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.
Saturday, May 19, 2007
Wednesday, May 16, 2007
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.
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.
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| April 2007 |
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| May 2007 |
Friday, May 11, 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.
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.
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| Sydney's Birthday Party |
Wednesday, May 2, 2007
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.
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.
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