With All Your Power

Cuteness abides on Inkanyiso's Interhouse Sports Day!
Nkosi and friend worked it at the bean bag toss!!!

I recently have found myself wanting to write all of the time but having absolutely no idea what to say or where to begin. Things are changing in Vryheid. The weather is really cooling down and now it requires a sweatshirt, pants, thermal sleeping bag, heater, and an occasional hat for comfortable sleeping. While that might sound absurd, please remember there is no central heating or insulation in my little room at all. In fact, I put a towel on the floor in the crack of the door at night to keep the drafts and snakes from coming in. Snakes, you say? What? Yes, snakes. Yesterday Buyisiwe, the housekeeper for the kids here at Inkululeko, was walking to the garden around the back of the house and she saw a big old snake that was fat and not too long but was brown with diamonds. At first I did not believe her, so I put on my boots and went around back to check it out myself and sure enough in the sand pit there were lines of snake movement. Humans make footprints in sand and snakes obviously do not, so their tracks look a bit different. Unlike the first snake that I encountered in South Africa and consequently killed in the kitchen after throwing holy water on it, I do not think I am going to try to get anywhere close to this snake based on its description. No snakes for me, thanks. However, I am carrying a rock around the yard just in case the snake decides it is time to tango because he/she probably does not know about my legendary reputation as a snake killer. I think its best that way though.

Speaking of killing animals, we might have to slaughter a goat my school. Are we out of food and are now eating the innocent local animals? No. Do we hate goats here in Vryheid? Nope. Are people getting goats mixed up with pigs during this raging swine flu pandemic? (Please catch the sarcasm there) No. Why would we need to slaughter a goat at school then? Let me tell you. Recently three of our teachers have injured one of their feet during separate instances and in different ways. The first teacher broke her foot when she fell in a bucket of washing powder. The second teacher sprained it while sleeping. And the third teacher was hit by a car in town. “There is only one way that this could all happen in such a short period of time” says Mrs. Zulu (translated by me). “Yini? (What?), I exclaim! “ The ancestors are angry with us here at school”, Mrs. Zulu shouts! “But I don’t have any ancestors here”, I respond. “Not yours Nqobile (my Zulu name), the ancestors of the school”, she tells me. Yes folks, there are ancestors of the school. I was not aware of this fact until yesterday. Apparently, the four teachers that have died since 2002 at our school are the ancestors of the school. The staff believes that we have done something to upset them and now we must make it right by slaughtering a goat on the premises. When and how this is going to happen, I do not know, but I have a feeling it will be soon, so look out for pictures folks…this will be upload worthy.

It is so odd to think that slaughtering a goat at school and living in a yard with a possibly poisonous snake seems ordinary. There have been so many times when I have been so frustrated and just pushed to the limit of absolutely all that I know and felt like I could ever do. I told myself if I ever came in contact with a snake indoors I would leave. That happened and I am still here. I said that if my computer died I would leave because it makes working so much more difficult without it. That happened. I am still here. I told myself that I would definitely leave if any of the babies at the home died. That happened. I am here. I told myself that if more than one kid that I work with dies at school I will leave. That happened yesterday. I am still here with no plans to leave. Somewhere along the line I let go the notion that any little thing could be too much and that it would be time to go back to a life that had challenges but was not overwhelming back in the States. But then I realized something. Even if I left South Africa today, life would never be the same back in America. Though most things and people that I am used to back in the States may have remained relatively the same, I am not. Previously believing that if hardships happened I could escape back to my more comfortable life and forget about the issues 9,000 miles away was an absolute farce. I am not sure what made me think that by leaving the overwhelming pain that sometimes comes with living and working with kids in a third world environment it would just go away. So I am staying. I am finishing my 27 months here because I have experienced absolute tragedy and immense pain in the loss of children that I work with and care about, but I have experienced far more joy and light than could ever be overshadowed by such loss. Working here has so many challenges and so many more rewards. The wholeness of being in the good times is indescribable and the numbness in the bad times is unspeakable. I am going to be forever changed by this experience in more ways than I even realize. I am going to be stronger and more confident. I feel that if I can live through this, I can live through and prosper in almost any situation. I also will be connected with the world around me and daily remind myself that I have a responsibility to give back a little bit of what amazing things have been given to me. I was looking at pictures that I brought from the States yesterday and I was so very thankful. I have experienced such richness and happiness in friendships and relationships with my family. I am so blessed to have so many pictures to fill up and overflow that album of amazing times with even more amazing people in my life. Not everyone gets so many opportunities to become close to so many fantastic high-quality people. I am blessed. I know it and I am thankful for it. Obviously I wish that everyone had the family and friends that I do and I hope that family feuds and broken friendships do not stop me or anyone I know from experiencing the real wholeness that comes with being able to be connected. Today I have a heavy heart because of the loss of yet another beautiful child at our school to AIDS but I know that this too shall pass and that tomorrow I will remember to be thankful.

If any potential Peace Corps applicants are reading this like I used to read blogs about the Peace Corps before I came here, please know that this is no walk in the park. If you end up working in South Africa, small African children with dirty hands and beautiful smiles will run up to you on the streets and want to talk to you and touch you and you will learn to love this. You might live in a mud house in a rural area with no running water or electricity or you might have a situation like mine where you live with both of those amenities only minutes away from town center. You might think that you will be changing the world in a foreseeable way. I cannot tell you that those things won’t happen or that they will. What I can say is that you will be challenged in so many ways that you could never imagine before moving here. Not having running water or electricity are not the major challenges you will face. They are also not something you should develop a fetish over. Please do not come here believing any one group of people is bad and oppressive and that all of the others are innocent victims of a society plagued by its history. If you deem people bad or good before you even meet them, then you have limited yourself greatly and I am sorry for you. Please, just keep an open mind about the whole experience and be ready to being very fulfilled or completely disappointed or both simultaneously. This is no attempt to rant about South Africa or the Peace Corps because I love this place and my job, however, the heartwarming stories you may read about having no electricity and watching the stars every night after sitting around a bowl of food with your host family are not the only stories that volunteers have, they are just the ones that they think others want to hear. I am attempting to change the way that I write any correspondence about my experience here. If this sounds negative or aggressive, that is not the intention. I am just really attempting to be more honest because life here is such a paradox.

P.S. Ma, tell Roger that the Flaming Lips CD is on the way. Also, tell him that it changed my life (without exaggeration). Dad, go ahead and laugh, but yes, that CD is LIFE CHANGING even more so than when Ikea changed my life. Wait until you come to South Africa…you and Sue will experience the life changingness of the Flaming Lips for hours and hours on the road. Aren’t you excited? Love you family! Also, check out the pics I uploaded. Sorry it has taken literally a year. Just a few.

“If you could take all the love without giving any back, would you do it?

And so we cannot know ourselves or what we’d really do

With all your power, with all your power, with all your power, what would you do?”

- Flaming Lips (thanks to Kim and Jared)

Chased By A Monkey

Yes folks that’s right, get ready folks for yet another installment of “crazy white girl joined the Peace Corps and went to Africa” here on your friendly world wide web sponsored by the lovely folks at Google. Apologies are in order once again for my empty promises of writing “soon”. If you understood Africa time and my current life situation then you would know that I am writing “soon”. However, I recognize that the people who are probably reading this are in a place that values timeliness and where yes means “yes” rather than yes, which actually means “most likely not”. I recently used one of my “weekends away” as the Peace Corps called them when we first arrived and spent a few days out in the bush with monkeys. That’s right folks…monkeys. Two of my fabulous friends, Sandy and Bruce, created a monkey rehab center (don’t think Amy Winehouse here) for monkeys that have been abandoned or kept as pets by humans. First of all, I would like to make the public service announcement that monkeys are not pets and should not be kept as such. If you want a furry, cuddly pet that wears diapers as an infant, drinks milk, slowly moves onto solids, and that you can love then I suggest having a baby. Babies, though a handful, are far less wild that monkeys and, in general, do not have razor sharp teeth to bite you. Moral of the story folks, don’t get a monkey because it can end up in rehab.

Monkeys come from all over the KwaZulu Natal region to the rehab center where they received a healthy diet of fruits, veggies, insects, and nuts to chow on at least twice a day, other monkeys who are also dealing with the same issues, a family environment, and the opportunity to become reintroduced into the wild. The 31 monkeys that were recently introduced back into the wild had been at the center for over two years. Finally, they seemed to have grasped the skills that will allow them so survive without human intervention. Tracking collars were put on seven of the monkeys before they were set free. We tracked the monkeys with the honing device and we recorded their behavior. It was amazing. The monkeys went nuts when we drove the 8.2 kilometers on rough dirt roads were snaky throughout the mountains to their indigenous forest area. The monkeys knew food was coming with us so they weren’t afraid. In fact three of the monkeys jumped on to the back of the truck and one tried to steal things from Bruce’s open backpack. After yelling at the monkey to get back into the tree and to stop stealing the bag, the monkey finally retreated. I calmly took the bag of the back of the truck and proceeded to walk away when the monkey decided it was time for a showdown. As my back was turned to the monkey (because I was walking away), the monkey leaped off the tree and onto the ground and began to chase me. Sandy yelled “Christi!” and I spun around to find the monkey galloping in my direction. So naturally being 4 feet taller than the monkey and weight over 100 pounds more than that primate, I screamed like a little girl and ran like hell. The monkey must have been scared by my girlish shriek because she stopped dead in her tracks. I ran behind my camping chair as Sandy tried to use hers as some sort of sword to ward off the vicious (okay well maybe not so vicious) attack. The monkey must have found all of this quite amusing and decided taking back the backpack wasn’t worth a camping chair to the head, so she scurried back up the tree and made lurching movements that I can only imagine meant “What now you stupid American. Try to take that backpack again. Go ahead. Do it”. Only in Africa would I get chased down by a 15 pound monkey with an attitude. Moral of the story folks, if a monkey wants your backpack, give it to him or be ready for an epic battle.

Besides being intimidated by small primates, I have been keeping very well and am very busy here. I must be honest; I am not practicing my Zulu much because my friend who I always speak with had a baby recently and is not back to work yet. I tell myself everyday that I will wake up and practice for an hour just like I tell myself everyday I will write in my journal. The last time I wrote in my journal was January 25 and I don’t want to admit when I last sat down to really practice Zulu. Ugh. I am expecting too much from myself and I am too busy to do all that I want. “Busy in a small town in Africa, how can this be?” you ask. Well, I work at school for 28 hours a week and also with the kids at the children’s home for another 10-20 hours a week so I am keeping very busy. Since I go to bed at 9 or 9:30 unless someone calls me, I do not have time for sleep-time-wasting activities like writing and learning a very necessary language. Nope, no time for that. In America, I could easily deal with working 24-30 hours a week at the Low Rises (including midnight to six am shifts) and then going to school full time. But here, oh no. I need my eight hours or else the kids say things to me like “you hair looks hlebe hlebe (wild and untamed) and “your face is falling” which I am taking to mean that either I look tired or gravity is taking its toll far too early on my young skin. Who knows? So be thankful folks when I risk premature aging to write you one of oh so enduring letters and take the time to address it especially for you from deepest, darkest Africa. Also be thankful because I do not have a mailbox at my house so in order to send letters, I must conveniently walk 20 minutes to the post office and 20 minutes back in the less than desirable heat. I risk heat rash and constant harassment about my accent just to make it to the South African Post Office in adoration for those who write me and I feel it necessary to finally respond to. Be patient, your letter is coming (Mom, Dad, Nida, Aunt Shelda, Mema, and Holly…I am a little backed up, right?). Until next time folks...

One Year Anniversary

Saturday, January 31, 2009 was the one year anniversary of my Peace Corps South Africa 17’s arrival in Africa. I had lunch with some friends and spent the afternoon checking out bed and breakfasts for my Dad and Sue’s visit that is scheduled for September. It was a rather relaxed and monotonous day which was not really marked by any major event or excitement. However, the significance of the date has left me thinking a lot about this last year.
How do I put into words the major shifts in living situations, language, social atmosphere, and most importantly; thinking that I have experienced since I left the States in January 2008? I am astounded by what I have been through in the past year. To be honest, I have lived and loved far more freely than I have ever before. Is it because this is supposedly where mankind began? Is there some inherent wholeness to living in Africa? Maybe. Maybe not. All I know is that I have experienced tremendous change since I have arrived here. Some changes resulting in growth and others leaving me completely lost.

As I have said before, I live at the Inkululeko Toddler’s Home. It is a place of safety for orphaned and abandoned children. Some of the children have known their parents and watched them pass away. Others were very badly abused and are seeking protection here. The rest have been abandoned, some in public places, others out in locations where their parents’ never hoped the child would be found. All of these children somehow made it here though. All eleven of the children at my house have completely different stories with at least one common thread that has bound them together. I was never abandoned, orphaned, or abused and somehow I also found my way to this place as well, this place of safety. Peace Corps did not place me here. I was living in a township about 45 minutes away from my current residence. I would have never heard about this place if it was not for a chance meeting with my principal and the founder of this organization. I would have never ended up living here if the taxi fare to and from work was not as expensive as it was and the lady I was staying with passed away a few months after I moved, both of which are unfortunate but real matters. I could have very easily ended up somewhere else; things could have been very different. Yet, somehow so many small things fell into place that would pave the way for me to end up here. And here I am. I am exactly where I am meant to be.

I have been living at this home for almost ten months and I could not possibly begin to do justice to the profound work that these children have done in my life. I came to Africa looking for direction while also intending to lose it entirely. I have done both. I came here knowing what I wanted to do when I returned to America. Now, I am unsure. I came here having no idea of what to do here in Africa, yet I know exactly what I want to do now and I am doing it. So I have direction. In fact, I have many directions and perhaps this is why I am on my way and totally lost. Yet, it could not possibly feel better. I think that when you let go of the notions of what you think you should be and how important it is that certain things remain a specific way because they are right and going in any different direction would be wrong, you suddenly become just a little bit freer. Things that seemed so important and were the origin of so much stress in the past now seem inconsequential. And things that you never imagined you would be able to experience or believe now confront you head on and more surprisingly you are able to deal with them and slowly you learn to embrace the journey with all of its surprises and challenges.

I am aware that this rambling does not contain any real details of what I have been up to recently and maybe that would be more entertaining to read. I am sorry if it is a disappointment and I promise to write more anecdotes about my last couple of months, but this is just what I felt like sharing today. I hope you can relate to this unfinished madness of a blog. Until next time…