8/23: Today, my supervisor and I and a few other representatives from our organization asked the Inkosi (head chief) for approval of our upcoming building. I don't think Tshengie was anticipating any hesitation because this request for permission came after the plans have been submitted and discussions were had with various contractors. He did, in fact, say no. Well, not no exactly, but he thought our new building would be more accessible to the community in a different location. Again, our meeting was a bit late for suggestions. In a hierarchical culture such as this one, not only should we have moved our building plan but do it without question. This posed a difficult situation because of the sheer implausibility of that happening at this point. So for right now, Tshengie's plan is to pretend he didn't make such a suggestion. A plug-your-ears-while-lalala-ing sort of philosophy if you will. We'll see how that works out. In the meantime, more fires need to be fought on the home front. Our chairperson has been escalating her level of corruption as of late. A take-a-little-off-the-top mentality is not only accepted here but expected. Sindi, on the other hand, started in that respect and things escalated from there. This last week, she took so much meat from the daily feeding scheme for our orphans that we ran out of meat to feed them. We also only had enough fruit for one week out of the month to give them. As soon as everyone realized how this was affecting the children, it was no longer acceptable. After one meeting it was unanimously decided that she needed to step down. The treasurer came crying to Tshengie last week begging to step down as well because of how much pressure she was under to collude with the theft and corruption. Not only has she been stealing from our project since she began her tenure, she also has burned so many bridges with potential funders and partner organizations. With that said, I was absolutely floored that she was asked to step down. (Granted, she will still be a home based care volunteer, she will no longer be the one making decisions and fortunately also no longer the face of our organization). Monitoring and evaluation of staff is something that is not as valued in this culture. The members of this project have all grown up together and enjoy being around each other. It’s not about rewards and punishment. Though because of that, not only have ineffective and toxic employees been able to continue their work, outstanding ones have gone unnoticed. I created several monitoring and evaluation tools that will help gauge that…assuming their interested in knowing the results.
8/24: Operation Jumpstart, which is funding our new building, came today which was a bit stressful, but exciting. They were two and a half hours late, which undoubtedly was to make sure we were aware of how busy and important they are, point taken. Hopefully they will break ground in just a few weeks time and it’s slated for completion in December. I also had an impromptu emergency summit with my Peace Corps besties to discuss back up Christmas plans since it looks like my family isn't going to make it. After some wallowing and more than my fair share of grease was ingested, we came up with the magnificent Christmas plan b that involves us three plus a visiting boyfriend to hike the Drakensburg Mountains. I was panicking because I didn’t know anyone who didn’t already have plans for the holidays but in a wonderful twist of fate both of these lovely ladies are now available for a Christmas extravaganza. Crisis averted. To boost my spirits even higher I received two care packages with a total of no less than twelve magazines, it will take every ounce of self control I have in me to go to work this week haha. Fun fact: I’m currently wearing an American flagged dr. Suess-esque hat, best care package gift ever : )
8/25: I cannot find the little scrap of paper I wrote today’s events on, sorry.
8/26: If you haven’t heard, the entire public sector has been on strike in South Africa for two weeks now. This includes but not limited to doctors, nurses, EMTs, police officers and teachers. All public clinics, hospitals and schools are closed, which means that the matric exam that is taken by all seniors has been pushed back and people on medication for HIV and TB are defaulting on their medication because there is no staff to administer it. Also of note, all departments which are responsible for funding grass roots NGOs like mine are on strike as well. Plenty of others have joined in ‘sympathy strikes,’ which is exactly what Tshengie wanted to do but for an allotted time of two months. When I told her that I imagine this will be resolved in less time (at least I hope so) she said she also wants to strike because the management committee doesn’t listen to her. Making her voice heard in both of these avenues, she explained to me, would take a full two months. I suggested that perhaps a more effective way of making her point is to voice her concerns at the next meeting in a few days time. That proposal was scratched immediately. One member of our organization has decided to go on strike himself. Clearly, this has completely crippled South Afric’s ability to function and can be, quite literally, directly correlated with thousands of deaths. In addition to all those suffering due to a 1.6% pay increase dispute, the real issue here is that I can no longer get my garden income generating activity off the ground because the Department of Agriculture is also on strike (of course they are). Why more attention hasn’t been focused on how the strike has affected American mainly white, affluent Peace Corps Volunteers, is beyond me. This blatant oversight is appalling. Moving on, because of this upsetting disruption in my plan to cure AIDS, I have changed course and have started to develop a curriculum to train the volunteers that do in-home hospice care at my organization. None of them have had any training at all and are so hungry to learn how to better help their community. Seeing as though the very high majority of people I work with are HIV-positive, this information can also directly affect how they live their lives. Tshengie thought the training would be most effective if it was set up as a series of one day workshops. The topics that will be discussed are: what it means to be in home based care, professionalism and effective reporting, HIV/AIDS and ARVs, TB and DOTS, STIs and condoms, psycho-social support and stress, gender-based violence, first aid and palliative care and lastly, forming and facilitating a support group. Because of each of our 14 Volunteers see three to five clients a day, this education has the potential to affect thousands of people.
8/27: I’ve been spending a lot of my free time with my go go lately. Today she tried to convince me that if I stay forever not only will she build me another house but that house will have tiles on the floor. If you never see me again it’s because the prospect of tiling became too tempting. I also finished Fast Food Nation today, which I began out of a need for some Americana and yes I’m aware of the irony. I’m just thankful that KFC, one of my few indulges here, only makes a couple appearances. I couldn’t have my addiction to their avalanche sundae be hampered by things like fair wages, price fixing, maltreatment of animals or the validity that anything they sell is legitimately food at all. Good thing all of that negatively is only associated with McDonalds, phew, my conscience is clear.
8/28: Today, in some sort of symbolic gesture to force me to conform to the ways of the developing world my watch decided to break. I should feel this renewed sense of freedom but really my left wrist feels naked and I’m a bit grouchy about my newfound loss of control. My frown soon turned upside down when I received word on a grant proposal I wrote a few days ago. I heard from a fellow PCV that the Mother Bear Project will send packs of hand-knitted teddy bears to your organization to give to the orphans and vulnerable children in the community. In sharing this great resource, Gail, my PCV friend, brought a few bears to our Peace Corps training a few weeks ago to show off. They even have little tags sewn on that say: made by Mother Bear: ______ and they sign their name. They are so wonderful and they have little outfits and hats and are made in bright cheery colors. I absolutely can’t wait to give them to the children; they’ve probably never seen a teddy bear before. Every child deserves something to snuggle up to; I know they’re going to love them.
8/29: Today my arms felt like jello washing my clothes after I finished scrubbing my impossibly thick, polyester blanket that soaks up water like it’s dying in the desert. At the end of this charade, I was drenched in water the color of mud, I had four buckets in some sort of attempt at a wash/rinse system, created a spectacle as I flung my entire body weight into throwing the blanket over the clothes line, which of course meant it was now covered in dirt and chicken poop and after all that I feel fairly certain that I didn’t even make a dent in its overall cleanliness and might have actually done more damage.
8/30: I’m sure I left work today with more than a few grey hairs. Tshengie wrote two grant proposals for new buildings, assuming she’d only get one. Well she got them both, and this good fortune has turned out to almost be more trouble than it’s worth. My org, Zamimpilo, is technically an umbrella organization for Isibindi, which works out of the same building. This partnership has caused much tension and strife as one of Zamimpilo’s founding members was promoted to Project Manager of Isibindi. Isibindi is funded by PEPFAR so it has a seemingly unlimited budget and is showered with thorough trainings at their hearts desire, proper follow ups by supervisors and an array of t-shirts in a variety of colors. But Zamimpilo has the building and the food and makes sure that no matter how effective the Isibindi machine may be, there are a few things Zamimpilo has that Isibindi doesn’t. The beautiful captains of the football team and cheerleader entourage that compose the unstoppable and enviable Isibindi might have their one last hold out to perfection fall in their favor. They’re vying for the second building that has yet to be built. (The first building is the second half of the church built by the Dutch youth group). Of course, this new building is bigger and better and on a large piece of land that is fit for expansion. The few rooms in the church building, though wonderful and complete with flush toilets, leave much to be desired when compared with Eden a few blocks away. Naturally, I have much loyalty to the rag-tag bunch of scrubby, semi-literate, quasi-productive bunch I work with. I was anticipating a David and Goliath epic sparring, complete with ‘Eye of the Tiger’ playing in the background. I was prepping Tshengie while I punched a pretend speed bag and she seemed a bit, dare I say apathetic, to the building war. I was unfazed. I already rationalized that after decades of internalized oppression, it was engrained in Tshengie to not stand up for herself. Well, lucky for her I’m here to save the day. I mean I was throwing practice punches; I had this one in the bag. So I made my impassioned speech with Tshengie by my side when I burst into English tangents. I was received by cold indifference. Tshengie changed her mind to match the latest person she talked to on the issue. This, of course, drove me crazy because really she should just be listening to me. Because I’m right. Zamimpilo deserved Eden. Final answer. The decision at the end of the day was that both Isibindi and Zamimpilo will move into the church building for three months while the new building is being built.
8/31: I’m not quite sure if the logic behind this temporary three month move involved the church building perhaps feeling lonely on days that weren’t Sunday or if there was a new found need for tangible effort to be made and this was the first thing that popped into their heads. Regardless of the rationale, we did in fact move today. I carried chairs, printers and pots on my head, luckily no longer treated like a fragile flower. You trip and fall; get up the fridge is waiting for you.
9/1: I can’t believe it’s really September. I’ve been here for over seven months and it feels like seven weeks. Today has been incredibly productive. I think the fact that our new building has six rooms as compared to our old one with one, has allowed me to escape into one of the empty rooms and get several uninterrupted hours of work completed before tea must be drunk again. Love it.
Wednesday, September 1, 2010
Wednesday, August 25, 2010
I just bought a PO box with a few of my Peace Corps friends to make my postal experience a lot less stressful. If you already used the address I gave you, that's fine, the letters will get to me, but this will be a lot more efficient.
Alena Skeels
PO Box 578
Nqutu 3135
South Africa
Also, I posted some pictures on my Facebook page but due to the absurd amount of time it takes to load each one I'm just going to post them in one spot. So if you're not my Facebook friend, friend me!
Alena Skeels
PO Box 578
Nqutu 3135
South Africa
Also, I posted some pictures on my Facebook page but due to the absurd amount of time it takes to load each one I'm just going to post them in one spot. So if you're not my Facebook friend, friend me!
Monday, August 23, 2010
8/16-8/22
I made the twelve hour journey back to Pretoria this past week to participate in the Volunteer Support Network (VSN) training. VSN matches a mentor from the previous training class with 7-8 mentees who just arrived in country. Peer mentorship has been proven to be an efffective, untintimidating way to bridge the gap between the Peace Corps main office and volunteers new to country. After spending a day training on Tuesday, the new mentors went to meet the new trainees who arrived here a few weeks ago. Because there are so many trainees (52), they are split into three groups, which meant we needed to do our presentation three times. This worked out just swimmingly because I was able to spend eons of time with a very small group of people. One of my critiques of VSN was how unlikely it would be that someone would confide in someone they barely know or met for five minutes. Last week, I was able to spend a solid hour and a half with two or three people each to start building that rapport. It was encouraging to hear about their drive to serve and exciting to hear about some of their fresh ideas. The following day, we had a VSN meeting for all members where we discussed a myriad of topics from alcohol abuse amongst volunteers to the effectiveness of our medical staff to success stories with mentees. All in all, it was a very productive meeting. It, of course, was also wonderful to slip back (so easily) into Western life for another week. I'm happy to report that my transition back to my beautiful village was not only free of wallowing but highly anticipated.
Naturally, I cannot have a week free of a little drama so here ya go. I travelled back to site on Friday after a handful of hours of sleep due to an extensive stay on the dance floor of a bar called Drop Zone in honor of a fellow PCV's birthday. I then spent thirteen hours in a combination of taxis and buses with the common denominator being sheer miscalculation of the breadth of the average Zulu. After catching the last taxi to my village as it was pulling out of the rank I started to prematurely consider my last travel day for awhile a victory. Well, in my exhaustion, I leave my wallet on the taxi (again). And just like before, I start crying, dropping f bombs right and left, flailing my arms, really just creating a scene worthy of any reputable American reality show (of which there are many). It's 7:30pm when I get home so everyone I know is already deep in REM sleep and unable to be contacted. Early the next morning I share my lapse in judgment with my go go and Tshengie. I, of course, had to have my American credit card, a considerable amount of cash and a copy of my passport inside so they immediately sprung into action. I marched right on over to my village's taxi rank in the hopes they would know who drove the last taxi back the night before so I could at least attempt to get some of the contents of my wallet back. They were all huddled over a notebook that seemed to have some documentation on it, none of which apparently was about clocking in or out or time in general really. Then Tshengie called to tell me that one of her friends somehow knew the license plate of the last taxi. This made things much easier for the men huddled around the notebook. After I passed my phone to the chief/taxi manager, he promptly told me that not only does Thulani have my wallet but he has my ID, cards and money as well. Not only that, in fact, he will call me when he's passing my house so I can run out to get it. (This last part was especially wonderful seeing as though I had absolutely no cash to get to my shopping town and my go go also had none to spare). Needless to say I did a victory dance complete with fist pumps, hip swivels and cheers. And yes, this was quite the spectacle for these male twenty somethings. So when Thulani called, I ran out to see what I thought was too good to be true. He said he'd wait while I check to make sure everything was there. On the phone he asked me how much money I had in my wallet. I said I wasn't sure but probably around R300 ($40), he said I had R350. Then when I counted it I had R380. So if I counted my money and I had R300 I would have thought that everything was there. I then give him R50 ($7) as a thank you and he looked at me like I was crazy. I insisted that he take it and he did but he clearly wasn't expecting anything from his altruism. I realize that I wasn't here during apartheid and that there was a lot of crime on both sides and still is but it's appalling how many people, both black and white have warned me about my lack of safety in my village, specifically referring to petty theft. I wonder how many of those people have spent any amount of time in a rural village. I've never felt more a part of a communtiy.
I made the twelve hour journey back to Pretoria this past week to participate in the Volunteer Support Network (VSN) training. VSN matches a mentor from the previous training class with 7-8 mentees who just arrived in country. Peer mentorship has been proven to be an efffective, untintimidating way to bridge the gap between the Peace Corps main office and volunteers new to country. After spending a day training on Tuesday, the new mentors went to meet the new trainees who arrived here a few weeks ago. Because there are so many trainees (52), they are split into three groups, which meant we needed to do our presentation three times. This worked out just swimmingly because I was able to spend eons of time with a very small group of people. One of my critiques of VSN was how unlikely it would be that someone would confide in someone they barely know or met for five minutes. Last week, I was able to spend a solid hour and a half with two or three people each to start building that rapport. It was encouraging to hear about their drive to serve and exciting to hear about some of their fresh ideas. The following day, we had a VSN meeting for all members where we discussed a myriad of topics from alcohol abuse amongst volunteers to the effectiveness of our medical staff to success stories with mentees. All in all, it was a very productive meeting. It, of course, was also wonderful to slip back (so easily) into Western life for another week. I'm happy to report that my transition back to my beautiful village was not only free of wallowing but highly anticipated.
Naturally, I cannot have a week free of a little drama so here ya go. I travelled back to site on Friday after a handful of hours of sleep due to an extensive stay on the dance floor of a bar called Drop Zone in honor of a fellow PCV's birthday. I then spent thirteen hours in a combination of taxis and buses with the common denominator being sheer miscalculation of the breadth of the average Zulu. After catching the last taxi to my village as it was pulling out of the rank I started to prematurely consider my last travel day for awhile a victory. Well, in my exhaustion, I leave my wallet on the taxi (again). And just like before, I start crying, dropping f bombs right and left, flailing my arms, really just creating a scene worthy of any reputable American reality show (of which there are many). It's 7:30pm when I get home so everyone I know is already deep in REM sleep and unable to be contacted. Early the next morning I share my lapse in judgment with my go go and Tshengie. I, of course, had to have my American credit card, a considerable amount of cash and a copy of my passport inside so they immediately sprung into action. I marched right on over to my village's taxi rank in the hopes they would know who drove the last taxi back the night before so I could at least attempt to get some of the contents of my wallet back. They were all huddled over a notebook that seemed to have some documentation on it, none of which apparently was about clocking in or out or time in general really. Then Tshengie called to tell me that one of her friends somehow knew the license plate of the last taxi. This made things much easier for the men huddled around the notebook. After I passed my phone to the chief/taxi manager, he promptly told me that not only does Thulani have my wallet but he has my ID, cards and money as well. Not only that, in fact, he will call me when he's passing my house so I can run out to get it. (This last part was especially wonderful seeing as though I had absolutely no cash to get to my shopping town and my go go also had none to spare). Needless to say I did a victory dance complete with fist pumps, hip swivels and cheers. And yes, this was quite the spectacle for these male twenty somethings. So when Thulani called, I ran out to see what I thought was too good to be true. He said he'd wait while I check to make sure everything was there. On the phone he asked me how much money I had in my wallet. I said I wasn't sure but probably around R300 ($40), he said I had R350. Then when I counted it I had R380. So if I counted my money and I had R300 I would have thought that everything was there. I then give him R50 ($7) as a thank you and he looked at me like I was crazy. I insisted that he take it and he did but he clearly wasn't expecting anything from his altruism. I realize that I wasn't here during apartheid and that there was a lot of crime on both sides and still is but it's appalling how many people, both black and white have warned me about my lack of safety in my village, specifically referring to petty theft. I wonder how many of those people have spent any amount of time in a rural village. I've never felt more a part of a communtiy.
Saturday, August 14, 2010
7/24: I asked my go go to take a picture of me doing my laundry in an attempt to document my daily life and she declined so I hesitantly gave the camera to the preschooler. Little did I know she was a little photo prodigy and was entertained all day by taking pictures up close of chickens and fire wood. To be more specific, she would sneak up behind them so that she would get half the beak and an eyeball, then she'd move at all sorts of angles and lengths to get even more interesting photos. She learned that turning the camera around allowed her to take photos of herself and since the household mirror is a small shard of glass the camera doubled as a very sophisticated looking glass. It filled my heart to see her little wheels turning and hopefully I'll be able to upload some of her masterpieces when I make my way to Pretoria next week.
I just came back from two weeks away from site. This left me little opportunity to scribe my daily anecdotes. Because of this, I will need to back track by memory and/or summarize. Not to worry, I am currently back from my hiatus and ready and willing to continue to allow you to live vicariously through me. : )
7/25: Today Tshengie and I travelled all day to get to the capitol for our Peace Corps training. She was very weary of travelling to the big city. I guess the fear of the unknown is universal. She didn't want to get off the bus (yes the Greyhound monopoly has made its way to Africa) so I got her a snack at a rest stop and when I came back she said, 'friends like you are smaller' (in number). Later, okay maybe ten hours later, we were driving through Jo burg and she asked, 'these buildings are shiny, why?' I then realized how scary this whole experience must be for her.
7/26: My guess at her unease was confirmed today when she called me at dawn, no hello, and said, 'Lindelwa, I'm hungry as a liiiooon.' (The supervisors stayed at a separate (and nicer) guest house. Even though I reminded Tshengie of our short separation several times she had a near panic attack at the bus station). I told her that the guest house probably had a small breakfast for free and to ask someone on staff where it was. She called me back two minutes later to say she couldn't find it and that I needed to come over. I then told her that not only is it not safe for me to travel while it's still dark but in fact she didn't need my help at all. I suggested she ask someone concerning a good place to eat breakfast and for directions to said place. She was very flustered and when I called to check on her progress a few hours later she said she waited for some of the other supervisors to wake up, one of whom found the free breakfast downstairs. Crisis averted.
7/27: Today all the Peace Corps Volunteers presented their potential projects with their supervisors. We did an incredibly witty and entertaining role play though Tshengie backed out of my costume idea minutes before show time...whatever. Even though it sort of dragged on, it was really exciting to hear about other people's projects; it gave me so many different ideas to implement at Zamimpilo.
7/28: Tshengie and I had our first blow out fight today. Similar to when you're in a relationship, this first fight marked the official end to our honeymoon period, though I think we'll be stronger for it later...hopefully. Peace Corps won't reimburse work before it's been completed so she needed to front the money for transport to our training. Since she's the sole bread winner for all 37 or so family members, okay maybe a bit less but definitely multiple moms and quite a few illegitimate children need to be counted along with her six living brothers, she couldn't come up with all the money. I knew that Peace Corps would reimburse me as soon as we reached the training site so I wasn't too concerned about paying up front. I asked her for the money the morning after the supervisors meeting where the money exchange was suppose to take place. This meeting was rescheduled multiple times so I wasn't fazed when she said that they didn't, in fact, receive their money the night before. I asked her if she could ask the coordinator of the training when the new meeting will be and she replied, "sure, I'll do it now now," (yes two nows) which of course means in a few hours if you're lucky. So since I was already standing I mosied on over to her myself to inquire about the change in schedule. Well apparently there wasn't a change in schedule. Kori stormed over to Tshengie, pointed her finger in her face and with steam coming out of her ears she breathed, "give her the money now Tshengie." I swear I saw a little fire ball come out of her mouth as she said that. Quite the ice queen, very impressive. Then Tshengie opened her wallet and gave me the money but she was fuming. She also frequently talks about herself in the third person, as she did on this occassion saying, "Why did you do that?! Don't ever speak for Tshengie! Now Kori's going to think I lied." Now just to clarify, she did lie. And it was no small lie. That money was a third of my monthly stipend so I wasn't being petty. But still I tried to be diplomatic, explaining that perhaps it was just a misunderstanding. Backpedalling, she tried to explain that what she meant to say was that one of her fellow supervisors received more money than her and they should have received the same amount. She was waiting to receive the additional money she was owed. Her being shorted by Peace Corps could have been a quick fix. I welcomed this deflection from the issue at hand. With my phone in hand, I quickly asked for specifics in the hopes of smoothing this over as soon as possible (we are stuck with each other for two years) but Tshengie was not interested in the brush-under-the-rug technique. I usually like to talk a conflict to death but I already created such a cultural snafu by breaking multiple rules concerning hierarchy and indirect speaking I thought I'd cut my losses. Unfortunately, she refused to let me help her, saying, "No don't speak for Tshengie ever again!" "Okay, so I could get you your money but you are choosing not to." "Yes." "Okay so you are making the choice to not get your money?" "Yes." "You do not want my help?" "No." This incident of corruption tainted our dynamic for the rest of the week.
7/29: Today one of our own started to get the help she deserves.
7/30: Today was full of wonderful speakers, my personal favorite being the Director of the Global AIDS Initiative at the CDC. He's an MD who finished his Peace Corps service in Ukraine with his wife a few years ago. I shamelessly grilled him with questions about the effectiveness of PEPFAR funding in the prevention and treatment of HIV/AIDS. In response he sadly showed a slide that depicted no change in prevention rates from the inception of PEPFAR's annual $600 million HIV budget seven years ago. But as a PEPFAR funded PCV I plan on changing that statistic!
7/31: I visited my home stay family from training today. It was so wonderful to catch up with them and to tell them how happy I was...even if it's in a Zulu village and they're Ndebele haha.
Because of the expense of travelling back and forth to and from the capitol I decided, along with another PCV, to stay in Pretoria in anticipation of a committee meeting we would have a few days later. I was concerned when I checked my Frommer's South Africa book and found a page and a half dedicated to Pretoria. Because of this, I brought just about every hobby that I took with me into this country, on this trip. Little did I know how unnecessary all of my precautions would be. So the other PCV, Andrew, and I headed off in an effort to cross off all three tourist attractions available to us in the city before our meeting was underway.
The art museum's first red flag should have been that it was less than 1 USD to get it. We also could have clearly deduced from its sheer lack of size how underwhelming it might be. But since we're Americans who expect everything in Africa to be under a dollar; we were pretty unfazed by the admission price and I, for one, had forgotten that a structure's brevity could be larger than a three room shack so I was not prepared for what I saw. The museum was three large rooms, one of which was dedicated to international flags in honor of the World Cup and another to what looked to be third grade art projects.
Next up was the Transvaal Museum which is Afrikaans for Natural History Museum. This showed definite signs of promise and the architecture was beautiful. (I made sure to assess the situation this time around, I didn't like getting tricked into thinking I was doing something all cultural when I was really just going through something someone decided to throw together one day and call it a museum in the hopes nobody would notice). Inside this fascinating piece of work were quite a few animals stuffed by a taxodermist including that of a German Shepard which was behind plated glass. Also of note were several diaramas, one of which depicted a cougar gouging out the eyes of a monkey with fake blood to boot, a man milking a stuffed cow with a Yankees hat and fake poop down below and tote bags from San Fransico which were also behind plated glass. There was a room dedicated to geology with a note at the end explaining that all education material was taken from a textbook that both Andrew and I used in our third or fourth grade Science classes.
The Union Building was also tackled on the same day as the stuffed animals were. This place is where the South African Parliament meets. It was absolutely beautiful, with gardens that reminded me of France and old world English architecture. We couldn't go inside because, well, I guess some people are suppose to be working in there...or something. Another enjoyable site was Burger Park which is a relaxing park in the middle of the city with a green house and a fountain and all sorts of things to make you forget you're in Africa.
I wouldn't be doing this week justice if I left out how many times and how much I enjoyed the event of eating at a restaurant. This cannot be mentioned enough and is something that, a week later, I still have not quite recovered from. There was one day, for example, when Andrew ate lunch at no less than four separate restaurants, just because he could. Don't get me wrong, I would be shaming the lovely ladies from my org who cook us rice and boiled chicken every day, if I didn't say there is also a place in my heart for that meal but I think I was starting to forget what any other food tasted like. I don't think there's a restaurant left in Pretoria that I haven't eaten in. It was wonderful. Another wonderful aspect about this first world city is the presence of a movie theater. I watched Inception twice. Yep. Two days in a row. With a large popcorn and a large Coke both times.
Towards the end of the week our other committee members started to dribble in in preparation for our meeting, as did PCVs who were leaving after their two years of service. This made for almost too much Americana to bear. More food. More bars. More friends. I was in America.
I knew coming back to site after being away for two weeks was going to be hard. I tried to prepare myself during my twelve hour journey back to the middle of nowhere to no avail. Some PCVs go back and forth between the first and the third world all the time. Some work in one world and live in the other. I'm so thankful that that is not my life because it would just be too emotionally draining. For me, staying in Pretoria reminded me of everything I left. And staying so long reminded me of how easy my life once was.
I came back to my village and I didn't want to cook on a hot plate or fetch water or sore every muscle in my upper body doing all the laundry I dirtied during my weeks away. I didn't want to pick bugs out of my filtered water and I sure as heck didn't want to lose my posse that I hit the town with every night. But I found myself alone in my hut looking around and the silence was deafening.
I've heard married people say that they wake up and make a conscious decision to love their spouse every day. Sometimes they don't want to, they might have said all of the wrong things the day before, or the week before and unspoken doubts start to rattle your core. What you know to be true. But you made a choice, a commitment and a few bad days, or weeks or months even, can't shake your resolve. Because you know in your heart it's right. The same can be said about my Peace Corps experience. There are days when the idea of being surrounded by a language I can barely understand, with kids hanging from every limb, and very little motivation from my co workers for change can seem insurmountable. When even the thought of serving the men in my organization tea while they watch Kung Fu movies all day makes the skin on the back of my neck crawl. Or working days or weeks on a potential project that when presented only remarks are whether I've managed to find someone to pay my bride price yet. Those days I decide to stay. I stay because great days that bring simple joys far outweigh the draining ones. Because nothing has ever felt so right.
I just came back from two weeks away from site. This left me little opportunity to scribe my daily anecdotes. Because of this, I will need to back track by memory and/or summarize. Not to worry, I am currently back from my hiatus and ready and willing to continue to allow you to live vicariously through me. : )
7/25: Today Tshengie and I travelled all day to get to the capitol for our Peace Corps training. She was very weary of travelling to the big city. I guess the fear of the unknown is universal. She didn't want to get off the bus (yes the Greyhound monopoly has made its way to Africa) so I got her a snack at a rest stop and when I came back she said, 'friends like you are smaller' (in number). Later, okay maybe ten hours later, we were driving through Jo burg and she asked, 'these buildings are shiny, why?' I then realized how scary this whole experience must be for her.
7/26: My guess at her unease was confirmed today when she called me at dawn, no hello, and said, 'Lindelwa, I'm hungry as a liiiooon.' (The supervisors stayed at a separate (and nicer) guest house. Even though I reminded Tshengie of our short separation several times she had a near panic attack at the bus station). I told her that the guest house probably had a small breakfast for free and to ask someone on staff where it was. She called me back two minutes later to say she couldn't find it and that I needed to come over. I then told her that not only is it not safe for me to travel while it's still dark but in fact she didn't need my help at all. I suggested she ask someone concerning a good place to eat breakfast and for directions to said place. She was very flustered and when I called to check on her progress a few hours later she said she waited for some of the other supervisors to wake up, one of whom found the free breakfast downstairs. Crisis averted.
7/27: Today all the Peace Corps Volunteers presented their potential projects with their supervisors. We did an incredibly witty and entertaining role play though Tshengie backed out of my costume idea minutes before show time...whatever. Even though it sort of dragged on, it was really exciting to hear about other people's projects; it gave me so many different ideas to implement at Zamimpilo.
7/28: Tshengie and I had our first blow out fight today. Similar to when you're in a relationship, this first fight marked the official end to our honeymoon period, though I think we'll be stronger for it later...hopefully. Peace Corps won't reimburse work before it's been completed so she needed to front the money for transport to our training. Since she's the sole bread winner for all 37 or so family members, okay maybe a bit less but definitely multiple moms and quite a few illegitimate children need to be counted along with her six living brothers, she couldn't come up with all the money. I knew that Peace Corps would reimburse me as soon as we reached the training site so I wasn't too concerned about paying up front. I asked her for the money the morning after the supervisors meeting where the money exchange was suppose to take place. This meeting was rescheduled multiple times so I wasn't fazed when she said that they didn't, in fact, receive their money the night before. I asked her if she could ask the coordinator of the training when the new meeting will be and she replied, "sure, I'll do it now now," (yes two nows) which of course means in a few hours if you're lucky. So since I was already standing I mosied on over to her myself to inquire about the change in schedule. Well apparently there wasn't a change in schedule. Kori stormed over to Tshengie, pointed her finger in her face and with steam coming out of her ears she breathed, "give her the money now Tshengie." I swear I saw a little fire ball come out of her mouth as she said that. Quite the ice queen, very impressive. Then Tshengie opened her wallet and gave me the money but she was fuming. She also frequently talks about herself in the third person, as she did on this occassion saying, "Why did you do that?! Don't ever speak for Tshengie! Now Kori's going to think I lied." Now just to clarify, she did lie. And it was no small lie. That money was a third of my monthly stipend so I wasn't being petty. But still I tried to be diplomatic, explaining that perhaps it was just a misunderstanding. Backpedalling, she tried to explain that what she meant to say was that one of her fellow supervisors received more money than her and they should have received the same amount. She was waiting to receive the additional money she was owed. Her being shorted by Peace Corps could have been a quick fix. I welcomed this deflection from the issue at hand. With my phone in hand, I quickly asked for specifics in the hopes of smoothing this over as soon as possible (we are stuck with each other for two years) but Tshengie was not interested in the brush-under-the-rug technique. I usually like to talk a conflict to death but I already created such a cultural snafu by breaking multiple rules concerning hierarchy and indirect speaking I thought I'd cut my losses. Unfortunately, she refused to let me help her, saying, "No don't speak for Tshengie ever again!" "Okay, so I could get you your money but you are choosing not to." "Yes." "Okay so you are making the choice to not get your money?" "Yes." "You do not want my help?" "No." This incident of corruption tainted our dynamic for the rest of the week.
7/29: Today one of our own started to get the help she deserves.
7/30: Today was full of wonderful speakers, my personal favorite being the Director of the Global AIDS Initiative at the CDC. He's an MD who finished his Peace Corps service in Ukraine with his wife a few years ago. I shamelessly grilled him with questions about the effectiveness of PEPFAR funding in the prevention and treatment of HIV/AIDS. In response he sadly showed a slide that depicted no change in prevention rates from the inception of PEPFAR's annual $600 million HIV budget seven years ago. But as a PEPFAR funded PCV I plan on changing that statistic!
7/31: I visited my home stay family from training today. It was so wonderful to catch up with them and to tell them how happy I was...even if it's in a Zulu village and they're Ndebele haha.
Because of the expense of travelling back and forth to and from the capitol I decided, along with another PCV, to stay in Pretoria in anticipation of a committee meeting we would have a few days later. I was concerned when I checked my Frommer's South Africa book and found a page and a half dedicated to Pretoria. Because of this, I brought just about every hobby that I took with me into this country, on this trip. Little did I know how unnecessary all of my precautions would be. So the other PCV, Andrew, and I headed off in an effort to cross off all three tourist attractions available to us in the city before our meeting was underway.
The art museum's first red flag should have been that it was less than 1 USD to get it. We also could have clearly deduced from its sheer lack of size how underwhelming it might be. But since we're Americans who expect everything in Africa to be under a dollar; we were pretty unfazed by the admission price and I, for one, had forgotten that a structure's brevity could be larger than a three room shack so I was not prepared for what I saw. The museum was three large rooms, one of which was dedicated to international flags in honor of the World Cup and another to what looked to be third grade art projects.
Next up was the Transvaal Museum which is Afrikaans for Natural History Museum. This showed definite signs of promise and the architecture was beautiful. (I made sure to assess the situation this time around, I didn't like getting tricked into thinking I was doing something all cultural when I was really just going through something someone decided to throw together one day and call it a museum in the hopes nobody would notice). Inside this fascinating piece of work were quite a few animals stuffed by a taxodermist including that of a German Shepard which was behind plated glass. Also of note were several diaramas, one of which depicted a cougar gouging out the eyes of a monkey with fake blood to boot, a man milking a stuffed cow with a Yankees hat and fake poop down below and tote bags from San Fransico which were also behind plated glass. There was a room dedicated to geology with a note at the end explaining that all education material was taken from a textbook that both Andrew and I used in our third or fourth grade Science classes.
The Union Building was also tackled on the same day as the stuffed animals were. This place is where the South African Parliament meets. It was absolutely beautiful, with gardens that reminded me of France and old world English architecture. We couldn't go inside because, well, I guess some people are suppose to be working in there...or something. Another enjoyable site was Burger Park which is a relaxing park in the middle of the city with a green house and a fountain and all sorts of things to make you forget you're in Africa.
I wouldn't be doing this week justice if I left out how many times and how much I enjoyed the event of eating at a restaurant. This cannot be mentioned enough and is something that, a week later, I still have not quite recovered from. There was one day, for example, when Andrew ate lunch at no less than four separate restaurants, just because he could. Don't get me wrong, I would be shaming the lovely ladies from my org who cook us rice and boiled chicken every day, if I didn't say there is also a place in my heart for that meal but I think I was starting to forget what any other food tasted like. I don't think there's a restaurant left in Pretoria that I haven't eaten in. It was wonderful. Another wonderful aspect about this first world city is the presence of a movie theater. I watched Inception twice. Yep. Two days in a row. With a large popcorn and a large Coke both times.
Towards the end of the week our other committee members started to dribble in in preparation for our meeting, as did PCVs who were leaving after their two years of service. This made for almost too much Americana to bear. More food. More bars. More friends. I was in America.
I knew coming back to site after being away for two weeks was going to be hard. I tried to prepare myself during my twelve hour journey back to the middle of nowhere to no avail. Some PCVs go back and forth between the first and the third world all the time. Some work in one world and live in the other. I'm so thankful that that is not my life because it would just be too emotionally draining. For me, staying in Pretoria reminded me of everything I left. And staying so long reminded me of how easy my life once was.
I came back to my village and I didn't want to cook on a hot plate or fetch water or sore every muscle in my upper body doing all the laundry I dirtied during my weeks away. I didn't want to pick bugs out of my filtered water and I sure as heck didn't want to lose my posse that I hit the town with every night. But I found myself alone in my hut looking around and the silence was deafening.
I've heard married people say that they wake up and make a conscious decision to love their spouse every day. Sometimes they don't want to, they might have said all of the wrong things the day before, or the week before and unspoken doubts start to rattle your core. What you know to be true. But you made a choice, a commitment and a few bad days, or weeks or months even, can't shake your resolve. Because you know in your heart it's right. The same can be said about my Peace Corps experience. There are days when the idea of being surrounded by a language I can barely understand, with kids hanging from every limb, and very little motivation from my co workers for change can seem insurmountable. When even the thought of serving the men in my organization tea while they watch Kung Fu movies all day makes the skin on the back of my neck crawl. Or working days or weeks on a potential project that when presented only remarks are whether I've managed to find someone to pay my bride price yet. Those days I decide to stay. I stay because great days that bring simple joys far outweigh the draining ones. Because nothing has ever felt so right.
Friday, July 23, 2010
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.
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.
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.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)