all beat up

I am such a mess. I’m on holiday right now but I’ve been afflicted with one sort of ailment after another. It started a week after I got back from the states – a sore throat, which I cured by gargling salt water – this is an amazing remedy! Then after I left the village, I could feel myself getting sick, feeling lethargic and just not well. I was able to cure this by overdosing on Vitamin C and drinking a couple lemon juice and garlic cocktails. Then after I arrived in Simon’s Town for my holiday, I was knocked over by something I ate (most likely the sushi from a non sushi restaurant – never trust those!). I’ll spare you the details but let’s just say I spent most of the night/day in the bathroom. That ran its course and then not two days later, my Christmas morning present was the tingling of a fever blister starting on my lip. These are never fun and I immediately started the treatment but there was no stopping this bad boy. He exploded within in days and now I have a lovely looking lip that I like to tell people was the cause of a brawl – you should see the other lady. Anyway, my lip is now starting to feel better, clearly on the mend and then I start sneezing and having a runny nose. Really people, this is ridiculous – 3 weeks running! I’m getting frustrated but I decide the only way to kick it in the butt is to go hiking and sweat it out. And yesterday was quite a hot day – 35 degrees Celsius. We had plans to go hike for a couple hours, eat lunch overlooking the bay from the highest point we could get to and then cool off in the ocean. Great idea until I decided to stay true to my clumsy form and take a nose dive down the trail. I had no time to catch myself, just wailed something and went down hard on my left knee and right hand and slid on the various other parts of my body including my right thigh, left forearm and right hip – you figure it out. Face totally in the dirt, arms out in front superman style. I got up laughing but man, it definitely hurt. Jason quickly came to my rescue and helped to clean up the wounds with some water but I couldn’t help let a few tears escape. No first aide kit with us so that ended our hiking excursion. We went back to the house to clean the wounds with some alcohol or hydrogen peroxide. There was none in the house, of course, so Jason went out and picked some up along with Magnum bars (the best ice cream bars ever) and that helped soothe the coming clean up, which was not comfortable!

And so this is me for my 2007 holiday, bruised, scraped up, runny nose and sore lip – oh and I forgot about the sun burn and flea bites. I’m banking on this being it for the year – maybe if I get it all out of my system now, I’ll be good to go for the year to come. I’m keeping my fingers crossed.

holiday life

This holiday I’m down in the Western Cape again, staying in a small apartment above a garage on the side of a mountain in Simon’s Town. As I write this, I’m sitting in front of a big picture window that over looks the bay and mountains off in the distance. Two weeks of this and I’m not sure I’ll want to go back to work. The woman Jason is working with has graciously let him stay with her for a bit. So we have a gorgeous view, a free place to stay and a two week holiday with no agenda. Life is good.

Being in Simon’s Town is almost like being in a different country. All of the houses are open and airy – no huge fences to keep people out, no security bars on the windows and no electric fencing. I haven’t quite figured out why it’s so different down here. There are some crimes that I have heard of, like ATM fraud but overall, no apparent violence. It’s refreshing but also a bit sad that other parts of the country have to live behind walls. If I could set up shop here, next to the ocean with a gorgeous view and a peace of mind that you really can’t find in other areas of the country, then maybe I could stay in this country longer than I anticipated. But that decision is still off in the distance to be made at a later time. For now, I’m just enjoying the freedom and simplicity that holiday life brings.

PICTURES!

Oh dear friends, it's been awhile since we’ve sat down for a nice chat. It has been an adventurous month for me and I have no complaints about any of it. There is so much to tell and really it would be hopeless to try and recap in a blog. Instead you can take whatever time you would like and view the pictorial story through my gallery:

http://picasaweb.google.com/hotarded

There are TONS of new pictures, including the elusive ones from my mom’s trip to South Africa in July. Here is a highlight of what you will find: lions in their element, art projects, a sports tournament, huge trees, German and American volunteers, crazy ladies from Texas gathering in Durban, wildlife butt shots, my super fantastic family, a really adorable baby who looks like a wise old man and pictures of the famous White House. There is so much more but I’ll leave you to it…

can we all just be kids for once?

I received an email with a link to a Snopes.com article that states The Golden Compass, is a movie based on the first book of the His Dark Materials series by Philip Pullman that has anti-religious themes.

http://snopes.com/politics/religion/compass.asp

I read other related articles and I have heard some of the controversy and I just want to scream. Supposedly Philip Pullman wants to convince children to turn away from God with his books. The Catholic League has denounced The Golden Compass because of the anti-god themes. What upsets me is I know that people will listen to the media and these groups and actually scorn these books, forbid their children to read them and never know for themselves that these books are quality literature. This is madness! These books are fantastic, completely fascinating and enchanting. Is it too much to just read books to enjoy them and not take them literally? It’s fantasy for crying out loud.

What actually happened to making up our own minds based on our own thoughts and not the collective thoughts of closed mindedness? Instead of immediately depriving yourself and your kids of these books, I ask that you borrow the book from a library and read it with an open mind. Maybe you’ll find it offensive and decide that your kids should not read it but maybe you’ll find it wonderful and just interesting literature. But won’t you feel better knowing that you made an informed decision and you didn’t let the media and other groups form your opinions for you?

Philip Pullman is a confessed atheist but this is what he states on his website:

‘As a passionate believer in the democracy of reading, I don't think it's the task of the author of a book to tell the reader what it means. The meaning of a story emerges in the meeting between the words on the page and the thoughts in the reader's mind. So when people ask me what I meant by this story, or what was the message I was trying to convey in that one, I have to explain that I'm not going to explain. Anyway, I'm not in the message business; I'm in the “Once upon a time” business.’

http://www.philip-pullman.com/about_the_books.asp

I am not here to argue atheism versus religion and which one is right or wrong. I just want you to read a few good books and not think of the baggage associated with them. Just read them to escape from this world and step into the life of a little girl who embarks on fascinating adventures. Maybe we just need to stop being adults for a little while and just get lost in a make believe world.

missing inspiration

This is so frustrating. There are so many things that I would love to share with you but when I try to write them down, it doesn’t seem to come out right. I can’t put my thoughts together cohesively.

Maybe it’s my excitement about going home. It’s less than a week away now. I can’t formulate into words the actual feelings of elation about seeing my mom, my dad, my sisters, my new nephew, my brother (hopefully) the rest of my family, my friends. I just can’t put it into words that do it any justice so suffice it to say I am so excited.

I actually had an amazing bus trip to Johannesburg yesterday. There was no one from my organization to take me to town to catch the bus, so I got up at 5 am (not an easy thing to do), finished the last minute packing and cleaning and headed to the main road with my friend Rosen who helped me carry my bags. My friend Glenda was in the taxi and when we got to the taxi rank, the taxi to town was full and she asked if anyone would mind giving up their seat so I could make sure to catch my bus on time. A woman got out and let me have her seat right by the door which was great because my bag is slightly large (but not full, I anticipate coming back from the states with a few things…) and awkward. Besides the bag, the ride was comfortable, I wasn’t squished at all. The taxi driver dropped me off at the actual bus stop and it was only 7:15. This alone was a miracle – the bus leaves at 8:20 and usually I barely make it in time.

The bus arrived on time; we loaded up quick and easy and were on the road in less than 15 minutes. No break downs, no delays. They showed terrible movies but really, I can’t complain. We made it to Pretoria around 2. Here they made us switch buses, which was kind of odd – Johannesburg is only an hour away. I thought the process would take forever but that was also surprisingly smooth and very quick. I had a very nice conversation with a local weatherman, who is also a teacher and runs marathons – that was definitely entertaining. And then we made it to Joburg by 3:15. I have never made it once to Joburg before 4pm and usually it’s much later. I must say, I have new found faith in the transportation systems of South Africa. At least until the next interesting road trip.

Hopefully more inspiration will come again soon…

serious time delays

Most people in South Africa, to crudely generalize, are late. It happens both in the cities and in the rural areas. This is my experience so far and others may have a different point of view, but this is my blog, my world and so far, rarely things run on time. I hear this actually happens a lot in other African countries too. People are late to pick me up, the buses aren’t on time, and shows don’t start at the scheduled time. There are plenty of times in the village when I will show up for a meeting at the scheduled time and no one is even there yet.

This exact thing happened at a the August staff meeting. Ten o’clock I’m at the centre along with the other volunteers and we’re ready to begin. Unfortunately, only one of the 4 staff members is actually present, hindering the process. Slowly 2 more show up and then actually disappear after a few more minutes. At 10:45 I’m told that the chickens for the catering are frozen. Every meeting has catering, it’s a cultural thing, I think. If there is no lunch provided you’ll find yourself surrounded by disgruntled people and lots of complaining. It turns out the last missing staff members is out buying chickens, only to show up and inform us that the shop was out of them.

At 11:30, when all staff members are finally present and accounted for and catering mishaps are sorted out, I’m so fuming mad that it took a lot of the patience and deep breathing I’ve learned over this last year to not completely lash out. I’m running the meeting so the first thing I do is point to the poster of the ground rules on the wall – the ones they came up with as a group. The first one is ‘Be on Time.’ I was so upset that they didn’t even pretend to take the 10 o’clock start seriously and that they were completely unprepared for the catering (the meeting had been planned for a month). They wasted my time, as well as the other volunteers – it’s completely disrespectful – they were the ones that came up with the rule in the first place! I said my piece (and barred my teeth just a little bit) but we moved on to the real issues at hand. After the meeting I said something about trying to be on time for the next meeting, knowing full well that probably will just remain wishful thinking.

Come September, it’s the week of the staff meeting and I send out a reminder SMS like I always do and wonder if this month will be any different – I had doubts but was still hopeful. Susan, one of the staff members, lives next door to me, and we left early for the meeting. We got into the taxi and inside are two more staff members. This is amazing, it’s barely 9 am and 3 of the 4 staff members are on the way to the meeting which is scheduled to start at 10. We get to the centre and the other volunteers are there. Soon the last member shows up and I can’t actually believe my eyes – all of the staff is present, sitting in the room, ready to go and it’s only 9:15.

I’ve done something; I’ve gotten through to them somehow. I’m so excited I can’t contain myself. I suggest that we start the meeting early – we’re all present, it makes logical sense. But only in my head evidently (and the other volunteers). My suggestion is met with a resounding NO. The meeting isn’t scheduled to start till 10 so that means we can’t start early.

Seriously?!

We proceed to sit, mostly in silence for almost 45 minutes. Just a few minutes before 10 they agree it’s ok to finally start.

Only in Africa.

teaching nerdiness

Although my time is filled with day dreams of my trip home in November, I am trying to be productive and get a few things accomplished to stick to my goals for year 2 of my PC experience.

As of the 21st, I commenced my second year of service. I’ve had my awakening and have made a list of my goals for the next year.

Map murals at each centre (6 total)
Art projects started at Butswana, Worcester and Moshate centres
Continued art projects at each centre
Drama competitions – submit best story to Scenarios From Africa

It seems small at first glance but then knowing how time consuming simple tasks can be, I’m not going to try and beef it up for aesthetics sake. Quality over quantity…

Last week I was at one of the offices helping Susan, one of my counterparts, to balance the cash book. She had been recording the information just in a notebook so I showed her how to do it in excel. After showing her the formulas and then helping her figure out where the problem was, she was so happy. I helped her to simplify her job and she was so excited and gave me a huge hug. Just to see her smile like that made my day. And sharing my nerdy computer knowledge made me feel good too. I am doing something to help. Today I showed her more things on her computer and she was just as happy and open to learning.

And then she told me I should stay till the end of Phedišang because I am so helpful. I feel wanted, I feel all warm and fuzzy inside. I needed that.

mourning harry potter

Per my Uncle Bob’s request, I am trying to be more consistent about writing blogs. Really, some days are filled with nothing interesting to talk about so maybe I can fill you with more of the random thoughts that fill my head instead…

…Like Harry Potter. I love Harry Potter, have read his books from the beginning. I’ve barely been able to keep my eyes from skipping over words so I can get through the exciting parts of the books. Harry and me, we’re old friends.

From the moment I got home with the package my mother sent with the last book and other goodies (LOVED the granola bars mom!) I couldn’t put it down. When I had the really rough day last week, I think part of it was that I just finished reading the last part of Harry Potter’s story. After closing the book and feeling a little sad about the end of something great, I just couldn’t take it when all the real world stuff came raining down on my shoulders. I had to cry to let it out. I mourned for lots of stuff and honestly, I think a few tears were for Harry Potter and the end of his story.

Before you judge me as being completely insane and a touch too emotional, you have to actually try and put yourself in my shoes. Although, overall, I enjoy my life here, it’s hard and some times, I just need to escape reality. Ok, a lot of times. I have always loved books but since I’ve been here I devour them, can’t get enough of them. I submerge myself whole heartedly into a story, I get attached to the characters, try and see myself in different parts of their stories. Every old house that is described somehow ends up being 103, my grandparents house, and the best friends or supporting characters, I see my own friends faces. Every story I read, even those that are no where close to me or who I am or where I came from, something draws me in (unless it’s a really bad book like The Corrections by Jonathan Franzen – for the life of me I can’t finish this book. I’ve attempted it twice now but the characters are just deplorable) and makes me fall in love. It could just be the way the author is able to find a beautiful way of stringing words together even if I don’t care for the plot.

After each book concludes, after the characters find their closure and are set free, I’m sad to see their stories come to an end. Apart of me laments the finish of every good book; I just don’t want the story to end. Like Harry Potter and all of his adventures. He fought evil, over came it and then lived happily ever after. Who doesn’t want their own story book ending and an end to all of the wickedness in the world? Of course I’m going to mourn; we still have a long way to go.

ripples of hope

My bed is made, my room is tidy, my dishes are put away and I’m sitting at my desk just having finished some work emails that I needed to get done. I feel productive. This is not how I have felt all week, or even for the past few weeks, but I’m overcoming my feelings of inadequacies.

Last time I said that the German volunteers were good to have around and motivating. They are but I also started to feel like I wasn’t doing enough, hadn’t done enough for the past year. They come in for a couple months at a time and seem to be getting things done; the things that I wanted to do but hadn’t been able to just yet. They questioned and I started to as well, why hadn’t I addressed these issues over the past year. Issues dealing with food and supply shortages and workers who haven’t been doing their jobs correctly. It was overwhelming for a few days, I started thinking about all the problems of this one organization, then of all the problems of this area, then of the country, then of all of Africa, the world, you get the picture. How can I do anything at all to make a difference? What am I trying to do here? Am I really going to survive another 5 years working in Africa?

I had a lot of long email conversations with Jason and that helped. I wanted to know what to expect in other countries, is their apathy all over Africa? Does anyone want to actually work towards change or is all just lip service? These feelings came to a head when I found out one of our orphans died while I spent a week working in Johannesburg. She was 7 y ears old, tiny for her age and always looked sick. She barely smiled but when I was at the centre I would try and make her giggle and crack a little smile. The older kids always looked after her, made sure she ate, got an extra piece of fruit if there was some, involved her in the singing and dancing. And she always danced and sang. She always tried.

It breaks my heart to think of it now, a little 7 year old who won’t get to grow up. Her mother died of AIDS and that’s what also took her life. I want to blame someone, could we have done more, is the health care system adequate enough? But as I was reminded, that is the ugly truth of the disease, it claims lives, young or old and it is swept under the rug. No one wants to hear that AIDS was the cause. And because she was an orphan, it is even quieter. It’s maddening and if I think about it for too long, I start to sink under the weight of not knowing how to fight it or where to start.

After more discussions, I realized that I just can’t let myself be consumed by it all. I have to look at the smaller picture some times. If we can help the kids that were closest to her mourn, understand what happened to her, then maybe it will grow from there. Like a ripple effect in a pond, you give them some thoughts that grown inside and when they are older, long after I’m gone, maybe that’s when the changes will start to happen.

And then I was handed a quote and it fit perfectly into what I had just come to understand and hope for myself. He even spoke about the ripples I envisioned. It’s a quote from Robert Kenney and I don’t know when or why he was saying it but it speaks to me now:

“Let no one be discourage by the belief there is nothing one man or one woman can do against the enormous array of the world’s ills – against misery and ignorance, injustice and violence…Few will have the greatness to bend history itself, but each of us can work to change a small portion of events, and in the total of all those acts will be written the history of this generation…

It is from the numberless diverse acts of courage and belief that human history is shaped. Each time a man stands up for an ideal, or acts to improve the lot of others, or strikes out against injustice, he sends a tiny ripple of hope and crossing each other from a million different centers of energy and daring, those ripples build a current which can sweep down the mightiest walls of oppression and resistance.”

aunts and little people

I am so excited to announce that I am an Auntie! My older sister, Anne-Marie, gave birth to the first grandchild for our parents after 36 hours of labor. I don't think all of it was painful but I can't imagine it was all that pleasant either. He was born September 12 at around 1:30 am and his name is Cameron Richard Weldon and he's adorable. 6 lbs 14 ozs I can't wait to meet him! I haven't talked to her yet but I hear Mom, Dad Lee and baby are doing great. In November I will get to meet the beautiful little addition to the family and hold him in my arms. So exciting!

feeling just a little bit lighter

As you may have noticed, not a lot of exciting things have happened in the last few weeks. I finished a book and it was so good that I have a hard time getting into any others. If anyone is interested in reading a novel set in high school about a girl falling in love with a vampire, please pick up Twilight and the sequel New Moon. I mean it, the author, Stephanie Meyer, can portray the agony of being a teenager and unrequited love so well.

So to fill the empty hours I have done a TON of crossword puzzles and sudoku. That and I’ve watched a few movies, some repeats, some bad and some amazing. And I confess that I watched Grey’s Anatomy through for the second time. I REALLY like that show.

Work has been filled with Germans. We have 3 volunteers from Germany right now and I’ve spent a lot of time working with them and the local staff. One day we were all in the office, it was chaotic and one of the Germans was asking a lot of questions to Motale, one of the local staff people that I have had a hard time working with in the past. She came to me and confided that she was frustrated and I gave her some words of advice. I felt like we had a major breakthrough and she actually trusted me. I could see the frustration of the Germans and realized that I have actually come a long way. I am more patient now, I don’t let all the small things frustrate me anymore, and I can roll with the punches so to speak.

And then the next day I realized that I still have a few things to learn. That day we had scheduled some interviews for potential carers for one of the centres. Mamotupa was late, when we called Motale to find out where she was, she hung up on me and then just didn’t show up until after the interviews. I was so upset but I decided to put aside my feelings because we had something more important to do and the women were waiting for us. We ended up having a good afternoon and played some fun games with the kids. After the candidates left I went inside to clean up and ended up getting into an argument with Motale. We both raised our voices and I knew that this wasn’t how I wanted to handle things so I tried to leave. She moved and blocked the door so I couldn’t walk out. I turned around to get my things and when I went back to the door she was still there. I couldn’t be in the room a minute longer so I used my arm and just moved her out of my way.

All I could think about the moment I stepped out of the room was that if I were at home, I would have a lawsuit on my hands. I didn’t push her but I physically touched her and I knew that it could be misconstrued. And it was. The next day when asked why we weren’t talking to each other, she just said that I pushed her. When I found that out I was irate. There are two sides to every story and no, I may not have done the right thing but I was not the only person at fault.

After a year here, I am still learning about how to interact with the people around me but honestly, I am tired of always being the one to apologize. I always feel like I’m stepping on toes and doing something wrong. But in this instance, I know that it wasn’t just me. So I decided that I wasn’t going to apologize until she came to me.

Guess what, it’s been a week and I’m still waiting.

I may never get an apology from her and I’m ok with that. She may not even think she needs to and I accept that. I am just happy that I realized that I don’t have to bear all the burden of the bad days.

reversing my stance

I hereby reverse my stance on the mandel bread. I tried the bread a few more times, gave a blind test to my friends and realized it’s actually really good. I just ate the last 2 pieces and will definitely have to make more. As fate would have it, it was just too good for the chickens.

i'm changing the name to mandel biscotti

Evidently mandel bread is supposed to be like biscotti. I was expecting comfort bread that is doughy and soft. Looking at the recipe now I probably should have realized that it wasn’t going to turn out that way but as I said, I had no idea exactly what mandel bread was. You say bread and I think warm, piping hot, just out the oven freshness. Now if they called it mandel biscuits or mandel biscotti, I would have been a little more clued into the outcome. So the mandel whatever-you-want-to-call-it turned out ok by those standards. I personally don’t think it tastes all the great, even after dunking it in tea and wonder if all parts were mixed well enough. Not having a mixer and only using my own strength and a wooden spoon I suspect something went wrong. I may try a couple more just to be sure but I’m fairly certain the fate of this mandel bread-that-should-be-named-biscuit will be making some chickens very happy.

bad mandel bread

August 13, 2007 bad mandel bread

Not really sure what I was thinking but I decided to make mandel bread. I’m not really sure I’ve ever seen or eaten mandel bread before. I was craving some bread – not the dull brown bread loaf that you get in the village and I had all the ingredients for this recipe. The recipe is from Nana Tillye’s (Jason’s grandmother) recipe book. She was Jewish and I was feeling a bit nostalgic for something homey and comforting. So I’m waiting for it to get lightly brown but it doesn’t look like much has changed. I’m thinking maybe I should have gone for something I actually knew what the outcome was supposed to look like. This is why I like cook books with pictures. Maybe it will taste good at least. We’ll see.

And after sitting her trying to figure out what else I could tell you, I realize that there just isn’t that much to tell. For the last 5 days I was sick and spent most of my days in bed going through 2 toilet paper rolls and a box of tissues. There was a brief intermission when 2 other PCV’s dropped by for a surprise visit on Saturday. Kristina and Jean were staying in a town relatively close and drove up for a couple hours. Besides Tanya and the other volunteers that live within 20 minutes of me, they are the first of my friends to come out of their way. It was nice to show them my home and hear the contrasts between their sites and mine. They were a bit shocked at how rural I am and I won’t lie, I swelled with a bit of pride while we were discussing it.

The rest of my bed ridden days were consumed mostly with watching season 1 and 2 of Grey’s Anatomy. My mother was wonderful and brought me those for my birthday. And I now have watched them all over again. Yes, every single episode including all the bonus material. And now I am still eager to find out if Meredith chose McDreamy or McVet. I have no idea – and no one better spoil it for me either. As soon as Season 3 comes out, I have begged my mother to get it for me so I can catch up and then be tortured for another 10 months until the next seasons comes out on DVD. Yes, I know that you can watch the episodes on the internet but only if you live in the states. If you live abroad it won’t let you. I tried that already!

And the verdict on the bread…it’s not good. I really don’t know what else to say. A little disappointing and not the comfort food I was craving. Oh well. One day I’ll get someone to show me how to make it. I feel as though I let Nana down. Hopefully the fried chicken recipe I’ll try next will turn out better!

aftermath

It’s 6:45 am and I am awake. It’s a holiday here – Woman’s Day. I don’t like getting up early especially when I don’t actually have to be anywhere. The last 3 weeks have caught up to me and decided to hit me with a nice little cold. Yesterday I had ambitions to go to work and get a few things done with our new volunteers and then I just decided that I should take care of me and try and tackle this cold before it got worse. I stayed in bed the entire day and read an entire book – Marley and Me (this is the ultimate indulgence which I will long for one day when I am back in the “rate race”), started another book and watched 3 episodes of Grey’s Anatomy. Despite my efforts, I feel as though a truck has run me over this morning. A hacking cough woke me up and then my nose decided to stuff up. I have been eating fruits, drinking water and sucking down vitamin c drops but I guess my body just needs to get some things out. I am not a huge fan of medicating but we’ll see how long I can last before I really would give half a lung for some Nyquil or Dayquil.

My mom’s trip was enjoyable and I didn’t think overtaxing but maybe all the driving I did was a bit. Normally I LOVE driving and since as a PCV I’m not allowed to, when I’m on holiday I take advantage if I have the opportunity (and loving parents who are paying for the rental car). Mom was sweet and was content to sit in the passenger seat the entire time even though we both got confused and tried to get in the wrong doors – they drive on the right side of the car and the left side of the streets here just in case you didn’t know. But let me tell you, road signs are terrible here, worse in Swaziland and an absolute nightmare in Johannesburg when we’re trying to find people’s house, there are 2 streets named Main but the one you want actually isn’t labeled. By the last night I was so over getting lost and not being able to rely on signs (my internal navigation system doesn’t always point the correct way either. This is when having Jason around comes in handy – his is way better than mine and my mothers as it turns out) that I sort of started crying.

What I was a little bit afraid to admit was that part of the reason for the tears was my mom was leaving. Or actually, I was leaving my mom the next day because I had to get back to work – she wasn’t actually leaving till the day after that. I had just spent almost 3 weeks with her, sometimes she was typical mom and I just wanted to roll my eyes (if I did mom, I’m sorry, I tried real hard to just let you be my mom!) but most of the time she was amazing and patient with me (especially while in the car, being lost and not having found the lunch destination – she was a saint then, really!). I had a wonderful time with her – it was fun making unexpected stops and just taking our time about things. But traveling for 2 weeks can be stressful and all parties are desperate for some alone time by the end, and then knowing that my mom was leaving and not really being sure when I’ll get to hug her again, that just made me a little sad. And me, I have a hard time talking about it so I’ll get stressed about little things instead, like missing the turns and driving in the complete wrong direction and really have no idea where to go! And sometimes it’s just hard to admit that Miss Independent who traveled across the world to seek out her dreams and live her life by her own standards, is still a little girl that needs her mom sometimes – her whole family really but her mom being the representative this time worked just as well.

But I got off on a complete tandem there – I decided to bring out the computer and type this morning because I wanted to share my funny, crazy dream. I have a lot of them and I love either writing them in my journal or telling someone the moment I wake up. This one was odd, the presidents were changing and there was a party on the outside lawn of the white house. I had been working with the whole office and I was sad to see it end except I wasn’t because I knew the Bush administration was on the way out. I said something about being sad and Laura Bush heard me and said I should feel happy because her new administration was coming in. All of the sudden I was hanging out with the new administration party but it was George Bush and Laura and Bono and other random people. We were having a grand old time, I was schmoozing with people, even George himself trying to win them over so I get a job in the new office. I couldn’t wait to tell everyone that I had met Bono and George and we were all becoming good friends. Then George (we were on a first name basis in my dream) went up to make a speech in this little tower thing that had just been constructed and he fell backwards but no one could find him. Sue McLean was there and there was a group of us searching and then someone came up to tell us his plane had to leave and the transmission was cut short – evidently it was just a projection of himself, not actually him. That’s about the time I woke up but earlier in the dream I had been at kruger park hanging out at Dr. McDreamy’s rondavul with some friends and hottie was totally flirting with me. I knew that he was Meredith’s but how can you refuse to flirt with someone that is that hot! This part probably had to do with the fact that I watched Grey’s Anatomy before I went to bed – thanks family for that birthday present! I am a little disappointed that I was so excited about the new Bush administration because that is not what I am hoping happens at all – not that it could anyway – I am not a supporter of his anyways in real life (newsflash for those that did not have a chance to talk to Teresa after the last election). But I won’t start talking politics now – it’s just ironic that in my dream it was backwards – those psychologists out there feel free to interpret.

mom memories

I’m sitting in one of our offices just waiting…waiting for the internet to get connected, waiting for the meeting to start, waiting for all of this to get done so I can finally go home and relax, sit in my little room and enjoy not moving around, just sit quietly and read. And of course unpack and settle back in.

My vacation with my mom was amazing. It started off with the ACTS retreat (I’ll save my thoughts on that for another time) and then a delayed driving start out of Durban. After the car was delivered late and we finally got on the road, I thought we were going the wrong way but only figured out it was the right direction after turning around and feeling flustered. This set the pace for the entire road trip. I don’t think we made it to one place without having to double back at least once because we missed the turn we needed. Swaziland was the worst for signage and even the maps that are given out at the border posts are incorrect. But we always ended up where we needed to be and despite those minor mishaps, we had a really great time.

Something I learned about my mom – she’s not the best navigator in the world.
Something my mom learned about me – I get very cranky when I am hungry (& lost)!

None of this made much of a difference, in the end we had a great time and saw some pretty amazing stuff. We had a few unexpected stops that uncovered treasures and beauty we would have missed otherwise. When we didn’t make it Swaziland that first day, we decided to stop in St. Lucia. We were told be careful when out at night, not because of the crime but because of the hippos, crocodiles and leopards. Before driving directly to Swaziland, we started off the next morning with a walk along a huge beach that had waves crashing and fisherman on the shore hoping for a lucky day.

Swaziland was filled with shopping: the main stops for us were Guava Gallery that had some beautiful silver jewelry, the Swazi candle factory and a Ngwenya glass factory. Lots of fun souvenirs! We shopped so long one morning that we didn’t quite drive as far as I anticipated, so we had another unexpected stop in Sabie. We didn’t see much of the town or the area but we found this wonderful little restaurant called The Wild Fig Tree that was advertised in our books and we pleasantly discovered there was a B&B as well – perfect for the last minute stop. A sassy old bird ran the B&B and she had lots of stories about everything. The restaurant was a perfect setting for me and my mom to just sit down, relax and chat for hours. We did just that and we even ended the night with a shot of Amarula, the local tasty liquor, on the house. It didn’t take much and my mom was hooked on the stuff!

We did a bit of site seeing, tried to see God’s window but it was fogged in (the curtains were still drawn) but the weather was fine at the Potholes and 3 Rondavuls and my mom loved it. Finally we made it to my village. My mom was a champ and actually spent 2 nights in my little house. I showed her around to the different centres, offices, she met tons of people and by 3 pm, we were both exhausted! I only let her have a short nap because then it was time to meet all of my friends in the village. I loved sharing her with my friends and they were so excited to meet her.

My organization had a new volunteer arrive just as we did, Corinna, so she was part of the driving around that day. And it worked out that she was able to come to Kruger National Park with us for the weekend. Tanya came as well, so we loaded everyone up in the car and headed out for a fun adventurous weekend filled with lots of wild animals and one semi-tame. First thing I did was take mom and Corinna to meet Jessica the hippo – they LOVED her! She’s a beautiful creature and it’s absolutely amazing that you can get so close to a hippo and pet her even. After that we made our way into the park. We stopped to look at watering hole by the main road where we saw tons of baboons and hippos and then we realized that there was a White Rhino out there as well. After hiding in the bushes he decided to come and show himself off to everyone – it was great to see. After that we had to rush to get in the camp gate by 5:30 otherwise we wouldn’t be let in but we made it no problem. The next day we left early, 6:15 am, and saw tons of animals throughout the day. At one point we were surrounded by giraffes walking across the road in front of us and behind us. Another moment we were surrounded by elephants, at least 20 including some baby ones. As we tried to drive on, this huge, old one with gigantic tusks was just parked in the road, staring at us. We had to wait 15 minutes before he decided to slowly saunter away. It was beautiful. We saw hippos playing, more elephants drinking from a water hole, beautiful exotic birds, water buffalo, tons of impala and kudu and of course baboons. At first I made everyone roll their windows up when we spotted baboons but then I realized that people don’t actually feed them here in the park, so they weren’t going to come after us or any cookies we had in the car. There was one moment when we were also surrounded by baboons. There must have been at least 50 just running around the road and back and forth between the trees. It was beautiful. And there were even little bitty baby baboons!

By the end of the day we were bummed that we hadn’t seen lions but a couple gentlemen we had run into earlier in the day (by the way, they had the largest camera lenz I have ever seen in my entire life – if I was with you I would demonstrate and show you just how big it was) said that there were 2 lions kills close to the road going out of the park. We had plans to leave early so the next morning we were 9th in line to get out of the camp at 6 am. After a bit of driving we came to the area where there was a buffalo carcass and 2 male lions gnawing on the thing. We sat and watched for a long time and then a 3rd male popped up. It was amazing. We knew there was another kill up ahead so we decided to tear ourselves away and drive on. Soon after we came up to a group of cars clearly looking at something but we couldn’t see anything. Slowly we inched up and not 25 feet off the road is a giraffe carcass – with a lot of meat still on it. We just saw the carcass and nothing else and then finally we realized there was a lioness chomping on the rump. We stayed and watched and eventually 7 more lions came out of hiding and made their way to the giraffe. It was amazing to see and it was so close to us. We stayed for an hour before we decided we needed to head out of the park and continue on with the day. As soon as we left the park, I was on a mission to get us back to town so we could eat and my mom and I could make our way to Johannesburg – still a 5 hour drive away. I was going 120 km/hr (I don’t know the mile equivalent but it was pretty fast especially after only driving 30 km/hr in the park) and cruising when Tanya yells out “STOP”. I slammed on the brakes and she could barely get out that she saw a cheetah on the side of the road. I reversed and finally we saw what she did, a cheetah behind the fence slowly moving away from us – I kept reversing to follow it and then we saw it meet up with 2 more cheetahs. What an amazing site and a good end to the weekend!

My mom and I finally made it Johannesburg, the last stop on her trip, by 7 that night. We were able to relax and have dinner with Leigh and Sue and the kids. The next day was shopping and then we had tickets to see The Lion King production. I have always loved that show and when we had the big family get together to see it in San Antonio in March 2005, that was a memorable weekend – the last time my family got together before I was off to Africa. So when I heard that the show was here, I had to get tickets for me and my mom. The show was beautiful and had lots of South African touches. Another stressful time getting to the theatre but then we forgot all about it and just enjoyed the singing and dancing and magic. The rest of the time in Joburg was shopping and visiting with friends until I had to leave Thursday morning. Phedišang was taking a group of high school girls to volunteer for the weekend at the centres in Limpopo and so I had to leave. I left my mom in the care of Leigh and my friend Laura took her out that day to a market and a nice lunch. It was hard to leave her but I was glad that my South African family was so willing to take care of her.

My time with my mom was amazing. I loved every minute of it and wouldn’t trade those 3 weeks for anything. There is so much that I just don’t have enough space to mention like driving for 11 hours around kruger park with very little food, the beautiful resort we stayed at in Swaziland that had thatched roof bungalows, the gigantic wire fish I bought for my room, the gas cap getting stuck and the attendant not knowing what to do about it (or me!), the endless number of times we felt like we were lost and of course all the small moments that me and my mom will be able to cherish together, just me and her.

birthday fun

My mom is somewhere in transit right now, on her birthday, to come and see me. I am so excited. Wait a minute, it’s only 12 here so maybe she’s just starting her journey. Who knows but by tomorrow night around 9 pm-ish my time, she’ll be here in SA! It’s been almost a year since I’ve seen her (or anyone in my family) and I can’t wait for a great big long mom hug. I hope her birthday is filled with fun travel stories and just happiness in general.

Last Friday was my birthday. It was a great day. Jason and I started the day off early so we could catch a taxi to Johannesburg. Despite the fact that I set my alarm early and did most of my packing the night before, I was still ready after him and doing last minute things as I was running out the door. Even though we were out the door, I still had to stop and talk to my neighbor and was going to stop at the next house to play with the cute new puppies that were yapping and coming up to me but Jason wouldn’t let me. I feel his patience was being tested just a little bit by my ability to take hours to leave the house (or the village) no matter how valiant my efforts to pack and do as much as possible the night before. Anyway, we made it to the taxi rank and after a couple hours when the taxi finally filled up, we were on our way…

…And ended up having the most uncomfortable taxi ride I’ve ever had here. Most taxis put 4 people in the last row, 4 in the next row and then 3 in the row right behind the driver but there are a select few that can actually fit 4 in the row right behind the driver. This was one of them. Usually it’s not a problem but it seemed as though all the small and narrow people sat in the back 2 rows and were lounging as if it were a private car, while Jason and I and 2 others sat together – each one of us in our row had the broadest shoulders of all in the taxi. We were literally squished into our row, we could not actually sit shoulder to shoulder. Despite all our efforts, our butts and legs and everything else was screaming to get out and just stand by the time our taxi made it to JHB – and that was with 2 stops along the way.

We made it and eventually, after a walk through a bustling market wearing our hardest, don’t mess with me faces, we made it to the bus station where Leigh came to pick us up. We were supposed to meet Tanya, but she ended up joining up with us later – which is a whole other story in itself!

Leigh and Sue were amazing and hosted a dinner party in my honor. Most the people I work with and have spent some time with in Johannesburg were there. Dinner was amazing, the conversation was good and the company was spectacular. Sue had whipped up a dark chocolate mousse and we had a champagne toast. It was a beautiful and fun evening that lasted late into the wee hours of the morning. And I got to relive it all the next day when our alarm went off early (so we could get on a plane) and I was still feeling the 3 glasses of champagne, 3 glasses of wine and one gin & tonic I had from the night’s festivities.

Now Jason and I are in Durban, we’ve had an interesting couple of days but I’m saving that for the next time I’m on a computer. Right now my time is running out at the internet café and we still have to do a bit of grocery shopping and lounging on the beach to do. Oh how I love vacation!!

Oh – and thanks to all whom sent me messages for my birthday!

missing Aasta

It’s late and I should be tired and going to sleep. Jason is wrapped up in a cocoon of blankets in bed right now, unable to fight it off any longer. I am just happy to have him here, in my room, in my daily life even if it is just for a few short weeks. Cooking dinner is more fun, cleaning up the dishes afterwards is a simpler task and splurging on pounds of candy brought from home is just more exciting with him around.

There is so much going through my mind right now, a million things on my to-do list before I leave for my vacation on the 13th. Work is keeping me busy and having Jason here is keeping me entertained. With all of this going on my friend Aasta smsed (sent a text message) and said that she was in the hospital with a knee injury. The next thing I know she is calling me and telling that she is being medically separated for the injury – meaning PC is sending her home and she is finished with her service. It was a sudden decision made by PC Washington and I’m not entirely convinced it was a good one based on the lack of information they obtained about her injury. But what’s done is done and she is already home and figuring out the next step of her life. My boss is amazing and understanding and had no problem with me taking a few days to spend with her in Pretoria before she left.

For a brief moment, while we were all sitting around her expensive room at the guest house, I wanted to be in her shoes. I didn’t envy her bum knee but she was going home and facing the next phase of her life – she wouldn’t have to deal with the ineptness of the PC office, the daily frustrations of communicating in the village & at work, the general indescribable feeling of being a PCV. I wanted to be in her place, seeing my family and not having to deal with constantly being tested. It was a funny feeling because I know I love where I live. I love the work I do but some days I guess it is a conscious effort to say, yes, I’m going to stick out the whole 2 years. Sometimes I wish a decision could be made for me to be done with it and get back to living an “easy” life. But it’s always a fleeting feeling and though I looked at her and wanted to be in her place I knew that it wasn’t meant to be like that. I know I would be crushed as she is, to leave my friends, my new family, my work, all of the future projects that I have planned – it would be difficult to do that knowing that there is still so much I want to do and see and experience. So I guess if I can see that happening to my friend and share her pain, I can appreciate that staying here, my own conscious effort to, is really where I’m supposed to be. And for Aasta, she has a different path to discover despite it not being the one she planned on following. I am glad that our paths crossed – she’s an amazing person and will come out on top despite how life trips up her plans.

my essay...finally

There are so many wretched things wrong with this world. Too much hate that causes wars and too much destruction that ruins this beautiful earth we live on. A few weeks ago I had a moment when I felt like there was no end to the problems of South Africa, of America, or all the corners of the world for that matter. I didn’t know what I was doing, how I was really making a difference to anything, anyone. A couple of days later I decided to sit down and try and tackle this essay except that I could not figure out what I believed in. I had no idea what had motivated me and lead me to this place. While I was sitting at my computer I could hear Matome and Masilu, my little brothers here in the village (5 & 6 years old) laughing in their high pitch voices and I decided to take a break and just play with them. I brought out the side walk chalk and we drew all kinds of things like islands and then pretended to be fish in the sea. We drew cars and then eventually the chalk ended up on our faces as well as most other surfaces of our bodies. We laughed and were silly together.

Then it just made sense. I am not driven by some overarching philosophy that has steered me down this path in life, something much simpler and innocent has brought me here. I realized I believe in the simple idea of living life as a child does, without inhibitions or regrets and just a desire to soak it all in. I am determined to keep the curiosity of a child, and relish the fact that now my playground is the entire world not just my own backyard. Children laugh without self-consciousness, they smile with their whole body and their imaginations are wildly inspiring. Their love of life is contagious and somehow makes all the worries of the day melt away.

I want to be young forever. I have no desire to grow old. I want to be able to play tag, turn cartwheels and not ever be afraid to sit on the ground and get a little bit dirty. Growing up and adding years to my knowledge is important and a beautiful part of the journey but I never want to lose the little girl inside me who just loves to play and laugh and not let the burdens of the world weigh her down. I want to always share the wide-eyed awe of a child when they first discover something in the grass or how to fit a puzzle piece together. I never want to lose that wonder or sense of excitement about life, about what is lying just around the corner, just out of my foresight.

So I take my cues from children. No matter what part of the world they are from, they understand how to play and enjoy each day. They are curious and eager to learn, laugh at silly things and bounce back from bumps and bruises. They have a resilience that I hope to keep with me for as long as I live.

I have no idea what I believe in...

I want to write an essay about what I believe in and state my conviction for life in 500 words or less. My Peace Corps group is doing this as our own version of the 1950’s radio series started by Edward R. Murrow. One of my PCV colleagues came up with the idea to adapt the concept and create our own essay collection. We are all invited to write an essay and in the process go through the self examination it requires to actually figure out the core belief that has guided us through life up until now. That is a LOADED sentence right there – I am finding it difficult to put my finger on something solid, concrete enough to write a meaningful essay. Sure I could ramble on with the best of them but what do I actually believe? What drives me to be who I am or strive to be who I want to be? My parent’s unconditional love? My desire to give back to the world some how? I’m not sure that’s what I want to write about, it’s bigger than that yet not and certainly not religious or spiritual.

The essay is due June 15. Maybe I believe in procrastinating. I always save things for the last minute and end up with something resembling orderliness and cohesion.

I believe in love…too generic

I believe in puzzles.

I believe in creative outlets.

I believe that life as a gigantic puzzle and the only way to solve it is through creative outlets.

I believe that I am not always a good communicator but that I am trying every day to be better at it.

I believe crossword puzzles and sudoku will help my brain stay in shape for longer.

I believe that these ideas are not coming anywhere close to hitting the mark.

core belief…something that has guided me through life this far…maybe that’s my problem – I have no idea what has guided me, it’s been more like I’ve stumbled and tripped to end up where I am. Opportunities have snuck around corners and stuck out their foot or knocked me upside the head until I had that “aha” moment and decided that pursuing it was a great idea. I have no idea what I want to be when I grow up or if I really even want to grow up. There was no guiding light like I always wanted to be a doctor or a lawyer, which then led me to pursue certain academic paths molding me into the traditional American dream. I only recently realized how much I actually love learning and wish I had paid more attention in my history and science classes and actually read the books on the summer reading lists.

Wait a minute, there is something forming in my head…

what happened to May?

The entire month of May passed me by without even a courteous good bye. It’s now June but I keep dating things as May – it’s as if the month happened for everyone else but I was held in some alternate space-time holding tank. All I keep thinking is holy shit – it’s already June!

who doesn't want a guilt-free lazy day?

I’m supposed to be doing something productive right now. I made an executive decision to take a sick day and not go to any centre or venture out of my house but to stay home and work on my computer. There is plenty that I could be working on but I just plain don’t want to do it. This is one thing that I am disappointed about my Peace Corps experience – there is so much pressure to get things done. One of those expectations, the ones they (all those other return volunteers or people that work for PC) tell you not to have, was that I would have a million hours to do whatever and get things done on my own time. My experience is not anything like that. Don’t get me wrong, I love my experience but I think I was looking for something that would let me be lazy and read for hours on end and not feel guilty about doing it. That does happen a lot – like at night I have tons of time to myself and read lots but some days I just don’t want to go anywhere.

I am going to place part of my laziness on the cold I have. My head has been cloudy all week and my energy has suffered. I was good and went to centres every day and rode my bike around and generally have felt like it’s been a productive week. Today, however, I just don’t feel like being productive. God help me when I get a “real” job after this – I can barely get out of bed before 8 right now!

Anyway, I’m back to the village life. My 3 weeks in Johannesburg were nice but I knew that it was time to come back. I also knew that when I came back I would have to face all those emotions that I stuffed in the back because I was too busy being surrounded by people and having free all access internet at my fingertips. And those emotions came clawing out and I spent last Friday night seriously contemplating my place here. But of course it was an emotional hurricane and I realized the next day that I just needed to let it all out and then think about things logically and from a clear headed perspective. I’m not going anywhere but am glad that I let myself go like that. It was not my prettiest moment but not every day can be.

Bottom line is I am doing fine. I just wanted y’all to know because I know it’s been a couple weeks since I last posted a blog. Life is moving on and I am getting back to a sort of routine. There is much more to say but I really should do some work first.

maybe I should skip mother's day

Mother’s day is turning out to be not such a good day for me and I don’t even have the pleasure of actually being a mom yet. A few years ago I was admitted to the hospital for an emergency appendectomy on mother’s day. That started a 4 week saga of hospital stays and a life threatening infection. All is well now and I’m perfectly healthy but will forever be reminded of my ordeal by the very conspicuous 4 inch scar on my belly.

This past mother’s day started off innocent enough and as the day was winding down, I was sitting at the patio table with a family I absolutely adore at their house talking, laughing, drinking wine and enjoying a long leisurely lunch. (The family lives halfway between Johannesburg and Pretoria on a large plot of land surrounded by electric fencing). The lunch had started much earlier w/ a salad course followed by a delicious stir fry, dessert (two slices of apple crisp for me) and then a cheese platter. It had been a beautiful day and I remember thinking at one moment that I wish Jason could be there, he would really have enjoyed the company and the conversations. It’s amazing how a few moments can change the outcome of a day and tarnish the memory, no matter how sweet the other waking hours of the day.

What is the driving force in menace and violence; I will never know or fully understand. But on this night, 2 men decided that for whatever reason, their desire for cell phones, laptops and money was great enough to not care of the effect of their actions on others (we could analyze the 3rd world status of the country and poverty among other things but that will have to be another conversation). As we were finishing the cheese and engaged in a conversation that I can’t remember for the life of me what the topic was, these 2 men came out of the bushes off to the side of where we were sitting and caught us all by surprise. They had a gun and after one of us asked what they wanted, they shot it at us.

For the first minute or so, I thought it was all a joke. I’ve never heard a gunshot at such close range before (if ever at all) so I thought maybe it was a bb gun. Quickly I realized it wasn’t and got down on the ground with the other girl my age. Unfortunately for her she had been through something like this before but fortunately for me she was a calming voice in my ear as I held her hand and tried to stay calm. Only after a few minutes did we realize that our friend had actually been shot. A few minutes later the alarm finally started going off and the men ran and we were left to clean up their mess. While the men of the house got their guns and ran after them, the women were left to call for help.

I sat with my friend that had been shot. With some direction, I pulled my fleece off and tied it around her leg to try and stop the bleeding. We heard more gunshots farther away and got back down again. When we realized it was ok and got up, I went to the other side of her and realized her other leg was bleeding as well. I pulled off my over shirt and used that on the other leg. The men of the house came back from their pursuit unsuccessful and helped keep her awake and talking to us while we waited. There was a lot of blood; on my hands, my clothes, on the others, we were kneeling in it. After a while the police showed up and then finally the paramedics. We sat back and let them do their job. I sat back and cried.

In their wake those men left an imprint on my mind of the reality of life in South Africa. It may look like a first world country but don’t let the shopping malls and wealth fool you for the reality of the violence and what may drive it. My friend is fine; she’s had a couple surgeries to repair the damage in her legs but is in high spirits and came home today. But what she is going through I’m sure is much different that what I am feeling. She does so much in disadvantaged communities but those men didn’t know that. Couldn’t have known that. And it makes me mad. Mad that they hurt someone who lives her life to help others. Mad that they ruined such a beautiful day. Mad that they violated the sanctity of that house and caught us when we had our guard down. The last place on earth I expected something like this to happen was in the safety of a home.

I’m not packing my suitcases and running for my home but it does sober up my fairytale view of life, at least a little bit. I won’t become jaded but instead I have a clearer understanding that sometimes circumstances don’t care who you are, what you’ve done for the world or how much you love, sometimes bad things just happen. And so, as my dad told me a few years ago, it’s all about where you go from here and how you shape your actions from this moment forward. I am not exactly sure how my life will be shaped by this incident but for this moment I decided that I’ll stay in Johannesburg for another week before resuming the rural life. Not because I’m scared but because I want to be apart of this family life for a few more days. It’s isolating and lonely most nights out in the village and I am craving the warmth of this family and being surrounded by loving people. I’m not running away but temporarily putting up those defensive walls a little bit higher. I miss my friends in the village but it is evident most moments of my life there that I am an outsider and don’t quite fit it in. I need a few more days of blending in, anonymous living.

So I think maybe I should skip mother’s day for a few years. At least until I have my own children. My poor mother has had to receive frightening news on this day twice over so I guess the day hasn’t been so great for her either. The good news is I have an amazing support network here and feel that the families that have adopted me are a good substitute for the ones from home that I miss so desperately right now.

new pictures

March, April and May have been filled with fun adventures, most of them well documented with my camera. When you have some time you can check them out - just click on the pics below for the albums.

There are other not so fun things that have happened in the last couple weeks but I'm not sure what to say about it all just yet. I think with all good things there will be bad things to happen as well. If for no other reason than to make those good things taste that much sweeter.

April 2007

May 2007

Miss Party

I was invited to a birthday party for Refiloe’s 19 year old brother, Sydney. At one point I had a Gogo give money (if you give money as a birthday present you have to dedicate it) and ask me to be her daughter in law. Later on another Gogo (same family) told me the same thing. It was really cute and sweet but I don’t think they realize the age gap or remember that I’m technically already taken. Minor details to them evidently.

The party was amazing and I had a great time. I ended up being around the days leading up to the party and was roped into the dance practices. I learned all these fun dances and then the night before the party I was told to dress nice because I was deemed Miss Party and Sydney’s dance partner. I thought it was innocent enough – evidently that is the tradition for birthday parties.

Most parties have an agenda with certain people getting up and giving speeches. It sounds great but when it’s in another language it tends to drag a bit but at least there was a DJ and people had to dance before they spoke. That was definitely entertaining, especially to see the little (or big in some cases) Gogo’s up there. After endless speeches, dancing interludes and munching on shortbread cookies, names were being called and individuals were getting up and dancing for the entire crowd. I thought it was fun and then they told me that all of the people in the birthday party got called up to go, including me. Yikes – dancing in front of everyone as a white girl was a little intimidating. I mean, these girls have moves that I can only dream of doing – this hip thing they do is amazing and I practice but it may actually take me the entire 2 years to master it! So I ended up dragging Natasha up there with me and she showed me some moves that I attempted to emulate much to the amusement of all those watching.

Things were going well and I thought that being Miss Party wasn’t so bad, you just had to sit at the head of the table and look pretty and dance occasionally. Oh no, I was told as the MC was announcing my name that Miss Party had to get up and give a speech. Thanks for the warning people, all of the sudden it’s my turn to dance in front of everyone by myself and then say something profound and spectacular. I ended up with a mini dance partner, Leon, who was more than happy to share the limelight with me. I said nothing profound or spectacular but I don’t think anyone really cared anyway.

We danced our practiced moves, went and brought the birthday cakes out, danced some more and then this is where it got slightly awkward. Mr. and Miss Party have to cut the cake together. Like at a wedding. I giggled and went along with it – I was in a festive mood, why not? But no, not only do we cut the cake together; we have to feed each other the cake. Like at a wedding. AWKWARD!! I tried letting everyone around me know that we only do that at weddings were I come from and they just laughed. It’s a tradition, you have to do it is what they told me. So I was fed cake by a 19 year old boy and I fed him cake.

I must say, the memories I will take away from this place are completely priceless. There is always something interesting and funny happening. If you want to see pictures from the big day click on the picture below.

Sydney's Birthday Party

little friends, big protectors

I love how with the change of each season, there is a change in me as well. Maybe not a change, but a return to the same patterns of who I am. For some reason, I am not one that can stick with any exercise routine for very long. It’s not that I don’t enjoy the exercise, I do, I love the feeling of cresting a hill and finding a new burst of energy, setting limits for myself and then going just one more block. But the voice in the back of my head first talks me out of running one day a week, then two and before I know it, it’s been weeks since I’ve had a good heart pumping run. One day I’ll figure out how to ignore that voice and just keep going or how to make it say different things.

But I do put up a valiant effort most weeks. I’ll don the shorts, sports bra, t-shirt and shoes and set out with the best of intentions knowing that the moment I see one of the girls that likes to run with me, I will let them lead me to their house where we’ll dance around, play games, I’ll laugh at the little girls while the older ones play with my hair and try to braid it like theirs. After running a short distance one day last December, I stopped at Refiloe’s house, a 16 yr old girl who I have come to adore. Her family has been so welcoming to me, always happy to see me, their arms always ready for a big warm hug. There were many women at the house, most of them sisters, some of them extended family but all of them dancing and enjoying themselves. They pulled me up without much of a fight and they taught me all kinds of hip traditional dances, the kinds you dance at birthday parties and weddings, not the ones where you get dressed up and dance to drums. It was the first moment I felt really welcomed by the community. We were having so much fun I didn’t even realize it was getting late. And then all of the sudden it was past dark and I needed to go home.

I’m not supposed to be out past dark. From the moment I stepped foot in this country, I have had all kinds of safety measures forced fed to me for good reasons. Being out past dark is one of those things we’re told to avoid while living in the rural village but was inevitably going to happen at some point during my stay here. And even though I am on my guard, at that moment, as I found myself surrounded by this loving family, I felt ok, I felt safe. They took my hands and in the moonless night, almost 20 of us, including the little ones, started our journey back down the dirt road to my house.

And so this has become our ritual. Whether I am actually on a run or just visiting my young friends, the kids will always walk me to my home. They are my protectors and despite their size, I feel safe with them. They are the life of the village and I feel as though I am right in the middle of their hearts.

getting over myself

It’s a long holiday weekend and I decided instead of going out and exploring the rest of the country, I would actually stay here and enjoy what my village has to offer for a change. I also have no money so this was largely a factor when making my decision and could have changed the outcome had there actually been more of it, but that is neither here nor there at this point. And I was invited to a birthday party later today and I really don’t want to pass that up.

Friday, as the holiday, I spent the day reading The Undomestic Goddess and enjoyed the entire thing. I needed something light and airy after getting through the first 2 chapters of a book called The Bitch in the House, a collection of essays from 26 women telling their tales of sex, solitude, work, motherhood and marriage. They are all successful women that have pent up anger that they take out on their husbands, kids, and other family. They talk of affairs being apart of the normal married life agenda, money playing a part of the imbalance of power in a relationship, husbands who don’t do enough no matter how hard they try, but mostly how angry they get about all of it. While their lives may not be pristine, their writing is beautiful and I’ve been sucked into their stories. Only now I’m scared. Is this what I’m headed towards? Am I destined to become a supreme bitch the moment I get married or have kids? Do I really want to walk down that same path? Is it possible to not become what they are? If this is the life I have to look forward to, I am not convinced that I am ready for this next step.

Yesterday I upset my host mother because I was a brat and walked away from a conversation that I didn’t like the outcome of. Because things weren’t going the way I wanted, I pouted and disrespected her in the process. I’m good at that, ask my mother, ask Jason, ask anyone who has been witness to my selfish fits. I closed the door to my room and cried again (I swear I haven’t cried this much since grade school when I used to cry every morning before school). I was mad that everything I wanted to do was difficult. Instead of employing the man at the end of my street to put up my shelves (he is out of work and needs a job), I have to go to a guy in the next village because the family at the end of this street doesn’t talk to my host mother. I wanted to look at it as my host mother being silly, not at the actual fact that there is tension between the two families and it would be completely wrong to try and bring that into the house she has tried for so many years to protect. I didn’t want to understand the culture. I’m tired of always trying to understand this culture and no one seems to care about where I come from and what my culture is. I sat on my floor and wanted to be anywhere but here, wanted to be in my mother’s kitchen and watch her as she baked pumpkin chocolate chips cookies, wanted Jason by my side so I could commiserate with him about why I think being a Peace Corps volunteer is so hard.

After a little while I just got sick of myself. There is so much “me” time here and I realized I can only handle so much. I am thankful I have other PCV’s around me to hang out with but sometimes, their company is not what I crave. It’s nice to get out and see my friends in the village but being in their company, it’s apparent that I am still an anomaly and don’t fit in just yet. At this moment, I want to bury myself in someone else’s thoughts, someone else’s needs. I want more than anything to stop focusing on me so much and think more about how I fit into a lifestyle that has more than one player. That bitchy book is scary and those women are jaded but I’ve decided that I do not have to become one of them. Who knows how I’ll do it but right now, the first step for me (besides deciding not to finish the book) is realizing that I want to share my life with Jason. I want to focus a little less on me and a little more on how our lives will play out together. There is till a lot of time till that happens, but at least I can recognize how this experience is helping me to grow.

self pity and retail therapy

I yelled at a taxi driver yesterday; called him an asshole. As my hands shook with fury while snatching my bags from the cumvee (I have no idea how to spell this word – a van size taxi that is the mode of public transportation) all I could do was call him names and swear to never ride in his taxi again. Someone wise told me that is all you really can do sometimes.

To make this long story short, a lot of promises were broken yesterday and when the taxi driver broke his by not taking me and my multiple heavy bags to my street in my village, that was the last straw. So I was stranded at the tar road waiting for my friend to come and help me and all I could do was cry. But it was a self pity filled cry and that is the worst kind to show in public.

Some days I immerse myself in Sex and the City episodes (thanks to a friend who loaned me the entire season – this may not be the healthiest of options but I’ll get into that another day) or reading my latest book. Yesterday, since I was in town and had my tax return money burning a whole in my pocket, I went shopping. Even if I don’t buy anything, the act of browsing through clothes and trying them on in search of the perfect item that screams who I am is therapeutic. During those moments, I was fine with the set backs of the day, everything was ok because I was living a “normal” life.

Until, that is, I was left stranded by the big bad taxi driver. My 19 year old friend came to my rescue and taught me something during our walk down the dirt road. Someone made a snide remark that I wasn’t meant to understand but I did and in my elementary Sepedi, I tried to give a snide retort. My friend with his broken English told me that I should just let it go, they are only trying to get a rise out of me. I was dumbfounded. All I could do was picture my dad saying the same thing to me. And then the self pity tears started again. But at least it was dark this time and I could hide them.

enduring laughter

This morning I got up, went through my normal routine of washing my face and teeth, applying a little make-up, getting dressed, eating breakfast while reading a book and then finally walked out the door, just like every other day. I walked to the main tar road to wait for a ride that an hour later, still has not arrived. As I walked down the road and then waited, I endured the same thing that I do every day: Scrutiny, people laughing at me, pointing their fingers at what I’m wearing, asking me if they can have my belt or my earrings or money, talking about me in Sepedi because they know I don’t understand it. I got on a taxi and the driver asked me and this lady how we were. We answered. He clearly didn’t want her answer, just mine so he asked me again, as if I hadn’t responded the first time. I answered again and he just laughed. He laughed his old man, weathered skin face at me. That’s when I decided that if a movie were to be made about my life as a PCV, there would definitely be a montage of laughing faces, some toothless, some vicious, others innocent but all of them laughing. Because that’s what happens every day that I’m here: I’m laughed at.

who needs coffee when you live in the village

When I showed up to work on Wednesday I was immediately told that there was a snake in the pit toilet out back. There is a strange fascination with snakes here and it usually involves a crowd and a beating of the creature. At that moment, I didn't give it much thought but eventually and inevitably, Susan (my colleague) and I found ourselves back there trying to see it. Supposedly it was in the water tank but all we could see was a white spec that we weren't convinced was actually a snake. Regardless we decided that we should skip using the toilets for the day. .

The next morning I was a few minutes late but when I walked up to the office everyone was standing around outside. I finally realized they were all staring at a 3 foot long snake (probably poisonous if not, the kind that would definitely have bitten you) that was hanging from the tree. It was wriggling a little bit but had blood dripping out of its mouth. They had found the snake and clubbed him to death. Lucky for us, we could safely use the toilets again.
Friday morning I was running really late. I didn't get up till 7:30, the time I should have been leaving to get to the office on time. Oh well, I got ready and headed out in the rain to the main road. I am usually good about greeting people but this morning I encountered a very large group of men which was a little intimidating because they were all staring at me. Please understand, the stares are uncomfortable and usually if I am my overly cheery self, the men take that as a sign that they can be overly friendly and usually some kind of proposal ensues, most of them not so enticing. So I muttered a hello and shifted my umbrella so I wouldn't have to endure their gawking.

At the main road, I waited in the rain for a few minutes and finally a ride came and I made it to Enable village. I hopped out of the car and started down the dirt road, passed a few Gogo's and kids and greeted them all. I saw another group of men, this time only 3 but they were staring as well. So I started to distance myself by walking closer to the tree they were standing opposite of and was about 10 seconds from greeting them when I realized something was a miss. I was looking down as I passed them and noticed a river of red liquid under the tree. My eyes quickly traced the source of what turned out to be blood and stumbled when the whole picture registered in my head. The men standing there weren't just chatting to each other; one of them was wearing a white coat and must have been a local butcher. What caught me off guard was the massive dead cow, which I nearly collided with, hanging by its hind legs from the tree. You think I would have immediately noticed a huge carcass dripping blood but the cow was brown and the tree trunk brown and how was I supposed to know that this particular corner of the street, which I walk by at least twice a week, is where the poor cows come to their end. I quickly greeted the men and kept on my merry way. But I couldn't help and stop a few feet away and turn to stare at the strange picture. Finally a truck drove up and the men got to work loading the meat.

These are some of the things that kick start my mornings. Thought I would share the events of my week. It's a good thing that I'm not a vegetarian. Sorry for those who are…

art, hippos & solitude

Thoughts for the day…

I have found a fantastic retreat, right within my grasp and a few short hours away from my village. Tonight, I found myself wandering rooms where beautiful paintings by an English artist hung proudly but where they most certainly were not appreciated daily. As I drank my glass of red wine, I studied each one, drank in the detail and the strangeness portrayed. I walked amidst bookcases filled with books spanning all different genres; browsed authors from Barbara Kingslover to Bryce Courtney to Jane Eyre. Relics from different African countries sat on perfectly spotless granite end tables while the music from a classical symphony drifted through the air. I had this museum all to myself, reading, studying, drinking at my leisure, and yet so many walk right by and don't have the time to appreciate it every day. As an American, I longed to escape the fast paced lifestyle but am now acutely aware that it's a plague that affects so many beyond my original home borders and I can't simply run away from it. I realized just tonight, how easy it is to be swept right back into it. I've been to Johannesburg a handful of times before this trip and never once took the time to notice the paintings hanging in the house I stay at. There is something that happens the moment I step out of the car in the city and all the simple-ness of the village is immediately forgotten. It's so easy to be swept up in outings to the mall and shopping for a cute new pair of shoes or going to see a movie (don't get me wrong, I do enjoy those things, immensely).

In the village things are different. I like the uncomplicated daily routine; wake up without using an alarm, go to work, come home, go for a run, cook dinner, take a bath, read or write a letter, go to bed when I feel sleepy. I find myself fascinated by the comical habits of chickens or dizzy from dancing ring-around-the-rosy countless times or just content to sit and talk with my host mother Anna.

I am afraid of being lost amidst all the insanity again. Losing myself to all the modern conveniences and forgetting how nice it is to actually have time for hobbies or sitting and chatting with neighbors. Is it possible to marry the lifestyles when I go back? I can strive for it but the more my age dictates my adultness, the more hectic life becomes. I see it in all those who have forged the path ahead of me. Grad school, a family, work, all these things will eventually demand things of me, pull me in a million different directions. Maybe when that time comes, I will be ready. Maybe I won't and one day I will stumble upon a new retreat, stop and realize there is more fantastic art that I am glazing over. Then I'll really see it and appreciate it for what it is, a stolen moment of time that I shouldn't neglect or regret taking the time to truly enjoy where I are at that exact moment.

So here I am, sitting in my room in Johannesburg. Last week I felt the irritation that Peace Corps can so easily instill in their volunteers by attending a work shop on Life Skills Training. While a great excuse to meet up with my far away volunteer friends, it was poorly planned and in my opinion an utter waste of government money. The handbook I received is the best resource but they could have just mailed it. Besides that part, the past month and a half have been good. For National Condom Distribution Week, held during the week of Valentine's Day, I collaborated with some other volunteers and came up with a workshop for my orphans, which turned out to be a huge success. The kids were amazing. During each of the discussions, I was blown away with how willing they were to ask questions and talk about the myths they've heard about HIV/AIDS. By no means were these discussions perfectly run and I'm sure questions were left unasked but it was a start. I've had a hard time kick starting myself and actually doing more than just administrative things. I was afraid that whatever I would try wouldn't be perfect and that stopped me from actually moving forward. But I saw that it doesn't have to be perfect, if I wait too long for that perfection then I will suddenly be looking back on a wasted two years. Now I have a lot of things in the works and I'm excited to get more programs up and running at the centers. These are the moments when two years seem like it won't be enough time to do everything I want to do.

Along with work, I've been out and about for some local site-seeing. I got to meet the world famous hippo named Jessica! Not only did I get to meet her, I actually got to pet her, feed her sweet potatoes and coffee and plant a big wet kiss on her snout. It was amazing and definitely a rare opportunity.

I also went to Kruger National Park and camped for a night with a few friends. The animals I saw were amazing. Wild dogs are rare to see but we saw a small pack of them chasing an Impala. It was too far away for any pictures but through the binoculars you could see that they have huge ears that stick up. I haven't seen rhinos or lions yet but I'm sure there will be more trips to the park in the coming months. In case you were worried about the whole camera situation, I was able to get my camera fixed after the baboon incident. If you have a moment to appreciate some "art", you can check out my latest pictures on my Picasa website

Kruger National Park Feb 2007

Post baboon vacation pictures

Pictures from January & February 2007

Jan - Feb 2007

Happy New Year

Happy New Year! My only resolution this year was to send out an update so here I am.

Disclaimer: I have read quite a few books since being in the village. A side effect of reading amazing authors that know just how to manipulate words to make up beautiful sentences is that I think I can do the same and so you are subjected to my futile attempt. Please humor me and continue to read.

Peace Corps as a concept is very alluring; the pictures you see in the brochures and on the website are so vibrantly exotic and tantalizing; the idea of living somewhere in Africa or Latin America or the Pacific Islands is completely intoxicating; the work descriptions are vague but provide just enough information to peak interest and the desire to understand just what they mean when they say PC is a unique experience. This is why I applied, accepted and actually stepped onto the plane. And now I’m here and the reality is RPCV’s (that’s Return Peace Corps Volunteers for those not in the know) were right and you can’t go in with any expectations because the moment you do is when the rug is snatched out from under you. But not in a bad way, just in an eye opening, awe filled way, if you can look at it like that. And I’m beginning to understand why they actually say it’s the hardest job you’ll ever love.

It’s not hard for any of the reasons I thought it would be hard. Living without running water is fine. A human’s adaptability to her surroundings is amazing, you just have to give yourself time to adjust and focus. Like blinking a couple times to get the sleep out of your eyes so you no longer see the world through a fog but actually see it. The electricity goes out with a strong wind and getting bitten by mosquitoes may endure for the night but it always comes back by the morning and the bites eventually go away. Really, don’t sell yourself short and say you could never do something like this. You’re stronger than you think. Besides, I’m not really roughing it like some volunteers – there is one who doesn’t have any electricity period and has to carry her water on her head up a hill from a river. Someone always has it a little bit harder and it all depends on your perspective anyway.

The moments I find myself tested are in the office. As nerdy as I am and as much as I like working on the computer and creating excel reports (yes, you now know my secret shame), being in an office with no air conditioning for an extended period of time is maddening. Despite English being one of the 11 official languages of the country, in a remote village, my friends and colleagues don’t necessarily understand English and my talking fast doesn’t help. This is when I am motivated to learn more Sepedi so I can express myself better instead of getting frustrated. One day at a time. ‘Take a deep breathe and demonstrate, not do for someone’ is a mantra I repeat to myself…a lot. And the work ethic is different so there are plenty of times when I have found myself sitting staring at the wall. Quickly I learned to bring a book with me and have finished quite a few! After awhile I started going to the centers and spending more time with the kids. No matter how rotten I feel, playing with the kids brings me out of the funk every time. So I now find myself splitting my time between the offices and the centers and I am finding this a great arrangement. And it’s part of my job to play so no guilt! There was a moment when I had this adorable girl, Motsatsi on my lap and we were surrounded by 6 or 7 other little kids. They were all conversing and she had just inspected and tried on all of my jewelry and my glasses. The next thing I hear her sister utter is “four eyes” and they are all staring at me. Evidently ‘four eyes’ is an endearing term in Sepedi. That’s what I’m telling myself anyway.

In order to swallow the idea of a 2 year commitment to work abroad and be a million miles away from my boyfriend, family and friends, I had to distance myself from the reality of it. In the grand scheme of things, being married for 60 years and living for 100+ years, 2 years is nothing; it’s a short nap. But the days when the heat is unbearable by 8 am, a taxi doesn’t come by for an hour, when I finally get to the office, the person I was supposed to meet with just decided to not show up and not bother to tell me, I forgot my lunch and the only thing to eat is chicken feet and pap, those days make the 2 years seems to stretch out longer than I ever imagined.

Those are the days I come home, relax for a bit and then right as the sun is setting, I go for a run. It’s the favorite part of my day. A little over a month into my village life I decided that I needed to get some more exercise in to counteract the effects of eating a lot of bread and pap. As I am the only white person living in this village, I was a little unsure of exactly what to do; I already stick out just a little bit so the idea of running didn’t really appeal to me. I tried waking up at 5:30 in the morning, when barely anyone is out. That lasted I think a total of 4 days. Finally, I decided to just get over my fear and run at 5:30 pm instead. And the most amazing thing happened. Instead of the ridicule I anticipated, the villagers loved it. And these kids started running with me, first 3 then 5 then 10 and the next thing I know I literally have an entourage of at least 20 kids running alongside me. There are a couple 16 old girls who came along that first day as well. They love exercising and have become my permanent running partners. Now, every day that I round the corner to their house, they are out there waiting and depending on how hot the day is will determine just how many kids are waiting with them to tag along. Their energy is amazing and the fact that they run barefoot and in skirts humbles me. It’s great; I’ve been able to get to know more people in my village and even have been invited over for dinner and dancing!

I could go on. I haven’t even begun to tell you about my Johannesburg experience and getting to see the other side of life here in South Africa. But I’ll save that for another insightful moment. I’m sure I’ll have more of those and this e-mail is already long. But because I’m sure you’re dying to know how my holiday was, I’ll tell you it was 3 weeks long and absolutely amazing. I saw so many areas of the country and got to spend 2 of those weeks with Jason (my boyfriend of 3 years for those of you not up on the gossip) which made it just perfect. Here’s the highlights: I went to Bergeville in KwaZulu Natal Province for Christmas and saw another area of the Drakensburg mountains which is gorgeous, spent a fun night dancing in Durban, visited wineries in Stellenbosch, partied it up for New Year’s in Cape Town, 2 nights in Knysna along the Garden Route and got to be lazy on the beach, saw the Great Karoo, which driving through (twice) without air conditioning in the heat of the day makes me wonder why it’s referred to as being so great, ended up back in Limpopo at my village for a few days so Jason could see where I live and then a couple days in Johannesburg before going back down to Cape Town so J could catch his flight home.

Bergeville x-mas 2006

Cape Town 2006