I thought for sure I was doing something that was offending her and with a culture that couldn't get more indirect, she would never tell me. Well I found out that she was upset that she didn't have the money to perform a ceremony for her son that passed away, which is done a year after the death. This involves several sacrifices to the ancestors, lots of food and relatives and a sangoma (witch doctor). She was heart sick for her dead son and was reminded of her loss on the one year anniversary of his death. So she doesn't hate me, she just misses her babies (another one of her sons passed away a few years ago).
7/3: Apparently Zindle's fifth birthday was two weeks ago but seeing as though I was not informed and she didn't have a party I designated today as the day we would celebrate. So I felt like I needed to do the significance of her passing year justice especially since she has been my shadow for quite some time now. (I literally step on her feet regularly she's always that close to me). So I baked a cake and brainstormed for quite some time on potential gifts. Seeing as though there is very little in the realm of industry here my options were quite limited. Think Halls cough drops advertised as candy. But luckily I made it to the post office the other day to find quite a stack of mail waiting for me. I was able to use the 'happy birthday' banner my mom sent for my birthday for Zindle and a coloring book, crayons and tons of stickers as gifts which were given to me by a friend for the kids in the village. My go go got out the special glasses and the nice (white) sugar for tea as they rolled the chocolate cake in balls with their hands. Of course this is how they eat everything so I don't know why this surprised me. Zindle was elated at her new toys. A few weeks ago I gave her a sheet of paper and a pen to occupy her during an especially riveting episode of the BBC World Service and she covered every millimeter of both sides of that paper, not knowing that I had a whole spiral full of paper just like that. We had a day long dance party, thankfully pre-cake. Unfortunately, my go go came running out saying, "Stop, stop running, you'll make her hungry." Anyway, I'm marking down Zindle's 5th birthday in the history books as a great way to celebrate turning 'one whole hand.'
7/4: So I was a little worker bee today, I washed every article of clothing I brought to this country...and my body...and my hair...and my dishes and floor. Needless to say I went a little crazy with the scrub brush today. And I found a top 40 radio station so I was able to shake my groove thang while doing it. I have to give credit to Zindle who was a great helper bee.
7/5: I cannot in good conscience say that I did anything productive today. I knew my plan to cure AIDS would be tabled for another day when 1. I realized how cold it was outside (no one could be expected to work with a chill) 2. my supervisor had a bit of a headache... or a stomachache...or some sort of phatom pain somewhere. So I grabbed my tea like a good Zulu and got to gabbing. Here's a sample of a few of my conversations: Tshengie: "You look pretty today, why?" Me: "Don't I look pretty every day haha?" Tshengie: "No." Me: "Oh." A completely unrelated conversation: Me: "So do you think anything has changed between (blacks) and Afrikaaners since 1994 (when the first democratically elected president, Nelson Mandela, was installed)?" Siyabonga (age: 24): "They broke our fathers spirits; they broke their hearts and for that I hate them. I. hate. them." And yet another: Sindi: "Why are you smiling today?" Me: "I don't know, I'm just happy." Sindi: "Ohhhhh ok you finally got a boyfriend, good." Me: "Oh, no, I didn't." Sindi: "Yes you did." Me: "Did I?" Sindi: "YES and I'm SO happy for you!"
7/6: So I noticed today that both pairs of my leggings, which I wear everyday in the Arctic Circle, have multiple holes at the seams. Also of note, the lovely ladies at my org today were discussing the brevity of my rear, with four sets of hands copping a feel in a debate like that akin to the analysis of an ancient aritifact. I feel like it is no longer possible for me to remain in denial about what effects daily carb loading can have on a body. Please do not let this message deter you from sending me peanut m&ms.
7/7: So as I was crammed in a closet sized office with ten morbidly obese women for yet another marathon meeting, two of which were sleeping, another two having separate conversations on their respective cell phones, I stand up, three hours into the meeting, flailing my arms with the agenda I so efficiently prepared in my hands, begging for some focus. I got laughter and head shakes. Crazy American.
7/8: I trekked through prairie grass and rolling hills to go on home visits all day today. My day started when the Home Based Carer I was working with made me tea and breakfast. I already ate breakfast but I think hell would freeze over if I would refuse food in this country (hence seams being popped right and left). My two breakfasts did not sit well as we went to a record breaking number of home visits to talk to people who have no source of income in a village with a 90% unemployment rate with no hope of industry. This coupled with a diagnosis of either TB or HIV has many of them choosing to default on their medication knowing full well that they can't survive without it. The extent of their suffering is no less than that of my own home stay family or neighbors but when it's seen with fresh eyes there becomes a renewed sense of urgency. The deplorable poverty surrounding me has become like wallpaper. Something that you know is there but you never really see. And it has to be this way. It's some sort of survival mechanism my mind has concocted to not be in constant pain. But invariably the curtain has to be lifted and what is seen is a cycle so impossible to escape that it renders the most optimistic hopeless. But lucky for them they have someone that is the most idealistic of optimists. This character trait of mine can also be described as delusional or crazy. Regardless of the adjective, I now believe more than ever, that income generating projects need to be my focus here. So stay tuned for what that will look like.
7/9: Today was the last day of my English Club as the kids go back to school on Monday. Even though my attempt at teaching them red light, green light was a total bust we had a ton of fun playing this game they made up called cats and dogs. Basically, you meow or bark as you try to catch the opposite animal. This game should definitely be brought state side. After that, I tried to help a young girl apply to university, with only minimal success. We resorted to printing out paper applications and hoping for the best. I have my fingers crossed.
7/10: So I'm somewhat concerned that two waterbottles in a row had a few unwelcome bugs in them. This is disconcerting because of the Peace Corps issued water filter that the water (and bugs) went through to get to my water bottle. Now if a water filter can't filter out something as large as a bug...how well is it really doing its job? Sigh. Well, I got a call this morning from my co worker saying they were playing with some orphans and vulnerable children in a clearing and having a brie (barbecue) to celebrate the end of the World Cup and that I needed to come, yep needed. This all sounded wonderful but I was still in my pajamas (and planning on staying that way all day) just baked some fresh bread and had a pot of hot tea waiting for me and amazingly the BBC World Service was crystal clear over my short wave radio, which was basically how I planned my whole Saturday on going in a nutshell. But I went and of course it was a lot of fun. I even attempted net ball which is yet another thing that everyone on the planet seems to know about except Americans. Well, for all you Americans out there it's a lot like basketball.
7/11: So I moved my day of relaxation to today, no harm done, and I can never get over how decadent it feels to do absolutely nothing. Though my go go tried to drop zindle off for another all day stint and bolt I tracked her down and pushed my guilt aside when I explained my need for some personal time. She then pretended she didn't understand me and plopped Zindle down. I repeated myself, "Ngicela ukuphumula oyedwa namhlanje, go go." She didn't talk to me the rest of the day. Other than the iron curtain, it was an absolutely wonderful day of nothingness.
7/12: I spent all day doing my quarterly report for Peace Corps, they don't call the American government the biggest bureaucracy in the world for nothing.
7/13: Today I visited a Dutch youth group who's building a church down the path from my organization. It's interesting because they're cycling groups in to build it but Nondweni has a 90% unemployment rate and a huge pool of competent unemployed construction workers. I, of course, have taken jobs out of an un/underemployed workforce to do the very same thing several times over so I am in no place to judge. I guess it just looks different when you're (almost) on the other side. After three days of my go go giving me the cold shoulder I asked her what was wrong. She was pretty short with me so when she went to my organization for the weekly go go summit I asked my supervisor to talk to her. I thought for sure I was doing something that was offending her and with a culture that couldn't get more indirect, she would never tell me. Well I found out that she was upset that she didn't have the money to perform a ceremony for her son that passed away, which is done a year after the death. This involves several sacrifices to the ancestors, lots of food and relatives and a sangoma (witch doctor). She was heart sick for her dead son and was reminded of her loss on the one year anniversary of his death. So she doesn't hate me, she just misses her babies (another one of her sons passed away a few years ago).
Thursday, July 1, 2010
6/25: So I just found out that the reason why my English classes every Friday have had pretty low attendance is because the person who was suppose to hand out the flyers to all the schools forgot sticky tack to hang them so he just didn't hand any out... I made sure that if he was ever in that situation again he could a: request a small amount from the school secretary who would likely oblige a small ration or b: I would abandon my post as AIDS curer to come to the sticky tack rescue. Luckily, the message got out regardless and I had a packed class who didn't learn any English but did have fun playing duck duck goose and hangman.
6/26: So today I woke up on the right side of the bed and saw silver linings everywhere I went. I even checked my mail to find not one but two packages; one of which being individual letters from the fourth grade class I'm corresponding with at Ogden Ave. Questions included, "My name's Meg, is there anyone named Meg in your village?" and "why do they have little math and science in schools? Don't they have knowledgable teachers? Or were the teachers living in this poor schooling process during their childhood?" And statements like, "I think I'm the luckiest" and "I wish the kids could have a better life and have as much as we do but they would not want to leave their home town." After informing them of the lack of math education in schools here one student sent a whole page of math facts to give them. Another gift was a Justin Bieber poster which the girls at Ogden thought the girls in the village would appreciate, I mean he's sooooooooo hot! Ha! It was fascinating to hear the questions they came up with. Then, I was off to Johannesburg for a World Cup game. It took eleven hours to get there on public transport but I was absolutely giddy the entire time and was quite literally dancing in my seat to Britney for the last four. I was met by a fellow Peace Corps Volunteer and a wonderful English South African family who took both me and my Peace Corps friend, Wendy, to dinner at a real restaurant in a real mall. If that wasn't great enough we watched the US vs. Ghana game on the big screen over dessert!! I also managed to humiliate my new, adopted family by being a completely obnoxious US supporter in a restaurant packed with Africa fans. Even the loss by my beloved country wasn't enough to dampen my spirits. I was then able to catch up with my friend who I haven't seen since we went to site three months before.
6/27: Today brought more fun and excitement with game day. Before the game even began, I ate another wonderfully balanced meal that did not consist of rice or boiled chicken and was taken by another English South African to watch the England vs. Germany match at a bar before our game started. This was made even more enjoyable as Wendy and I were quickly joined by a posse of American men. I couldn't even believe our luck. Lucky for them I did a full body scrub down for fear the jumbo tron would have a gut feeling about a really dirty American needing a good public scare to get her hygiene back in check. I even got a few emails of guys feigning interest in some soccer donations that I'm going to guilt them into following through on. Perfect. Next up, game time. So Wendy and I got to the game early due to our VIP parking and we started to pace outside the stadium waiting for our bookie (another Peace Corps Volunteer). The pacing was initially due to the sheer cold factor but quickly grew more about impatience than blood circulation. We had a list of things we wanted to accomplish before the opening whistle: bathroom, food, people watch and souvenir purchases. Apparently they don't sell programs. What?! How am I suppose to know the players names and a litle background about the teams? What about the poor kid who never gave up? Or the coach who after 12923874 years on the job still hasn't won a World Cup...and this is his last year? I realize some strange people have things like ESPN for such motivational stories but some of us who live in huts would like this stuff on paper. I just might copy and paste this little commentary to FIFA. Yep. Consider it done. Another fascinating little fun fact about my World Cup experience is the food offered, most of which was sold out before the game started: muffins, sandwiches and tea were all unavailable. Food you could purchase included: chips, beef jerky, a chocolate bar, Coke and Budweiser. So my dinner included a family sized bag of chips, Coke and half a chocolate bar which I totaled at about 3000 calories...and I was still hungry. Nothing like 3000 calories worth of pure sugar and salt to make you wish you could have rice and boiled chicken. But I didn't know anything about the food selection or the shocking lack of souvenirs because Wendy and I were still stuck outside the stadium. Two hours later we were still outside looking in. The game had not yet started but the likelihood of us doing anything on our list before kickoff was looking very unlikely. After going a little crazy out of hunger, exhaustion and hypothermia we started to discuss what we planned on doing to our bookie Peace Corps Volunteer once he mosied on over. Most of it involved punching his face and pouring our dirty bucket bath water on him in his sleep...along with our pee bucket. Basically any bucket we used for any liquid was going on his body as soon as we saw him and were reunited with our buckets. He ended up coming fifteen minutes before the game started and even though I had some questions about a few of the calls made during the game I refused to ask him because I was giving him the cold shoulder. We had amazing seats three rows back; I felt like I could reach out and touch the players. Soccer City seats almost 100,000 and I think 99,000 of them were occupied by Argentinians. I felt I should be loyal to our neighbors to the south and fortunately I was able to celebrate with the five other Mexican fans when they scored one. Clearly our bookie was not very experienced because as we discreetly handed him our payment for the tickets he proceeded to flash around his new wad of cash counting it and re-counting it. People were staring. I started to scurry away so that when, not if, he got mugged I wouldn't be caught in the cross hairs. Obviously it was only a matter of time before a police officer came over to ask him what the heck he was doing. I don't know what he told him because I was pretending I didn't know him (as I did throughout the match as punishment for his tardiness) but I guess it worked out. It was clear that it looked like we were gambling on the game. So whatever he said, hopefully the truth, must have been pretty convincing. But I was floating on a three day long cloud so it didn't faze me.
6/28: Today I made the eleven hour return trip and I was pretty exhausted though still in good spirits. My bus was late and I had to travel at night which is a big Peace Corps no no. Just as I started to panic a fellow Zamimpilo worker walked up into the taxi I was in. I almost started crying I was so relieved. I made it safe and sound and went straight to bed.
6/29: Tomorrow I need to turn in my community needs assessment which, you guessed it, is a report I'm suppose to write for Peace Corps assessing the needs of my community. I did all the work a long time ago but I need to put it all together. It was the perfect combination of being able to recover after the long trip while being productive as well. I also got a whole stack of mail today, all of which I read five times each. It was so wonderful and a great pick me up.
6/30: Just turned in my 16 page community needs assessment and I'm feeling pretty darn good about it.
7/1: So my bugs have stopped their kamakaze act and for a few days now have been alive and well...in my bed, on my milk crate book shelf, my water filter...everywhere. I used my old stand-by band-aid Doom fogger. This will keep them at bay for a week until I find an AutoZone. An AutoZone, really? Will that be near the goat carcass or the prairie grass brooms? Peace Corps, where exactly do you expect me to find that large American car part retailer 'an hour away from the middle of nowhere?' Regardless I had the Peace Corps Medical Officer translate 'used motor oil' into Zulu which is what the Returned Peace Corps Volunteer (RPCV) turned Admin Assistant suggested I use which apparently worked in whatever country he served in ten years ago. I'll keep you posted. My positive moment would be the utter horror expressed by all members of my org and my go go at the sheer thought of me having a 'muhlwa' invasion. They were mortified. My go go says she hasn't slept since I told her my bugs were back...four days ago. 'I love yous' are tossed around to the point where those three words lack any meaning at all in this culture anymore but I threw a few dozen ngimuthandas out there to add to the stack except these were filled to the brim with authenticity.
6/26: So today I woke up on the right side of the bed and saw silver linings everywhere I went. I even checked my mail to find not one but two packages; one of which being individual letters from the fourth grade class I'm corresponding with at Ogden Ave. Questions included, "My name's Meg, is there anyone named Meg in your village?" and "why do they have little math and science in schools? Don't they have knowledgable teachers? Or were the teachers living in this poor schooling process during their childhood?" And statements like, "I think I'm the luckiest" and "I wish the kids could have a better life and have as much as we do but they would not want to leave their home town." After informing them of the lack of math education in schools here one student sent a whole page of math facts to give them. Another gift was a Justin Bieber poster which the girls at Ogden thought the girls in the village would appreciate, I mean he's sooooooooo hot! Ha! It was fascinating to hear the questions they came up with. Then, I was off to Johannesburg for a World Cup game. It took eleven hours to get there on public transport but I was absolutely giddy the entire time and was quite literally dancing in my seat to Britney for the last four. I was met by a fellow Peace Corps Volunteer and a wonderful English South African family who took both me and my Peace Corps friend, Wendy, to dinner at a real restaurant in a real mall. If that wasn't great enough we watched the US vs. Ghana game on the big screen over dessert!! I also managed to humiliate my new, adopted family by being a completely obnoxious US supporter in a restaurant packed with Africa fans. Even the loss by my beloved country wasn't enough to dampen my spirits. I was then able to catch up with my friend who I haven't seen since we went to site three months before.
6/27: Today brought more fun and excitement with game day. Before the game even began, I ate another wonderfully balanced meal that did not consist of rice or boiled chicken and was taken by another English South African to watch the England vs. Germany match at a bar before our game started. This was made even more enjoyable as Wendy and I were quickly joined by a posse of American men. I couldn't even believe our luck. Lucky for them I did a full body scrub down for fear the jumbo tron would have a gut feeling about a really dirty American needing a good public scare to get her hygiene back in check. I even got a few emails of guys feigning interest in some soccer donations that I'm going to guilt them into following through on. Perfect. Next up, game time. So Wendy and I got to the game early due to our VIP parking and we started to pace outside the stadium waiting for our bookie (another Peace Corps Volunteer). The pacing was initially due to the sheer cold factor but quickly grew more about impatience than blood circulation. We had a list of things we wanted to accomplish before the opening whistle: bathroom, food, people watch and souvenir purchases. Apparently they don't sell programs. What?! How am I suppose to know the players names and a litle background about the teams? What about the poor kid who never gave up? Or the coach who after 12923874 years on the job still hasn't won a World Cup...and this is his last year? I realize some strange people have things like ESPN for such motivational stories but some of us who live in huts would like this stuff on paper. I just might copy and paste this little commentary to FIFA. Yep. Consider it done. Another fascinating little fun fact about my World Cup experience is the food offered, most of which was sold out before the game started: muffins, sandwiches and tea were all unavailable. Food you could purchase included: chips, beef jerky, a chocolate bar, Coke and Budweiser. So my dinner included a family sized bag of chips, Coke and half a chocolate bar which I totaled at about 3000 calories...and I was still hungry. Nothing like 3000 calories worth of pure sugar and salt to make you wish you could have rice and boiled chicken. But I didn't know anything about the food selection or the shocking lack of souvenirs because Wendy and I were still stuck outside the stadium. Two hours later we were still outside looking in. The game had not yet started but the likelihood of us doing anything on our list before kickoff was looking very unlikely. After going a little crazy out of hunger, exhaustion and hypothermia we started to discuss what we planned on doing to our bookie Peace Corps Volunteer once he mosied on over. Most of it involved punching his face and pouring our dirty bucket bath water on him in his sleep...along with our pee bucket. Basically any bucket we used for any liquid was going on his body as soon as we saw him and were reunited with our buckets. He ended up coming fifteen minutes before the game started and even though I had some questions about a few of the calls made during the game I refused to ask him because I was giving him the cold shoulder. We had amazing seats three rows back; I felt like I could reach out and touch the players. Soccer City seats almost 100,000 and I think 99,000 of them were occupied by Argentinians. I felt I should be loyal to our neighbors to the south and fortunately I was able to celebrate with the five other Mexican fans when they scored one. Clearly our bookie was not very experienced because as we discreetly handed him our payment for the tickets he proceeded to flash around his new wad of cash counting it and re-counting it. People were staring. I started to scurry away so that when, not if, he got mugged I wouldn't be caught in the cross hairs. Obviously it was only a matter of time before a police officer came over to ask him what the heck he was doing. I don't know what he told him because I was pretending I didn't know him (as I did throughout the match as punishment for his tardiness) but I guess it worked out. It was clear that it looked like we were gambling on the game. So whatever he said, hopefully the truth, must have been pretty convincing. But I was floating on a three day long cloud so it didn't faze me.
6/28: Today I made the eleven hour return trip and I was pretty exhausted though still in good spirits. My bus was late and I had to travel at night which is a big Peace Corps no no. Just as I started to panic a fellow Zamimpilo worker walked up into the taxi I was in. I almost started crying I was so relieved. I made it safe and sound and went straight to bed.
6/29: Tomorrow I need to turn in my community needs assessment which, you guessed it, is a report I'm suppose to write for Peace Corps assessing the needs of my community. I did all the work a long time ago but I need to put it all together. It was the perfect combination of being able to recover after the long trip while being productive as well. I also got a whole stack of mail today, all of which I read five times each. It was so wonderful and a great pick me up.
6/30: Just turned in my 16 page community needs assessment and I'm feeling pretty darn good about it.
7/1: So my bugs have stopped their kamakaze act and for a few days now have been alive and well...in my bed, on my milk crate book shelf, my water filter...everywhere. I used my old stand-by band-aid Doom fogger. This will keep them at bay for a week until I find an AutoZone. An AutoZone, really? Will that be near the goat carcass or the prairie grass brooms? Peace Corps, where exactly do you expect me to find that large American car part retailer 'an hour away from the middle of nowhere?' Regardless I had the Peace Corps Medical Officer translate 'used motor oil' into Zulu which is what the Returned Peace Corps Volunteer (RPCV) turned Admin Assistant suggested I use which apparently worked in whatever country he served in ten years ago. I'll keep you posted. My positive moment would be the utter horror expressed by all members of my org and my go go at the sheer thought of me having a 'muhlwa' invasion. They were mortified. My go go says she hasn't slept since I told her my bugs were back...four days ago. 'I love yous' are tossed around to the point where those three words lack any meaning at all in this culture anymore but I threw a few dozen ngimuthandas out there to add to the stack except these were filled to the brim with authenticity.
Thursday, June 24, 2010
6/15: So I am clearly a walking example of not being able to stop working even if every red flag and blaring light is flashing in my face. In my defense, I had helped plan the awareness campaign on human trafficking today and was slated to present so I couldn't just skip out though I probably didn't need to be the first one there and the last to leave... Well that aside, my positive moment would definitely be teaching over a hundred kids about one of South Africa's dirty little secrets and being able to word it in a way they understood and which was age appropriate. I also played all sorts of outdoor games with orphans as part of my organization's plan to get them off the streets during the World Cup break from school. When my go go remembered that it was my birthday tomorrow she apologized for not having the money for a gift or even a cake but the light bulb went on when she thought of something she could give me that didn't cost a thing. Before I knew it I was sitting for four hours while I got my hair braided like 'a real Zulu'. She wanted it to be perfect so she would finish then take it all out so that not a hair would be out of place.
6/16: My go go woke up at 3:00am to make me this fried dough that neither her nor Zindle like but she knew that I loved for an extra special birthday breakfast. Today is a national holiday in South Africa to honor the riots in Soweto over forced learning in Afrikaans so I was able to relax at home which was a gift in and of itself. I also got a flood of well wishes in every form which just really filled my cup up especially after feeling a bit beat down the last few days. This love fest culminated in a KFC date with one of my favorite Peace Corps Volunteers. For the record, I had never experienced that gourmet dining establishment before coming here and now as the only 'restaurant' for miles in any direction it has become quite the delicasy reserved for the most special of occassions. But my positive moment had to be my dad calling to say that him, my sisters and my aunt are coming to visit for Christmas, best birthday present ever!
6/17: Today I helped evaluate the awareness campaign that happened on Tuesday and planned for another one on Thursday. So it dawned on me today how much time I spend organizing and facilitating awareness campaigns and already how redundant they've become. With this epiphany, I went to ask the handful of people I know with strong English skills why, if the young people here know that condoms will almost certainly prevent both HIV infection and pregnancy, why then do they fail to use them? A social worker that I worked on the previous campaign with, Musa, said that so many of the young girls want the latest hairstyle or the cute clothes or frankly food on the table and a lot of them can't get that at home. So they date older guys in the village. But if a guy's giving you a place to sleep and food on the table (in exchange for sex) you lose the power to demand condom use. Women's empowerment is a bit more messy than a few condom demonstrations. Moving on, ever so eloquently, to my positive moment. So I picked Zindle up from the neighbor's and as I had her in my arms she threw up everywhere. To her credit, she tried her best to dodge the malungu (white person). Since she has basically moved in and my go go was MIA I tucked her in my bed and she was out like a light. Little did I know, my go go saw the whole episode unfold and went to the witch doctor for some muthi. This she quickly ground using rock on rock, then put it in boiling water, gave it to Zindle, a toddler, who knew exactly what to do: drink it and purge it. Fascinating.
6/18: Today I had a series of little frustrating events that all disappeared with some chocolate cake and peanut m&ms but put me in a pretty foul mood all morning. After my chocolate reprieve, my afternoon made quite a come back when I listened to the USA vs. Slovenia game on my short wave radio in my hut fist pumping and circling in Mia Hamm-esque celebration (minus the shirt ripping, my hut is currently an ice box) when the US would score. I'm also crossing my fingers (which I enjoy teaching anyone who will listen) for the US vs. Algeria game. Consider me a shameless band wagon soccer fan.
6/19: So today I immersed myself in the South African Indian culture which I hadn't been exposed to before. It was a blast. We went to a Bollywood-esque talent show, I had a hot shower, ate at a real restaurant with menus!, drank an absurd amount of Coke and befriended a woman dressed in a traditional sari who dropped more f-bombs than anyone I've ever met. I was so stunned, in fact, that I noticed my mouth had been gaping for some time. She seemed to notice it too and said, "What? I like it raw."
6/20: So even though I wasn't exactly in the Western world, it has still been difficult jumping from one world to the next. I'm honestly so thankful that I can't go to and from 'America' in minutes like some of my fellow Peace Corps Volunteers. In fact, I told a Yale University researcher the closest town to where I live, the other day, and he said, "Wow, you really live in the middle of nowhere." I then clarified that I'm actually an hour away from that town. He said, "You're an hour away from the middle of nowhere?!" And that's exactly how I like it.
6/21: I continue to relentlessly and against all better judgment burn the candle at both ends which of course doesn't allow me any time to catch up. Worse is that I continue to run on fumes so things like waiting five hours outside in the middle of winter with the flu and a fever for a bus ticket I could have walked up to the counter and paid for in under five minutes (as evidenced today) is even more exhausting. And my bugs are back. Though the funny thing is that they eat my ceiling (straw) and fall once they're, I don't know...full I guess. Anyway, now that it's so cold, they fall and they're DOA. Dead on Arrival. It's hilarious. It's like a bug armageddon. In my hut. I'm cracking up just thinking about it.
6/22: So today was part two of an awareness campaign that I helped organize and facilitate. This event was held at the building where caregivers of orphans apply for their foster care grant. The social worker, Musa, has taken Bantu Time to a new level and the campaign was four hours late. The HIV/AIDS presenter spent her session discussing the likelihood of transmission when you scratch someone during sex and how your scratch and the person you scratched would invariably come in contact with each other and transmission would occur. I voiced my concern to several people over the probability of infection in that example and they all seemed quite convinced of the prevalence of his and her scratches causing transmission. After a bit of a frustrating day of carrying someone else's poorly planned campaign then watching that person hide in his office during the event and sneak out early my positive moment would be when Tshengie said this all-too-true statement "If I wasn't hardworking lady, Zamimpilo would fall over."
6/23: So I have a pretty mean cold which I undoubtedly got from having no heat in the middle of winter. This has caused me to completely abolish my self-induced 3 cups of tea limit. If that wasn't a positive moment in and of itself, the limitless tea part not the cold part, then this next discovery sure is. I feel like I'm starting to get a better grasp on the needs of my community. There's definitely a method to Peace Corps's madness. There's a reason why they insist that you observe and integrate into your community for your first three months at site before pursuing or implementing any projects. I feel confident now that I'm moving in the right direction. That direction as it stands now is focusing on extensive training for the home based carers, planning a girls empowerment sleep away camp and subsequent girls club and intensive case findings for HIV and TB infection. Test early and often!
6/24: I just woke up and had a full on Newsies moment. As soon as I realized that I no longer had snot pounding out of my temples I reinacted, complete with impromptu newspapers, the Seize the Day scene. Open the gates and seize the day! Yes! I'm back to loving life.
6/16: My go go woke up at 3:00am to make me this fried dough that neither her nor Zindle like but she knew that I loved for an extra special birthday breakfast. Today is a national holiday in South Africa to honor the riots in Soweto over forced learning in Afrikaans so I was able to relax at home which was a gift in and of itself. I also got a flood of well wishes in every form which just really filled my cup up especially after feeling a bit beat down the last few days. This love fest culminated in a KFC date with one of my favorite Peace Corps Volunteers. For the record, I had never experienced that gourmet dining establishment before coming here and now as the only 'restaurant' for miles in any direction it has become quite the delicasy reserved for the most special of occassions. But my positive moment had to be my dad calling to say that him, my sisters and my aunt are coming to visit for Christmas, best birthday present ever!
6/17: Today I helped evaluate the awareness campaign that happened on Tuesday and planned for another one on Thursday. So it dawned on me today how much time I spend organizing and facilitating awareness campaigns and already how redundant they've become. With this epiphany, I went to ask the handful of people I know with strong English skills why, if the young people here know that condoms will almost certainly prevent both HIV infection and pregnancy, why then do they fail to use them? A social worker that I worked on the previous campaign with, Musa, said that so many of the young girls want the latest hairstyle or the cute clothes or frankly food on the table and a lot of them can't get that at home. So they date older guys in the village. But if a guy's giving you a place to sleep and food on the table (in exchange for sex) you lose the power to demand condom use. Women's empowerment is a bit more messy than a few condom demonstrations. Moving on, ever so eloquently, to my positive moment. So I picked Zindle up from the neighbor's and as I had her in my arms she threw up everywhere. To her credit, she tried her best to dodge the malungu (white person). Since she has basically moved in and my go go was MIA I tucked her in my bed and she was out like a light. Little did I know, my go go saw the whole episode unfold and went to the witch doctor for some muthi. This she quickly ground using rock on rock, then put it in boiling water, gave it to Zindle, a toddler, who knew exactly what to do: drink it and purge it. Fascinating.
6/18: Today I had a series of little frustrating events that all disappeared with some chocolate cake and peanut m&ms but put me in a pretty foul mood all morning. After my chocolate reprieve, my afternoon made quite a come back when I listened to the USA vs. Slovenia game on my short wave radio in my hut fist pumping and circling in Mia Hamm-esque celebration (minus the shirt ripping, my hut is currently an ice box) when the US would score. I'm also crossing my fingers (which I enjoy teaching anyone who will listen) for the US vs. Algeria game. Consider me a shameless band wagon soccer fan.
6/19: So today I immersed myself in the South African Indian culture which I hadn't been exposed to before. It was a blast. We went to a Bollywood-esque talent show, I had a hot shower, ate at a real restaurant with menus!, drank an absurd amount of Coke and befriended a woman dressed in a traditional sari who dropped more f-bombs than anyone I've ever met. I was so stunned, in fact, that I noticed my mouth had been gaping for some time. She seemed to notice it too and said, "What? I like it raw."
6/20: So even though I wasn't exactly in the Western world, it has still been difficult jumping from one world to the next. I'm honestly so thankful that I can't go to and from 'America' in minutes like some of my fellow Peace Corps Volunteers. In fact, I told a Yale University researcher the closest town to where I live, the other day, and he said, "Wow, you really live in the middle of nowhere." I then clarified that I'm actually an hour away from that town. He said, "You're an hour away from the middle of nowhere?!" And that's exactly how I like it.
6/21: I continue to relentlessly and against all better judgment burn the candle at both ends which of course doesn't allow me any time to catch up. Worse is that I continue to run on fumes so things like waiting five hours outside in the middle of winter with the flu and a fever for a bus ticket I could have walked up to the counter and paid for in under five minutes (as evidenced today) is even more exhausting. And my bugs are back. Though the funny thing is that they eat my ceiling (straw) and fall once they're, I don't know...full I guess. Anyway, now that it's so cold, they fall and they're DOA. Dead on Arrival. It's hilarious. It's like a bug armageddon. In my hut. I'm cracking up just thinking about it.
6/22: So today was part two of an awareness campaign that I helped organize and facilitate. This event was held at the building where caregivers of orphans apply for their foster care grant. The social worker, Musa, has taken Bantu Time to a new level and the campaign was four hours late. The HIV/AIDS presenter spent her session discussing the likelihood of transmission when you scratch someone during sex and how your scratch and the person you scratched would invariably come in contact with each other and transmission would occur. I voiced my concern to several people over the probability of infection in that example and they all seemed quite convinced of the prevalence of his and her scratches causing transmission. After a bit of a frustrating day of carrying someone else's poorly planned campaign then watching that person hide in his office during the event and sneak out early my positive moment would be when Tshengie said this all-too-true statement "If I wasn't hardworking lady, Zamimpilo would fall over."
6/23: So I have a pretty mean cold which I undoubtedly got from having no heat in the middle of winter. This has caused me to completely abolish my self-induced 3 cups of tea limit. If that wasn't a positive moment in and of itself, the limitless tea part not the cold part, then this next discovery sure is. I feel like I'm starting to get a better grasp on the needs of my community. There's definitely a method to Peace Corps's madness. There's a reason why they insist that you observe and integrate into your community for your first three months at site before pursuing or implementing any projects. I feel confident now that I'm moving in the right direction. That direction as it stands now is focusing on extensive training for the home based carers, planning a girls empowerment sleep away camp and subsequent girls club and intensive case findings for HIV and TB infection. Test early and often!
6/24: I just woke up and had a full on Newsies moment. As soon as I realized that I no longer had snot pounding out of my temples I reinacted, complete with impromptu newspapers, the Seize the Day scene. Open the gates and seize the day! Yes! I'm back to loving life.
Monday, June 14, 2010
6/10: It was so wonderful to go back to my org and have people truly miss me while I was gone and know how much I reciprocate their sentiment. I told a handful of people that helped me spearhead the hospice project that I thought it would be best if we moved in a different direction. In a culture of no emotion, the fact that there were tears in the women's eyes was absolutely heartwrenching. The hero's welcome gave me little consolation after the dark cloud of broken promises loomed all day. My positive moment would be the little comfort it was to know for certain that I was doing the right thing and that this too shall pass.
6/11: I put the trauma of the hospice situation aside for the day to celebrate the World Cup opener. Bafana bafana (boys boys in Zulu and the nickname for the South African national team) spirit has hit fever pitch in my village. I went to a fan park to watch the game on the big screen in my shopping town with three people from my organization. I'm currently thawing out my extremities and trying to recover my lost hearing from the vuvuzelas but it was a complete blast. I can't wait for the motherland to beat our old colonial ruler.
6/12: Today I met up with three of my fellow Peace Corps Volunteers to talk about organizing Camp GLOW (Girls Leading our World) which is a girls empowerment sleep away camp. Young girls here are set up for failure because of the grave disservice the educational system does them which only lessens their already few options. As does the idea that girls don't have a voice and can't make decisions about their future/bodies/identity. South Africa has the second highest prevalence of rape under the Congo with child rape being especially common due to the myth that having sex with a virgin can cure you of AIDS. Even though free condoms are everywhere the majority of men refuse to wear them which leaves an extremely high rate of teen pregnancy. But I do feel that there is reason to be hopeful. There are women who are able to find ways to put food on the table without selling their bodies and pass the high school exit exam despite the cards being stacked against them. Since this is the only life these girls know it's impossible for them to imagine their life any other way. You don't know what you don't know. I hope to give them another option. I've asked young girls here what they want to be when they grow up and they look at me like I have three heads. I'm such a dreamer; it breaks my heart that girls here have never been given the chance to dream.
6/14: My heart has also never recovered from the heartbreak of the reality of the hospice situation. Instead of processing through that loss, and it was a loss, it was a loss of expectations, of direction and of course a loss of a promise I made to my community. Instead of doing that, I pushed through for six days stuffing my days to the brim in an effort to pretend this never happened, to numb my disappointment, until I hit my breaking point today. These past few days can be summed up by a series of bad decisions, bad luck and bad behavior on my part.
I took five taxis the other day because it didn't cross my mind to ask a taxi driver if what I thought was the fastest way to get somewhere was indeed the fastest way. I then proceeded to leave my wallet on that taxi which I realized when I was in the back corner of yet another taxi and didn't have money to pay for it. I then made half the taxi, including half a dozen overstuffed bags stacked to the ceiling, get out so I could climb over the rest of the stuff/people to find my wallet. Naturally, I immediately turned into quite the spectacle as I start crying and peering into random taxis in an attempt to find my elusive wallet. The young men that were cat calling and whistling at me just minutes before quickly turned quite scared of me. Just as I was ready to give up my search, however, I found it. Unfortunately, that is just one of many such stories, other examples include leaving my precious glasses at a friend's house (who lives five taxis away) leaving my debit card at the copy place (luckily I got that back today as well) spending three hours cooking a vegetarian chilli worthy of a magazine cover only to put such an absurd amount of chilli powder in it that no amount of water, vinegar or cheese could make it edible once more. I turned down a taxi that had one seat left just calling my name, for no legitimate reason, and of course came back to a near empty taxi going to an out of the way town (the taxi I took a pass on was the only one that left that day) where I went on to wait 45 minutes for it to fill up.
The clencher, I'm ashamed to admit, came today when I waited an hour and a half at the post office to receive a package. This poor woman first told me that somebody had already picked it up and after a few comments to show my concern that that might be the case she went on a vain search to find said package. As the minutes pass with things like buying cheese to make the chilli possible to eat and trying to find my debit card looming, I started to panic when I realized how soon all of the stores would close. To preface this, I got another package slip on Friday and counted down the minutes until I could get my package on Saturday which I knew would be stuffed with all sorts of Americana only to find a Peace Corps mailing in its place. Seeing as though I expected this package almost six weeks ago and I had recently completely lost my mind, it should have been no surprise that at the hour and a half mark I started crying. Yep, I was crying in the post office, in front of line long enough to put a winding queue at Six Flags to shame. When the post office lady came back to say that after checking and re checking the package room it seems as though it has just disappeared...I went a little crazy. I'm crying, of course, which is crazy enough as it is, and I now am flailing my arms, and yelling, going on about having medicine sent from America that I need, I really need it, how can I trust the postal system in this country if packages seem to just disappear and what does she suggest I do if my health is now in jeopardy because of someone's carelessness?! I somehow had enough foresight to leave out the fact that I was referencing a multi vitamin. To make matters worse, the now frightened postal employee scuries off for one last attempt to find this hidden package which I paint as basically having State secrets, keys to many kingdoms and filled with gold...and finds it. I leave quietly with my head hung in shame. It took me making a complete and total fool out of myself for a few bags of m&ms and a People magazine...and yes life-altering multi vitamins, to realize I need a day off...or two.
6/11: I put the trauma of the hospice situation aside for the day to celebrate the World Cup opener. Bafana bafana (boys boys in Zulu and the nickname for the South African national team) spirit has hit fever pitch in my village. I went to a fan park to watch the game on the big screen in my shopping town with three people from my organization. I'm currently thawing out my extremities and trying to recover my lost hearing from the vuvuzelas but it was a complete blast. I can't wait for the motherland to beat our old colonial ruler.
6/12: Today I met up with three of my fellow Peace Corps Volunteers to talk about organizing Camp GLOW (Girls Leading our World) which is a girls empowerment sleep away camp. Young girls here are set up for failure because of the grave disservice the educational system does them which only lessens their already few options. As does the idea that girls don't have a voice and can't make decisions about their future/bodies/identity. South Africa has the second highest prevalence of rape under the Congo with child rape being especially common due to the myth that having sex with a virgin can cure you of AIDS. Even though free condoms are everywhere the majority of men refuse to wear them which leaves an extremely high rate of teen pregnancy. But I do feel that there is reason to be hopeful. There are women who are able to find ways to put food on the table without selling their bodies and pass the high school exit exam despite the cards being stacked against them. Since this is the only life these girls know it's impossible for them to imagine their life any other way. You don't know what you don't know. I hope to give them another option. I've asked young girls here what they want to be when they grow up and they look at me like I have three heads. I'm such a dreamer; it breaks my heart that girls here have never been given the chance to dream.
6/14: My heart has also never recovered from the heartbreak of the reality of the hospice situation. Instead of processing through that loss, and it was a loss, it was a loss of expectations, of direction and of course a loss of a promise I made to my community. Instead of doing that, I pushed through for six days stuffing my days to the brim in an effort to pretend this never happened, to numb my disappointment, until I hit my breaking point today. These past few days can be summed up by a series of bad decisions, bad luck and bad behavior on my part.
I took five taxis the other day because it didn't cross my mind to ask a taxi driver if what I thought was the fastest way to get somewhere was indeed the fastest way. I then proceeded to leave my wallet on that taxi which I realized when I was in the back corner of yet another taxi and didn't have money to pay for it. I then made half the taxi, including half a dozen overstuffed bags stacked to the ceiling, get out so I could climb over the rest of the stuff/people to find my wallet. Naturally, I immediately turned into quite the spectacle as I start crying and peering into random taxis in an attempt to find my elusive wallet. The young men that were cat calling and whistling at me just minutes before quickly turned quite scared of me. Just as I was ready to give up my search, however, I found it. Unfortunately, that is just one of many such stories, other examples include leaving my precious glasses at a friend's house (who lives five taxis away) leaving my debit card at the copy place (luckily I got that back today as well) spending three hours cooking a vegetarian chilli worthy of a magazine cover only to put such an absurd amount of chilli powder in it that no amount of water, vinegar or cheese could make it edible once more. I turned down a taxi that had one seat left just calling my name, for no legitimate reason, and of course came back to a near empty taxi going to an out of the way town (the taxi I took a pass on was the only one that left that day) where I went on to wait 45 minutes for it to fill up.
The clencher, I'm ashamed to admit, came today when I waited an hour and a half at the post office to receive a package. This poor woman first told me that somebody had already picked it up and after a few comments to show my concern that that might be the case she went on a vain search to find said package. As the minutes pass with things like buying cheese to make the chilli possible to eat and trying to find my debit card looming, I started to panic when I realized how soon all of the stores would close. To preface this, I got another package slip on Friday and counted down the minutes until I could get my package on Saturday which I knew would be stuffed with all sorts of Americana only to find a Peace Corps mailing in its place. Seeing as though I expected this package almost six weeks ago and I had recently completely lost my mind, it should have been no surprise that at the hour and a half mark I started crying. Yep, I was crying in the post office, in front of line long enough to put a winding queue at Six Flags to shame. When the post office lady came back to say that after checking and re checking the package room it seems as though it has just disappeared...I went a little crazy. I'm crying, of course, which is crazy enough as it is, and I now am flailing my arms, and yelling, going on about having medicine sent from America that I need, I really need it, how can I trust the postal system in this country if packages seem to just disappear and what does she suggest I do if my health is now in jeopardy because of someone's carelessness?! I somehow had enough foresight to leave out the fact that I was referencing a multi vitamin. To make matters worse, the now frightened postal employee scuries off for one last attempt to find this hidden package which I paint as basically having State secrets, keys to many kingdoms and filled with gold...and finds it. I leave quietly with my head hung in shame. It took me making a complete and total fool out of myself for a few bags of m&ms and a People magazine...and yes life-altering multi vitamins, to realize I need a day off...or two.
Wednesday, June 9, 2010
6/7: Today began what was to be a week long hospice tour across the province, reasons why it was cut short will be explained in the proceeding positive moments. So I was happy as a lark as my knees were jammed into my chest and my face nuzzled into the folds of a morbidly obese go go's breast all morning and into the afternoon on taxi after taxi. I had been anticipating these hospice visits for weeks now and felt so confident that I did my research and was ready to receive the advice my wise hospice elders would bring to me. First stop was Greytown where I was introduced by a fellow Peace Corps Volunteer to his counterpart who is about five steps ahead of me in the hospice process. They're in the process of both building the structure and securing a long term funding source but have a lot of the initial organizational questions answered and subsequent forms filled out. We were feeding off of each other's energy and I was just overflowing with enthusiasm by the end of our meeting. (Arrow here to the positive moment). I will explain my day past my positive moment to give some context to the following few days. He then suggested that I talk to his contact at the Hospice Association which is where my first of my blows occurred. She told me that there was a man who was literally just a step ahead of me in establishing a hospice. He went to the municipality then days later I would go proposing the same idea, he would go to the chief, I would go to the chief, same at the hospital and at the clinic, of course neither of us knew of our cat and mouse game. The most important punch he beat me to though was a simple form I was told to fill out just today. Unfortunately, since there can't be two hospices built within 50 km of each other for fear of duplication of services, he gets the keys to the city. So this first blow hit me pretty hard. But I wasn't ready to give up just yet so I went ahead to Tugela Ferry to keep my appointments I had lined up for the next day.
6/8: Out of the four hospices I had planned on visiting, this was the one I was looking forward to the most by far. This hospice started when the first patients of AIDS began to die. There are also researchers from Yale University who are performing intensive case findings to try to catch patients with TB and/or HIV to treat them as early as possible. Many of these doctors have been working in this village since AIDS was first discovered and have raised their children in one of the most resource-poor areas of South Africa. To say that I was in awe of their passion and sacrifice would be doing them a disservice, they are dripping in accolades, not that they would ever tell you that.
They had just returned from a national TB conference where they were showcased for their trailblazing work in TB and HIV. I had the opportunity to sit in on a meeting where they were talking about research that has never been done, dots that have never been connected in the fight of these two epidemics. I have no doubt that these doctors have and will continue to make break throughs that will change the lives of people suffering of these two diseases the world over. I was fortunate enough to talk to every one of these doctors, in addition to others on the staff, about the idea presented to me by my community for a step down clinic and to ask their advice on where to begin.
I was shocked, to be quite honest, when time and again they said that almost anything you want to do at a step down clinic you can do at home with a home based carer. (So the idea of a step down clinic is a new one for me before I dove head first into the world of hospice care but I defined it on 5/25 if you need a refresher). The organization I work in now has a home based care program which is where a volunteer goes home to home and talks to the home-bound patient, bathes them, changes them, makes sure they're eating etc. These doctors said that if you hire a professional nurse (someone with a four year nursing degree) then you would be performing basically the same service for a lot less money. So if you don't build a building, fill it with medical supplies, food, liability and staff it around the clock but let the professional nurse come to them, financially the difference is astronomical. This of course is logical but I still wasn't convinced. PEPFAR alone gives South Africa $660,000,000 every year just for HIV/AIDS and there are several other funders that I believe would have been willing to support an AIDS hospice so I was hesitant but not fully deterred...until I talked with Dr. Moll.
Dr. Moll is a world renown medical doctor who started the hospice and the home based care program in Tugela Ferry and has devoted his life to that village and to the end of TB and HIV. He was my strongest supporter for my step down clinic but swayed my decision in the end when he said, "You could help 8, 10 maybe 20 patients a month with a step down clinic but you could change the lives of hundreds of people every month with a strong home based care program going home to home meeting people where they're at on the ground." And that's when my decision was made.
Do I think a step down clinic/hospice would fill a need in my village? Yes. In crunching the numbers, there are a little over 17,000 people in my township/village. If 38% of them are HIV+ then that equates to 6460 people. I would be doing 99% of those people a disservice by building something they would never use. If I want to truly change the lives of the 6460 people infected with HIV in my village I now believe I need to do it one hut at a time, cleaning one bed sore, holding one hand, feeding one person. In fact ironically, the building would be the band aid not the home care.
I would be lying to say that I wasn't heartbroken. Even though I haven't been here long, the time I've spent has almost been completely monopolized by the idea of a hospice. I feel content in knowing I'm doing the right thing in letting this dream go but it was a dream nonetheless and one that I've been mourning the past few days.
6/9: As I write the emotional rollercoaster of the past few days I'm overwhelmed and excited to get back to the drawing board. I'm relieved that I realized so soon in my research of a red flag too large to overcome. I look ahead to a future that only days before was crystal clear and now is so hazy. I pray for guidance and patience to forge ahead in the right direction and not to fall down the rabbit hole of good intentions without opening the blinders that have my own selfish needs of fulfillment first.
6/8: Out of the four hospices I had planned on visiting, this was the one I was looking forward to the most by far. This hospice started when the first patients of AIDS began to die. There are also researchers from Yale University who are performing intensive case findings to try to catch patients with TB and/or HIV to treat them as early as possible. Many of these doctors have been working in this village since AIDS was first discovered and have raised their children in one of the most resource-poor areas of South Africa. To say that I was in awe of their passion and sacrifice would be doing them a disservice, they are dripping in accolades, not that they would ever tell you that.
They had just returned from a national TB conference where they were showcased for their trailblazing work in TB and HIV. I had the opportunity to sit in on a meeting where they were talking about research that has never been done, dots that have never been connected in the fight of these two epidemics. I have no doubt that these doctors have and will continue to make break throughs that will change the lives of people suffering of these two diseases the world over. I was fortunate enough to talk to every one of these doctors, in addition to others on the staff, about the idea presented to me by my community for a step down clinic and to ask their advice on where to begin.
I was shocked, to be quite honest, when time and again they said that almost anything you want to do at a step down clinic you can do at home with a home based carer. (So the idea of a step down clinic is a new one for me before I dove head first into the world of hospice care but I defined it on 5/25 if you need a refresher). The organization I work in now has a home based care program which is where a volunteer goes home to home and talks to the home-bound patient, bathes them, changes them, makes sure they're eating etc. These doctors said that if you hire a professional nurse (someone with a four year nursing degree) then you would be performing basically the same service for a lot less money. So if you don't build a building, fill it with medical supplies, food, liability and staff it around the clock but let the professional nurse come to them, financially the difference is astronomical. This of course is logical but I still wasn't convinced. PEPFAR alone gives South Africa $660,000,000 every year just for HIV/AIDS and there are several other funders that I believe would have been willing to support an AIDS hospice so I was hesitant but not fully deterred...until I talked with Dr. Moll.
Dr. Moll is a world renown medical doctor who started the hospice and the home based care program in Tugela Ferry and has devoted his life to that village and to the end of TB and HIV. He was my strongest supporter for my step down clinic but swayed my decision in the end when he said, "You could help 8, 10 maybe 20 patients a month with a step down clinic but you could change the lives of hundreds of people every month with a strong home based care program going home to home meeting people where they're at on the ground." And that's when my decision was made.
Do I think a step down clinic/hospice would fill a need in my village? Yes. In crunching the numbers, there are a little over 17,000 people in my township/village. If 38% of them are HIV+ then that equates to 6460 people. I would be doing 99% of those people a disservice by building something they would never use. If I want to truly change the lives of the 6460 people infected with HIV in my village I now believe I need to do it one hut at a time, cleaning one bed sore, holding one hand, feeding one person. In fact ironically, the building would be the band aid not the home care.
I would be lying to say that I wasn't heartbroken. Even though I haven't been here long, the time I've spent has almost been completely monopolized by the idea of a hospice. I feel content in knowing I'm doing the right thing in letting this dream go but it was a dream nonetheless and one that I've been mourning the past few days.
6/9: As I write the emotional rollercoaster of the past few days I'm overwhelmed and excited to get back to the drawing board. I'm relieved that I realized so soon in my research of a red flag too large to overcome. I look ahead to a future that only days before was crystal clear and now is so hazy. I pray for guidance and patience to forge ahead in the right direction and not to fall down the rabbit hole of good intentions without opening the blinders that have my own selfish needs of fulfillment first.
Sunday, June 6, 2010
5/30: Something about having this much free time today seemed so decadent.
5/31: Today was a huge victory in the life of my first born, the AIDS hospice. I was able to talk to several people at the municipality all of whom seemed incredibly encouraging and helpful. Naturally, I didn't even discuss my original intention for being there (the potential for a plot of land) and the chief was MIA from his refrigerator repair shack (which is apparently where he spends most of his time that's not spent doing his chiefly duties) and the doctor in charge of the AIDS ward at the hospital was nowhere to be found but any small step forward is a success in my book. I also hope to snag those elusive men later in the week, little do they know how persistent (obnoxious) of a phone stalker I can be.
6/1: So the chocolate cake I hyped up all week drew attention like that akin to Julia Child. The 'sweets' they sell in the little shop in my village are really Halls cough drops. I tried to explain this to someone and they said, "No, it says right here, it has menthol." On a food related note, one of my many admirers gave me smoked beef flavored chips in honor of my presence at a meeting he was two hours late to. I'm so sad that today was the last English Reading class I'll teach until their winter (yes it's winter here) break is over which I even expressed to them with the vocabulary word 'frustrated' in a sentence. (I am frustrated that school is ending early because of World Cup). Anyway, my positive moment is that I met a totally hip English teacher who I have a date with for next weekend for a girls night in one of the bigger towns, hooray!
6/2: Today I went to the new clinic in my village. (I'm a familiar face at the other one). I waited at dawn for the lone morning taxi and wasn't informed until after I had already gotten there, realized the nurse I wanted to see concerning the hospice is on sick leave for a month, that there wouldn't be another taxi until late afternoon. I then proceeded to climb up and down hills for about an hour with my co worker (who does this every day) with at least a good hour to hour and a half to go to get back to our organization when we were picked up by some friendly man with several mattresses on top of his car with a crumbling interior: definitely my positive moment especially since I could see my co worker starting to have trouble climbing the hills.
6/3: After several confidence boosting conversations in Zulu with my co workers I was discouraged when I noticed in reality they were just spoon feeding me my own paltry vocabulary. On a positive note, I had a wonderful bonding session with one of my co workers in English/Zulu that I deemed successful not only because of the new vocab I was able to use in context but more importantly because I got filled in on her juicy love life haha. I also visited one of my co workers at home who fell and dislocated his knee cap yesterday. He was taken to the clinic where they popped it back into place and gave him some pain meds. Thankfully it was the one day a month where we have a car at the org. He was still clearly in a lot of pain when I came and I didn't want to bother him so I didn't stay long but he just texted me, 'Thanks to come at home you make me strong God bless you.' Never underestimate the power of your presence.
6/4: So I was dragged out of my village kicking in screaming today by two of my best friends in Peace Corps, Leah and Angie. It was so nice to hike around Angie's village, have a few glasses of wine and just relax, not to mention talking in complete sentences in English.
6/5: So I couldn't take the guilt and Tshengie's puppy dog eyes after she begged, literally begged me to come to her dad's birthday party (see positive moment for 5/28). So I backed out on the girls empowerment sleep away camp planning session I was suppose to have with three of my fellow PCVs. Much to the relief of my supervisor who I can now see feels everything is now once again right in the world. Her dad is a pastor in the Zion church which is a traditional Zulu Christian faith where they combine drums and song and dance in worship that lasts all day on Sundays. Ritual and sacrifice are prominent and they have special dress they wear during any ceremony including church but not limited to birthday parties. The party comprised of his family and friends standing up and telling God why they were thankful for him with a good dollop of hymns in between. At the head table were Tshengie's six brothers, lots of bowls of cheetos, her dad and her two moms (polygamy is commonplace here, just look at the President), and Tshengie and I sat on the women's side near the front. I went with two friends from my organization and even though it took us two hours to get there I knew how much it meant to Tshengie to see us make the epic journey. And to top it off since we didn't get lost it only took us an hour and a half to get back!
6/6: After two really long fun days I vegetated all day today mainly carb detoxing. After a steady stream of visitors, I had one teacher who came to ask if I could summarize my talk I gave to her school a few weeks ago over child trafficking so she could review the points with her class. Seeing as though I was warned about that hour long lecture as I was walking up to the stage (under the assumption I was just to introduce myself) it was nice that she at least thought it was somewhat coherent, nice enough in fact to make it as my positive moment.
5/31: Today was a huge victory in the life of my first born, the AIDS hospice. I was able to talk to several people at the municipality all of whom seemed incredibly encouraging and helpful. Naturally, I didn't even discuss my original intention for being there (the potential for a plot of land) and the chief was MIA from his refrigerator repair shack (which is apparently where he spends most of his time that's not spent doing his chiefly duties) and the doctor in charge of the AIDS ward at the hospital was nowhere to be found but any small step forward is a success in my book. I also hope to snag those elusive men later in the week, little do they know how persistent (obnoxious) of a phone stalker I can be.
6/1: So the chocolate cake I hyped up all week drew attention like that akin to Julia Child. The 'sweets' they sell in the little shop in my village are really Halls cough drops. I tried to explain this to someone and they said, "No, it says right here, it has menthol." On a food related note, one of my many admirers gave me smoked beef flavored chips in honor of my presence at a meeting he was two hours late to. I'm so sad that today was the last English Reading class I'll teach until their winter (yes it's winter here) break is over which I even expressed to them with the vocabulary word 'frustrated' in a sentence. (I am frustrated that school is ending early because of World Cup). Anyway, my positive moment is that I met a totally hip English teacher who I have a date with for next weekend for a girls night in one of the bigger towns, hooray!
6/2: Today I went to the new clinic in my village. (I'm a familiar face at the other one). I waited at dawn for the lone morning taxi and wasn't informed until after I had already gotten there, realized the nurse I wanted to see concerning the hospice is on sick leave for a month, that there wouldn't be another taxi until late afternoon. I then proceeded to climb up and down hills for about an hour with my co worker (who does this every day) with at least a good hour to hour and a half to go to get back to our organization when we were picked up by some friendly man with several mattresses on top of his car with a crumbling interior: definitely my positive moment especially since I could see my co worker starting to have trouble climbing the hills.
6/3: After several confidence boosting conversations in Zulu with my co workers I was discouraged when I noticed in reality they were just spoon feeding me my own paltry vocabulary. On a positive note, I had a wonderful bonding session with one of my co workers in English/Zulu that I deemed successful not only because of the new vocab I was able to use in context but more importantly because I got filled in on her juicy love life haha. I also visited one of my co workers at home who fell and dislocated his knee cap yesterday. He was taken to the clinic where they popped it back into place and gave him some pain meds. Thankfully it was the one day a month where we have a car at the org. He was still clearly in a lot of pain when I came and I didn't want to bother him so I didn't stay long but he just texted me, 'Thanks to come at home you make me strong God bless you.' Never underestimate the power of your presence.
6/4: So I was dragged out of my village kicking in screaming today by two of my best friends in Peace Corps, Leah and Angie. It was so nice to hike around Angie's village, have a few glasses of wine and just relax, not to mention talking in complete sentences in English.
6/5: So I couldn't take the guilt and Tshengie's puppy dog eyes after she begged, literally begged me to come to her dad's birthday party (see positive moment for 5/28). So I backed out on the girls empowerment sleep away camp planning session I was suppose to have with three of my fellow PCVs. Much to the relief of my supervisor who I can now see feels everything is now once again right in the world. Her dad is a pastor in the Zion church which is a traditional Zulu Christian faith where they combine drums and song and dance in worship that lasts all day on Sundays. Ritual and sacrifice are prominent and they have special dress they wear during any ceremony including church but not limited to birthday parties. The party comprised of his family and friends standing up and telling God why they were thankful for him with a good dollop of hymns in between. At the head table were Tshengie's six brothers, lots of bowls of cheetos, her dad and her two moms (polygamy is commonplace here, just look at the President), and Tshengie and I sat on the women's side near the front. I went with two friends from my organization and even though it took us two hours to get there I knew how much it meant to Tshengie to see us make the epic journey. And to top it off since we didn't get lost it only took us an hour and a half to get back!
6/6: After two really long fun days I vegetated all day today mainly carb detoxing. After a steady stream of visitors, I had one teacher who came to ask if I could summarize my talk I gave to her school a few weeks ago over child trafficking so she could review the points with her class. Seeing as though I was warned about that hour long lecture as I was walking up to the stage (under the assumption I was just to introduce myself) it was nice that she at least thought it was somewhat coherent, nice enough in fact to make it as my positive moment.
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