yeah, so what if I am?

I get proposed to at least once every week, if not more frequently. In the beginning it wasn't so much annoying as it was awkward... but now... now we know that I do awkward well. Awkward very much describes my life here. Not awkward in an uncomfortable sense, awkward in the "keeps-you-on-your-toes-how-the-hell-did-I-find-myself-in-this-situation-again?-shrugging -seems-to-be-a-good-response-wow-this-is a new-perspective-on-things" sense. It's not the beginning anymore and the proposals still aren't so much annoying.. and they're not really awkward.... they just seem to blend in with everything else. When I get in the taxi and sit next to a man who says,"I want us to be friends" or "I love you" my brain pretty much interprets the interaction as common. I usually smile, say no thanks, say I'm not interested, and that's the end of it. I have had a few times where it wasn't the end, where the guy got a little pushy, I got a little mad, and it took awhile to shake the whole situation off. These proposals aren't coming from a love standpoint, the men (and, hey, one time a woman) usually have no idea who I am... and I don't know them, and once I walk away the conversation moves into my past just like a conversation I would have with someone about the price of tomatoes or how hot the sun is.
Today, after hoofing it everywhere and trying to finish up a few things before everything shuts down for the holidays, I stopped at the NGO down the road to talk about donation letters and what the plan is for the new year. It was hot and I plopped myself onto a chair right in front of the door for the breeze. It was there that I had a conversation with one of the guys who works there. It started off with the proposal, but then after a few minutes, it shifted and turned into a real conversation, an exchange. An exchange! You know where he asks me something and I respond and then vice versa? And it went on for half an hour or so. He asked how old I was, if I was married, and I responded with,"30 and no". He came at it from one common African perspective, wanting me to know that my child bearing years were dwindling, that there were plenty of good men out there, men who knew I would make a good wife, even if I didn't know how to make porridge. He asked if I had ever tried to figure out why I wasn't married, why I was 30 and without children and a husband, why I was waiting until the very last minute to settle such affairs in my life. And I responded. I responded honestly and in such a comfortable way I almost shocked myself.
I thought for sure when I joined Peace Corps that there would be a big group of people fresh out of college, a big group of retirees, and then me, in my late 20's, moving off to try something new, see something new, and maybe, in the process, help bring about some change. A lot of my friends were settled in relationships (married or long term), with steady jobs, buying houses, kids on the way, growing up. And I was moving away from all of that... some people interpreted it as escaping reality. When I think back now, I know I was excited, but I really had no clue as to what I was getting myself into. Maybe a grass hut, maybe carrying my water from the river, maybe sleeping outside when the heat became unbearable. Those were all things I sort of expected. As for personal change... I knew I wanted change, but had no idea how much change would really happen.
When I answered him today, I told him I was very much ok with my life at the moment. I was pretty sure I would find someone who would be a good match for me at some point. If I didn't have kids, I didn't have kids, some things happen that way, and there was always adoption, which I feel pretty strongly about. I don't think there's anything wrong with me and I'm pretty sure I'm doing exactly what I'm supposed to be doing because I know I'm a better person because of it.
When I was walking back to my room for lunch I kept thinking about our conversation... the big realization I took away from the interaction?
This is so hard, sometimes I wonder why the hell I'm doing it, everything can turn on a dime, and there is such an intensity with my extreme emotions that runs parallel to the intensity and extremes in this country...
BUT...
I love who I am becoming, I love feeling change and growth, and I thank South Africa with all its frustrations, insanity, bi-polarness, challenges, and things that I cry and shake my fists over, for its part in helping me find how to be comfortable with myself. I know I still have a ways to go, more things to learn, but I've come to see that that's life. If I can do this... if I can move somewhere so far from the reality I've always known... and make a life, finally fit somewhere that once felt so strange, have friends, and still love myself... hell, even like myself... after so much alone time.... I CAN DO ANYTHING!
Happy Holidays and Happy New Year! I'll see you in 2009! (Aw yeah, I mean that in the blogging sense and in the face to face sense!)
I have high hopes for the coming year.

With what little light coming through that window, we are like trees

I knew this was coming and have been mentally bracing?, distancing?, preserving?, myself for how things were going to unfold, but I gotta tell you things still sway me, still hit my core. I'm sitting here, half a asleep, a little stunned, and not emotional at all, staring at the light that comes through my little window. This week the original group of 90 something people (my group, 2007-2009), the NGO side having 43, is losing 2 more volunteers. Yeah, not much to say. Everything swirls around events that lead up to these decisions of leaving. Everything. There's no real measure of how tough you are or if a person like you can really hack it. There's no concrete idea of success or failure. It is what it all is. It's not so black and white, man, there are so many different shades of gray, and in so many ways I'm tired of pulling things apart to try and understand how all the results come out. I do know that I understand... on some level I can't even really put into words most of the time... why people leave. Why they stay. Why they're tired. Why they're angry. Why they wish to jump over the counter at the post office and hug the woman who didn't overcharge them. Why chocolate still seems to be soothing. Why tears still come. Why it's not about homesickness anymore. Why it's hard to gather words to describe something. Why "I understand" and "I know" have become phrases frequently used. Why lights at the end of the tunnel are where they focus their sights. Why, even after so much loss, when they hear someone is leaving or someone has been violated in some way, they feel the punch in the gut and then the feeling spreads through all the limbs. Why self preservation has become a goal. Why they know love is in all the chaos and they fight to find it. Oh, why they fight, fight, fight through the battle. Why they focus on the little things. Why they tell themselves that being productive and cranking out numbers is not the only reason they're here. Why they gotta do what they gotta do. Why they, even when they're so, so tired, still question why.

An update on MmaDiapo's baby

The chicken is agrowin'! Tonight while sitting on the porch and letting my room, otherwise known as the "easy bake oven", air out and cool off, MmaDiapo told me that as the chicken grows it becomes more and more bold. It stays out in the yard later into the evening, it doesn't follow her around so much, and it's growing too big for its box/bed. She mentioned she hadn't seen the cat in a while, but if she could catch it she would "make sure it becomes not available on this earth any longer". Uh, I think that's a threat.

That watermelon, oh so sweet

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

Oh, today is a holiday, just not here

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!

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.

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.

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.

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.

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."

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.

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.

Penelope Wren Alynne Smith

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.

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.

Sunday

I love Sundays. Always have. A perfect Sunday for me involves lots of downtime, a pen and paper or a good book, and some tea. This Sunday was pretty awesome.... a brief rundown
*Woke up earlier than I would have liked, but felt well rested.
*Treated myself to Chai tea
*Read my book all morning and listened to the serious windstorm that lasted hours outside.
*Left my room to catch a taxi to meet Christy at Mabins Cross to catch yet another taxi into Mabins for Elayna's going away pizza party she was throwing for her neighbors and coworkers.
*Walked to tar road and greeted 2 very drunk men who were so pleased with my greeting in Sotho that they insisted on waving down a taxi for me.
*After many taxis driving by while one of the guys flailed his arms and attempted to get me a ride, I stood just behind him and threw my arm up when a taxi was approaching.
*Taxi pulled over to pick me up and driver laughed at the guy who had helped me.
*Got to Mabins Cross, met Christy, and was in another taxi headed towards the village in no time. Of course there was yet another version of "The Weakness in Me" (the only version I knew before coming here was by Joan Armatrading) blaring.. the dance remix... and we bounced down the dirt road to its beat.
*Got to Elayna's earlier than the set party start time and got to hang out and catch up... talk about all the SA 15's in the area leaving in the next week. Then because of African Time we got to hang out even more, waiting for guests to show up.
*Had a lovely meal of pap, potato salad, gravy, pizza, and juice and listened to everyone go around the group and talk about how much Elayna had done for them and how much they were going to miss her. It was really moving. She has done a lot and affected a lot of people in pretty profound ways.
*Met the new volunteer from the SA 18 Education group who has been placed in a village closer to the mountains. I'm glad more volunteers are moving into the area. PO Box 325 is going to be a happenin place with all the mail!
*Stuffed myself with Hershey Kiss topped peanut butter cookies (Yum! I swear if I were a cookie.. this is the cookie I would be) and grabbed two for the road as Christy and I climbed in the back of the bakkie Elayna's host dad was driving to work.
*After riding on the spare tire in the back with all the kids... we were dropped off at the cross. Caught a ride with a guy heading to Tzaneen.
*Our driver asked who we were and what we were doing here. "Oh, home based care and working with orphans work." So you work with old aged people and children? "Yes, children, people who are sick, old aged people." People who are sick, too? "Yep." People who have HIV? Can you tell who has HIV? "Yes. And no, you usually can't tell if they are HIV positive. They must be tested to make sure." I'm HIV positive. "Are you?" Yes. Was tested in 2005. It was a pretty striking conversation. He was so candid about his situation... but also admitted throughout the ride (which was only about 15 minutes) that he didn't disclose his status to everyone, only people he didn't know... it was safer that way. After hearing how his family and people he worked with talked about people who were sick, he decided it wasn't worth losing all those people in his life. His girlfriend died of AIDS in 2006 and although people suspect that he may be positive he hasn't told anyone. He's on ARV's and is taking care of himself, said he plans to live a long time and would like to move out of Limpopo and go to school... and maybe start to tell people his status while he is away from home. Fredrick, thank you for sharing your story with me... those 15 minutes reaffirmed a lot of things for me.
*Carried a Hershey Kiss cookie to Tanya's family's house and presented her with the treat. They were starting the little party that was being thrown for her.... pap, chicken, a cake, and some WWE on TV!
*Came home and sat outside with MmaDiapo while she pulled the feathers from a Guinea Fowl Mabu, the shepherd, had shot today in the bush, while he was tending to the cows.
*Ate an orange, looked the stars, and discussed my parents' vacation to South Africa. Yes they can stay here while visiting Metz Village! Yes we shall all go to Kruger! Yes that is fine that it is on my birthday! Yes, Mabu shall come with us, we can find someone else to watch the cows for the day!
*Some Honey Rooibos tea... some pajamas... a new book... and Mmapula heads to bed. This is one of those days where I thoroughly appreciated being given the opportunity to live here.
And I'm still sending prayers out to those affected by Gustav.... be safe, oh please be safe.

all out of sorts

10am Saturday morning- 30 August 2008
I feel distant. Maybe it doesn't help that I really wish I could go back to sleep. Was up at 5 to head to a funeral with MmaDiapo... washed, drank tea, put on my skirt, ironed a shirt, wrapped my hair in a black scarf... put on my shoes... and waited for about an hour before I was told we weren't going. Tried to go back to sleep and did rest for a couple of hours, but everyone else is up and outside working. So here I sit. I just checked the weather to see where Hurricane Gustav is. Looks like by Monday night/early Tuesday morning it will hit land... Vermilion Parish, Louisiana is right in the center of the cone. Gueydan is right in the center of the cone. I have been updated by my family and they are planning on evacuating sometime tomorrow. Hotels north of them are full, so I think they're heading west towards Austin. As much as I know they're going to be ok, they're going to get out of there in time, it still freaks me out. It does. I'm sending good thoughts and prayers out to everyone that side.

Moetladimo 0891

An ode to the best post office ever. Thank you John, Mathabele, and now, Victor for such great customer service, good conversation, and for smiling every time I walk through the door to greet you. The post office has been such a huge part of my experience... walking to check my mail, learning people's names all along the route, long talks with Tanya, Christy, Nick, and Elayna about everything, picking up and opening packages, eating candy/cookies on my way home, reading letters right outside the main entrance and tearing up, John being fair with his stamp and package prices, feeling safe and accepted, many offered rides, and always quite the adventure.
Tanya standing in line to mail a box of her things home.

Victor, Mathabele, John, Mpho (Tanya), and Mmapula inside the Moetladimo Post Office during one of Tanya's very last trips.

Lethabo

I can't believe it's been as long as it has since I last posted. Is it really so close to September? I have plans to write and catch the ol blog up... I'll make time this weekend.. but wanted to post a few pictures of some of my favorite people in Metz Village. They're not only some of my favorite people, but they also happen to be in my African family, are really cool, and get what being here may be like for me, someone who is a volunteer, an outsider, an American, and white. Maite (Sofia), MmaKgomo (Margaret), Karabo, Lethabo, and Charlie (Leshabane) have all shown me so much love since I've been here. This morning, on my way to work, I stopped by their house to take some photos of the whole family with Lethabo who was 7 weeks old yesterday. This blog is for the Phokungwane family that lives across the road from me. I don't think they will ever know how much they have done for me and how much they mean to me.
Lethabo Phokungwane 7 weeks and one day old

Three generations with a Charlie,too!
Maite (Sofia, Margaret's daughter), MmaKgomo (Margaret, MmaDiapo's neice), Lethabo (Maite's youngest daughter), Karabo (Maite's oldest daughter), and Charlie (Maite's cousin's son)

There is nothing like starting your morning off playing with some kids. When I first moved into my room, Charlie was very afraid of me, always backing away whenever I would come near, crying if I got too close... and now when I sit down with the family, he comes and crawls on my lap and makes himself at home. Love it.

A Typical "Busy" Day...Combination of Social Time and Work

My Thursday...exhausting, but I got a lot done.
6:15am- woke up. Dad called last night and we talked until almost 11(late!). I was wired on cold drink I drank with Tanya when we were hanging out with Collen and Beshu (work colleagues). Had tea, read a little, and managed to send off a couple important emails.
8am- worked a little on blogs and organizing my photos. Got dressed and ate Rice Krispies for breakfast.
9am-walked to post office with Elayna (for the last time!) and Christy (a new volunteer who will be taking over at Lepellele, the organization Elayna has been working with since last year in Mabens which is about a 30 minute taxi ride from Metz). Said hi to John and Victor and made sure to find out when they would both be around for picture taking with Tanya and I. Mailed off some stuff to the States and a few funding proposals Synett has worked very hard on went to Polokwane and Pretoria.
11am- checked in with my office. Synett is bored because there's nothing really to do... no money for transport to go see patients and check on drop ins, proposals have all been written up for the day. Hang out for a little while. Walk to Kodumela with Elayna and Christy to see Tanya and meet up with Nick. Three generations of PCV's all in the same room! Elayna and Tanya representin' SA-15, Mmapula SA-16, and Nick and Christy SA-17. Talked to Ledile, Program Manager for Kodumela, about planning community gardens for Maruleng CHBC (my organization) drop-in centers. Have to have a plan for getting food if funding from local government isn't going to be reliable.
12pm- walked to post office with Nick and discussed the difference between being negative and being realistic. I hashed out some things that have been really bothering me this week... and thanked him for listening. I'm really glad he's my closest neighbor after the SA-15s leave. Checked mail and got a letter from Grandma! It was good to hear from her... and it seems we were thinking of each other right around the same time, I sent one to her just a few days after she sent her's off.
1pm- walked to main tar road to catch a taxi to fax a funding proposal to an HIV/AIDS prevention organization funded by Irish Aid. Sat in the back of the taxi where I could open a window and have the breeze cool me off. After we had dropped off the last guy at Moshate, I asked the driver to drop me at the Lorraine Cross. He jumped. I had scared him, he thought he was alone in the taxi.. that there were no other passengers... he aplogized for not noticing I was still around and for his singing. I thanked him for the ride and paid him my R5. Walked through the door of the business office, greeted the woman (who was not Salvia, the woman who is usually working), and learned that the fax was down (just like all the faxes in Metz and the one at the hospital). Walked outside and ran to catch the driver who had just dropped me off. "Will you take me to the post office at Trichrdtstal?" He thought for awhile... it is a little farther down the road and not where a lot of people coming back down this way will be hanging out. Taking me would be out of his way. He agreed. Another R5 later, I'm on my way.
2pm- He dropped me off in the parking lot right next to the women selling fruit under the tree. I bought a banana and walked inside. Oh yes, I could send a fax, yes it was working. I started thanking the woman profusely. "Oh this is great! This really makes my day! I really needed to send this off and no other faxes are working!" My comments are met with a smile and an "Alllllllright." She takes the proposal and steps into the back. I hear the busy signal loud and clear before she even emerges to tell me the number is busy. Will I wait or would I like to take my papers and go? No. I'll wait. I'll just be outside using the phone. I'll come back after I make a call. Thank you.
3pm- Call Dominique to check in in the States. I love... LOVE... that there is a public phone "nearby" that can be used with my calling card. I wake her up, we talk for an hour, and she catches me up on all the happenin's in Austin. Getting off the phone is bittersweet. I've been distracted. Although people have been watching me for an hour and there is a little girl who has stared at me the whole time, I've beenso focused on the conversation and how normal it felt... it felt the same as if we would have talked in Austin... being 5 miles away instead of thousands. We say our goodbyes and I'm thrust back into reality with more of a spring in my step.
4pm- fax has been sent! All is well. I walk out of the post office to the tar road and start to worry I may not get a ride for awhile. The worry lasts mere minutes. I walk a little ways and am picked up by a taxi not 10 minutes after hanging up the phone. I catch the taxi back to Metz and am dropped off at the cross by Taposa Bakery. I see Maite walking to get meat for supper and yell her name to catch up. I see Synett leaving the office... the AIDS prevention organization has called, the fax has been received. We talk while Maite comes back from the bakery empty handed. Maite and I walk to the other tuck shop to see if they may have chicken legs for sale. We look in the freezer and see nothing but bags and bags of frozen chicken necks. She decides on Hot Chilli Pilchards (fish) in a can. We walk to her house and hang out out back by the cooking fire for a little while. I hold Lethabo (who is 7 weeks old), I make Karabo laugh, we make plans to take family photos, and I let them know my parents are coming to visit... ask them to help me with a few ideas I have.
5pm- Maite, Karabo, and Lethabo walk me to my gate. As I'm passing the kraal where all the cows have been put away for the night, I watch the sun slip behind the mountains. Maite laughs when she sees me pull out my camera, "Mmapula you take many photos!" I unlock my door, take out mac and cheese/ green beans leftovers and put them on the stove to heat.
6-9pm I eat, I write a few emails, I address a letter to be sent, I write my blog, I wash my hair and bathe, and I start a new book.
9:30pm- my light is off, my fan is on, my door is locked, and Van Morrison is singing me to sleep.

The post office with the fax and the public phones! Just a R10 taxi ride from Metz Village right in the middle of a bunch of private, Afrikaner owned farms.
The view of the sunset from my yard. Beautiful.

The Trip That Side

Cape Town is clear across the country from Limpopo where I stay... and it is clearly different from any place I've been in Limpopo or anywhere else this side of the country. Very European in feel, bordered by the South Atlantic Ocean, full of coffee shops, good food, good sites, and a false sense of security (we felt really safe in the beginning before we were shocked back to reality and were reminded that we were still in South Africa and needed to be on our guard). Some highlights and memorable times for me were wine and cheese tasting in Franschhoek, staying in our own room full of bunkbeds at the backpackers, driving to Cape Point and The Cape of Good Hope to stand on the beach of the most south westernly point of the African continent, taking Olan Mills style photos on the beach, Nathan treating us to a nice dinner (I tasted good wine, had a tomato basil soup for a starter, swordfish with avocado as a main course, and ate my share of the desserts we all ordered) and showing of 'The Fully Monty" musical, freaking out while standing at the The Cape of Good Hope Castle key exchange ceremony when the mini cannon was lit and fired (the guard warned us, but I really didn't think such a little cannon could make such noise... and, of course, I was talking through his warnings), getting coffee in the afternoons, creating our own cheese platters with good bread, having a "share shelf" in our room where we put food (mostly chips, chocolate, fruit, gummies, etc.) so we could constantly be eating, driving down to Hermanus in the rain to see whales off the coast (I really felt like I was on the edge of the world), having Nathan stand with me and try to distract me so I wouldn't puke my guts out while on the ferry to Robben Island... my pal Victor was very attentive, checking in throughout the whole trip to see how I was doing, seeing the boat that brought inmates who had been freed from Robben Island back to the mainland, talking to some American "activists" about my work here and what my experience has been like, staying in a fancy beach house in Simons Town, washing all my clothes in a real washer and watching cable TV while drinking hot chocolate, watching the sunrise over the ocean from the second floor porch at the beach house, seeing African Penguins in their natural habitat!, driving the Corsa Lite all over the place (stick shift, two doors, and 5 people), talking to Keri about how exhausted and out of it we were while at the airport, thinking of walking from the domestic terminal right on over to the international one while in the airport, gettin' a chocolate bar in my vegetarian meal on the flight, walking into the men's restroom at the airport with Keri and noticing we were in the wrong place after considering that the airport really has coed restrooms, and all the talking and good time I spent with some of my very, very close friends here.
Keri and I posing, Olan Mills style, with Cape Point just to the left of us, in the distance.
Sittin' on the edge of the world.

Rainbow out over the Atlantic Ocean. Although our trip was quite rainy, that meant a lot of rainbows!

A view of the backpackers we stayed in in Franschhoek. We spent an evening sitting around a big table, next to a fire in the fireplace, drinking wine and hot chocolate, eating cheese and other food we'd picked up at the Pick 'n Pay that stayed open 'til 9 (! this is unheard of around where I live!), listening to the creek flow just outside the kitchen. Oh and yeah we cruised around Franschhoek listening to Culture Spears in the Corsa Lite.

A view of Table Mountain from the car.

This picture is compliments of Justin. This is what Mmapula looked like when she finally got back on land after a 45 minute boatride to Robben Island. I didn't throw up, but definitely had to fight the urge. When you're feeling sick on a boat it helps to look at the horizon, what happens when you can't see the horizon because the boat is rocking too much? Dramamine next time!

A picture of the Blouberg boat taking prisoners who were freed from the island back to Cape Town and the mainland.

Nelson Mandela's cell was the fourth one from the left. We had a chance to quickly walk by it and see just how small his cell was.

This is a picture of me and my friend, Victor, the guy who was so nice and helpful throughout the rides to and from the island. He provided me with the barf bag I never had to use and led me (and Nathan) up to the top of the boat to get some fresh air even though it had been roped off to other passengers.

Maybe the boat was rockin' so much because of this storm that was settling over the Victoria and Albert Waterfront?

Sunrise over the ocean from the porch of the beach house we stayed in in Simons Town.

African Penguins on the beach in Simons Town.