The Library!

Yesterday, after visiting a creche (daycare), and then catching a ride with Asbagh, the bricklayer who drives a big work truck and always comes rolling down the road at just the right time, I passed by the library that's being built. I've passed by this library more than a dozen times in the months I've lived in Metz, but have never had a chance to go in....until yesterday. It was so, so hot and any sort of respite in the shade sounded so nice. As I passed the building, I noticed people in the doorway, thought about stopping, but then thought against it. Then, as usual (because all my networking skills are being finely tuned), I just shrugged and walked towards the entrance. I talked to some of the construction workers and got some answers to questions I've thought about since first seeing the building back in November. It turns out that they started building it in 2004 and they're hoping to have it finished in the next several months (cross your fingers!). Alias, the construction manager (yes, that's his name), let me walk around and take some pictures so all of you could see what I'm so excited about and so you could get excited, too. Everyone knows I love books. My mom is a librarian. I grew up going to the freakin' library and loved it so much I ended up getting a job there while I was in college. I have seriously thought about my plans after Peace Corps incorporating my love of books and social work. And....AND... now Metz Village has a library! A library with stations built specifically for computers, with plenty of shelves, a reception desk, carpet, flush toilets, and an area that is designated for all the kids that come to visit. I'll keep you updated on the progress.





The reception/check-out desk

The view from the (all brick) parking lot
The Library

Photos

Justin, Nathan, Keri, and Megan in the
Olifants River. Kruger National Park.
February 2008
Giraffes are really tall!
Esther and Mashego at Esther's
Welcome Back! party.
Esther, Gladis, Magdeline, and
Loikie meeting about the drop-in in
Calais. This is under the cooking
shelter; Magdeline is watching over
food cooking on the fire.
Magdeline is making lunch. Samp,
beans, and porridge stirred with
the biggest spoon ever!
The mango I ate was really the size of
my hand and so, so good.

Calais

It’s 7:05 Sunday morning and Mmapula is awake. Of course I wake up automatically around 6:15 everyday, and I was awake around then this morning, but it’s Sunday, the day of rest, and I thought I would at least not get out of bed until a later time… 8 or so. At 6:47 my host brother/cousin, Kori, was banging on my door, yelling my name. I thought for sure it was something important, something that needed attention right that minute, so I scrambled for the door, unlocked it, and as it opened, Kori stuck his arm around the corner holding out the pegs (clothes pins) and said, “For your washing.”
So Mmapula, how did you spend Valentine’s Day 2008?
Why, thank you for asking! I have to admit it was probably one of the most memorable and fun Valentine’s Days I’ve ever had, I was in South Africa, and I was far from all the commercialism/consumerism in The States. Valentine’s Day is recognized in South Africa, but like a lot of holidays when in the village, the day just kind of passes without much thought. In town there were cards and hearts and bears and coffee mugs and flowers, but Metz, Lorraine, Trichardstal, Balloon, Hlohlowe, Loss, Madeira, Sekororo, and all the other villages around me showed no signs of the actual Valentine’s part of the day actually happening. I was really excited because I was getting out of the office AND going to see some kids, two things that should make me excited. Esther, Loikie, and I all met at Lorraine Cross (where the main dirt road in Lorraine meets the main tar road) at 8 to catch a taxi down the road to the drop-in center in Calais (one of the villages my NGO serves). Oh what an adventure it was going to be! Whenever someone is leaving the office and taking me with them, I’m usually at a loss as to what the day will bring, I’m given very little information, so I just go along with whatever comes my way. I had no idea where this day was going to end up, but I tell you, I spent a lot of time shaking my head and muttering to myself, “Really?”.. sometimes it’s still weird for me to think that I’m living in South Africa, that I’m actually here, that this is my life. It seems that the last stop for a short distance taxi, on the main tar road, is the petrol station (the post office is on the other side of the road) at Trichardstal. There isn’t much around there, at least from what I’ve been able to see, except for the petrol station and the post office. Our taxi stopped at the edge of the dirt petrol station parking lot area, we paid, and hopped out. Esther grabbed some breakfast (she had missed her tea) from one of the women, in a great line of tables, who was selling fruit and then we walked. Did I mention before that I usually have no idea what’s in store? We were going to spend the day in Calais, but I had no idea where this village was and knew very little about the surrounding area because it is a good 20 minute taxi ride down the tar road from my village. We crossed the tar road from the petrol station and walked down a dirt road for kilometers/miles towards an end. In the beginning there were no signs, there were no cars, no taxis, no other people, just the three of us and the open road ahead. We were in the middle of nowhere. Ambling along, Esther and Loikie pointing out fruit trees, picking guava, drinking water from a stream (not me… I’ve got enough stomach issues, thanks), passing huge mango groves, green rainforest type terrain with ferns galore, and the mountains so close. Every time we would crest a hill or turn a corner in the road, I thought for sure the village would be just right there, but I was fooled for a good hour and a half. A couple of cars passed us after we had been walking for awhile, but no one had room for all 3 of us, until the kind man driving the big semi-type work truck. Esther threw up her finger (there are signs to throw up so taxis and possible rides on the road can know where you’re going) and his brakes screeched. After an exchange of greetings and introductions the three of us squished into the front seat next to him. He only took us about 3 km before we hit the village’s edge, but he saved us another 45 minutes on the road (at the pace we were going.. it could have been even longer). We walked, made a few more turns, and all of the sudden were in the middle of many houses… we were in Calais! Esther greeted a woman and her 3 little ones and handed over the rest of the bread and bananas from her breakfast. We picked hibiscus flowers, ate green mangos, and I overheard many a conversation about me in Sotho and what exactly I was doing there while we made our way through the village to the drop-in. The afternoon went quickly. We met with the cookers, Magdeline and Gladis, and checked their record books to see how many of the kids (orphans) had been showing up for food and to see if they had enough food for the rest of the month. I helped Magdeline and Gladis sort beans, stir the samp, beans, and porridge mixture over the fire (they are experts, I am not), and when the food just needed to cook we had tea and bread during a rest. At one point, Gladis looked at me and said, “Mmapula is my relative.” Esther went on to explain that because I don’t have a father or mother or siblings, cousins, grandparents, aunts, and uncles here, that everyone was my relative, everyone was my family. All afternoon drums were heard in the distance and finally, because our curiosities got the best of us, Gladis and I walked over to the primary school nearby where there was traditional dancing and singing. It was set up beautifully. One of the women who had been a cleaner at the school up until last year was having a farewell celebration thrown for her. Kids in traditional dress were dancing, speeches were given, prayers were sung, and Mmapula was sat, yes, right next to the principal, in front of the whole school. The principal and I talked of the challenges her school faced and her ideas for funding. She made the good point that Calais was so far off the main road it was almost like people seemed to forget it even existed. I was invited to eat in the VIP room when it came time for lunch and I requested that Gladis come with me. After plates of pap, chicken, cabbage salad (cole slaw), cabbage, and red gravy were consumed we went back to the drop-in in time to greet all the kids coming from school to eat. While all the kids were eating, I too, ate, again. Magdeline said I had to try some of the food I worked so hard to prepare. (Ha! I tried to stir it all while it was over the fire, but I wasn’t fast enough… so I had to hand the paddle over to her!) After everyone seemed full, satisfied, and ready to go home, I sat against the wall of the building (where all the food is stored) and made my way through a mango the size of my hand, waving at locals passing by, curious as to who I was. When 3 rolled around, miraculously a truck pulled up outside the gate and we were offered a ride to the tar road. I hugged Magdeline and Gladis, thanking them for such a nice afternoon, wishing them well (Sala Gabotse) and telling them that I would love to come back and visit. We rode in the back of the truck back to the tar road and were dropped off, once again, in the middle of nowhere. It was late in the workday, tractors pulling trailers full of workers from local farms (mango and mealie meals/maize) were going in for the day, and no taxis passed us. Esther and I put up our fingers every time a car was heading in our direction. After being denied a few times we finally had a man pull over to give us a ride as far as Lorraine (where both Esther and Loikie live). He asked where I came from, where I worked, and what I was doing here, and then asked if I was voting for Obama. “It is a great thing, a black man running for president in the great country of America!” He dropped us off at the cross where we started our day and Loikie and Esther sat under a tree to wait until I was on a taxi back to Metz. When I got home I was on a high, I wanted to write everything down, my mind was spinning with ideas, I wanted to go back to Calais, I was excited about my meeting in town the next day (which went really well, by the way.. I walked out of it with some great ideas), and for the first time in awhile I felt ok… just ok… and it was good.

Is this looking up?

I have a couple of stories I want to relay when it comes to Mmapula’s life in Peace Corps South Africa, in the village, but I think first I need to catch the ol blog up on the last week or so…
I just did my dancing around my room to my iPod and ate some Oreos (yep, you can find them in South Africa, they’re just not the same as in the States, they taste different, and they’re a lot crunchier, harder), so I think I’m ready to report on my day.
I’ll be honest, the last few weeks have been more than rough. After I got over my initial shock of saying bye to so many people in Pretoria and, in general, having a pretty crappy week there, I just became numb… floating… trying to make it through the days. It wasn’t all bad, there was the glimmer of hope that’s always there… the glimmer that reminds me things will eventually even out, stabilize, and get better… I just have to stay strong and make it through the rough stuff. Making it through can mean a lot of things. It can mean throwing yourself into your work. It can mean taking some time off and watching movies on your laptop, eating comfort food, and lying about. It can mean maintaining, crying when you need to, doing what it takes to just move through the days until everything starts to look up, until you discover you’re getting your strength and drive back. I maintained. Used what energy I did have to get through the days. I haven’t talked much about my work in the past because I haven’t had much to report. After Swearing-In and becoming real, true PCVs, our group was told to spend the first three months at our sites observing, soaking everything in, learning about our organizations, networking, and getting to know our new places of residence. The observing, soaking things in, and not jumping right in with all kinds of ideas was something that I did with ease. I’ve always been like that with big changes in my life, it takes me a little while to find my comfort zone, my niche. I did panic a little when I thought that maybe my organization would expect me to start working on projects immediately, but those worries were squashed pretty early on with all the “Be free, Mmapula”s and “Just rest”s. So from September (after Swearing-In) to December (when we broke for the holidays), I spent a good amount of my time everyday in the office reading book after book, writing letters the length of novellas, laughing with my coworkers, and picking up on how my office operated. I learned a lot and I think it's good I had such time to understand the way things in my office are run. Over the holidays I got to talking with other PCVs and started getting excited about all the project ideas I had; when it was time to head back to the village and to work, I was a little nervous, but ready to get down to work. Thing is, I didn’t start working. I went to a few meetings. Went to a few events. Went to Pretoria and got thrown off course. Went to Kruger for some respite/repair/refuel time. Went into the office. But there was no work. I spent a lot of time trying to concentrate on new books, on writing letters, on getting excited about projects, but the motivation just wasn’t there. I can’t say that all hope or motivation was gone… I would get excited every once in awhile, would try, but if things didn’t start to pan out, it didn’t take much to completely deflate me, take the wind out of my sails. I can’t really point at any one thing that went wrong or that was so bad I couldn’t handle it… it’s just everything… all the little things that start to stack up. It sounds negative, I know, but it just seems like every time something good would happen, I would be “up” for just enough time to think things would be good for awhile. Then…BAM! BAM! BAM! Negatives seem to happen in small groups, when it rains it pours. The whole time the negatives are flying I am shaking my fist at the heavens… Why? Why? Why? I plead. I beg. Just give me a break. Give me time to take some breaths. To not be angry. To focus on all those awesome little things. To focus back on wanting to be here. And then one day, things are fine. I wake up, I’m in a good mood, I’m excited for what the day might bring, I’m confident about trying new things. The last week or so I’ve been late to work every single day. My office expects me there at 8 and I have waltzed in around 9. It’s me being passive-aggressive I know. While other PCVs in my group have talked with their NGO’s, set up schedules, and then gone out into the community to work on many different projects, I have turned my situation over and over in my head. I don’t want to change sites. I don’t want to change organizations. I love my coworkers and love all the hard work that is coming out of the office. I just can’t sit still anymore. I can’t sit and I’ve been sort of paralyzed when it has come to being proactive in addressing my NGO’s project manager. This week I hit a wall. I have been patient. I have waited, I have complained about other people not helping me or being supportive or being unresponsive, and I just hit the end of my rope. I knew I needed to step outside my box, needed to put some energy into remedying the issues as opposed to driving myself to the point of insanity and then just throwing up my hands. I went to my ally in the office for help. Yesterday Synett and I sat outside on a bench for 45 minutes and threw around all kinds of ideas. I needed her to be excited and she was excited. Excited, supportive, a friend, and just plain awesome, just the way Synett usually is. At one point Mogale joined in the conversation and out of nowhere I asked,” Hey guys, if the pay here was better, do you see yourselves being able to work here for a good long while?” Synett said she could, she liked the office. Mogale said he was interested in getting out and seeing things,”like you did, Mmapula.” All the sitting I’ve done has made me realize that non-profits in South Africa run into the same challenges that non-profits in the States do. It depends on the NGO’s, but a lot of issues I’ve come face to face with are some of the same ones crippling organizations I worked for at home. There are people in power, making decisions about money, who aren’t on the frontlines, who know little about the clients the organization is serving. There is mismanagement of money, of staff, of care. There is not enough money. Staff members are expected to work hard for very little money. There is no support for the staff members who are on the frontlines, who absorb negative things on a daily basis. I feel as though my NGO is on a good path, it’s stable right now, and is in a good position to head towards more stability and sustainability. This is why I want to stay with them. Every single person in my office cares about the work that they’re doing and cares about having the organization move forward, grow, expand, and become more sustainable. Talking to Synett gave me some relief. I got a burst of energy. I networked! I ended up calling a woman I had met at a meeting a few weeks ago in Tzaneen. Her organization is mentoring my organization and I’m hoping to be the middle person in the process, maybe go to town a few times a month and gather information to take back to my office. She sounded really excited about my interest in helping out so I’m excited to see how my meeting with her in a couple of days will go.
This morning I walked into my office and the Project Manager asked me why I was late. I mumbled some lame excuse and then had to go outside to not explode. Synett ended up coming to talk to me, then Synett talked to Esther, then Esther called an emergency meeting. It was what needed to happen. It had all been set up so that I couldn’t be passive anymore, I had to state my needs, and I did. “Mmapula’s Issue” was number 4.2 on the agenda. I wasn’t nervous, actually I was pretty calm. I stated that I loved them all and loved working with them, but that I was incredibly frustrated, felt trapped, and needed to have the flexibility to work on my own projects. I was here to help them and to learn from them. It went pretty well. I think now that everything is out in the open there is some relief. Before we moved to number 4.3 Esther asked if lack of work was the only thing bothering me, if there was something else they could help me with. The expressions on their faces, the speed at which they set up the meeting, made me realize that they all do support and care about me, that’s why I could look them all in the eyes and tell them the truth about how I was feeling.
“We ourselves feel that what we are doing is just a drop in the ocean. But the ocean would be less because of that missing drop.”- Mother Teresa
Time does funny things here. Ask anyone who has worked in Africa if this is true. I think they may agree. Hours and hours can go by so slowly. Days can pass and you might have a hard time recalling what you actually did. And then you look back on the week and wonder where all the time went. It’s funny. I have days where hours will creep with nothing exciting happening at all and then in 20 minutes everything seems to happen all at once.
Last week I sat outside MmaDiapo’s house with some of her sisters (my host family makes up 4 houses on our road, it’s awesome) and the little ones before the sun went down. We talked about how hot a day it had been and how Karabo (she’s 2) cries when she has to leave me, as opposed to when she used to cry when she saw me. We ran through the list of questions I’m getting quite used to… Is it hot where you come from? What languages do people speak?.. and then there were some that I’ve been asked before, but that always take me off guard…. Are there black people where you come from? What language do they speak? How far from town do they live? These questions seemed strange to me at first because I grew up with black people all around me, I went to a high school where I was a minority, and I can’t ever remember questioning someone’s equality when it came to their skin color. These may seem strange to me from a Megan standpoint, but from a South African village standpoint they seem totally legitimate. Of course. There are black people in America, it’s just a lot of what represents America in South Africa wouldn’t really try to prove that to you. Of course. Here the black people you come into contact with most often speak more than one language because South Africa has 11 national languages. Of course. There would be the assumption that if there are black people in America they would be living in villages outside of town because that’s the way a lot of black people in South Africa live.
Yesterday, exhausted, I walked home from work, greeted Maria (MmaDiapo’s sister) and Margaret (Maria’s daughter) across the road, and then stepped through the gate to home sweet home. I had plans to take advantage of the fact that I was exhausted and take a nap. I wanted to change out of work clothes, turn on my fan, and lie on my bed with my iPod on until I drifted off to sleep. I got in my room and got as far as one leg out of my skirt before there was a knock on my door. “Mmapula? Are you busy? Can I talk to you for a second?” “Just a second, Maragaret, I’m coming.” One more leg in my pants, some water, and I opened the door. No Margaret. I walked to the back porch area of the big house and found her sitting with a folder open and papers all around her. “Mmapula, I need your help.” You do? My heart was leaping. Minus a few bits and pieces about where I work and where I’m from, my host family and I haven’t talked much about what I’m doing here. Margaret is a carer for another NGO in the village, actually just started volunteering there a couple of weeks ago, and wanted to make sure all her paperwork on the OVC’s she visits was in order. She wanted me to help her figure out what she should write about some of the visits she had been on. We sat for about half hour, at the end of the day, with her telling me about a few visits and me summarizing them, telling her what I thought was important to document. Through this whole conversation about work I learned more about Margaret’s family, more about how she feels about things, and realized that she is the perfect person for a carer job. I told her so. She’s warm, compassionate, smiles, and seems to genuinely care about the kids she’s visiting. I told her I had worked many jobs and had gone to school to study social work, so I knew how hard and draining and important caring for and supporting people was. She hugged me. “Mmapula you are a social worker? Really? That makes me so happy!” We talked a little more about what she was supposed to report to social workers here, what challenges the kids she visits seem to face, and then before we knew it, it was time for her to rush off and make Karabo’s supper.

Some sugar, some wild, some kindness

Ah Mondays. I always walk into the office a little lighter on my feet, excited about a new week, and rested (most of the time) from the weekend. Today, I was rested, and feeling a little lighter, but was most certainly dragging my feet when it came to work. The motivation wasn't there... and that seems to be a problem more and more. I was excited about one thing though, excited about Esther coming back... and the idea that if Esther's coming back, things will change, I will start to do more as far as my NGO is concerned. Esther is one of the Program Coordinators for my office. She's responsible for overseeing all the drop-ins, and such a responsibility includes ordering the food for each site (and making sure that food is accounted for), making sure the cookers are showing up for work and doing what they have agreed to do (cook the food, be there at certain times), and managing all the monthly reports. Esther's been on maternity leave since the first of November. Oh wow, I remember when she was leaving... I was a little nervous about how things would go. Things have been fine. Quiet, but fine. The office has missed her though. Esther's one of those people who makes you feel ok. If she has a problem she's direct, but kind, when it comes to addressing it. She lightens the air in the room. She opens staff meetings with things like, "Let us all open our hearts and minds and feel free to share and discuss what we feel we must. We all come from the same womb, the same breast, we must feel free." And she laughs! She's the one I'll make eye contact with during a meeting and she'll wink and then start laughing silently. It's going to be good to have her back. Today was supposed to be her first day back in the office and, yes, of course, we threw her a little party. And what's a party, around teatime on a Monday, without a sheet cake (complete with "Welcome Back Ester" written on it in blue icing) and some Tab (oh, yeah, Tab, the soft drink that was really big in the 80's)? Gotta have that sugar rush to keep you going!
I give credit to Kruger for feeling a little lighter today. Yes, I think I really do. Nathan, Justin, Keri, and I spent a peaceful couple of days, from the time we woke up until the gates to the bush camps closed, driving up and down the whole middle section of the park searching for animals and trying to see all of the Big 5. South Africa has got the way a national park should be, down. I was impressed. Amazing, I tell you, and the kind of place I can see visiting again and again. It's quiet. The bush camps (where all the accommodations in the park are located) must close their gates at 6:30 every night, I'm thinking in order to protect the animals and also in order protect guests, are quiet. The drives are quiet. The kind of place where you really do feel you're in the wild. Driving along the roads we'd be listening to the radio, having a conversation, and then BAM! right in front of us would be a handful of giraffes munching on some trees, or some zebras causing a roadblock, or a bridge crossing the Olifants River with hippos doing their best to stay somewhat hidden from all the tourists. We did manage to see 80% of the Big 5, Elephants, Water Buffalo, a Rhino, and Lions (the only missing one? The Leopard. They're nocturnal and not usually seen during the day). Days were spent searching for animals and soaking it all in, nights were spent talking and then being lulled to sleep by the sound of the Olifants and sleeping the best I have in weeks. Love it!
What's a sign your post office postman in Metz Village, South Africa is pretty awesome? Answer: When you show up to buy stamps and pick up a couple packages and he insists on settling business with you first. It turns out last week when you went to send an envelope to another PCV in the country he charged you the International postage rate and you paid, thinking nothing of it. So today, he wanted to clear the air... refund you the difference between the two postage rates and apologize for his miscalculations. After all was said and done, you nearly jumped over the counter to hug him it was so nice... but instead just thanked him profusely and used the money towards more International stamps.
It is those little things (and those rhino and elephant sightings) that help so much.

I got some white walls

So I sent my sucker punch, sad, out of the blue, incredibly honest email one week and a day ago. I know it was out of the blue because I haven't sent a mass email out in awhile and all my blogs have been at least somewhat upbeat. The thing is, it's hard to write anything when I'm in a negative headspace. I don't want to paint a negative picture of where I am or what I'm doing... I don't want people to worry.. and in following that reasoning I have done a good job of (in some ways, unconsciously) steering clear of certain aspects of my life.. until my email last week. Last week was hard. It was the kind of week where your chest feels heavy. Where it's hard to breathe, hard to think about much besides just going through the motions. I left Pretoria on Friday and it was more than time to leave. I saw off another volunteer who was leaving, I sat in the Country Director's office and cried (hi Gene!), I just couldn't get myself to calm down. I wasn't thinking about leaving Peace Corps or South Africa. I was thinking about how the hell I was going to make sense of everything. How I was going to keep pushing to get myself back to the village where I knew my head and heart, my body, my environment, would at least calm down a little. My last morning in Pretoria I was going to take a koombi to the taxi rank, but splurged, because of exhaustion (and skittishness), on a private taxi. My taxi from Pretoria to Tzaneen was pulled over at a police check point... all passengers were asked in Sotho to exit the minibus and bring our baggage with us to be searched. Really?! As if I needed anything else to fuel the paranoia and heaviness that had been building. It didn't take long and I'm still not sure what the purpose was. When I finally made it back to the village I was greeted warmly by my host mother and then by Tanya, Austin (visiting from the States), and Christy (all of whom were participating in the slaughtering of two chickens that we ate about an hour later, chased with beer from the bottle shop and Marula wine (from the fruit of the Marula tree... it has a kind of sour taste). It felt more like home than anything else I had experienced the whole week. People were excited to see me, wanted to hear how I was doing.
I'm still recovering. This week has been better, uneventful really, which is what I need right now. I can't say I'm feeling totally inspired or motivated, but I'm here and feeling more even. I give credit to the following things for helping my mood: Dominique calling me from the States, Kevin calling from the States, the endless emails I've gotten sending me love and support, flying a kite with Tanya, Austin, Christy, and a group of kids from the village, going to Elayna's village just down the road for a braai, going to a meeting in Tzaneen with Synett (which may lead to future projects), getting a letter from Amber, feeling my PC group getting stronger and more tightly knit because everyone seems to be having a hard time right now, sitting under a tree at 1 in the afternoon drinking Marula wine out of an old mayonaise jar (with a gogo next to me taking it out of my hand to sneak sips) and then going back to work kind of tipsy (it's powerful!), having part of the staff meeting yesterday be dedicated to brainstorming ideas to help Mmapula not be bored in the office, getting a chance to catch up with people on gmail, talking to the country director on the phone to share my concerns about how people in our PC group are feeling and feeling HEARD.
I spent the whole of yesterday working and it felt so good. I miss any sort of manual labor, the kind of work that makes you sweat, your back creak a little, and physically exhausts you. The last few months I've had plenty of exhaustion, but I'm so tired of my mind and heart doing all the work. I actually ended up taking a mental health day from work and getting some stuff done . Stuff that I had been putting off because the motivation wasn't there. I filled my water barrel, which took about 8 trips with my water bucket to and from the rainwater tap. I washed my clothes, which took about 2-3 of those buckets of water (wash and rinse). I washed my dishes. Boiled and filtered my water. Drank tea. And mid-morning started the huge process of painting my walls. Yes! They're all white. Clean. My room feels bigger. My shoulders are sore from constantly reaching up. It was meditative. It is meditative. I feel like it's starting to, slowly but surely, become more and more of my room.
It's about 6:40am... the rooster outside has been crowing for a good half hour and Kori just came and knocked on my door looking for a magazine. It just a short amount of time, after my room is set up for leaving and popcorn is made, I'll be on a taxi going to meet up with some friends.... we're going to Kruger! Kruger National Park. The place where you can see the Big 5....lions, leopards, buffalo, rhinos, and elephants! In the wild and up close! I'm excited... well, beyond excited... this is what I need right now.