That watermelon, oh so sweet

So, it's been kind of a busy week, there have been plans and things have been done, but I can't even begin to tell you where the time went. I know I spent a lot of it sitting or waiting or being quiet or reading or lying on my bed or in a car watching the world whiz past or shaking my head or trying to squash a 24 hour bug (on top of a cold) or praying for a break in the heat or ignoring my dirty dishes... and now here it is Wednesday. Funny.
Monday I spent, easily, 7 or 8 hours, trying to be as still as possible so I wouldn't puke my guts out... and without even knowing it was saving up energy for what Tuesday would bring. As Abby so eloquently put it, I always find myself in some pretty strange situations, situations I'm never really expecting. Huh. I guess that's what keeps life so interesting? Or maybe... I guess I'm glad I'm always up for an adventure and try to find the good in each experience?
So, Monday night, MmaDiapo came and asked if I could travel with her and her friend from the church and burial society to Giyani, a town a couple hours away, so they could take care of some paperwork at SARS (South African Revenue Service). I shrugged and said I wouldn't mind at all... she had already gone by my office to check with all my coworkers... and I envisioned my last trip to Giyani, a good 10 months ago, when I was crammed in the middle of the backseat of a Toyota Corolla, a rotisserie chicken on my lap, a loaf of white bread between my knees (South African style catering what what!), chowing down with some people from my office after taking some reports in to the Department. This trip was sure to be an adventure. Ok, well, sort of. Tuesday morning I was up at 5. I had my tea and Jungle Oats and met MmaDiapo outside the gate around 5:45 so we could go pick up her friend. By 6:15 we were heading out of the village. By 7:15 we were rollin' through Tzaneen. And by 9 we were parking the car in a spot near the SARS main building, IN POLOKWANE. Polokwane is the provincial capital. It's huge. It's home to Savannah Mall where there's a McDonald's, a movie theater, a restaurant by the name of Cock'n Bull where one time the owner bought the table I was sitting at a round of drinks... because we were from America... and has a huge taxi rank by the Pick 'n Pay mall that is so confusing; every time I've asked for the taxi to Tzaneen, I've gotten a little wave in a general direction and the reply,"It's that white one" (when we're standing in the middle of a sea of white koombis). I'll be honest, I don't like Polokwane much. I was almost mugged there. I know other volunteers who have had sketchy incidents... it's not somewhere I really need to go. So when we parked I was just trying to wrap my head around the fact that we were there. The rest of the story is hours and hours of waiting, walking around in different shops in the area, but being a little too overwhelmed and nervous, writing a couple of letters, talking to the SARS security guard about how sorry I was that I had eaten my whole granola bar in front of him and had no idea food wasn't allowed in the building, and then sitting on the front steps with MmaDiapo's friend (she never told me her name)in the shade because, yes, we had been there long enough for the sun to shift. I think everything was finished around 3. At 4 we were in an industrial part of town (which made me a little nervous.. but maybe that's just cause I really stuck out) hunting down fabric for traditional dresses. By 4:30 we were back on the road.... tearing through raisin buns from ShopRite, downing drinking yogurt (strawberry flavored and really good!) from a roadside stand, and seeking out a good watermelon to bring home to Metz. We rolled into Tzaneen and made a detour to Maringe's house (MmaDiapo's daughter), which was seriously a mansion... dining room seating 8, flat screen TV, sound system, a toaster and sandwich maker (what?!) and leather couches. More than anything, though, I was impressed with the trampoline. We made our way back home eventually. It was 7:30 or so... and it was so nice to be home and have quiet. I had been craving quite all day. I have become village.
Today is December 3rd. It was 107 degrees in my room at 2 this afternoon. It's my Grandpa's birthday. It also marks a year and two days since I moved to my little room, behind MmaDiapo's house, on the road full of Phokungwanes, and started to become a member of the Phokungwane family. A year ago a papaya was brought to my door and shared with Kori and Khutso. This year I celebrated with a big chunk of watermelon bought from a roadside stand while I was on a mini road trip with my African mother. Little room with the green door, you've come a long way. And, hey, MmaPula, so have you. Grandpa would be proud... and totally would have wanted some of that watermelon.