Yes...some people around the world may be consuming large amounts of Turkey, stuffing, cranberry sauce (I'm with Grandma... you gotta have some of that), rolls, rice and gravy, green bean casserole, pumpkin/pecan pie, and REAL WHIPPED CREAM on Thanksgiving Day... I strayed a little off course. After spending the last week in Pretoria going to meetings, taking care of my mid-service medical appointments, and goin' to town on some chocolate croissants, coffee, and Indian food, I was taking a taxi back to good ol Metz on Thanksgiving. Around 1 pm we stopped at the "Magic" convenient store and I started with the celebratin'. Thanksgiving dinner for me consisted of: 1 550ml bottle of Coke, one small bag of Sweet Chili and Sour Cream Doritos, 1 bag of green grapes bought from the woman outside, and a Hazelnut Cadbury bar. Yeahhhhhh.
There is a lot to be grateful for, life is pretty cool that way. It's still pretty fascinating and amazing to me that I've gotten to see and do all that this life has provided me. Hug and kiss all your family and friends... cause that's not something I can do for a little while longer... and stuff yourselves silly!
27 November 2008
18 November 2008
The Cattle, Part 2
Some people from the Department of Agriculture came to visit the house last week. After they examined all the cattle and the kraal, they asked a series of questions. One question MmaDiapo remembered specifically was something along the lines of,"And, Mma, why do you keep so many cattle? Are they for selling? For meat?". MmaDiapo said that she had to grasp at her heart and gasp... "Oh, no-no, I keep them because I love them. Once a few years ago I had to sell two of them for money and it hurt my heart so. I cannot do that again. Oh, no-no, I cannot let my heart break again."
If I eat... I may slumber
The last couple of evenings I've taken whatever I was doing, writing a letter, working on knitting my scarf, reading my book, and sat on MmaDiapo's back porch for a couple of hours. The porch is situated so you're pretty well hidden while sitting there, hidden from the sun and passersby. Last night, within an hour, so many little things occurred that demonstrated South Africa, the extremes, the beauty, and the sheer amazement I find myself shaking my head at on a pretty consistent basis. Here's what I saw.
*Managed to stop writing right in the middle of a pretty intense paragraph in my letter to my pen pal/friend.... I had the perfect view of two women, who live in the house just a few down from mine along the tar road, hoeing their yard for the planting of mealies (corn). It's heading towards the later half of November, the rains have been pretty consistent for the last couple of weeks, and it's about planting time. Soon, in January or so, we'll have stalks of mealies filling everyone's yard.. crops that will feed people (roasted and as meal for porridge) and that will take care of the cattle/chickens of MmaDiapo. Large stalks that are perfect hiding spots for all the kids along my walk to the post office. Now it's gonna be extra challenging to see where all the yelling is coming from!
*A man showed up a few minutes later and asked if MmaDiapo was around. I got off my chair, headed through the kitchen and dining room, all the way down the long hall to her room to let her know a man was needing to talk to her. Most of the time, people coming to the back door, are in search of the airtime she sells out of her house, this man wanted to deliver a letter. They talked briefly on the porch, I went back to writing, and then MmaDiapo said "You may come with us, he is going to show us something", and we walked out the front gate. I got around the front corner of the house and Bam!, I start to quint... is that really what I think it is? Is this man's ride a JAGUAR? I mean, yeah, sure it's a nice car, but a Jag? Oh it's a Jag alright... and it turns out he's my brother-in-law. MmaDiapo's daughter, Maringe, is in the front seat. There's greeting, there's introducing, and then they're gone.
* The envelope Solley (brother-in-law) had brought contained 4 copies of a letter to Chief Letsoalo, the nduna, of Metz Village. A letter, which said that there was an interest in building a shopping center near the hospital around here... they were asking for some land from the chief... and if land was received, a ShopRite (grocery store) and some banks could be built. Things are changing. They've already changed a lot since I've been here.
* Told MmaDiapo that I really wanted to take a photo of her and her "child", the baby chick that follows her around everywhere. She laughed and told me she had a trick she wanted to show me. She sat down on the bench, crossed her feet, and stayed very still. After about a minute, the chick chirped its way over, hopped up, and settled in for a little nap on top of her feet. Pretty awesome.
*Managed to stop writing right in the middle of a pretty intense paragraph in my letter to my pen pal/friend.... I had the perfect view of two women, who live in the house just a few down from mine along the tar road, hoeing their yard for the planting of mealies (corn). It's heading towards the later half of November, the rains have been pretty consistent for the last couple of weeks, and it's about planting time. Soon, in January or so, we'll have stalks of mealies filling everyone's yard.. crops that will feed people (roasted and as meal for porridge) and that will take care of the cattle/chickens of MmaDiapo. Large stalks that are perfect hiding spots for all the kids along my walk to the post office. Now it's gonna be extra challenging to see where all the yelling is coming from!
*A man showed up a few minutes later and asked if MmaDiapo was around. I got off my chair, headed through the kitchen and dining room, all the way down the long hall to her room to let her know a man was needing to talk to her. Most of the time, people coming to the back door, are in search of the airtime she sells out of her house, this man wanted to deliver a letter. They talked briefly on the porch, I went back to writing, and then MmaDiapo said "You may come with us, he is going to show us something", and we walked out the front gate. I got around the front corner of the house and Bam!, I start to quint... is that really what I think it is? Is this man's ride a JAGUAR? I mean, yeah, sure it's a nice car, but a Jag? Oh it's a Jag alright... and it turns out he's my brother-in-law. MmaDiapo's daughter, Maringe, is in the front seat. There's greeting, there's introducing, and then they're gone.
* The envelope Solley (brother-in-law) had brought contained 4 copies of a letter to Chief Letsoalo, the nduna, of Metz Village. A letter, which said that there was an interest in building a shopping center near the hospital around here... they were asking for some land from the chief... and if land was received, a ShopRite (grocery store) and some banks could be built. Things are changing. They've already changed a lot since I've been here.
* Told MmaDiapo that I really wanted to take a photo of her and her "child", the baby chick that follows her around everywhere. She laughed and told me she had a trick she wanted to show me. She sat down on the bench, crossed her feet, and stayed very still. After about a minute, the chick chirped its way over, hopped up, and settled in for a little nap on top of her feet. Pretty awesome.
16 November 2008
Still Frames
At one point this week, while walking down a pretty deserted tar road in the middle of nowhere (I'll get to this), I said aloud to myself..."Man, am I in a movie or something?! Is this really happening?!". And yeah, sometimes things that happen, conversations that are had, are just so bizarre or touching or intense or frustrating or part of my routine, that I don't really notice them as much as I once did. The longer you are somewhere, the more in sync you become with everything. Last week I wrote about being more proactive. Yeah, I fell down the hole... and even though it's taking awhile, I'm climbing out... and part of my climbing out is opening my eyes again, looking at things I really want to cherish about being here... the really good and the not so good. Here are some snippets from my week. The still frames I've tried to freeze from the ongoing movie that continues to play...
Monday: Knitting in the office. Sitting in a chair by the door to get a cross breeze of the wind coming through the window across the room and the door. Giving myself a time limit of 15 more minutes. If there is no work today... if nothing seems to magically appear in the next 15 minutes... I'm leaving the office to do something else. The Program Manager gets a call. The AIDS Organization needs the work plan for the next year EMAILED to them ASAP. The office has no email. I say I'll use my connection on my computer. We frantically search for the plan on all the computers. And BAM! a virus strikes. Documents start melting off the screen. It's eating away at work. Work that isn't backed up. There is stress that our immediate need for the work plan is being challenged.. but there's no stress about all the other things that may be lost. Hard copy of work plan is found. I type it up in my room and then get on trying to find companies to donate virus protection software.
Tuesday: The morning is spent in the office, working on computer stuff with a flurry of Sotho being spoken around me. When I go to leave for the day I am asked to come in tomorrow to "watch" the office. I try not to lose my cool. I am tired of sitting there. I leave, have an outburst on my way home, talk to a coworker and tell people I'm not available. I go over to Margaret's and spend a couple of hours explaining to her things she learned in a workshop. The presenters were training carers in the area to do certain activities with the orphans they visit and Margaret really didn't understand. I had to explain the words "curious" and "imagination". Then I pretended to be a kid she was interviewing so she could practice what we covered. I spent the evening with MmaDiapo and her new "child" (a baby chick that is the only surviving member of some hatchlings. It sleeps in a Priority Mail box (compliments of America) in the house and is protected from the cat that killed its siblings. Whenever it can't find MmaDiapo it chirps and cries). She sewed traditional dresses for the wedding coming up in December, I knitted the scarf I'm trying to make.
Wednesday: Went to Hoedspruit to meet Keri for coffee and conversation.. and to bring her back to Metz for a few days. In the morning, I finished up some dish washing and basic cleaning before I headed out to the taxi at about 10. No problem. Got one right by Kodumela right away. That little jaunt wasn't so bad... normal in fact. Made it to The Oaks and got off just in time for it to start raining. When I looked around I only saw two taxis even remotely available... and both were empty. I started walking. A Venture pulled up next to me and told me that one was going to Hoedspruit and I should just sit and wait. Sometimes I fight this, but today I opted for being dry, decided I would wait for 15 minutes and if nothing happened.... I would walk. 5 minutes went by. A woman got in the taxi with me. Maybe another couple minutes went by.. not long at all.. and then the taxi rank marshall came over and told us he found one that was going to Hoedspruit... and when I looked out the window.. it was MOVING... so I decided it would get me farther than I was. I got in. We rode down the road to the petrol station where he promptly decided 3 people in the taxi was not enough to get petrol and get to Hoed... he told us to get out and hitch. WHAT?! The lady and I got out and walked a little around the corner... very near the "Hoedspruit 32 kms" sign.... I started thinking the usual things... "oh it's so nice I'm not by myself", "I wonder how long it will take to get a ride for both of us...", etc. We both threw up our fingers and a bakkie (with a covered back that you couldn't ride in) pulled over. I'm not even sure what happened... but basically within 20 seconds she was in, waving at me, they were driving off, and I was standing there dumbfounded and pissed. "Hey! Enjoy your ride!!!!!". I cried, I talked to myself, I hoofed it. At one point a woman coming from Hoed and going to The Oaks, pulled over and offered me a ride... told me she didn't want me to suffer (it was sprinkling) and would drive me to Hoed even though it was way out of her way. Uh, no... I wouldn't let her do that. So my mood, the farther I walked, was lightened... I became less pissed... and then out of nowhere, a taxi. This driver drove us all the way there even though he was only a third full. Finally. When I looked at my clock I noticed that it had only been an hour since I had been at The Oaks... it felt like forever. And how Africa. One moment it's winning, beating you down, pulling the rug out from under you, letting you hang. The next you're being offered rides, the rain feels good even if you are getting wet, the Olifants River is back to flowing at top speed, and you get coffee with a good friend.
Thursday: Started off the day with Jungle Oats (oatmeal) and singing along to "If I Had a Hammer" by Peter, Paul, and Mary with Keri. Went to Madeira (a village just down the main tar road) and spent the day with Keri and Regina (RE-GY-NAH), Grace, Takalani, and Dally learning the ends and outs of traditional beading. "Oh, Regina! You're so fast and good at this... thanks for being such a good friend and teaching me!"..."Mmapula! Yes! We are friends!" I am almost finished with my first bracelet.
Friday: Mulling over a conversation I had where a woman in the community wants to start a crocheting/knitting IGA (Income Generating Activity) and couple it with HIV/AIDS support groups. I can do this! I can teach people what I have taught myself.
Saturday: Wash all my clothes and then spend the afternoon on the porch, eating ice cream with MmaDiapo. As the weather cools off and it gets closer to dark, many of the women in my family show up to shell peanuts for planting. I crochet, they shell, we all laugh. Karabo and Charlie are in the back of the yard giggling and yelling at Kori who is singing a song about Mandela and washing himself in his makeshift "bath room" in the yard.
Monday: Knitting in the office. Sitting in a chair by the door to get a cross breeze of the wind coming through the window across the room and the door. Giving myself a time limit of 15 more minutes. If there is no work today... if nothing seems to magically appear in the next 15 minutes... I'm leaving the office to do something else. The Program Manager gets a call. The AIDS Organization needs the work plan for the next year EMAILED to them ASAP. The office has no email. I say I'll use my connection on my computer. We frantically search for the plan on all the computers. And BAM! a virus strikes. Documents start melting off the screen. It's eating away at work. Work that isn't backed up. There is stress that our immediate need for the work plan is being challenged.. but there's no stress about all the other things that may be lost. Hard copy of work plan is found. I type it up in my room and then get on trying to find companies to donate virus protection software.
Tuesday: The morning is spent in the office, working on computer stuff with a flurry of Sotho being spoken around me. When I go to leave for the day I am asked to come in tomorrow to "watch" the office. I try not to lose my cool. I am tired of sitting there. I leave, have an outburst on my way home, talk to a coworker and tell people I'm not available. I go over to Margaret's and spend a couple of hours explaining to her things she learned in a workshop. The presenters were training carers in the area to do certain activities with the orphans they visit and Margaret really didn't understand. I had to explain the words "curious" and "imagination". Then I pretended to be a kid she was interviewing so she could practice what we covered. I spent the evening with MmaDiapo and her new "child" (a baby chick that is the only surviving member of some hatchlings. It sleeps in a Priority Mail box (compliments of America) in the house and is protected from the cat that killed its siblings. Whenever it can't find MmaDiapo it chirps and cries). She sewed traditional dresses for the wedding coming up in December, I knitted the scarf I'm trying to make.
Wednesday: Went to Hoedspruit to meet Keri for coffee and conversation.. and to bring her back to Metz for a few days. In the morning, I finished up some dish washing and basic cleaning before I headed out to the taxi at about 10. No problem. Got one right by Kodumela right away. That little jaunt wasn't so bad... normal in fact. Made it to The Oaks and got off just in time for it to start raining. When I looked around I only saw two taxis even remotely available... and both were empty. I started walking. A Venture pulled up next to me and told me that one was going to Hoedspruit and I should just sit and wait. Sometimes I fight this, but today I opted for being dry, decided I would wait for 15 minutes and if nothing happened.... I would walk. 5 minutes went by. A woman got in the taxi with me. Maybe another couple minutes went by.. not long at all.. and then the taxi rank marshall came over and told us he found one that was going to Hoedspruit... and when I looked out the window.. it was MOVING... so I decided it would get me farther than I was. I got in. We rode down the road to the petrol station where he promptly decided 3 people in the taxi was not enough to get petrol and get to Hoed... he told us to get out and hitch. WHAT?! The lady and I got out and walked a little around the corner... very near the "Hoedspruit 32 kms" sign.... I started thinking the usual things... "oh it's so nice I'm not by myself", "I wonder how long it will take to get a ride for both of us...", etc. We both threw up our fingers and a bakkie (with a covered back that you couldn't ride in) pulled over. I'm not even sure what happened... but basically within 20 seconds she was in, waving at me, they were driving off, and I was standing there dumbfounded and pissed. "Hey! Enjoy your ride!!!!!". I cried, I talked to myself, I hoofed it. At one point a woman coming from Hoed and going to The Oaks, pulled over and offered me a ride... told me she didn't want me to suffer (it was sprinkling) and would drive me to Hoed even though it was way out of her way. Uh, no... I wouldn't let her do that. So my mood, the farther I walked, was lightened... I became less pissed... and then out of nowhere, a taxi. This driver drove us all the way there even though he was only a third full. Finally. When I looked at my clock I noticed that it had only been an hour since I had been at The Oaks... it felt like forever. And how Africa. One moment it's winning, beating you down, pulling the rug out from under you, letting you hang. The next you're being offered rides, the rain feels good even if you are getting wet, the Olifants River is back to flowing at top speed, and you get coffee with a good friend.
Thursday: Started off the day with Jungle Oats (oatmeal) and singing along to "If I Had a Hammer" by Peter, Paul, and Mary with Keri. Went to Madeira (a village just down the main tar road) and spent the day with Keri and Regina (RE-GY-NAH), Grace, Takalani, and Dally learning the ends and outs of traditional beading. "Oh, Regina! You're so fast and good at this... thanks for being such a good friend and teaching me!"..."Mmapula! Yes! We are friends!" I am almost finished with my first bracelet.
Friday: Mulling over a conversation I had where a woman in the community wants to start a crocheting/knitting IGA (Income Generating Activity) and couple it with HIV/AIDS support groups. I can do this! I can teach people what I have taught myself.
Saturday: Wash all my clothes and then spend the afternoon on the porch, eating ice cream with MmaDiapo. As the weather cools off and it gets closer to dark, many of the women in my family show up to shell peanuts for planting. I crochet, they shell, we all laugh. Karabo and Charlie are in the back of the yard giggling and yelling at Kori who is singing a song about Mandela and washing himself in his makeshift "bath room" in the yard.
14 November 2008
CCF
Back in August (yeah, yeah), my coworker, Esther, invited me to attend a two day workshop she was co facilitating that covered all the ins and outs of CCF or Child Care Forum. Not connected to one specific organization, and hopefully funded by the Department of Social Development at some point in the near future, CCF focuses on training carers, teachers, creche/daycare workers, and people from churches to become advocates for the children they're working with on an everyday basis. Over the last year I've been to my fair share of "events", "forums", and "workshops" and this one was, by far, one of the best. Esther was AMAZING! Due to lack of funding for my office the last 8 months, she hasn't really been able to get out of the office much... and I know being out in the community is where she shines. At the workshop, every time a question was posed to the group at large and the facilitator was met with silence, Esther would get up from her chair and in rapid Sotho explain things, give examples, and have people's full understanding within a couple of minutes. We played ice breaker games, had group discussions, had to act out scenarios, and the time went pretty fast.
These are the ladies and gentlemen I got to spend a couple of days with.
Pastor Mgiba and his work crew. They were putting cement all along the bottom of the church that we were using for the workshop. During teatime I would go out and help them, learned to slap the cement on the wall and then smooth it out, learned the proportions of water to cement in the mixing process...it's funny all the things that can happen in a day.
When Esther and I were walking from the village of Bellville (where the workshop was held) to the tar road to catch taxis home, we came across people waiting at the water taps to fill their plastic jugs. Most of the time, communal taps are turned on a couple times a week on specific days... and if you don't know those days, you'll quickly find out when you see people lining up for their share of water. As we got closer to everyone, we passed a little girl squatting in a big mud puddle, filling a little plastic cup with water, and drinking it. It didn't take long for Esther to start going around telling people where she had just come from and how important it was for the community to start taking care of its children. Where was the child's mother? The water the girl was drinking wasn't safe... who knows what kind of bacteria was in it, did people want her to get sick? She made her way through the crowd and the closer she got towards the end of all the people, the closer she got to the girl's mother, who was young, pregnant again, and looked to either not care much about anything or be really embarrassed. I backed away and leaned up against a fence post, wanting to capture whatever I could in pictures. And these are what I got. Sorry they're kind of blurry... when I was trying to be sneaky at one point, I smudged my lens.
And then! I'm telling you, there are weeks where everything moves so slowly and nothing really happens... and then days where there's enough activity to fill a week. After work I was walking through my gate when I heard my name being called from a car parked in front of the house. Beshu, Collen, and Tanya were wanting to know if I wanted to go ride around with them... it was, afterall, Tanya's last week in Metz Village. Uh, yeah I did! When asked where we wanted to go... I mean we were in a car... Tanya said that she really wanted to go down the tar road in Lorraine and see what was at the end. Ah, gotta love village life. We ended up at a missionary's house, sitting in the unfinished living room area, having cold drink, and going through a pile of clothes (a lot of GAP Red shirts she was selling to make some money for her missions). Halfway through our 1.5 Liter of Coke, we heard the bells and whistles of a kid driving his donkey cart home. Tanya: "I've always wanted to ride in a donkey cart!" SO Beshu rushed outside with us to see if he could make such a wish come true. We walked across the road... talked to the gogo, introduced ourselves to the kid/driver, and found out that it probably wasn't the best idea because the donkeys seemed to be a little all over the place. BUT! In true Africa fashion... there's no giving up. So Tanya couldn't ride in the donkey cart... thanks to Beshu she did get to sit on a donkey for a few seconds!
For you, Tanya/Mpho. You made an impact here.. oh yes you did... and I know here made an impact on you as well.
These are the ladies and gentlemen I got to spend a couple of days with.
Pastor Mgiba and his work crew. They were putting cement all along the bottom of the church that we were using for the workshop. During teatime I would go out and help them, learned to slap the cement on the wall and then smooth it out, learned the proportions of water to cement in the mixing process...it's funny all the things that can happen in a day.
When Esther and I were walking from the village of Bellville (where the workshop was held) to the tar road to catch taxis home, we came across people waiting at the water taps to fill their plastic jugs. Most of the time, communal taps are turned on a couple times a week on specific days... and if you don't know those days, you'll quickly find out when you see people lining up for their share of water. As we got closer to everyone, we passed a little girl squatting in a big mud puddle, filling a little plastic cup with water, and drinking it. It didn't take long for Esther to start going around telling people where she had just come from and how important it was for the community to start taking care of its children. Where was the child's mother? The water the girl was drinking wasn't safe... who knows what kind of bacteria was in it, did people want her to get sick? She made her way through the crowd and the closer she got towards the end of all the people, the closer she got to the girl's mother, who was young, pregnant again, and looked to either not care much about anything or be really embarrassed. I backed away and leaned up against a fence post, wanting to capture whatever I could in pictures. And these are what I got. Sorry they're kind of blurry... when I was trying to be sneaky at one point, I smudged my lens.
And then! I'm telling you, there are weeks where everything moves so slowly and nothing really happens... and then days where there's enough activity to fill a week. After work I was walking through my gate when I heard my name being called from a car parked in front of the house. Beshu, Collen, and Tanya were wanting to know if I wanted to go ride around with them... it was, afterall, Tanya's last week in Metz Village. Uh, yeah I did! When asked where we wanted to go... I mean we were in a car... Tanya said that she really wanted to go down the tar road in Lorraine and see what was at the end. Ah, gotta love village life. We ended up at a missionary's house, sitting in the unfinished living room area, having cold drink, and going through a pile of clothes (a lot of GAP Red shirts she was selling to make some money for her missions). Halfway through our 1.5 Liter of Coke, we heard the bells and whistles of a kid driving his donkey cart home. Tanya: "I've always wanted to ride in a donkey cart!" SO Beshu rushed outside with us to see if he could make such a wish come true. We walked across the road... talked to the gogo, introduced ourselves to the kid/driver, and found out that it probably wasn't the best idea because the donkeys seemed to be a little all over the place. BUT! In true Africa fashion... there's no giving up. So Tanya couldn't ride in the donkey cart... thanks to Beshu she did get to sit on a donkey for a few seconds!
For you, Tanya/Mpho. You made an impact here.. oh yes you did... and I know here made an impact on you as well.
09 November 2008
The foundation seems kind of shaky, those dips are so low!, the climb to the top seems so slow, and hey, can I get a cushion for this seat?
If you haven't noticed, I'm trying to be more on top of the blog. Like I said in a previous post, I have things to write about... I mean I did disappear from letters and emails and blogs for over month... but I'm just following the pattern.. just riding out the coaster. Energy ebbs and flows. Enthusiasm ebbs and flows. Comfort levels. Love for where I am and what I'm doing. Lots of alone time. Motivation. It's charted territory by now... and so part of my life, that every time I hit the super lows, I can reassure myself things will go up, they always seem to... they HAVE to.. and if they don't, then that's when it's time to reassess what I'm doing and if I'm in the right place. I used to fight the lows... hell, I used to fight the highs (used to wonder how long it was going to last before I was plummeting back towards lows again), but now... I try to ride things out. I think about my reactions. I think about possible comforts and reassure myself that everything I'm feeling is ok. It's ok because there's no right way to handle this experience. There's no plan or suggested itinerary that a person can follow.
Last weekend I was volunteering at a mountain bike race (off road) in the mountains around Tzaneen and got a free ride into town before 7 am on Friday with MmaDiapo and her son Jerry. There aren't a lot of places to go and just sit in Tzaneen.. and there are certainly not many open before 8am. The internet cafe was open and it was there that I splurged on internet time, read blogs, looked at the news, chatted with people I hadn't talked to in awhile, and cried. Yeah I know, silly. It was my breaking point though. I was coming down, and fast. Coming down from the fun and adventure of traveling with my parents and the open road. Coming down from showing the life I've made for myself here. I was cracking from readjusting back to the village, back to a lot of the stresses that have become wallpaper in my everyday life. I got some separation from some of my frustrations... and then I had to go and face them head on, not really yet on the defense line again. So, yeah, I cried. I was on the computer, next to a nice young man who was looking up applications to universities in SA and the tears just started to come. Damn. This is embarrassing and kind of bad, isn't it? Or wait, is it? The nice young man looked over and gave me a sympathetic look. I shrugged and said,"This is what I do, I'm ok." And although I didn't feel immediately better, wasn't really interested in having a good cry, and it didn't do all that much for me, it was good. I've realized that crying is just part of all of this for me. It's a release sometimes... and sometimes the tears start to flow and I just start laughing because I know they're not going to do much. But, it's ok. And it helps too, that after leaving the internet, I walked to pick up pictures of home that had been developed, then to the yarn store to buy new yarn for a new project, and then had coffee and spent the afternoon with Jenny.
I've been struggling. I've blown money on phone calls to friends in the States. I've talked to my parents. I've had long conversations with other volunteers. I've admitted to myself that I'm in sort of a rut. A rut that I'm slowly crawling out of. When I'm in such a low place, I don't write blogs, I don't really write in my journal, I give myself time... I think, I read, I eat well, I walk, I try to clear my head, I make lists, I talk to people, and if I need to, I spend a lot of time in my room. I'm in the middle of the home stretch now. I'll be leaving in less than a year. That is crazy. It really is. Have I really been gone as long as I have? Do I really only have months left? I've started assessing things, started making lists of things I really want to accomplish in my last months. Some of the ideas are still pretty grand when you think about how much time everything takes.. and how progress works in baby steps... but they're ideas I'm not ready to give up on. Enthusiasm and motivation have been stretched thin. A lot of things I have suggested or tried over the last year are now just mere memories of ideas.. and I still have a couple places within me, harboring frustration, that rear their ugly heads as soon as their soft spot has been poked... but I'm not giving up. I'm trying to be more proactive. I'm being sensitive to what my needs are.. but I'm not going soft... won't let myself fall back down the hole. Or, ok, let myself fall so far down the hole that I can't get out... can't climb my way back up. I feel like, after months and months of a lot of things wearing me down, a common thread of uneasiness running through most of my interactions, I've lost sight of my initial views, desires, and ideas. That after months and months I've seen not so nice things about myself and other people around me... about South Africa.. and it hurts. A lot of what I talk and write about is truth in the way I see it all, but doesn't match up with what I feel in my heart. So, after giving myself some space and time to get back on track.. I've realized that being proactive is what I need to do.
Can I mention guilt, too? Guilt. Ha. I guess when you're in tune to people's reactions to things and you don't want to cause rifts and part of what drives you in the work that you do is all rooted in the idea/belief that people can live the lives they wish to lead.... you're gonna feel some guilt. You can't make everyone happy. So with all this thinking going on I've felt some guilt. Hey, man, when you've got time on your hands and a pretty consistent amount of waiting to get through, you think. Here's my "Sometimes I Feel Guilty When" list... and then, wahoo!, it's off to recap travels and happenin's in the village!
The Sometimes I Feel Guilty When.... List (cause by getting this out, I hope to get rid of some guilt as well)
1. I can't imagine going to the office and just sitting, waiting.
2. I spend a whole day in my room just reading, when, maybe I should be integrating more.
3. I try to be realistic with people at home and I feel like it sounds like I'm so negative and not giving this all a big enough chance.
4. I tell the kids who come to my door that I'm too tired to play even though my day hasn't been filled with all that much activity
5. Missing big occasions on the homefront
6. I'm wary of a stranger who is possibly just trying to help me and be friendly.. but I can't figure out if it's just a con and they've scoped me out as a soft target.
7. I don't respond to kids yelling Lekgoa. Sometimes they just want to wave and they don't know who I am... don't know my name... and are just trying to be friendly. And sometimes I'm just not in the mood to be called such a name.
8. I judge people based on their looks because, yes, some of being in South Africa has worn off on me.
9. I get pissed off at my office because it seems as though they always try to save things for themselves before handing things out to the orphans and families on our register... and then I remember that they don't have a lot either and are trying their hardest to make ends meet as well.
10.I wish I could have a working CD player on my computer so I could watch movies and that my iPhoto would actually work so I can post pictures.. and then am reminded that I'm lucky to have a computer, internet, and what what.
11.I think about how much I have a choice in being here, how just through luck I was born into a position in this world that provides me with options and opportunities.
12.I think that there is always more that I could be doing.
Last weekend I was volunteering at a mountain bike race (off road) in the mountains around Tzaneen and got a free ride into town before 7 am on Friday with MmaDiapo and her son Jerry. There aren't a lot of places to go and just sit in Tzaneen.. and there are certainly not many open before 8am. The internet cafe was open and it was there that I splurged on internet time, read blogs, looked at the news, chatted with people I hadn't talked to in awhile, and cried. Yeah I know, silly. It was my breaking point though. I was coming down, and fast. Coming down from the fun and adventure of traveling with my parents and the open road. Coming down from showing the life I've made for myself here. I was cracking from readjusting back to the village, back to a lot of the stresses that have become wallpaper in my everyday life. I got some separation from some of my frustrations... and then I had to go and face them head on, not really yet on the defense line again. So, yeah, I cried. I was on the computer, next to a nice young man who was looking up applications to universities in SA and the tears just started to come. Damn. This is embarrassing and kind of bad, isn't it? Or wait, is it? The nice young man looked over and gave me a sympathetic look. I shrugged and said,"This is what I do, I'm ok." And although I didn't feel immediately better, wasn't really interested in having a good cry, and it didn't do all that much for me, it was good. I've realized that crying is just part of all of this for me. It's a release sometimes... and sometimes the tears start to flow and I just start laughing because I know they're not going to do much. But, it's ok. And it helps too, that after leaving the internet, I walked to pick up pictures of home that had been developed, then to the yarn store to buy new yarn for a new project, and then had coffee and spent the afternoon with Jenny.
I've been struggling. I've blown money on phone calls to friends in the States. I've talked to my parents. I've had long conversations with other volunteers. I've admitted to myself that I'm in sort of a rut. A rut that I'm slowly crawling out of. When I'm in such a low place, I don't write blogs, I don't really write in my journal, I give myself time... I think, I read, I eat well, I walk, I try to clear my head, I make lists, I talk to people, and if I need to, I spend a lot of time in my room. I'm in the middle of the home stretch now. I'll be leaving in less than a year. That is crazy. It really is. Have I really been gone as long as I have? Do I really only have months left? I've started assessing things, started making lists of things I really want to accomplish in my last months. Some of the ideas are still pretty grand when you think about how much time everything takes.. and how progress works in baby steps... but they're ideas I'm not ready to give up on. Enthusiasm and motivation have been stretched thin. A lot of things I have suggested or tried over the last year are now just mere memories of ideas.. and I still have a couple places within me, harboring frustration, that rear their ugly heads as soon as their soft spot has been poked... but I'm not giving up. I'm trying to be more proactive. I'm being sensitive to what my needs are.. but I'm not going soft... won't let myself fall back down the hole. Or, ok, let myself fall so far down the hole that I can't get out... can't climb my way back up. I feel like, after months and months of a lot of things wearing me down, a common thread of uneasiness running through most of my interactions, I've lost sight of my initial views, desires, and ideas. That after months and months I've seen not so nice things about myself and other people around me... about South Africa.. and it hurts. A lot of what I talk and write about is truth in the way I see it all, but doesn't match up with what I feel in my heart. So, after giving myself some space and time to get back on track.. I've realized that being proactive is what I need to do.
Can I mention guilt, too? Guilt. Ha. I guess when you're in tune to people's reactions to things and you don't want to cause rifts and part of what drives you in the work that you do is all rooted in the idea/belief that people can live the lives they wish to lead.... you're gonna feel some guilt. You can't make everyone happy. So with all this thinking going on I've felt some guilt. Hey, man, when you've got time on your hands and a pretty consistent amount of waiting to get through, you think. Here's my "Sometimes I Feel Guilty When" list... and then, wahoo!, it's off to recap travels and happenin's in the village!
The Sometimes I Feel Guilty When.... List (cause by getting this out, I hope to get rid of some guilt as well)
1. I can't imagine going to the office and just sitting, waiting.
2. I spend a whole day in my room just reading, when, maybe I should be integrating more.
3. I try to be realistic with people at home and I feel like it sounds like I'm so negative and not giving this all a big enough chance.
4. I tell the kids who come to my door that I'm too tired to play even though my day hasn't been filled with all that much activity
5. Missing big occasions on the homefront
6. I'm wary of a stranger who is possibly just trying to help me and be friendly.. but I can't figure out if it's just a con and they've scoped me out as a soft target.
7. I don't respond to kids yelling Lekgoa. Sometimes they just want to wave and they don't know who I am... don't know my name... and are just trying to be friendly. And sometimes I'm just not in the mood to be called such a name.
8. I judge people based on their looks because, yes, some of being in South Africa has worn off on me.
9. I get pissed off at my office because it seems as though they always try to save things for themselves before handing things out to the orphans and families on our register... and then I remember that they don't have a lot either and are trying their hardest to make ends meet as well.
10.I wish I could have a working CD player on my computer so I could watch movies and that my iPhoto would actually work so I can post pictures.. and then am reminded that I'm lucky to have a computer, internet, and what what.
11.I think about how much I have a choice in being here, how just through luck I was born into a position in this world that provides me with options and opportunities.
12.I think that there is always more that I could be doing.
08 November 2008
Let us see the cattle
It's rainy season. I haven't seen the mountains in a few days due to a heavy, misty fog that has settled on their tops. I'm pretty sure when the clouds lift and Metz Village has a good view of them again, everything is going to be green, green, green. From the door of my room it's going to look as though the mountains are covered in moss or algae of some sort... the grass is going to grow so the cattle are well fed.... the mangoes are going to get real big and juicy and will weigh down their branches until the wood finally snaps and they find themselves on the ground.. or yes, in my hands.
When I woke up this morning, I really debated on hanging out the clothes I had been soaking all night (yeah, I'm getting even more lazy with the washing... ). If I hung them out and the sky opened up and dumped rain... I would have a manageable, but fairly unpleasant situation on my hands. If I hung them out, there was a chance that they could all get somewhat dry. You gotta take chances. I finished all the scrubbing, washed all my dirty dishes, made my bed, hung the clothes on the line while a fine mist was a comin' down, and walked to catch my first taxi to town. It was a good little adventure. I met Christy and Zana at The Oaks (where all the taxis that go down the main tar road in our area drop people off at the taxi rank) and we ran into the Rapola Family heading to Bushbuckridge in their Venture. Auntie Rapola offered us a free ride and we gladly accepted... me smooshed in the front with Father and Mother of Phenyo, Christy and Zana in the middle seat with Auntie, and all the girls in the back singing and playing hand clapping games the whole way to Hoedspruit. Conversation was all over the place, what fruits do they grow in America? Doesn't American currency have something about God printed on it? How do you feel about Obama? Does it snow a lot that side? And then minutes later we were in front of the Wimpy, right smack in the middle of safari, tourist area... everyday so many exchanges, so many brief spurts of activity and snippets of conversations. Hoedspruit provided warm coffee and an omelet for breakfast. Good conversation between PC volunteers, that is special in itself.. a chance to be honest... to talk of frustrations, things that make your heart smile, feel totally accepted. A trip to the Pick 'n Pay for green vegetables. Greeting the friends from Zimbabwe who have become a part of every trip I take to town. And then the realization that there were no taxis at the rank. 2:30 on a Saturday. Seems everyone is trying to find rides.. and that although there is talk of taxis passing by to pick people up.... there are none in sight. We walked to a prime spot for trying to get a ride. We're offered one from our waitress from the coffee shop, but she would have to drive too far out of her way to get us near The Oaks. Less than 2 minutes later... with us talking and not stressing too much (cause everything works out eventually)... a car pops a U right in front of us and the two people in front ask where we're going. Yes, they are going that way. After that, everything just falls into place. They weren't from around the villages... were a little fearful of the idea that we live in the villages... were scared for our safety. We were dropped off at Mabins Cross. I bought some boiled peanuts and stood on the corner trying to get a taxi. One pulled up and denied me a ride all the way to Metz. A second pulled up, was heading that way, and for 15 minutes I sat in the middle of the front (back) seat with two men speaking little English in the front, shared boiled peanuts with them, and smiled to myself when "Every Time You Go Away" by Paul Young (Every time you go away, you take a little piece of me with you...) came on the CD they were listening to. "Mmapula this is your stop, Taposa, right?" Yes.. hauling broccoli, green beans, cheese, and other assorted goodies I walked up the main tar road in Metz, home to my little room. I took my clothes off the line... damp, but not as wet as before... and unpacked food. Rain began to fall just a few minutes later. Late afternoon, MmaDiapo came to discuss the travels to a funeral near Nkowankowa(a township near Tzaneen)and share with me two ripe, big bananas she'd gotten on her journey. She stood in the corner where my room meets Mabu's, just enough out of the misty rain, and we talked about how much life all the water would bring.
Mmapula: "MmaDiapo, do you think the cattle are uncomfortable in the rain? Do you think they think about it? I just think it would bother me to stand there with water constantly dripping down, not really having a choice to get to a drier place."
There was a pause, while she looked at me thinking... not like it was an unreasonable question, but like she wanted to give me a good answer.... and said, laughing...
MmaDiapo:"Oh no, no. They are fine with it... they have to be... it is their culture. The rain, the hot sun, the standing, the eating of grass and mealies... that is all part of their culture."
MmaPula: Looking through the burglar proofs (bars) and misty rain at the kraal where the cattle stays in the yard..."Yeah, I guess you're right.. it's part of their culture, it's what they know."
When I woke up this morning, I really debated on hanging out the clothes I had been soaking all night (yeah, I'm getting even more lazy with the washing... ). If I hung them out and the sky opened up and dumped rain... I would have a manageable, but fairly unpleasant situation on my hands. If I hung them out, there was a chance that they could all get somewhat dry. You gotta take chances. I finished all the scrubbing, washed all my dirty dishes, made my bed, hung the clothes on the line while a fine mist was a comin' down, and walked to catch my first taxi to town. It was a good little adventure. I met Christy and Zana at The Oaks (where all the taxis that go down the main tar road in our area drop people off at the taxi rank) and we ran into the Rapola Family heading to Bushbuckridge in their Venture. Auntie Rapola offered us a free ride and we gladly accepted... me smooshed in the front with Father and Mother of Phenyo, Christy and Zana in the middle seat with Auntie, and all the girls in the back singing and playing hand clapping games the whole way to Hoedspruit. Conversation was all over the place, what fruits do they grow in America? Doesn't American currency have something about God printed on it? How do you feel about Obama? Does it snow a lot that side? And then minutes later we were in front of the Wimpy, right smack in the middle of safari, tourist area... everyday so many exchanges, so many brief spurts of activity and snippets of conversations. Hoedspruit provided warm coffee and an omelet for breakfast. Good conversation between PC volunteers, that is special in itself.. a chance to be honest... to talk of frustrations, things that make your heart smile, feel totally accepted. A trip to the Pick 'n Pay for green vegetables. Greeting the friends from Zimbabwe who have become a part of every trip I take to town. And then the realization that there were no taxis at the rank. 2:30 on a Saturday. Seems everyone is trying to find rides.. and that although there is talk of taxis passing by to pick people up.... there are none in sight. We walked to a prime spot for trying to get a ride. We're offered one from our waitress from the coffee shop, but she would have to drive too far out of her way to get us near The Oaks. Less than 2 minutes later... with us talking and not stressing too much (cause everything works out eventually)... a car pops a U right in front of us and the two people in front ask where we're going. Yes, they are going that way. After that, everything just falls into place. They weren't from around the villages... were a little fearful of the idea that we live in the villages... were scared for our safety. We were dropped off at Mabins Cross. I bought some boiled peanuts and stood on the corner trying to get a taxi. One pulled up and denied me a ride all the way to Metz. A second pulled up, was heading that way, and for 15 minutes I sat in the middle of the front (back) seat with two men speaking little English in the front, shared boiled peanuts with them, and smiled to myself when "Every Time You Go Away" by Paul Young (Every time you go away, you take a little piece of me with you...) came on the CD they were listening to. "Mmapula this is your stop, Taposa, right?" Yes.. hauling broccoli, green beans, cheese, and other assorted goodies I walked up the main tar road in Metz, home to my little room. I took my clothes off the line... damp, but not as wet as before... and unpacked food. Rain began to fall just a few minutes later. Late afternoon, MmaDiapo came to discuss the travels to a funeral near Nkowankowa(a township near Tzaneen)and share with me two ripe, big bananas she'd gotten on her journey. She stood in the corner where my room meets Mabu's, just enough out of the misty rain, and we talked about how much life all the water would bring.
Mmapula: "MmaDiapo, do you think the cattle are uncomfortable in the rain? Do you think they think about it? I just think it would bother me to stand there with water constantly dripping down, not really having a choice to get to a drier place."
There was a pause, while she looked at me thinking... not like it was an unreasonable question, but like she wanted to give me a good answer.... and said, laughing...
MmaDiapo:"Oh no, no. They are fine with it... they have to be... it is their culture. The rain, the hot sun, the standing, the eating of grass and mealies... that is all part of their culture."
MmaPula: Looking through the burglar proofs (bars) and misty rain at the kraal where the cattle stays in the yard..."Yeah, I guess you're right.. it's part of their culture, it's what they know."
05 November 2008
And the results roll in....
I've been up since 5. My alarm was set for 5:30, but Keri, who had stayed up all night listening to live coverage of the election, called to tell me things were looking good. A landslide! This is a historic point in history... HUGE things have happened and I'm reassured that more HUGE things will happen. I may not be in Austin watching all the speeches on TV (will be reading the transcripts though!), driving around honking my horn and whoopin' it up.. but I am here in South Africa... and I'm going to make sure everyone around me and in my office knows that America has elected a black president. I'll admit, I was a little worried. I had read news reports of people saying they wouldn't vote for someone who's black. Ideals, future plans, morals, and everything else aside.... people would not be voting for a man because of his color. A color. Skin. And that all really saddened me. I know everyone has their own personal story. I grew up in an environment where I was taught equality, where, because I was a human being and the person next to me was one as well, we were equal. No amount of money, no neighborhood someone lived in, no color, no religious beliefs, could make one of us better than the other. Differences definitely had us on different planes, but that's where it stopped. When I left Austin over a year ago, most of my good friends were white. This wasn't because I went out and chose them based on their color... it was because that's just the way it was. Now I live in a village where I'm one of the only white people in the area (minus other Peace Corps volunteers and some farm owners). My family here is black. Coworkers are. Fellow post office goers. The people in line at the bakery. My fellow taxi passengers. I came to South Africa and made good friends with people who are black. This isn't because I went out and chose them based on their color... it is because that's just the way it is. I know what it's like to stick out. I know what it's like to have people make grand assumptions about who you are, how much money you have, or what you believe based on your skin tone. I know what it's like to get special treatment because some people feel you deserve it because of the way you look. I'll never fully understand what other people's experiences with all this have been, I know my situation is unique and challenging in its own way, but I can empathize... I know the frustrations and fury that go along with being reduced to just a color. I really do. I am proud to say that I filled in the box next to the candidate I felt was most representing of what I would like to see in America's future. This is an amazing feeling. In the words of a man on a taxi a few months ago..."America is a great country when a black man can be elected president". I am very proud right now... very, very proud.
04 November 2008
the election. OH! THE ELECTION!
History is happening! All across The United States right now, as I get ready for bed, people have already voted or are going to vote sometime today.. and although I can't be there in person to watch it all unfold.. I'm going to try my hardest to keep up while here in South Africa. I'm going to bed in the next few minutes and will wake up early, early tomorrow morning (the first returns come in around 2am our time)to check on the results. I just wanted to thank everyone for voting, for taking the time out to make your voice heard. While I was walking to catch a taxi today, and proudly wearing my Obama shirt, I passed two high school girls who greeted me in English. After all the hello's and how are you?'s one said," Obama. Today is Election Day in your country. People are voting. I've heard he would make a good leader." And it clicked once again that this just isn't about America and The United States... people all over the world are watching.
Simbas? Check. Cold Drink? Check. Giggly girls? Check.
It's been a long time since I last wrote and there's a ton of stuff to catch up on. I'm not sure how I'm going to swing it... if I'm going to back date a couple of blogs or what... but one thing's for sure (Esther always says that), if I write about last night right now... then I won't be SO behind.
Ok... eating some Reese's Peanut Butter cups and oh yeah, we're gonna talk about a birthday party...
Last week, around dusk, just as the rains were coming in for the night, Phenyo called me to the front fence in my yard to receive my invitation to her birthday party. On the 3rd of November everyone was supposed to show up at 4, there would be cake and singing, and the celebrating should wrap up in time for everyone to walk home before dark... or that was the plan anyway. Yesterday I came home from my office at the usual time and was very much looking forward to escaping the heat by lying on my bed, in the darkness of my room, with my fan pointed directly at me. I ended up doing this long enough to finish an article in a Newsweek that's a good 3 months old and then there was a knock at the door... Phenyo and Berlina all dressed up asking where I had been. Uh, yeah. Party foul. It was party day. It was 4:45. Mmapula was nowhere to be found... and yes, everyone was waiting. I scrambled to put on shoes... to gather up her birthday present... to follow the dress code of black and white (didn't have anything white so we went with a baby blue shirt instead)... and we headed next door to start all the festivities. We walked through the gate and I was greeted by about 6 or 7 kids ranging from 8 to 13. We shook hands. We greeted. Hello, how are you?, I'm fine and you? And then we walked in the house. Nothing was really ready... no one was really stressed.. and it became a group activity to decorate the table and put the candles on the cake. Tsebiso spelled out "Phenyo, 11 yrs" in pineapple candies. MmaLebu opened bags of Simbas (chips) and sprinkled them onto plates. Apples and oranges were arranged all around the table. Mma Rapola sat with me in the living room and we talked about America. Sweat poured down my back, inbetween my shirt and skin. The air was still and hot. Little girls giggled and tried to figure out the seating arrangements. And then there was the party, with MmaLebu, age 10, who was the MC for the evening and led us through the party program..it went a little somethin like this (with Mmapula sitting to the left of the birthday girl):
*We started off with a welcoming prayer and then listened as Rra Rapola read to us from the book of Genesis and explained that. on this special day, we were not only celebrating Phenyo, but also God... for God gave us Phenyo.
*Then it was time for a speech from Phenyo's parents. Mma Rapola stood up and praised God for his gift to the world, thanked Sesi Mmapula for coming and celebrating with the family, and thanked Phenyo for being such an imaginative, strong, and creative girl. Phenyo means "victory" in Sotho and the family felt as though they had come into victory when the last born was born.
*Then the guests were asked to stand up and each give a little speech. Mmapula went first. I used to think things like this were awkward.. but after finding myself in so many situations where I've been asked to talk... I think I do awkward rather well. I stood up and thanked Phenyo for allowing me to celebrate her special day with her family and friends, thanked her for her friendship, and said that I most certainly agreed with everyone when they said that God had given us a gift.
* Then the candles were lit and everyone around the table counted to 11 while Phenyo blew them out.
* The first slice of cake was cut with Phenyo and I both holding onto the knife (just like we were gettin married)... and while Phenyo tried to fit as much cake as she could into her mouth, we all counted to 11. And then, with a full mouth, she stood still as MmaLebu took icing and smeared it all over her face and then did the same to the rest of us sitting around the table.
* We prayed over the food we were about to consume, then cold drink was brought out, Fanta Pine and Coke, and everyone toasted to Phenyo. To 11 years. To God. To friendship and family. And we ate and drank all the sweets and Simbas and Coke and watermelon and cake until the table was pretty much cleared and we were stuffed.
* What was left of the party food was divided amongst the guests... kids got empty Simba bags and put little marshmallows and sweets and chips into them for take away.
* We prayed and thanked God for such a nice party and for everyone to go well.
At 6:30, we started the walk home. Although I live right next door, I walked with Phenyo and her mom to all the other houses before stopping off at mine at the end. Lightning was lighting the sky, the mountains were aglow every few seconds, all our bellies were full of sweets, and the sugar rush was starting to hit. A breeze was starting to pick up... the temperature had dropped a little, things weren't as still. It was a nice walk. We made a big square, dropped 3 little girls at their gates, and then walked up the main tar road in Metz. The street lights hadn't come on yet and it felt freeing to be walking around at such a quiet time.
I got back into my room and within the next 15 minutes the wind began to pick up. Lightning was a little more frequent. Rain looked to be on its way. Yes! 10 minutes later there was a full on thunderstorm... and 10 minutes after that, after I thought it couldn't get any louder in my room with the rain hitting the tin roof, it started to HAIL. HAIL! What?! There's a first time for everything.. and last night was a first for hail in good ol Metz while I've been here. Hail! Geez. For a good hour it sounded like golf balls were coming down from the sky...the wind was howling... my roof was shaking.. and dirt was flying around coating everything in my room. I thought for sure there was a good possibility that my roof would just blow off (the tin doesn't lie flush with the walls so air can get underneath it) and then all the sudden the wind died down and the noise just turned back to rain. It rained and it rained and the lights flickered and finally the lights just went out. Electricity was out. I climbed into bed and listened to the frogs and the still and finally drifted off to sleep in a pool of my own sweat. When the electricity goes out, the fan goes off....
This morning I woke up with it cool... a nice 70 degrees compared to yesterday's 95.. at 6:30 the sun was covered by clouds and a mist hung heavy on the mountains. The cool very much worth the sweltering still of last night. Welcome to the rainy season! The time when we all pray (and I try to pull some strings,because, after all, I am the Mother of the rain) for rain in hopes that crops will grow plentiful and December and January will provide us with plenty of mangos to eat straight off the tree, mealies for all the meal needed for bogobe (porridge) and the cattle, bananas, guavas, papayas, tomatoes. With the rain comes new life.
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