September 24, 10:48 a.m., 6lb, 9 oz, 19 inches.
I'll admit, I was a little sad at the thought of having to let go of the name Metallica for the little girl we were all expecting... BUT how can I not call her by her given name?! It's too good. Too perfect. Congratulations Otto-Smith Family! Penelope, get all those girls to tell you some stories... and I'll see you in a year, when, girl, we got some catching up to do.
25 September 2008
24 September 2008
From where I stand, this is what I know
It's been awhile. I know this. Things have happened... a lot of things have happened, but the ol computer has been sort of sickly... and for some reason I can't get iPhoto to work properly... good thing I have a computer whiz (actually 2!) as my closest volunteer.... soon Crispin (the Apple) will get tuned up and I'll be back to posting pictures and what what.
For now, GASP, I will just rely on words to relay all the happenin's with Mmapula.
I feel like I've lost my feeling for words. I haven't been in the mood to write... letters, blogs, journal entries...but I'm gonna try... bear with me...
MmaDiapo is outside right now, in the chicken coop, burning huge logs full of "very dangerous and cruel, cruel, bugs" that she thinks are responsible for sucking the blood of her chickens and making them sick. I stood at the chicken wire fencing and watched for a long time, talked to her about how awful and cruel these things really were. She cares so much for her chickens.... and her cows... and her farm... and her family.
This past weekend, on Saturday, I went to a funeral. I woke up at 5, stayed in bed until 5:30, and then finally got up to iron my funeral clothes, wash my hair, and eat breakfast, all before 6. This is the way I roll... if I can stay in bed just a little longer, those few minutes are worth it even if I'm frantically running around for half an hour trying to get ready by 6 when Linda (MmaDiapo's sister-in -law) is coming by to get me. I was ready by 6... and I was clean... and I was ironed.. and when I opened my door, just a little flustered, Linda laughed.. so I guess I didn't look as put together as I thought. Every funeral I've been to has been on a Saturday... and I've been to my share. I don't go every weekend, but between the burial society MmaDiapo belongs to, the gigantic Phokungwane family, and members of the Presbyterian Church, I very well could have every Saturday morning marked with a funeral on the ol calendar. Death is prominent here. It's in your face. It's frequent. It's sad. And as Esther has said, " We handle it because we have to, it's life". So I met up with Linda. We walked to the main tar road in Metz and caught a taxi because MmaDiapo had taken her car the night before to go help cook... and it was too far to walk. By 6:30 we're at the family's home. My head was covered with a black scarf. There were no empty seats, so we stood at the very back with all the other late comers. We prayed, we sang, we listened to the preachers, we responded, and then we watched as the coffin was carried out of the family home and lifted into the Mercedes Benz mini van that was acting as a hearse. Standing there watching the family pile into the hearse.. front seats and some side ones right by the coffin... and filling the two Mercedes Benz sedans.... I closed my eyes when I saw the daughter and granddaughter walking by with tears streaming down their faces. After the hearse left the family gate, we rushed, in the herd of people, to find a way to get to the graveyard. I think we walked about 10 feet before Linda made friends with another guest and soon we were in the backseat, driven by a nice young man, the lady's son, to the graveyard. 7:30. We prayed. We bowed. We kneeled. We watched the coffin being lowered into the ground. And then I had to brace myself for the rush of men that approached the large pile of dug dirt to put on top of the coffin, to bury this woman. I always cry. I really always do. I think it's out of sadness for the person who has died, but I think it's also out of profound gratitude for all the people who are there and the sense of community I always feel. This is what people do every weekend. Men spend Friday afternoon digging the grave... the same men who dug the graves for the weeks before... and then they go sit at the family's house under a tent and spend the whole night drinking and eating and carrying on. Women spend the whole night singing and praying and looking over large (VERY large) cooking pots of pap, cabbage, gravy, chicken, butternut, the usual. And when Saturday morning rolls around, the women are still there finishing up the cooking, the men are slaughtering the cow, and people go to the graveyard. We're talking a hundred and fifty to two hundred people. So, at the graveyard, right after the coffin is lowered into the ground, there is always this whooshing sound... a sound of wind... right after the preacher has finished his last prayer, as men approach the dug dirt. They all focus on the dirt and head in that direction. One or two will start, shovel a few shovel fulls of dirt, then the man behind him will grad the handle and shovel a few shovel fulls of dirt... and this goes on until all the dirt has been transferred and there is a mound. Family members then decorate the mound with ribbon bouquets, flowers (real and fake), and large rocks that will hold everything in place. And then, there's a rush for the gate, people head towards the cars,taxis, and bakkies they came in and we head back to the family's house to devour the food that the women have been cooking all night. When we got back to the house I took off my headscarf and watched as members of the ZCC (Zion Christian Church) were "cleansed" outside the gate. (Water that has been blessed is splashed on their faces by a tree branch and they each drink some. This is to cleanse the inside and outside of their bodies). I stood in a long line for food and by the time I got up to the front, where all the food was, I was only given little dabs of everything left because they were running out. Linda and I found seats and ate while I greeted a few people I knew. When finished, after I gave my plate to all the dish washers, I found MmaDiapo over in the back washing cups. She asked how everything was at the house because she had spent the night away and in reply to me saying that there were no problems, she said " Ah, Mmapula, you are a good shepherd, when I go away you keep things in order. I am glad to have you around." And I smiled. Linda and I were heading to catch a taxi and I thought about how much I've found a place here. I mean, I'll never not stick out, but I know people... and they know me... and for most of them the novelty has worn off and I'm just a person... I'm not white, I'm not American, I'm not a dollar sign, I'm not a marriage proposal. People sought me out to greet and say hello... the woman who lives on the corner who I always pass on my way to the post office, the woman who's hand I held when the American dentist came and pulled her teeth, my old host mother, my family, a few people I knew from creches and NGO's, a woman that runs a shop near my work. It felt good. Good and reassuring.
This weekend marked my one year anniversary in Metz Village. I spent it at the funeral and then hangin out learning the basics of burglar proofs. (I spent one whole year without any bars on my little room and over the last month, due to some safety concerns, I decided that it may be best if I just go ahead and take all the necessary precautions). Ludvig Maake and his two assistants spent the afternoons of Friday and Saturday cutting and welding pieces of iron into bars for my window and my door. I'll admit, I feel a little safer, but at the same time it has taken some getting used to... this is my first time living behind bars.
There are some exciting happenin's in the life of Mmapula, oh yeah there are. Today around 2 my time my dear friend Amber in Austin sent out an email alerting a few of us that dear Metallica Otto-Smith (will this be her name?!) is trying to make her way into the world. Oh I cannot even begin to write about how excited I am... I can't wait to see pictures and hear how everything went... and you better believe I've got some plans of hang out time with that little girl! Amber, being the good friend that she is, promised me that she wouldn't forget to whisper in Metallica's ear how much I loved her as soon as she could.
AND Peg and RIch Owen head over this side next week. Actually... exactly one week from right this very second we will be hanging out for the first time in a little over a year. I am really, really excited.... and so is my family in the village. We've got all sorts of plans...and I know we're going to have a good time. It'll be good to see them, so good.
For now, GASP, I will just rely on words to relay all the happenin's with Mmapula.
I feel like I've lost my feeling for words. I haven't been in the mood to write... letters, blogs, journal entries...but I'm gonna try... bear with me...
MmaDiapo is outside right now, in the chicken coop, burning huge logs full of "very dangerous and cruel, cruel, bugs" that she thinks are responsible for sucking the blood of her chickens and making them sick. I stood at the chicken wire fencing and watched for a long time, talked to her about how awful and cruel these things really were. She cares so much for her chickens.... and her cows... and her farm... and her family.
This past weekend, on Saturday, I went to a funeral. I woke up at 5, stayed in bed until 5:30, and then finally got up to iron my funeral clothes, wash my hair, and eat breakfast, all before 6. This is the way I roll... if I can stay in bed just a little longer, those few minutes are worth it even if I'm frantically running around for half an hour trying to get ready by 6 when Linda (MmaDiapo's sister-in -law) is coming by to get me. I was ready by 6... and I was clean... and I was ironed.. and when I opened my door, just a little flustered, Linda laughed.. so I guess I didn't look as put together as I thought. Every funeral I've been to has been on a Saturday... and I've been to my share. I don't go every weekend, but between the burial society MmaDiapo belongs to, the gigantic Phokungwane family, and members of the Presbyterian Church, I very well could have every Saturday morning marked with a funeral on the ol calendar. Death is prominent here. It's in your face. It's frequent. It's sad. And as Esther has said, " We handle it because we have to, it's life". So I met up with Linda. We walked to the main tar road in Metz and caught a taxi because MmaDiapo had taken her car the night before to go help cook... and it was too far to walk. By 6:30 we're at the family's home. My head was covered with a black scarf. There were no empty seats, so we stood at the very back with all the other late comers. We prayed, we sang, we listened to the preachers, we responded, and then we watched as the coffin was carried out of the family home and lifted into the Mercedes Benz mini van that was acting as a hearse. Standing there watching the family pile into the hearse.. front seats and some side ones right by the coffin... and filling the two Mercedes Benz sedans.... I closed my eyes when I saw the daughter and granddaughter walking by with tears streaming down their faces. After the hearse left the family gate, we rushed, in the herd of people, to find a way to get to the graveyard. I think we walked about 10 feet before Linda made friends with another guest and soon we were in the backseat, driven by a nice young man, the lady's son, to the graveyard. 7:30. We prayed. We bowed. We kneeled. We watched the coffin being lowered into the ground. And then I had to brace myself for the rush of men that approached the large pile of dug dirt to put on top of the coffin, to bury this woman. I always cry. I really always do. I think it's out of sadness for the person who has died, but I think it's also out of profound gratitude for all the people who are there and the sense of community I always feel. This is what people do every weekend. Men spend Friday afternoon digging the grave... the same men who dug the graves for the weeks before... and then they go sit at the family's house under a tent and spend the whole night drinking and eating and carrying on. Women spend the whole night singing and praying and looking over large (VERY large) cooking pots of pap, cabbage, gravy, chicken, butternut, the usual. And when Saturday morning rolls around, the women are still there finishing up the cooking, the men are slaughtering the cow, and people go to the graveyard. We're talking a hundred and fifty to two hundred people. So, at the graveyard, right after the coffin is lowered into the ground, there is always this whooshing sound... a sound of wind... right after the preacher has finished his last prayer, as men approach the dug dirt. They all focus on the dirt and head in that direction. One or two will start, shovel a few shovel fulls of dirt, then the man behind him will grad the handle and shovel a few shovel fulls of dirt... and this goes on until all the dirt has been transferred and there is a mound. Family members then decorate the mound with ribbon bouquets, flowers (real and fake), and large rocks that will hold everything in place. And then, there's a rush for the gate, people head towards the cars,taxis, and bakkies they came in and we head back to the family's house to devour the food that the women have been cooking all night. When we got back to the house I took off my headscarf and watched as members of the ZCC (Zion Christian Church) were "cleansed" outside the gate. (Water that has been blessed is splashed on their faces by a tree branch and they each drink some. This is to cleanse the inside and outside of their bodies). I stood in a long line for food and by the time I got up to the front, where all the food was, I was only given little dabs of everything left because they were running out. Linda and I found seats and ate while I greeted a few people I knew. When finished, after I gave my plate to all the dish washers, I found MmaDiapo over in the back washing cups. She asked how everything was at the house because she had spent the night away and in reply to me saying that there were no problems, she said " Ah, Mmapula, you are a good shepherd, when I go away you keep things in order. I am glad to have you around." And I smiled. Linda and I were heading to catch a taxi and I thought about how much I've found a place here. I mean, I'll never not stick out, but I know people... and they know me... and for most of them the novelty has worn off and I'm just a person... I'm not white, I'm not American, I'm not a dollar sign, I'm not a marriage proposal. People sought me out to greet and say hello... the woman who lives on the corner who I always pass on my way to the post office, the woman who's hand I held when the American dentist came and pulled her teeth, my old host mother, my family, a few people I knew from creches and NGO's, a woman that runs a shop near my work. It felt good. Good and reassuring.
This weekend marked my one year anniversary in Metz Village. I spent it at the funeral and then hangin out learning the basics of burglar proofs. (I spent one whole year without any bars on my little room and over the last month, due to some safety concerns, I decided that it may be best if I just go ahead and take all the necessary precautions). Ludvig Maake and his two assistants spent the afternoons of Friday and Saturday cutting and welding pieces of iron into bars for my window and my door. I'll admit, I feel a little safer, but at the same time it has taken some getting used to... this is my first time living behind bars.
There are some exciting happenin's in the life of Mmapula, oh yeah there are. Today around 2 my time my dear friend Amber in Austin sent out an email alerting a few of us that dear Metallica Otto-Smith (will this be her name?!) is trying to make her way into the world. Oh I cannot even begin to write about how excited I am... I can't wait to see pictures and hear how everything went... and you better believe I've got some plans of hang out time with that little girl! Amber, being the good friend that she is, promised me that she wouldn't forget to whisper in Metallica's ear how much I loved her as soon as she could.
AND Peg and RIch Owen head over this side next week. Actually... exactly one week from right this very second we will be hanging out for the first time in a little over a year. I am really, really excited.... and so is my family in the village. We've got all sorts of plans...and I know we're going to have a good time. It'll be good to see them, so good.
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