Leaving on a Khumbi...

We leave TOMORROW for our 3 week trip! I’m so excited! Travel restriction is finally over! I guess it goes to show all things (good or bad) do, eventually, come to an end. Yay!

Well, for those of you checking in anytime between now and January 6th (or thereabouts) let me tell ya where I’ll be! See, told ya I’m excited.

December 20-21 Pretoria – one of the lovely capitols of South Africa. Basically we are here to meet up with the other PCVs traveling with us and to go to the Peace Corps office to pick up our Malaria meds.

December 22-24 Tembe Elephant Park, Kwa-Zulu Natal, South Africa. We will be spending three days, three nights in this ELEPHANT (!!!!!) park in lovely KZN! Little history: Tembe is the home to South Africa’s last free-ranging elephants. It is located in the sandveld (dry, sandy belt) forests of KZN on the Mozambique border. There are now about 160 elephants in this area, many of them the last remnants of elephant herds from the Maputo Elephant Reserve, saved from Mozambique’s civil war. The park also has…read for this?...lions, leopards, buffalo, and rhinos!!!! Woo-hoo!

December 25-30 Tofo, Mozambique. We will be staying in a hostel right on the water. I’m going to be body surfing in the Indian Ocean! As Mozambique was colonized by the Portuguese we are lucky to be traveling with two PCVs who happen to speak said language. That should make this leg of the trip much easier! Our guide book says:

“Mozambique has a public relations problem. If you’ve been watching television the last 10 years, the only images of the country you’ll have seen are probably Kalashnikovs, landmines and flood victims giving birth in trees. You’d be forgiven for expecting a nation on its knees, wracked by war and famine, and only good for charity appeals.

“Here’s the good news: Mozambique is on the up. After more than 10 years of peace, the specters of the past are finally being laid to rest and the mood among the country’s gentle, welcoming citizens is one of unbridled optimism. Best of all, most of the world’s tourists haven’t arrived yet. Traveling around MZ is still quite a challenge…but hey, most roads lead to dazzling white beaches, magical old towns and prawns the size of crayfish.”

December 31-January 2 Mlalwane Wildlife Sanctuary, Swaziland. I’m oober excited about this part also. We’ll be staying in the sanctuary with loads of animals. It’s located in some hills that I can hopefully do some minor hiking in. To source the guidebook:

“Swaziland might be among the smallest countries on the continent and one of Africa’s last remaining monarchies, but there’s more than novelty value on offer here. You can almost feel South Africa’s undercurrents of tension fade away when you cross the border into friendly, easy-going little Swaziland, making it a relaxing stopover on the trip between MZ and SA. And it’s surprising how much there is to do here – the royal ceremonies, excellent wildlife reserves and superb scenery should be more than enough reason to come.”

January 3-6 St. Lucia Wetlands Estuary, KZN, South Africa. Back in good ole SA. This park is a UNESCO World Heritage site and stretches for 230 kilos. It has the Indian Ocean on one side and a series of lakes on the other this reserve protects five distinct ecosystems: offshore reefs, lakes, wetlands, woodlands and coastal forests. Oh and it’s also Africa’s largest estuary.

January 6 Return to Pretoria. Drop off rental car.

January 7 - ? Travel back to the Kalahari Desert rejuvenated and ready to sweat out the remaining months of summer!

That being said I hope you all have a very Merry Christmas and a most wonderful New Year! Yay!

Oh the weather outside is frightful...

Our electricity has been less than reliable lately and it's hovering around 100 degrees each day with very little wind. This is less than fun when you can't have a fan on...or even cold water! (Not that we have a fridge...but still) Our hut turns into an easy bake oven with us inside! You can't sleep in past 7am (at least I can't!) and you can't sleep until 11pm or later when it finally cools off. We're surviving because (THANK HEAVEN) we are in a VERY dry desert and the shade knocks off a good 10-15 degrees. No humidity. But, it also makes your hair fall out in clumps...it's starting to freak me out! Over share perhaps? I can't tell anymore. :)

Well...we have had an eventful week! And I had a most FANTASTIC experience earlier today that has served to rectify so much hurt and frustration I'm currently walking on cloud nine. However, to be chronological I'll save that story to the end and begin at the beginning.

School ended last week on Tuesday. We spent a few rand and brought some candy to our teachers and wished them all a great Christmas break. The school year is over and will resume again January 18. So...now what do we do until we go on vacation on Dec 20? Good question...our computer classes have kept us pretty busy and are all ending this week (but I'll save that to the end).

Tuesday Jason and I walked as far as we could in one direction and found a little stream. We sat and watched a fantastic electrical storm that was a good 15-20 miles away in the flat, flat Kalahari. It was so peaceful and serene. We could almost hear the thunder but not quite. The storm never actually reached us. But it was incredible. We got good and lost and found some incredible birds and bugs. The birds here are other wordly. (We actually met two Czech men who were here studying the birds - we had a nice chat)

The next day we walked to our nearest volunteer's village, Seoding. It's about 18k away and it was a hot, cloudless day and we walked along a road in the Kalahari without any shade. Needless to say it was mercilessly hot, but beyond description beautiful. We simply haven't had time to enjoy our surroundings much since we've been here and now...WOW are we in beautiful country. We took lots of pictures, I'll upload them sometime in the future. Well, we doused ourselves in sunscreen but I somehow missed the backs of my knees...and OUCH! I've never sunburned my "knee pits" (as Jason calls them) before, but trust me, you can't sit cross legged or wear jeans or really move much without some intense pain. It was pretty funny really. Now I have a hilarious tan line. The walk was incredible and peaceful and just an amazing experience.

Friday we packed up and joined up with two of our nearest PCVs and went back to Seoding to spend the night with the PCV who lives there. Her host family went to Jo-burg for the weekend and we had the house to ourselves! It was a BLAST. We made American food (mac and cheese from scratch baby!) and watched American movies and played American games and spoke in English the whole weekend!!! It was such a nice relaxing time. Up until this weekend I hadn't spent more than one night away from my site in 3 months and was itching for a change of scenery. This PCV has a real kitchen with a fridge and a stove AND oven. It was a lot of fun. Oh, and she has a dog that is now my new best friend.

Well, three of us did go out on Saturday and it was the three girls (me and a girl from New York City and one from Wisconsin) and we had a girl's day. (Jason was content at home on the computer) Perhaps, needless to say, we attracted a ridiculous amount of attention. Even more than normal. I had to yell at several people who (for some strange reason) insisted on playing with our hair. It's amazing how quick my tongue has become here. In the states I would have probably been much more nervous to tell someone to get the (blank) away from me. Not here. This culture cuts right to the chase, and I'm glad about it. No reason to tip toe around these issues! Anyway, it was easily forgotten but annoying nonetheless.

An amazing thing happened to Jason in the meantime. He went back to our village (Batlharos) for a few hours to get some things. On his way back to Seoding he was given a very hard time by a drunk man who was trying to pimp off the girl he was with. Jason was mortified and vehemently told the man he was married. The guy didn't blink and simply said..."so what?" He pimped her pretty hard, but fortunately Jason was able to get off the khumbi shortly. When he did another man who'd been silent on the khumbi got off with him. As it drove away the man called Jason over. He came reluctantly. The man then said to Jason,

"I just wanted you to know that the guy who was trying to sell you the prostitute pointed you out when you were hailing the taxi. The guy told us all to 'look at the white man, he's all alone, I'm going to rob him.'"

Jason stared at the man bewildered, and a little nervous.

The man continued, "I actually live on the other side of Seoding, but I got off here because I wanted to make sure that man didn't follow you off the khumbi and try to hurt you."

Needless to say Jason (and I, on the retelling of this story) was immensely grateful for the complete kindness of this stranger. That a person would sacrifice their own comforts for someone they don't even know (especially a WHITE person they don't even know) is likely the most inspiring thing that has happened to us yet in this country. I am extremely grateful for that man and include him in my prayers.

Sunday we left Seoding and went into Kuruman to take the other PCV back to her site. We walked through Seoding to get to the place where khumbi's pick you up and it happens to be near a shabeen. Well, I had a bad feeling instantly and wish I would have listened! A man came up and started asking us the usual questions. He was a bit drunk but it wasn't too bad. Then, suddenly a woman came right up next to me. She was older and her clothes were quite tattered. She instantly invaded my American privacy bubble and started staring at me intently with her hands behind her back. I moved a step back. She followed. I tried to ignore her eyes but she just kept staring intently at my face. I turned my back to her, she walked around me so she could stare into my face. Things were getting a little too creepy for me. I turned and faced front again and she followed suit.

I turned to the other PCV with us and said "Um, let's keep walking while we wait for the khumbi." "Good idea," she replied.

Just as we were about to start walking the woman said something to me in a language I didn't understanding. I assumed she was speaking to me in Afrikaans and replied in Setswana "Ga ke bue Afrikansne." What happened next happened so fast it was like an explosion, and unfortunately the volume and "scariness" of what happened cannot be replicated by my words. In one swift movement she jumped forward and jabbed her pointer finger in my face and SCREAMED a massive jumble of words at me, while I stumbled backwards and covered my ears. I really don't want to be dramatic but it felt like she had literally punched me in the stomach. I don't understand what exactly she said (and I found out later it wasn't Afrikaans...it just so happens the PCV I was with studied Afrikaans as her target language) but I honestly think by her actions and movements she was trying to put a hoax on me or something. And, truth be told, I have NEVER IN MY LIFE felt creepier. I (unfortunately) yelled back at her and said "what the HELL lady?!?!!" She immediately burst into hysterical laughter and tried to grab me. I pushed her arm away, burst into tears (darn it!) and started walking. I turned and shouted "GET AWAY FROM ME." And the other PCV and Jason started after me. Jason gave the lady and her friends (there were more people like her that were coming towards us at the time) a good talking to saying they were very rude and to get away from us. They didn't try to follow, but her laughter followed me down the street. I stopped crying quickly but whenever I'm truly scared the tears come waaaay too easily.

All that to say I caught a khumbi and off we went to town, still quite shaken (all three of us had a VERY strange feeling). We then passed TWO fatal car wrecks on our way to town! The day was just getting creepier and creepier. For the first time, I wanted nothing more than to be safely behind the burglar bars of my tin hut. We made it to town safely and boarded the khumbi to our village and this khumbi (brace yourselves) had SEAT BELTS!!!! I felt like God was watching out for me. I buckled up and was able to relax the whole ride home. The creepy feeling subsided and the rest of our Sunday was fairly normal.

Now to the fantastic story that makes so many past pains disappear...

Today was the last computer class for our beginning level. I've been teaching that class because we focus mostly on typing. This class has taken more than just a little patience, believe me. But, at the same time, it has been the most rewarding. It's a class of 34 (only half of that show up on any given day) and all but one of them are women - so we have FUN! Well, today we finished up and I gave them a little "you can do it" speech and we started wrapping things up. A woman stood up and started speaking to the group in rapid Setswana. As my 'Tswana isn't terrible I caught that she was encouraging them to give us a vote of thanks...but I wasn't sure what was going on. Then a group of women huddled in the back and whispered for a few minutes while others filed out. Then a group of teachers from two of my schools came up to me in the front of the class and said some wonderfully kind words about how much they have appreciated our help and patience and how excited they are. They said they can now say that they can use a computer. They then presented us with 110 RAND!!! (As volunteers we are not allowed to accept money for services rendered and I was like...uhhhh....but then I realized...this is a GIFT...it's different, if they'd handed me a teddy bear or something I wouldn't give it back, plus they were all staring at me proudly so I couldn't reject it!) I, being me, BURST into tears! They, being them, LOVED THAT!!! :) Then two of them started crying and it soon became a giant hug fest. One teacher from my key school grabbed me in a bear hug and whispered in my ear "Thank you so much for being so kind to us." It only served to make me cry harder! Then we all started laughing. I squeezed each of them tightly and, honestly, it was the BEST MOMENT I have had in the last five months (or longer). I remembered why I'd first wanted to do Peace Corps and all the idealistic notions that kept me going through the application process came flooding back. Yet here I am in South Africa (a country I originally did NOT want to go to) teaching a typing class (something I have never really wanted to do) and making a very small difference in a way I NEVER thought I could.

I certainly needed today, and I'm grateful beyond belief that I was able to have it. It only makes me want to work harder.

Thank you all for the love and support, as always I am extremely grateful for the words of encouragement. They get me through the rough times more than you could imagine!

Greetings from the land of 10,000 excuses...

Hello! I haven't blogged in a while. Since the computer classes have started I have remained busy until about 4pm everyday! It's one of the most fantastic feelings on earth (aside from air conditioning).

To update:

The computer classes are going decently. I'm so glad I don't have to teach most of them (I only teach typing). It's incredible how much patience the class takes! The good thing is most of the class participants are very gracious and it makes you really want to be helpful. (there's nothing harder than being patient with someone who seems very ungrateful) It's nice to know that while we're busy creating the curriculum, lesson plans, "text books" etc this time we won't have to do it again the next time we teach the class - so it should just get smoother.

We are learning a lot about how things work here through this class. We have been accosted with thousands of excuses by people in the class or people who feel they should be in the class. While the rules are simple and straight forward (to be in the class you must have registered by the deadline, to get the certificate you must come to every class, you cannot be more than 15 minutes late or you are "absent", etc) it seems everyone feels exceptions should be made to these rules for them...or their friends. I have had to vehemently put my foot down on several occasions (once quite firmly) when I am being coerced with one of the countless excuses as to why so and so couldn't come last time. It's incredibly frustrating but a great learning experience. I have designated as the supreme rule enforcer and while I dislike confrontation it's become some way to blow off some steam standing outside the class saying "Sorry, you CAN'T come in, you DIDN'T register!" :) Next time we teach the class we're going to have everyone who registers sign contracts with the rules though, so when this happens next time we can simply pull out the contract and say "here, you knew the rules, you signed this contract, it's not my problem." That will feel GREAT. :)

I have already finished my week-long girls group workshop. It went pretty well. I taught lessons on the importance of education, self-esteem, HIV/AIDS, and goal setting. Jason taught the self-esteem lesson and I had my nearest PCV (who's pre-med) help me teach the HIV/AIDS lesson. It was a lot of fun! I taught to the grade 7 girls at my key school - it was interesting because some of the girls in grade 7 were 17 years old! I didn't ask why they were still in elementary school as it's common to have significantly older students in younger grades (I once saw a class with a 14 year old boy in grade 2).

The girls absolutely LOVED Jason's lesson. He was fantastic. He taught them the difference between good and bad attention and that if you have good self-esteem you won't/shouldn't put up with bad attention from boys. It was very powerful and they loved it.

As I don't have any budget for the girls group it was rather simple and my object lessons were weak at best, but I really think they enjoyed it. It was especially interesting to have the discussion about HIV/AIDS with the girls. It was remarkable what they already knew...but it was sad what they didn't know...like you can use condoms to help stop the spread or avoid getting STDs. I had a teacher sitting in with me on the lessons to help translate certain things I couldn't communicate and she was kind of upset that I taught them about condoms. She said "they all are going to wait to have sex until they're married" I said "I certainly hope so...but just in case they need to know about condoms" she wasn't angry at me, but she kept telling the girls over and over that they weren't going to have sex until marriage. I honestly thought it was great that she was telling them that (because I hold the same moral beliefs) but I still think it's important to tell the girls what to do just in case they don't keep that promise. My PCV friend who was helping with the lesson explained it well..."if you have a swimming pool, you need to know how to swim, even if you don't use it."

Moving on...

We only have 5 more days of this school year! School knocks off November 30! We still have 25 days of travel restriction though which is NOT fun. But, it to is almost over! The weather is HORRIBLE. It's so hot I can barely stand it!

Thanksgiving. Thanksgiving was a day like any other as Peace Corps only lets us celebrate South African holidays. As such we went to work, I taught my girl's class and helped with the computer class...but in a spur of the moment decision we went to town and had dinner. That was fun.

Anniversary. Jason and I celebrated three years of marriage also last week (nov. 20) we had to go to work too, of course, but after the computer class we also went to town and had dinner! That too was nice.

New PCV in the region. One of the Afrikaans-speaking PCVs was reassigned to Kuruman (our shopping town) a few weeks ago. We spent the night with her last night and guess what....SHE HAS A POOL AND A HOT SHOWER! It was ridiculously nice. I forgot I was in Africa for a few minutes, it was crazy. And, here's the strangest thing: I was GLAD to go back to my village. We were teasing her that she is on "Peace Corps light" but really...wow, it was! I'm glad to be having a more traditional Peace Corps experience, even if it's a daily struggle.

All in all we're settling into our site better each week. That's fantastic. Once we're off travel restriction life will probably become a heck of a lot more fun. Thank you for babysitting us so well Peace Corps...I was beginning to forget I was an adult! (sorry for the sarcasm...it's just annoying)

Other than that we're doing fine. Thanks for the love and support! Pray for rain! (we had a flash flood a few weeks ago, that was INCREDIBLE...part of our roof broke free and we were laughing so hard! it was great)

Oh...I've also officially read 20 books since I've been at site! Woot! ;)

Harassment

Well, this week went quickly! (I'm always grateful for that) Yet, it wasn't entirely uneventful. I've had a few days to ponder the things that transpired this week and feel that I might as well report them...

There is a small "grocery store" in our village - it has about 3 isles and sells some bread, chips, soda, rotten bananas and ALCOHOL. It's across from the police station and the little hut where people buy their electricity vouchers. As such it's sort of the "heart" of the town. Men tend to congregate here at all hours of the day (and night) and sit on it's cracked steps drinking alcohol. They congregate in groups of 10 to 20 and there's never less than two of these large groups. All that to say it's rather intimidating for me to go to the store, especially alone. I stand out a bit in my village and drunk men (after losing their ability to think rationally) swarm to me like moths to a light. I've been chased and grabbed while going to the store before and have learned a few techniques to keep myself relatively safe, so I felt confident going to the store alone during the day.

I went to the store last Thursday and just WASN'T in the mood for being cat called and called "whitey" etc. So when I was leaving the store and the men were erupting once again into chorus' of "LEKGOA!!!" I turned and faced them and yelled "GA KE LEGOA, EMA!" This was a stupid thing to do and I regretted it immediately because it was only fuel to their fire. Several men jumped up and started coming after me "crap" I thought. So I turned and started walking away rather quickly...my walk turned into a run and the men finally stopped chasing me and calling me vulgar names.

I was SO angry I burst into tears (wah, wah poor me I know). I got myself worked up into a fantastic feminist inferno and vowed to do all in my power to change the way women are treated in this village (good luck, right?). So the next day I went to one of my schools and worked out a small girl's camp project I've been wanting to do for this year's grade 7 girls. I'm going to be doing it in two weeks for one hours per day after school. We're going to deal with self-esteem, goal setting, self-respect, HIV/AIDS etc. I was pretty excited to get that project off the ground so I walked home (passed the store) feeling quite happy.

As I neared the store I quickly realized my mistake...many of the men there must have been there last night (some probably hadn't moved). I was walking on the side of the road with the police station though so I figured that added a relative amount of safety. The officers were sitting under trees in the yard so I felt comfortable continuing my walk. Then a drunken man came stumbling over to the officers shouting at them in Setswana. I got nervous because he looked angry. I kept walking but that drew the man's attention to me. He became so angry when he saw me he started screaming and going crazy. I looked at the police officers for help "what should I do?" They just started laughing (perhaps at my distress over a drunken imbecile or because of what the man was saying - I couldn't understand it). I looked again at the man. He had reached over and started picking up hand fulls of rocks along the road, still screaming. He looked up and started throwing those rocks at me! It took two rocks slamming into the fence behind me before I was off running again. He threw rocks at me and chased me until he stumbled and fell from drunkenness.

All that to say, the police didn't do anything and I was FURIOUS. I told my host mom, my APCD and Jason. My host mom marched down to the station and chewed them out, my APCD is coming to the village to see what can be done next week.

After going to the police my host mom came home and said "Don't worry they caught the guy and they're now beating him as hard as they can." "WHAT?!" I was mortified! I wasn't half as angry at the man as I was at the police's negligence to do ANYTHING about it. "They're beating him?" She seemed really proud that they were handling the matter. I won't even get into how disturbed that information made me.

So, needless to say, Safety is a problem in our village. I can't go to the store alone and there's no way to explain just how frustrating it is to not be able to go places without a male escort! :)

I'm not really sure how this is going to turn out. At this point I'm not really sure what the best thing would be to do. Jason has been working out a lot lately and now says it's so he can whomp drunken men's butt if necessary. :) I told him he really didn't need to, if they did something like that to me again I'd have no problem whomping butt by myself!

I'm not traumatized by this incident and, in fact, I'm only retelling it because I'm using this blog as a journal to document events in. It happened and perhaps someday I can use the experience for the betterment of someone else. Who knows.

Just a general update: We start our computer classes tomorrow. I start my mini girl's the week of Thanksgiving. We DON'T get Thanksgiving day off and as such aren't going to celebrate it at all really (I can hardly cook pasta...plus we don't have an oven). Jason and I will have been married for 3 years in 8 days (Nov. 20). It's really hot here. I am reading a lot and have finished 15 books since I arrived at site (I'm NOT kidding). We have 39 more days until we're off travel restriction.

That's about it for updates! Until next time-

the adventure continues...

Well...things are maintaining themselves. No real progress anywhere, but no major steps backward either. If the computers don't blow up at the center the class will officially begin next Monday, November 12. (Seeing as how they've done almost everything except blow up, I'm wouldn't be too surprised if they did...) :). This is Africa! :)

I am now co-teaching at my key school (the other one, as I mentioned, didn't want to have anything to do with that idea...). I have "co-taught" two classes so far. I did this in training and thought I was prepared for it. Boy, I wasn't! It was such an eye opening experience all around. It was overwhelming also.

I first co-taught an English class for grade 4. It went decently, the teacher I was working with fully grasped the concept and together we came up with a creative lesson that wasn't comprised of students repeating facts over and over. It went fine and the teacher I was working with was obviously enjoying herself, as were the students. Then it came time to do the homework part of the lesson. It was to construct a telephone conversation following the model we'd been using in class. I do not mean to insult the intelligence of the learner's in any way, shape or form, but I thought the assignment should be rather simple. I'd previously been encouraging teachers to push their kids harder, giving them more difficult work. Well, I don't know what happened but the homework was a serious problem! The learners didn't seem to understand what was being asked and it took some learners over an hour to complete the task at hand. My heart sank as I sat there at the front of the room and watched the kids struggle and struggle and struggle.

HOWEVER, it is important to note that while they were clearly having difficulty the learners DID NOT QUIT. This is something that made me admire them immensely. They sat there and worked straight through their recess break. I even told them they could go outside and play, that they could finish it later. Instead they stayed during recess to finish. It was awe inspiring, and sad at the same time.

It speaks of a larger picture that is slowly coming into focus for me. And said picture is a LOT bigger than I initially thought it was. To avoid being "poetically vague" what I mean is: I thought I'd figured out what the "problems" were and I thought I'd come up with possible solutions. It turns out that by addressing the most obvious "problems" I have come upon yet another layer of issues that add to the over all "problem." Thus making the likelihood of me getting ANYTHING productive/lasting done here very, very small.

I co-taught a "Life Orientation" class Monday and that went over horribly. Even though I'd met with the teacher beforehand to co-write the lesson plan she apparently didn't really grasp the concept. When the class began she got up and proceeded to teach the entire lesson...only it wasn't the lesson we'd planned together...and there was no spot for me in it. It was a bit frustrating. Oh dear.

I am also really concerned by the lack of teaching going on at most of my schools. I've taken the habit of making "rounds" to just peak my head into the classrooms to take note of who's teaching, who isn't. Yesterday, at my key school, I walked into all 9 classrooms and observed only 2 teachers actually teaching. Three classrooms were devoid of adult supervisions and were in various stages of chaos. I poked my head into a few other rooms were teachers were sitting together in the front of the room deep in conversation while the children mimicked their behavior at their desks. I even found the principal "teaching" her class by text messaging while the learners chatted. This is very frustrating. I can't FORCE anybody to teach...I can only hope I can instill in them some sort of desire to do so.

All that to say, I am once again overwhelmed by the situations in the schools here. It's hard to make myself want to go some mornings. But, what doesn't kill us only makes us stronger, right? I hope I'm able to at least address a few of the issues that are seriously thwarting the progress of the learners (ex: poor teaching styles)...

I am beginning to really understand what a good friend/mentor from DC once said to me..."In development work you MUST be satisfied with the best you can do, even if your best isn't sustainable, you must be satisfied with it, or you'll go crazy."

How true that is!

I am finding everyday comfort in basic pleasures like reading (I've already ingested 14 books!), exercising and spending time with Jason. As such, today I feel more or less optimistic - which is something I need to cling to and run with!

Well, this blog is a lot of rambling, for that I apologize. I'll try not to turn this spot into a journal! But, as always, it's nice to vent my thoughts in a somewhat coherent fashion!

FINALLY! An (almost) completely GREAT day!

So, this morning started out like any other, as most mornings do. But, it didn't start off well. I went to school and was told that NONE of the 23 teachers at that school want to co-teach with me because they're all too busy. That's not really a big deal but it was the ONLY thing left for me to do with them...and there's still a month left of school! I was a bit irritated...but, aw I don't want to waste time explaining the bad stuff of today!

I then left the school to go meet with a local pastor's wife...where I was informed that I could start working with her! She has an after school program for children infected with HIV/AIDS. Ever since I heard about her program I knew it was something I wanted to do. I could help the kids with their English, play with them and let them know they're loved. I'm really excited about this and hope to start next week.

I then got home and was informed by Jason that our computer class was APPROVED by the department of ed! Yay! We start next Monday! We already have 28 people signed up. It's terribly exciting. Finally, something SUBSTANTIVE to do!

And then I go the BEST surprise of all...ILP wrote me back! Apparently they'd written me over 3 weeks ago but the letter went to my 'junk mail' box...blasted yahoo account. Anyway, they're VERY interested in starting a chapter of ILP in South Africa! Each director wrote me an email with a series of really tough logistical questions. Fortunately I'd been thinking over such details for a while and had some answers stored away. I then spent the rest of the afternoon crafting a long winded reply. I sent it a while ago and am hoping they'll be glad with the answers. Bringing ILP to South Africa would be, potentially, the biggest contribution Jason or I could give this country because it's nearly 100% sustainable. I can't even begin to describe how excited this makes me! It's in the very beginning stages where so many things could still go wrong...but, gosh darn it, it's PROGRESS!

So please, everyone keep these projects in your prayers. Especially ILP! (For those who don't know/remember ILP is the organization I initially went to Russia with they teach English using the duo-lingual education methodology which I believe in fully it would change the lives of the kids in this village if they could come) We have a lot of funding hurdles to overcome. But, where there's a will there's a way? I hope so, it would make my whole 2 years here WORTH IT.

K, yay for finally being excited! It's been a rough month for me, I hope things stay positive.

Thanks for the prayers!!! We need them.

The Port o' Potty Capers...

It was a swelteringly sunny day and I was standing in the shade behind the row of newly installed flush toilets at my key school when what before my wandering eyes should appear then 12 little boys peeing in a giant hole. They were shouting my name and waving at me. Embarrassed I flicked my fingers in their direction and averted my eyes. I then focused further out into the field behind the school where I noticed several children crouched in a row...going number 2! Hmmmmmmmmmm. I've noticed in SA that boys and grown men will pee anywhere, on anything. I'm used to that. But...there were girls squatting in the field...that was strange.

I went and found a teacher and implored why the children were going to the bathroom in the field and not in the toilet. She proceeded to tell me that the toilets were brand new, as the department of education was finally putting down money to replace decade old pit toilets that most 'black' schools have.

"Because they're brand new the principal doesn't want the children to use them."

"What? Why not?"

"She's afraid they'll make them dirty."

"So they go to the bathroom in the fields? All of them?"

"Yes, even the grade 7 girls, it's embarrassing for them"

She then told me that they'd tried talking to the principal, encouraging her to unlock the restrooms so the children could use them. She said the principal had gone so far as to hide the key, to ensure the toilets maintain their current state of unused cleanliness.

"Maybe you can talk to her?"

I said I'd try.

So I did and was then told (in the same conversation) that the toilet were all broken (the children had broken them) and the community was coming tomorrow to fix them, the department of education would be bringing new pipes to fix the toilets Monday, the children don't like using flush toilets, there is one toilet that works, there was one toilet that worked but broke yesterday, I am having a meeting with the school governing body tomorrow to fix the toilets etc, etc, etc.

I listened non-judgmentally and at least we could both agree that the children should not have to go to the bathroom in the field when there are new toilets nearby.

I plan on doing some private investigating tomorrow to see if, in fact, the toilets are broken...dun, dun, dun. All in a days work of an SA PCV.

Oh, and on a different note...I have ingested something that has made my stomach incredibly angry. I have had the hardest time walking for the past few days the pain has been so bad...I won't go into details, but let's just say I really REALLY need the principal to open up those restrooms if I plan on going to the schools with stomach problems! :)

One last update...Jason and I were called into a meeting at the Centre today. A lady from the Dept of Ed was to meet with us to discuss some details of our proposed computer literacy class. We were excited...perhaps we can FINALLY start the class! Well, it turned out the lady (who was only 45 minutes late) had come to tell us that she hadn't yet shown our proposal to her boss, so she couldn't say whether or not the class was a go. That was the entire purpose of the meeting. We've only been waiting a month for a yes or no...? There are 38 brand new computers sitting under plastic covers in a locked room that no one, I mean no one, has ever turned on. It's a bit frustrating. She said she'll talk to her boss today, or tomorrow, or Tuesday.... hahahahaha.... we'll see.

3 stories that define a week...

These last few days have flown by in a whirlwind. We’ve passed our three month mark in country and we will have been in our site for a month Saturday. Time truly flies.

I want to write down a few things that have happened in the last few days that have touched my heart. To stick with my tradition of prefacing everything…I’d like to preface the following by saying I retell these stories with no intention of glorifying myself. Instead I tell them because they happened and they are important to me.

Wednesday was my first ‘busy’ day here at site. I had a full day at the school plus our big meeting where we pitched our ideas to our principals (I’ll detail that later). So, it was imperative that I not be late to my key school that morning! It’s about a three mile walk and for safety’s sake I take the back roads…which adds an extra half mile or so to the trip. Thus as I was striving to be on time I was walking at a brisk pace (typical American).

Ahead of me on one of the back roads there was a very thin mother with three children in tow. Her clothes were worn and sun bleached. Her hair was hidden under a tattered head scarf. Her children were barefoot and snot nosed, dressed in a smiliar fashion. I was a distance behind them so observe dthem casually as I approached. A few seconds later one of the children stepped on something with her bare feet that made the child start screaming at the top of her lungs. She dropped to the dirt clutching her foot. Her mother came back to her but, as she was already carrying another child, could not pick her up. As she tried to hoist the crying child on her hip both children began to slip from her arms. Yet she tried to continue on her walk.

I’d had enough. I ran to catch up to them.

“Inshwarele Mma. A o kopa thue? Excuse me ma’am. Do you need help?”

She looked at me in shock, as most Africans do upon first seeing a ‘lekgoa’ speaking their native language.

I gestured to the child who’d hurt her foot. I tried again, “N’thuse?”

The child had stopped crying and was staring at me through her tears. I saw that her toes were curled up, but there was no blood. She had either stepped on a bee or a scorpion, as a swelling had begun on her foot. Both insects are common around here. I approached the child and whispered “dumela, hello.”

The little one stared at me, unsure. I smiled my biggest smile and stretched out my arms to suggest I wanted to carry her. After a beat she too stretched out her arms and leaned toward me.

I walked with this mother the rest of the way to her mud hut, her children silently trying to figure out this strange white person. When we arrived I set the girl down in the house. I said goodbye and as I was leaving the little one limped over to me and as I shut the gate she gave me the biggest smile I’d seen. My heart melted. I was so grateful for that opportunity!

To detail the meeting: it went fine. I had written up an extensive proposal which proved to be more or less unnecessary. It appears our principals want very specific things from us and it seems that if we do these things first we can pretty much do whatever else we want. That’s nice. But I’m a bit worried about the level of support our other projects will render…we’ll see. We have a LOT of work in front of us. As an aside, I just finished reading the book “Three Cups of Tea” about Greg Mortenson’s schools in the Karakoram region of Pakistan. It is the most inspirational work I’ve ever read. Each page is pertinent to development work. It’s a text that should be recommended reading in any graduate development program. It’s riddled with techniques and tips that we have been taught on Peace Corps. I’m glad for the verification that they work! (For example, Mortenson also agrees one should take things slow and get to know the community first. It seems like a no brainer but it’s difficult when you’re accustomed to America’s fast pace of life.)

Yesterday I had the highest of highs and the lowest of lows. From both I can glean pertinent lessons.

The high: I observed the arts and culture class at one of my secondary schools (the big one with over 1,200 learners). It was grade 6B. They had prepared a performance for me! I sat in the front of the class and watched all the children get up in groups and sing those tight harmonies only found in Africa and dance those rhythmic dances only found here. They were accompanied by a percussion section: two boys banging away on rusted coffee cans that had been fastened together with old wire. It was, perhaps, the most beautiful performance I’d ever seen – this from a former theater major who has seen countless plays on Broadway. It was heartfelt, happy and REAL. Tears streamed down my cheeks! I did my best to hide them but was still really embarrassed. After the performance the teacher asked me to get up and say something about what I saw. I got up and told them I had never seen such talent, no even in America, I told them that the music and dance in South Africa is very, very special and they should be very proud of it and never be afraid to share it! They were beaming at the praise and gave me a round of applause, hahaha!

The low: The next class was a 5B class on…who knows what. The teacher began the lesson by screaming (I don’t say the word screaming to be dramatic…I truly mean SCREAMING) at some kids who were getting some water from the tap outside the classroom. They all scattered, ducking as though she would hit them. She then screamed at the children in 5B for a good 3-4 minutes about how naught they were. She then began to teach the most Bantu-like class I had EVER seen.

“Today we are going to learn about the solar system. What are we going to learn about?”

“The solar system.” (Kids in unison)

“The what?”

“The solar system.”

Today we are going to learn about the…” (all together) “solar system.”

This went on for ten minutes…repeating, repeating, repeating, repeating until I wanted to jump out the window.

She then began screaming at the kids again. I didn’t catch why as her Setswana was too…well, angry. She then pointed out a boy who was sharing his bench with four other boys a few rows from the front.

“This is Neo,” she told me.. “He is very stupid, he is the worst learner in this class. Neo! Neo! Did you hear me Neo? You’re the most naught!”

I sat there, in the front, rigid. I knew better than to undermine her authority in front of the learners but I did not even nod at her imploring eyes.

She continued with the lesson – which I will once again reiterate was the worst lesson I had ever sat in on. It became time for her to assess what the learners had retained from their ‘lesson.’

They were to write the names of the planets in the solar system in order. Only she’d never given the order to them, not even once. Furthermore, the children didn’t have textbooks and could not look up the names of the planets. She didn’t even write them on the board. So the children were to miraculously pick the order out of the air.

Apparently some children had learned this before and they got 100$. They, the “stupid” boy, Neo came up to the front to have his paper corrected.

“Neo! Neo! Neo!” She screamed (again, LITERALLY).

She took his paper, crumpled it up and threw it on the floor.

In front of the class she berated him in biting Setswana. They, for my benefit she switched to English.

“You are so stupid! You don’t even try! You waste my time, you stupid, stupid boy! That’s it! Go, pick up your paper and go show Mma Lerato just how stupid you are!” (I’m Lerato in case that isn’t clear)

I sat there dumbfounded…I prayed silently, “what should I do?! What should I do?!” The boy was standing there his head hung low. He did NOT want to show me his paper. She began screaming again in Setswana, pointing at me.

Before I knew what I was doing I was standing with my arms around the boy.

“STOP.” I said to the teacher. The class fell silent. (Meanwhile I was thinking “crap, crap, crap what am I doing?!”) I turned to the teacher, “At least he tried,” I said.

“You call that trying?” She said, motioning to the paper.

I glanced at the crumpled mass under her feet, “Yes, I do.”

I picked up the paper off the floor, smoothed it out and looked him in the eye. “Let’s go work on this together.”

The children around us started to giggle. I looked up and addressed the class, “We don’t laugh at one another.” I said it as nicely as possible. The children stopped laughing.

Neo refused to meet my eyes, it turned out he did not understand a word of English (a fact that would make even this crappy lesson delivered in English unintelligible to his ears). His friend, who knew he didn’t understand what I was saying to him, came up and helped translate.

I kneeled at a desk in the front of the class as the teacher went on correcting the learner’s books. I grabbed a scratch sheet of paper.

I smiled widely at Neo. “Now, we need to draw a picture of the planets, label their names and then all we have to do is memorize them in order!” I smiled encouragingly at him.

My drawing brought several curious learners…by the middle of my mini ‘lesson’ more than half the class was nearly crawling on top of one another to see what I was doing.

I drew a big smiling sun, “What is that?” I asked.

“Sun?” Neo said.

“Yes! That’s the sun! Good job!”

I then asked each child around the table, in turn, what the names of the rest of the planets were. Each time they were correct I’d confer with Neo, “Are they correct?”

He began to smile as he’d nod, yes, in fact, they were correct!

At the end of my ‘lesson’ I handed the paper to Neo and said, “you’ll be fine.” The kids began to return to their seats. I held onto Neo for a few more seconds. I kneeled down and looked him in the eye, right in front of the teacher.

“You are NOT stupid, “ I said sincerely. I waited until he smiled at me before I let him go.

I fear, truly fear, what will happen to the children who are only told that they are stupid and ‘naughty’. Those are self-fulfilling prophecies. So, while I’m here to work with the teachers… I see now that it’s really for the learners. I’m so glad about that. If I can help these teachers to be better teachers the learners will benefit. Some teachers will never change… but perhaps the children will remember that one strange American who took the time to tell them that they are not stupid. Maybe they’ll believe it.

One last neat experience and I’ll wrap up this entry. Jason and I have taken to running in the evenings when the temperature decreases enough so it’s bearable. We have a favorite route that takes us out onto a dirt path in the middle of the desert. Well, children have figured out that around 6:30pm each day two white people will be running by their houses. So what have they started to do? Wait for us so they can run with us! It started with a few boys who would run a few meters and then turn around. Then more and more children joined our entourage.

Yesterday nine kids started running with us. They ran with us about a mile into the desert and kept up as we turned around to run back into town. Mind you we kept our pace a bit slow so as not to kill their little legs. But it was incredibly heartwarming! The children all ran barefoot over the rocks and sticks and other pokey things. Five girls from one of my schools ran with me the entire time. We took turns speaking in English and Setswana. We were able to talk about several things including what it means to be beautiful (I’m having that conversation a lot it seems).

They followed us all the way back to our house where we gave them two cups so they could drink some water from our tap in the yard. We talked about how important water is and they all agreed. It was cute. We then led them in some stretches so they wouldn’t be sore. We were half joking so it was a lot of fun.

Anyway, it was a really awesome experience. The children here can be great.

Daunting Tasks and the Future...

Regarding daunting tasks:

I would like to preface the following by saying: I want my blog readers to know that I have a profound respect for the educators with which I work. They cannot help that they were trained under the apartheid regime who PURPOSEFULLY instructed these teachers to use the Bantu Education System, which was designed to keep the ‘blacks’ out of white society. Their methods are poor and it’s frustrating when my job is to correct those habits, but I find it pertinent to reiterate that I truly respect the work these educators are trying to do. For, in all honesty, they simply do not know better because no one has told them they CAN be better. All that to say, please continue to listen to my ‘venting’ (because I surely need listening ears!) but understand that it’s not these people’s fault. And please understand that the reason I am even at these schools is because they want to try to become better educators. With that I digress…

It seems that the more time I spend in my schools the more overwhelmed I become! You peel back one problem and are bombarded by a plethora of others. Today it seemed that the only reason teaching was happening at the school was because I was there. I observed four intermediate phase teachers at my key school (grades 4-7). Every time I entered the classroom at the scheduled time I’d find several teachers sitting together in the front of the room chatting while the students tore the school apart around them. Each time the teacher I was to observe saw I had arrived he or she would leisurely finish their conversation and then begin class. It makes me worried about what happens when I am not at the school?

One of the classes I observed was 6th grade Science. The teacher was going over photosynthesis, chlorophyll, etc. The teacher explained how plants take in the carbon dioxide in the air and release clean oxygen (as an aside: when my father first taught this fact to me he told me that in order to be nice to the plants that are giving us oxygen we should breathe on them…thus I began walking down streets stopping to breathe heavily on the bushes as I passed…laugh it up dad!). Anyway she then asked the students if they knew how photosynthesis worked at night. No one did, and to be honest I was a bit curious myself…well, suspicious is more like it.

“At night the process is reversed. At night plants take in oxygen and release carbon dioxide. This is why we do not sleep with plants in our bedrooms because they will steal all your air and you will die.”

What the?!?!

The longer I am here and the more misinformation I hear passed down from one generation to the next the easier it is for me to understand the prevalence of madrassas in the Middle East. It’s also easier to believe how families in rural Niger would refuse free Polio vaccinations for their children because they were told Polio vaccines administered by white people are actually the west’s way to give little children Polio and kill off all the blacks. It’s also easy to understand why in South Africa there is a predominant belief that to cure oneself from HIV/AIDS one must sleep with a virgin, thus explaining the vast amount of girls under the age of 12 who are raped each year.

Education is power and those who hold the keys to education hold the power. Thus we can see how apartheid was able to flourish for so long, the whites held the keys to education and as such capitalized on that power. I’m glad to be here and act as a catalyst to perhaps help, in whatever way possible, to increase teacher’s subject content knowledge so they can teach the truth instead of perpetuating the cycle of poor education.

Regarding the future:

Jason and I meet with our three school principals on Wednesday to draw a sketchy plan for next school year. I am currently working on a mini-presentation to assist them in visualizing some of our more ‘abstract’ project ideas.

Potential project list:

Number One:
I am currently soliciting help form an organization called the “International Language Program.” This is the group that originally took me to Moscow. They have developed a revolutionary methodology designed to teach children English through immersion. I have had countless hours training/experience teaching this ‘Duo-Lingual Methodology” but am bound by a contract I signed in 2003 stating I will not use the methodology in any setting for 5 years.

All that to say, I am in the very BEGINNING stages of trying to see if a partnership can’t be established between ILP and South Africa, for the last time I spoke with ILP’s director he said they were interested in expanding their program to Africa but did not have the resources or contacts needed.

This project would assist in eradicating the EXTREME problem faced by learners who are taught in their native tongue (which here is Setswana) until grade 4 at which point they switch entirely to English – a language they know very little about in the rural areas. Thus they are being taught new material in a language they do not understand using textbooks written for 4th graders whose native tongue is English. The cycle of disadvantage will not be broken until the language barrier is.

Number Two:
I am going to start a girl’s empowerment group (unless for some reason the principals stop me, which I highly doubt). I want it to be for the girls in grades 6 and 7 at all three schools. I am going to pick 7 or 8 key ‘values’ that the girls need to ‘pass off’ in order to ‘graduate’ into young women who know what they’re worth. I am busy working out the kinks but I would like to have the club meet one day a week (each school will have its own club) for 2 to 3 hours after school. There we will tackle each one of these values (my short list will sound familiar to some) individual worth, knowledge, choice and accountability, good works, integrity…more to come. Anyway, I will find creative ways to teach about these topics and start a discussion with the girls. I then want to devote the second half of the meeting to actually practicing the newly imparted value…so for example when we’re doing good works we will do community service. The girls and I will have to keep track of what they do and then at the end of the club’s run each school year I want to give the girls something (maybe a necklace?) that they can have to show they finished and something that will remind them of what they learned. I am EXTREMELY excited about this one and feel it could be the biggest contribution I make to my village (even if they don’t all see it that way).

Number Three:
We are putting together a year-long series of workshops for the educators at our schools. We are thinking about dedicating each month of the school year to a different area in which the schools are struggling. We will hold the workshop and then visit the teachers one-on-one or in the classroom to help them each individually implement what we’re working on.

Some example workshops will focus on: lesson planning, alternatives to corporal punishment, classroom management, IQMS, NCS, LO/DOs and other intricacies of South Africa’s education system. I’m excited about this but know it will be the most challenging thing we do while we’re here. By far.

Number Four:
There are a series of classes we are going to teach at the center (remember we have 3 schools and the edu center). They include: computer literacy courses (first for interested educators, then the community), content knowledge courses (‘advanced’ English grammar for educators, science, math, etc), management courses (for the principals), and personal finance (for the educators and community). We are obviously not qualified to teach most of the content knowledge courses and the management courses, so for those we will be bringing in other PCVs to help!

These last few are some other ideas we’ve been kicking around and will try to do before we leave:

1. eyeglass drive (ABSOLUTELY NO children in any school I’ve EVER been to in SA have eye glasses…I started wearing glasses in 2nd grade…I know many cannot see the board)!
1 ½. Debate club – Jason wants to start this at one of the local high schools…originally I wanted to also, but I think the girl’s club will take up all of my extra time – this is a great way to approach serious issues like women’s rights, HIV/AIDS, human rights, etc etc and it’s a great way to get the high schoolers to think for themselves. Plus it teaches them how to research, speak confidently, and look at an issue for all sides. Cool idea!
2. HIV/AIDS community testing day
3. community clean-up (there’s SO much trash and garbage and glass everywhere here, it’s awful)
4. community HIV/AIDS awareness classes

and other such ideas…

The future is bright and I’m terribly excited to pitch our ideas to the principals. I’ll keep this blog updated on the progress of the afore mentioned projects.

:)!

What, oh what a day…

Observations continue and frustration abounds. Today I visited my key school and observed the teachers who’d previously signed up for said observation. Up until now most observations had gone over rather smoothly without many glaring problems. Today, on the other hand, it seemed that every problem imaginable decided to rear their ugly heads.

Disclaimer: by addressing afore mentioned ‘problems’ I do not mean to turn this blog into an internet rant. Instead I will attempt to tie them into the larger issues that try to thwart the progress of this particular PCV!

The first teacher I observed today was teaching a 5th grade Math class. I entered the room and two students were at the deplorable chalk board working on problems. I studied the board as I took a seat in the corner. The problems on the board followed a sequence I was completely unfamiliar with, but seeing as how Math is far from my best subject I watched silently. After the few moments the teacher came up to me and said “They’re working on adding and subtracting compound fractions. I’ve never taught them how to do compound fractions, I’m just trying to see if they can figure it out on their own.” I glanced back at the board, where multiplication and division symbols were arranged in the most confusing places. “How are they doing?” I asked. She replied, “I think a few of them have it, but it’s taken them a few weeks.”

Weeks? These children had been working on compound fractions for weeks, not figuring out how to do them, receiving no guidance from the teacher? I was rather shocked.

I then observed an EMS class (Economic Management Science) in grade 6. The lesson was about values and their effect on future careers, families and the rules they make children obey, spending and saving money, and the differences between needs and wants. All in 30 minutes. Needless to say it was a tad-bit hard to follow.

The instructor started by saying “Okay, boys, what do you want to have as a future career and why?”

Several eager young men stood up and announced they’d like to be doctors so they could heal the sick and cure HIV/AIDS (this was touching to me), some said they’d like to be on the police force so they can catch thieves. I then sat and patiently waited for the instructor to ask the young ladies what they wanted to be when they grew up, as I was curious. He didn’t.

He finished up that section of the lecture and asked if there was something I’d like to add. I said, “Actually, there is! I’d like to know what the young ladies in this class would like to be in the future and why.”

The teacher looked and me and said “They’re girls, all they want to do is sit at home and smoke Dhaka all day.” He proceeded to laugh.

“I highly doubt that,” I said trying not to undermine him in front of his students.

“Okay, fine, ladies what do you want to be in the future?” He asked.

Silence.

“See, there minds are all confused.”

I wanted to turn and ask him if he’d have answered the question after being insulted by his teacher.

I made eye contact with some young ladies in the front of the room and nodded encouragingly. There hands shot up. The teacher called on them and was then informed that these two ambitious young ladies would like to be a pilot and a teacher, respectively. I grinned at them and loudly said “You will both do an EXCELLENT job.”

I then sat back to try and follow the rest of the lesson.

I then had a meeting with my key school principal and primary supervisor. She had just returned from a meeting with the other two principals we are working with. They had been discussing what to do with us for the next few months. She was reporting their decision. I will spare the details, but suffice it to say I was terribly insulted. As I am sure I’ve mentioned before I have always been aware of the relegated status women hold in the world, especially the third world. But, having grown up, more or less empowered I have not personally experienced it in the degree I have here, in only a few short months. Apparently the principal of the other school I am personally overseeing is disappointed that I will be overseeing his school. He wanted to make it clear that he would much prefer Jason. Also, my principal wanted to make it clear that they were all very grateful for Jason and all the work he was doing for them and how glad they were that he’d be working for them and how excited they were for all his ideas etc. etc. etc.

I sat there and began to fume. My stomach turned knotted and my fists clenched. I asked several times for clarification thinking it was a simple miscommunication. It wasn’t.

It had been made clear to me on the visits I had made with Jason to these other schools how much more the male principals preferred Jason’s company, always asking him to speak on my behalf etc. But, I had shrugged it off to being simply customary, not personal.

All that to say, today wasn’t as swell as it could have been! But, I must simply reflect on the mantra I developed during training…

I WILL NOT LET THIS BREAK ME.

And I won’t. I see this as an opportunity to teach these esteemed gentlemen just how much they can learn from a woman, for I AM qualified to hold the position I do and I DO have knowledge worthy of imparting.

I WON’T LET THIS BREAK ME.

I am also nearly 100% positive I will start my own version of a girl’s empowerment club another PCV started in Limpopo for girls in grades 6 and 7. These young ladies need to know of their incredible self-worth. And they need to believe it. If I hadn’t been told that I was worth being listened to I can see myself believing that I am, in fact, secondary. I am afraid of what could happen if someone doesn't tell them they're worth more than they're told on a daily basis. I am truly troubled about this...

Wish me luck! It’s obvious we have a lot to overcome here. But, interestingly instead of overwhelming me today has ticked me off, thus fueling my desire to prove everyone wrong and show these little girls a bit of how important they truly are. :-)

The results are in...

I went around to my schools on Friday and collected the answers to the "getting to know you survey" I made for the educators. Surprisingly many of them actually did it! (it's endlessly strange to be giving 'assignments' to people twice my age) I thought I'd share some of the questions and answers we received. Some are quite interesting.

Question: "Why did you decide to become an educator?"

Answers:

"It was not my choice. the government of the past (apartheid government) gave us no choice but strictly channeled us to either become teachers, soldiers, police or nurses."

"I have decided I want to be a nurse now. I have discovered that to teach a child how to read and write is too difficult. I will not educate much more."

"I decided to become a teacher because in the 1970s they were very scarce in the black villages."

"My wish was not to become a teacher but a social worker. Because my parents were penniless I became a teacher."

"For me teaching is a call not just a job to earn money. I wanted to enlighten the children of my country to become decent, respectful citizens of tomorrow."

Question: What is the hardest part of teaching?

Answers:

"Overcrowding of classroom" (most teachers have 50+ kids/class, one class has 90)

"Low salary and parents who are not cooperating."

"The hardest part of teaching is how to teach learners who don't know how to read and write" (this person teaches grades 4-7)

"Overcrowding and no facilities"

Question: What would you like to learn from us?

Answers:

"How to discipline the learners without abusing them"(corporal punishment was abolished in south africa in 2003 - I believe- several educators have indicated to me that they simply do not know how to teach in a classroom without it. I myself have witnessed it on countless occasions. As have all the PCVs)

"How to plan a lesson."

"How do I mark the books of so many learners"

"How to play the piano" :)!!!

"How to make all my learners pass." (yikes)

Question: What is your favorite food?

Answers:

"pap and spinach"
"pap and milk"
"salads and meat"
"pap and milk"
"meat"
"pap"
"meat, white bread, milk"
"pap and cabbage"
"salads and cake"
"samp and mutton"
"samp"
etc.

(Pap is a corn meal substance with absolutely no flavor or color or nutritional value. It is served with everything in South Africa and is to be used as a spoon/serving utensil with which one brings the other things on ones plate to ones mouth)
(People say South Africa is a meat eaters paradise. They were right!)
(Samp is actually pretty good (in my opinion) it's a various bean mush thing. I like it)

Question: Are there any questions you have for Lerato and Thato?

Answers:

"Will you assist me in any learning area problem I encounter?" (double yikes)

"Where do you come from?"

"How old are you?" (this is not an impolite question in SA, but it always makes me nervous because I'm pretty young by their standards...and thus I'm afraid I'll lose credibility in their eyes!)

"Why did you come to SA?"

"How do I deal with slow learners."

HIV and AIDS

It’s remarkable that HIV/AIDS, being such a part of everyday life in South Africa, has, as of yet, escaped being a topic of any blog. Daily I am passed by men, gaunt skin strung tightly across cheek bones, sullen eyes sunk deep in the skull who are walking skeletons clinging to life, fighting the disease that ravages this continent – this country.

According to a 2003 study conducted by the United Nations’ special department on HIV and AIDS (UNAIDS) 42 million people worldwide live with HIV. The study went on to indicate that more HIV positive people live in sub-Saharan Africa than anywhere else on earth, roughly 25 million people, or 66% of those effected globally.

UNAIDS indicated that this highly centralized outbreak is a result of a combination of factors including poverty, social instability, high levels of sexually transmitted infections, low social status of women, sexual violence, transient labor, and lack of good governance.

South Africa boasts the sixth highest prevalence of HIV in the world, with 18.8% of the population estimated to be infected. UNAIDS estimated that, in the year 2006, some 320,000 people died of AIDS related deaths in South Africa. 320,000. The population of the state of North Dakota, in one year.

South Africa is regarded as having the most SEVERE national HIV epidemic in the world and has the highest incidence of infection. The total number of South Africans living with the virus by the end of 2005 (as estimated by UNAIDS) was an appalling 5.5 million.

The highest numbers of infections were found among women in the 25-34 years old age group. 33% of AIDS related deaths from 1997-2002 were young people between the ages of 15-44 (World Health Organization 2005 – WHO). The virus is thought to be passed primarily through sexual intercourse.

The hardships for those infected and their families begin long before death. Stigmas related to the virus abound, social ostracizing coupled with fear and despair creates a terrible burden on family members. Furthermore the loss of income encountered when the infected happens to be the primary breadwinner in the household can be crippling.

The loss of income is especially concerning in a society where approximately 61% of South Africa’s 18 million children live in poverty and 7.9 million people are unemployed (this equates to a staggering unemployment rate of 40.9%).

AIDS has created countless orphans in the past decades. UNAIDS defines an orphan as a child under the age of 17 whose mother has died, as such there are 1,200,000 orphans in South Africa due to the fatal effects of HIV/AIDS.

The government is taking steps to address and eradicate the problem. Without engaging in a political discourse (which as PCV I am not entitled to do openly) suffice it to say the campaign focuses on national mass media attention in the form of billboards and posters plastered around the villages and cities. Limited funding is given to where it is needed most, at the community level where intervention, through education in prevention techniques, is most necessitated. For it is in these rural communities that the vulnerability to HIV is most acutely felt.

Most information listed above was derived from the following sources:

The AIDS Foundation of South Africa’s Treatment Literacy Training Programme
The Canadian International Development Agency
South Africa: AIDS Foundation
HIV/AIDS in South Africa: An Introduction for Peace Corps Volunteers
UNAIDS
WHO

Our host family during training called us today to wish Jason a happy birthday. They were so cute. They each took turns on the phone, more or less screaming “O golo, golo!” into it and shouting “Whoooooooooooooo!” It was adorable. (O golo, golo means grow and grow…it’s said to people on their birthdays accompanied by being splashed with water…which, obviously, is to help you grow!)

Well, attempting to make a milestone birthday (25) special while on travel restriction in a village you’ve only known for 7 days is rather difficult! I finally settled on some nice Stout-style ‘coupons’ promising such kinds acts as doing his laundry (by hand mind you) and giving foot rubs (after he’s cleaned his own feet!). So we went into our shopping town, which is a natural oasis in the desert – did I mention that? – so it’s pretty green in spots! We found one such green spot and climbed a tree and read out of our Russian spy novel! It was fun and child-like until the ants started to eat me alive – they were in my pants! It was rather embarrassing trying to get them out…

On the way back to the khumbi rank we passed a woman struggling to carry a heavy load up a hill. Without missing a beat Jason stopped and asked her if she needed help. She said she surely did! We loaded up with some of her things and began up the hill together. She kept staring at us, as if in disbelief. After a few minutes she blurted, “Where are you from?!”

“America.”

“Ohhhh, that explains it.”

“Explains what?”

“White people from here wouldn’t help me. White people here don’t treat me like I’m a human.”

I immediately flushed and was torn between wanting to apologize for white people, which is unfair, and wanting to cry.

“That is very, very wrong. It is awful that that has happened to you.”

She shrugged and smiled. I have seen that smile before. It’s the smile of a 17 year old Afghan orphan who, after lifting his shirt to show me the shrapnel scar across the width of his belly, tried to explain away my horror by stating: it’s life. Yet, I feel somehow responsible for this woman’s personal pain. Born into privilege I am thusly born into great responsibility to look after the less privileged born elsewhere.

As I’ve mentioned before I am constantly aware of my race and the privilege it brings. Afrikaaners, in general, treat me like I’m part of a club. They’re wonderful people, again in general, so I don’t want to reject their kindness. But it’s hard. And in my dealings with the Tswana population I’ve found it a fantastically fine line to tow between trying hard to be friendly and being overly friendly…the effect of reversed racism.

***

Today, I went and made my little "Getting-to-know-you" presentation at my key school, T.T. Lekalake. I took pictures of each of the teachers and handed them out my getting to know you survey. I then had them sign up for times I could come observe their classes next week. It was all very formal and I regret that. I'm going to make a conscious effort to do something goofy in front of them when I return to Lekalake on Friday, to break the ice and make me seem more approachable. Jason suggested I trip...I'm trying to think of something less clumsy! :)

I've discovered there is a Bahai Church in our town. This is beyond strange, but terribly exciting! Jason and I have stopped by several times hoping to meet some of the parishioners...to no avail.

Otherwise, we're doing great. The wind is threatening to blow our roof off again. It keeps catching on a corner of the tin and slamming it up and down. I like the noise.

All is well :).

Rain, Thunder, Lightning on a Hot Tin Roof

Literally! Yesterday evening Jason and I decided to go for a run out onto a gorgeous path in the desert. We were absolutely loving life...we watched the sunset over the scrub brush, sand dunes, and baobab trees in what could have reveled the best theatrical stage lightning on earth. The sun really does set blood read along the horizon and it looks absolutely HUGE. Unearthly. It was literally breath taking just Jason and I + lots of sand and a few stray donkeys. Life is great!

Well, it wasn't long before we started hearing some thunder in the distance, then lightning. We decided it was time to head home! No sooner did we turn around then those clouds started chasing us home! By the time we returned to our brick/mud/and tin roofed hut the clouds were upon us and the wind had picked up sending sand flying in all directions. Our neighbors were running around frantically trying to collect laundry, find candles and batton down the hatches for the approaching storm. We were SO excited!

I, in true Grigsby fashion, opened all the curtains and turned off all the lights to sit in front of the window and watch the storm! The rain started...and boy oh boy you have NEVER really experienced torrential rain until it's been pelted at you from above onto a corrugated tin roof! It was so loud I couldn't hear Jason speaking right next to me. Then the lightning was just incredible and the thunder was nearly constant. It reminded me of my childhood in North Dakota...watching the thunder and lightning storms from the comfort of our livingroom with my dad! Or, you know, those times we weren't supposed to tell mom about when we walked out into the middle of the fields to get an unobscured view of the lightning! :) hehehe. Love you dad!

Anyway, it was the most amazing night. The lightning eventually kicked the power out so we climbed under the covers and read our Russian spy novel by candle light as the rain pounded on our roof. It literally sounds like you're inside your car in a car wash...it's that loud.

Well, it's some 13-14 hours later and the storm hasn't stopped. Our sand/dirt yard is one giant puddle and our hut is FREEZING. We're DOWNING the hot chocolate sent by my WONDERFUL grandma! I love you grammy, thank you SO much! The Cocoa is the only respite from the cold!

Looks like the rainy season is upon us. It's fun for now, at least :).

Vignettes of a lonely PCV :)

South Africa isn’t “Africa” and other such misconceptions.

As many of you know Jason and I were, at first, less than thrilled by our country assignment. “We aren’t going to get the typical African experience.” The fact of the matter is…there is no ‘typical’ African experience. Just as a person cannot say I want to go to Idaho to have a ‘typical American experience.’ Africa is far too diverse to ever have something be considered ‘typical.’ However, there are a few ‘stereotypes’ about Africa and that perceived ‘experience’ that we are able to have as parts of our everyday lives. The following are aspects of OUR African experience so far…

Roosters, donkeys, goats, cows, chickens, sheep and the occasional horse wonder free through the streets, yards, houses, schools and churches of every village I have seen thus far in rural S.A. Roosters are loud and really annoying at night as are donkeys. “Hee-haw” does not accurately describe a donkey’s brae, not even close! Consider it a mixture between a giant fog horn and someone with laryngitis screeching at the top of their lungs . I have learned how to share the dirt roads with the aforementioned livestock so as not to get kicked or have any other run-in with hooves or horns . This, to me, is very stereotypically Africa and I’m happy for it!

Greetings. Greetings are essential to integrating into any rural community in South Africa. You must greet everyone. We are told that it is part of the ‘spirit of ubuntu’ which is a Zulu word that means more or less ‘I am because of you, you because of me.’ The greetings themselves are a dance of words. In Setswana you greet by saying “Dumela” which means roughly “I see you.” The person you are greeting will respond with “O Kae?” which means “where are you?.” You respond by saying “Le kae, wena o kae” which means ‘I’m here, where are you?’’ “I’m here, thank you” is the response. It’s beautiful. The Zulu greetings are equally beautiful. “Saubona” or “hello” is the common greeting which in essence means “we are seeing you” referring to yourself and all your ancestors. Greeting is a part of South African culture which can try on ones patience especially when a twenty minute walk takes you an hour and a half. But, it’s essential to remember that to these people I am here because of them, and they because of me. It’s beautiful. I am afraid however that I will return home to the U.S. and be in the habit or greeting everyone. Imagine me walking down a street in New York saying “hello” to everyone. Boy will I be in trouble! 

The Bucket Bath. You never realize how much water you use in a day until you suddenly have none. Having no running water was, at first, a major adjustment. Everyday tasks like brushing ones teeth become major ordeals. Cooking and doing dishes are equally painful (especially if you have trouble cooking in the States!). Laundry suddenly equals the type of workout you get after a day at the gym. And bathing…the simple act of making oneself clean…is exhausting! I will now describe for you what we like to call… “The Art of the Bucket Bath.”

It’s windy in South Africa, especially in the Kalahari. And it’s sandy. And it’s hot. So after a few hours outside you are caked in a red mud-like crust from the mixture of dust, sand and sweat. Needless to say you can only go (or SHOULD only go) about 3 days without bathing . And when the mud, sand and dirt become unbearable it’s time for…the bucket bath!

Instructions:
Go outside and fetch bathing basin. Dimensions are approx: round, 8 inches deep and 2 feet wide.
Begin heating water in a black cauldron over the fire outside (or use your water boiler if the electricity happens to be on).
Wait.
Wait.
Wait.
Grab your chamber pot (the bucket that stays in your room at night for midnight potty emergencies) make sure you cleaned it really well after its last use.
Pour one or two small buckets of hot water into your chamber pot (depending on how hot it is outside) and mix it with one or two small buckets of cold water.
Pour into washing basin.
Be sure NOT to fill basin with more than two inches of water. This will make sense in a minute.
Test water.
If it’s still too hot you must wait.
Wait.
Wait.
Take off your clothes (hey, sometimes you forget and then you have a problem! Trust me).
Bend over bucket and stick your head in.
Use a cup or some water pouring device to wet all of the hair on your head. For example empty soda cans work great.
Do so quickly or your head will fill with blood and you’ll get a headache. 
Sit up.
Blindly reach for the shampoo (it’s best to place this by the bucket beforehand).
Squirt some into hands and rub into hair over bucket.
Be sure to scratch scalp thoroughly to get all the clumps of dirt out.
Bend back over bucket and use cup to get shampoo out of hair.
Be sure to get all shampoo out or you’ll have to bathe again tomorrow. 
Ring out hair (if long…like mine).
Blindly grab for towel to wrap around head so as not to get your floor too wet.
Wrap head.
Now sit in the bucket. Yep sit.
Wash the rest of your body (except your feet – save those for last) while sitting in the bucket.
Since the water is already dirty from your hair understand that you must use extra soap.
Use cup or pouring device to get your back and arm pits. Don’t be lazy, it’s important to wash those pits! 
Hurry because even in the summer it starts to get cold at this point.
When finished stand up, take towel off head and wrap around body as you’re likely to be shivering.
Now stand in bucket to wash lower legs and feet.
Be sure to scrub between the toes. Scrub hard or your feet will look stained with dirt.
Be careful not to slip and fall and tip over ones bucket because you are standing in really soapy slippery water .
Shake off feet and step out of bucket.
Put on clothes.
Pick up bucket, be careful not to slosh.
Maneuver outside and dump water onto a bush or tree that needs watering. Or onto a passing goat if you’re up for it .
Be careful when dumping water not to dump it on yourself. This tends to make a person very, very, very angry, because then your clean feet and legs are once again dirty! 
Leave bucket outside to dry.
Try your best not to get too dirty or you’ll have to do that again soon!

The Khombi Ride. Similar to many countries in the world the public taxi system in S. Africa is run by organized crime and as such is highly efficient. As PCVs we are not allowed to drive/own/operate any motorized vehicle (but we can rent cars for vacations). The owning and/or operating of livestock as a mode of transport is, however, permitted (as some of my fellow Northern Capers have received special permission to buy donkeys to enable them to roam freely in their desert wonderland). But for those of us who would rather not straddle a donkey to get to town we are left with one option: the khombi. Like most things all khombis are not created equally. I have ridden in khombis with plush padded bucket seats and an interior DVD player (playing “kulinyani” of COURSE ) replete with seat belts, I had ridden in khombis whose seats are covered in decaying plastic, and I have ridden in one khombi whose condition defies any other khombi, I believe, in the history of khombis. The following is my vignette entitled the Khombi Ride of Death (and destruction + horror )!

***(An honest but horrifying truth is S. Africa has a LOT of funerals every weekend. In our small training village of about 3,000 people there would be at LEAST three funerals/week. Unfortunately these funerals were not only commemorating the lives of the elderly or those fighting HIV/AIDS, at least one funeral a week commemorated a life of someone killed in an automobile accident. There was one weekend last month where there were four funerals simultaneously where the persons being commemorated had been killed in automobile accidents. Even one of our language facilitator’s brothers was struck by a vehicle and killed during training. It’s a harrowing fact that sets a grim stage for the following story which I feel I must now preface with the fact that: Peace Corps has taught us the warning signs of how to detect a faulty khombi, how to check the soberness of the driver, how to look for balding tires, etc.)***

Jason and I were leaving our training village’s shopping town on a late Saturday afternoon a few weeks back. We were in a hurry to beat the sun home to finish our laundry. We went to the hectic taxi rank and were shuffled onto a khombi. Shortly after climbing into our seats (which were at the VERY back in the corner) we realized we’d forgotten to use our Peace Corps tactics of ensuring the fact that our khombi was safe…whoops! We quickly noted that this particular khoombi’s seats were no better than plastic lawn chairs bolted to the rickety floor, a floor that had worn so thin in places we could nearly see the pavement below. The ceiling’s roll bars were decaying and sagging from the weight of the rust that was determined to eat through the structure before we arrived home. The roof itself was only battened down in a few places in the front and back allowing the middle to flop up and down at will with loud banging noises.

The khombi’s maximum occupancy was 15 so of course we crammed 20 people in the koloi along with all their bags and purchases. I was crammed against the back row’s side window as vendors selling their wares shoved items of interest through the open window into my face asking me to buy their sodas, watches, popcorn etc. Finally, we departed.

It wasn’t long before I noticed our driver seemed much more interested in the lady squashed up next to him than he was on the road. But Jason and I were busy explaining (once more) what Peace Corps was and why we were here in South Africa to a group of very friendly ladies crammed with us in the back of the koloi. A few more miles went by when all of a sudden there were shrieks from the front of the khombi and the driver swerved quickly to miss a drunk man who had decided to stagger across the road directly in front of our speeding vehicle of metal and bolts. The swerve was so violent it caused the khombi to go up on three wheels at which point I bashed my head on the ceiling. Hard! As I felt for blood the driver ground to a halt and swore at the man in his best Setswana and we all started to laugh. It wasn’t long before the khombi was once again speeding home along the potholed road.

This time however I focused more on what I could see of the road…perhaps I wanted to help the driver pay attention from my seat four rows behind…but it’s more likely it was my ‘control-freakiness’ kicking in. We had not traveled more than 5 minutes further when BAM! We hit something, and we hit it hard. Whatever we had hit had scared the driver who did what? Swerved, again. This time we were tipping so far over it seemed for sure we would plummet off the road. I once again was thrown up against the ceiling and smashed my head against a giant hinge breaking the skin and drawing blood. The car continued to tip from side to side as the bumper dislodged itself from the front and got stuck in the car’s undercarriage. Thus in a spray of sparks and blood we ground to a halt on the side of the road. Looking behind us it became clear that we had hit a goat. Although ‘hit’ wasn’t exactly the best word to describe the goat’s condition, in truth we EXPLODED a goat. I’ll leave it at that. Furthermore the bumper was completely gone and the passenger door had imploded from the force of the impact. We all piled out of the khombi. Many women were crying because of the fear that grips this country regarding car accidents. I felt like whomping the driver for not paying attention. Instead I stood stubbornly on the side of the road and REFUSED to get back on the khombi of death! After several minutes of waiting for another khombi to pick me up I was persuaded to get back on the speeding tin can and finished my journey. I did so reluctantly…

Rumors spread around the other PCVs that someone’s khombi had tipped over etc., etc. so needless to say we had a great time explaining to everyone exactly what had happened and the fact that the Peace Corps was right…pay attention to the condition your khombi is in…pay close attention!

Oh, and in case it isn’t clear, we survived .

Spiders, roaches and other creepy crawlies that go bump in the night.

I was fast asleep, curled up in my bed, dreaming. Suddenly I am wakened by the sound of someone wrestling with the sheets and practically jumping out of bed. Opening my eyes I saw Jason crouched on all fours with his head lamp on his head staring at the wall. There was more wrestling of sheets as he began frantically beating at the wall. It was then that I knew…the spiders had returned!

The spiders here are huge. And if they’re not huge they’re hairy…with long legs. And they’re all quick. And apparently they all like to drop from the ceiling onto the beds of those sleeping below and torment them in the night. Such was the case on this fateful night.

I was so scared of the creepy crawlies I curled up in a little ball at the foot of the bed, under the covers and waited. In the meantime Jason was accosted by several cockroaches who had decided to run across his feet while he dangled them off the foot of the bed as he was sitting contemplating what to do about the spiders. His frantic rapid leg movements were all I could handle. I burst into tears jumped up, grabbing my blanket and pillow and ran into the family common area. I curled up in a little arm chair (after inspecting all the walls in that room) and tried to sleep. It didn’t work well for every tickle of my hair against my arm would make me sit bolt right up in bed sure the big ones were attacking.

Meanwhile back in our room Jason sprayed nearly an entire bottle of DOOM! the spider and roach killer of wonder and delight. Many spiders continued to fall onto the bed that night…only this time…they were dead! Dun, dun, dun.

Unfortunately this was only one of what I am sure will be many nights of arachnophobia, and unfortunately we have already seen spiders bigger than those horrifying ones. But don’t worry we have stocked up on DOOM! and are ready to take action against the eight legged invaders if we must.

Oh and as a side note…another problem with no running water is…the pit toilet. Let’s just say giant cockroaches live inside the pit toilet and like to crawl back in even when you’re trying to use said pit toilet. These roaches are the size of Jason’s palm. Jason has big hands. Enough said, it’s terrifying!

Lekgoa.

Jason and I are often called out to front children playing in their yards as we pass by on the roads. “Dumela! Dumela!” their little voices ring out. We will turn and wave and they will run away giggling. However, as our language improved we began to notice another word thrown in with the tiny voiced ‘dumelas’ and that was ‘lekgoa.’ Lekgoa means whitey.

My reaction to learning this word and suddenly noticing how many times/day I am referred to as ‘Lekgoa’ was surprising. It has begun to hurt my feelings. However, those calling me lekgoa have no malicious intent (on the whole) and as such I cannot be angry at them, especially the children. But I am still bothered by it. Having had time to contemplate this issue I have concluded the following.

South Africa has been divided into skin color classifications for the last half a century. During apartheid people were required to carry a “Dom Pass” or dumb pass in English. Not unlike Hitler’s Germany, South Africa was classified as Black, White, Indian, Coloured, or ‘Other’ and certain rights and privileges (or the lack thereof) were attached to each category And while apartheid ended some 13 years ago the demographics of the living arrangements in the rural areas still reflects the apartheid era. I live in a ‘black’ village where I and Jason are the only white faces for miles and miles. If I decide to go into my shopping town I must first pass through a township. This is where the ‘coloureds’ and Indians live acting as a buffer between the ‘blacks’ and town. Then I will traverse through the white area with houses that can compete with those seen in Hollywood movies finally arriving in the town where I am one white person in a sea of others and once again seeing black faces on the main roads is somewhat of an oddity.

Thus, while ‘apartheid’ has ended in the sense that Dom Passes do not exist and blacks can vote, another form of apartheid still grips this country by the throat threatening to strangle at any moment: economic apartheid. South Africa is a wealthy nation and has a voice on the world’s stage – yet the legs upon which the nation stands…the miners etc. are living in 3rd world squalor being exploited economically. Everyone is aware of it. So while South Africa touts mottos like “a rainbow nation” etc. it still does very little to include the backbone of the nation in its economic prosperity. This is very difficult for me to accept.

Thus, regardless of how much I dislike being classified by my race, ‘lekgoa!’ ‘lekgoa!’ by being classified I become more South African, for they are all still divided by race regardless of BEE or other attempts at ‘affirmative action.’

Even so I try to do my part by approaching the groups of children, or adults, who insist on addressing me as ‘lekgoa.’ I get down on my knees so I can look the children in the eye and I say “Ga ke lekgoa, ke nna Lerato.” I’m not ‘lekgoa/whitey,’ I am Lerato. And so far it has worked, every time. The children will giggle and begin to call me by my African name, Lerato, and the adults will blush and say “oh of course! Hello Lerato!” and that’s that. If only it were easier to be color blind!

Meswe.

I had an experience the other day that broke my heart. I was walking home from training on my usual route. Along my way I ran into a little group of girls that live in my ‘neighborhood’ with whom I’d become friends. Three of them were playing in a rare puddle taking turns trying to jump over it. They were barefoot and it looked as though a few of them hadn’t quite made it over the puddle and thus their play clothes were covered in mud and sand. When I saw them they rushed up to greet me, grabbing my hands with their cold muddy fingers.

We began walking home together speaking to one another in broken Setswana (well, mine was broken at least ). A few feet into our walk one little girl pointed at me and say “O bontle” which means ‘You’re beautiful’ as lots of little girls say this to me (they really tend to like my straight hair) I replied with my wrote response of,

“Ke a leboga, wena o bontle thata!” which means ‘ thank you, you are also very beautiful!’

This little girl was stubborn though. She looked me straight in the eye and said honestly,

“Eh, eh, ke meswe, o bontle.” ‘No, no I’m dirty/ugly, you’re beautiful.’

As meswe can mean both dirty and ugly I decided to probe further. I pointed at my sandal clad feet which were also caked in dirt and mud.

“Bona, ke meswe thata!” ‘look I’m dirty too!’

The little girl looked at me and persisted,

“Eh, eh, o bontle, ke meswe!” This time she pointed at my arm and then placed her arm (which was a rich shade of chocolate brown) next to mine. She looked at me pointedly as if now it should be obvious, I was beautiful because my skin was white, she was ugly because her skin was brown.

I was horrified. I got down on my knees in the dirt and pulled the little girl close to me. Her friends crowded in. I whispered to them in Setswana,

“Please don’t say that I am beautiful because I’m white, when you say that I want to cry. Look, look at your skin, look at how beautiful the color is! We are both beautiful, it doesn’t matter what color we are.”

The girls liked the fact that I was whispering, perhaps they felt that they were in on a secret. However, the little persistent child whispered back to me,

“We are ugly, though,” and skipped away back to the puddle to play.

I have never felt pain like I felt at that moment. Having grown up, more or less colorblind (or clueless, take your pick) I am not accustomed to being ‘grouped’ or classified or given such outright privilege because of the shade or hue of my skin. It’s unfair and it hurts. Not in the way it would hurt to be discriminated, of course, but it’s humiliating to be given privilege for no reason other than I happened to have white ancestry. There is nothing different between a seven year old me and those little girls playing in the mud on the inside – but because of what’s on the outside they will never have the same opportunities I have had, and it hurts to realize that.