I am sitting here in the lounge in my principal’s home thinking that I am one lucky son of a gun. After long conversations and moving things around a bit, I have finally found a place to live that is suitable for me and for the work I am going to be doing. Most volunteers would hate this set-up because it involves living at the location where you work. However, after being an RA for two years and living in a room about the size of a cracker-jack box, I am sure that this living situation will work out just fine. I cannot give the location of where I am living for security reasons for myself and the children, however, I can say that if you want my address, you can get it from Nida or my family. I will be working at Inkanyiso Special School Monday through Thursday and also at Inkululeko Babies Home every afternoon and on Fridays. I am starting my first two days at the babies home this weekend because they are short staffed. I visited the babies home yesterday and I must say that I have never seen cuter babies in my entire life. I am already so attached to a beautiful four month old baby boy. He is absolutely gorgeous despite the fact that he is missing half of his right arm and is a bit scarred on his face. His cuteness is only surpassed by his funniness. He will mimic any facial expression I make with such precision that I cannot believe he is only four months old. There are some twins at the babies home who are also absolutely adorable and one of them will just throw his head back so fast that it nearly scares you to death the first time he does it when he is held just so that he can crane his neck around to see anything and everything that is going on. Already I can tell that this experience is shaping up to be the time of my life.
Anyone who knows me is aware that I simply cannot be content being inactive. I must have something to do at all times even if that means that I am just reading, writing, or shooting the breeze with a friend. Even though this attitude is changing as I am here in South Africa, my pace has not. I am always doing something. In the past four days, I have been to two braiis (cook-outs for you Americans =), played with numerous HIV positive orphans, visited a school, attended two war re-enactments, made five new friends, found a place to live, seen my first rugby match, eaten pickled fish (sounds gross but is absolutely delicious), enjoyed South African wine with the neighbor, been made fun of numerous time because of my accent, joined the library, and signed myself up for a nearly full time secondary project. I used to write in a journal before I went to college and have begun writing again and I am absolutely amazed everyday at the person I was yesterday. Please do not get me wrong, I am not amazed by me because frankly I am not all that amazing. What I am amazed by is how I am changing everyday. My body is pretty much the same, maybe a few pounds lighter, but my mind is a great deal heavier. There are just so many more windows and doors open in my mind then there ever were before. In America, I felt like the world was open to me, however, after moving abroad I realized that this actually was true. I have realized that I was not born to live inside any one border for the entirety of my life. I am not saying that I will always live overseas, because I have no intention on doing so at this point. What I am saying is that the possibilities seem endless now and I simply could not see standing on American soil.
If it wasn’t so expensive, I would upload more pictures to the internet because I feel like my words are lacking and that pictures just explain this experience so much better. I cannot take pictures of the babies now or disclose much about their status because I am bound by confidentiality, however, I will update this again soon and hopefully I will have lots of interesting anecdotes to share. Until then…salani kahle (stay well).
Tuesday, April 8, 2008
Thursday, April 3, 2008
Ubuntu "I am, because you are"
Well folks, I am happy to say that this might be one of the more poignant entries seeing as I have as much time as I choose to write it. Well not exactly as much time as I choose, because the power is out again and will probably not be back on until 7pm if it comes back on at all…good ole’ load shedding. If you do not know what load shedding is, as I did not before I came to SA, then you should google it. Basically, the need for electricity in SA exceeds the actual amount of electricity that can be provided. To meet the demand, Eskom (the electricity company) cuts of electricity in certain areas for a specific period of time everyday. Today we were at the internet café and the electricity went out at 4 and probably will not return for 2-4 hours. Obviously, this is bad for business. However, some restaurants offer “load shedding meals” which are meals that can be prepared without electricity since most businesses close during load shedding times. Okay…well that was far too long of an explanation and was probably incredibly boring to read..sorry.
Yesterday was my last day with first host family. It was an incredibly emotional day and for good reason. I came to South Africa with excitement, reservations, expectations, and dreams. I came believing that the twenty or so books I read about South Africa before I left has prepared me somewhat for this experience. However, from the moment I arrived, I realized how much I did not know and how much I needed to learn. My host family has been the catalyst for my learning and for the tremendous changes I have undergone in the past two months. I was first greeted by my family at Bakenburg Hall on February 9th with singing, dancing, hugs, and huge grins. They literally took me into their arms and made me a part of their family. Within 8 hours of being with them, they gave me an African name, Manakedi, which apparently means “one who made her mother cry with happiness when she was born”. They have called me Manakedi Kekana for the past two months. They took me, a white-foreign-non-Sepedi-speaking-recent-college-graduate-wet-behind-the-ears-young-woman, into their home and shared food, a roof, stories, laughs, and tears with no questions asked. They expected nothing from me in return for my stay and were so eager to teach me and learn from me. I have experienced many great acts of love from my family and friends back in the States before I came here because I have so many wonderful people in my life. However, the generosity and spirit the South African Kekana family is simply unmatched.
I packed my things yesterday and was ready to leave my family when my gogo (granny) came into my room and said to me “Manakedi, I never forget you. I remember you always. You are mine daughter.” I looked at gogo and tears filled both her eyes and mine. Then I hugged my brother Surprise and he would not make eye contact with me because he was on the verge of tears. Then Komojcho hugged me and said “Manakedi, I will miss you. We all will miss you”. I was still holding it together at this time, but then, Maishibe, my host sister and best friend here, held me hands and just looked at me and smiled with tears running down her face. I could not speak so I just held her and prayed that she would know how grateful I am for her and for all that she has taught me. She has one of the most kind and gentle spirits of anyone I know. Then it came time to say goodbye to Mama Francina. I hugged her and she touched my hair and said “I will miss you Manakedi.” Then she said nothing and a tear fell from her eye. This single tear from a woman who I have not seen cry or ever show any really loving emotion meant more to me than I could ever try explain in English, Spanish, or Zulu. Then my host sister Elizabeth, who rarely speaks to me, and my host sister Mailuci walked me to the bus stop. We walked in near silence because we understood how we felt and words were unnecessary. At the bus stop, Elizabeth, a girl who has maybe said 100 total words to me in two months, hugged me and cried. I was overwhelmed with emotion and it made me realize exactly how blessed I was to have become a Kekana. My name will change tomorrow to Nqobile Mdadlose but I will forever remain a Kekana in Limpopo.
Today I sworn in as a Peace Corps volunteer. I took an oath which was administered by the Ambassador and I realized exactly how much responsibility I have taken on. I am responsible for not only working towards creating sustainable, intentional, and transformational community HIV/AIDS outreach programs, but I am also an ambassador for my nation. I am representing America, some 300 million people. I hope to become a good representation of who I really want to be but more importantly, I want to make sure that I represent the best of my country. I understand that there are many things wrong with my nation right now, but we are growing and we are changing and I am doing the same. This experience has been incredibly challenging so far and there have been times where I have seriously considered giving up and coming home because that would be so simple. However, I know I need to be here. I need to know what I am made of. I want to be stripped bare, broken down, and rebuilt into the person that I really want to become. Life simply is not a dress rehearsal. I have only this one chance to have this experience so I must take it and get absolutely every thing I can out of it. This is Africa.
Yesterday was my last day with first host family. It was an incredibly emotional day and for good reason. I came to South Africa with excitement, reservations, expectations, and dreams. I came believing that the twenty or so books I read about South Africa before I left has prepared me somewhat for this experience. However, from the moment I arrived, I realized how much I did not know and how much I needed to learn. My host family has been the catalyst for my learning and for the tremendous changes I have undergone in the past two months. I was first greeted by my family at Bakenburg Hall on February 9th with singing, dancing, hugs, and huge grins. They literally took me into their arms and made me a part of their family. Within 8 hours of being with them, they gave me an African name, Manakedi, which apparently means “one who made her mother cry with happiness when she was born”. They have called me Manakedi Kekana for the past two months. They took me, a white-foreign-non-Sepedi-speaking-recent-college-graduate-wet-behind-the-ears-young-woman, into their home and shared food, a roof, stories, laughs, and tears with no questions asked. They expected nothing from me in return for my stay and were so eager to teach me and learn from me. I have experienced many great acts of love from my family and friends back in the States before I came here because I have so many wonderful people in my life. However, the generosity and spirit the South African Kekana family is simply unmatched.
I packed my things yesterday and was ready to leave my family when my gogo (granny) came into my room and said to me “Manakedi, I never forget you. I remember you always. You are mine daughter.” I looked at gogo and tears filled both her eyes and mine. Then I hugged my brother Surprise and he would not make eye contact with me because he was on the verge of tears. Then Komojcho hugged me and said “Manakedi, I will miss you. We all will miss you”. I was still holding it together at this time, but then, Maishibe, my host sister and best friend here, held me hands and just looked at me and smiled with tears running down her face. I could not speak so I just held her and prayed that she would know how grateful I am for her and for all that she has taught me. She has one of the most kind and gentle spirits of anyone I know. Then it came time to say goodbye to Mama Francina. I hugged her and she touched my hair and said “I will miss you Manakedi.” Then she said nothing and a tear fell from her eye. This single tear from a woman who I have not seen cry or ever show any really loving emotion meant more to me than I could ever try explain in English, Spanish, or Zulu. Then my host sister Elizabeth, who rarely speaks to me, and my host sister Mailuci walked me to the bus stop. We walked in near silence because we understood how we felt and words were unnecessary. At the bus stop, Elizabeth, a girl who has maybe said 100 total words to me in two months, hugged me and cried. I was overwhelmed with emotion and it made me realize exactly how blessed I was to have become a Kekana. My name will change tomorrow to Nqobile Mdadlose but I will forever remain a Kekana in Limpopo.
Today I sworn in as a Peace Corps volunteer. I took an oath which was administered by the Ambassador and I realized exactly how much responsibility I have taken on. I am responsible for not only working towards creating sustainable, intentional, and transformational community HIV/AIDS outreach programs, but I am also an ambassador for my nation. I am representing America, some 300 million people. I hope to become a good representation of who I really want to be but more importantly, I want to make sure that I represent the best of my country. I understand that there are many things wrong with my nation right now, but we are growing and we are changing and I am doing the same. This experience has been incredibly challenging so far and there have been times where I have seriously considered giving up and coming home because that would be so simple. However, I know I need to be here. I need to know what I am made of. I want to be stripped bare, broken down, and rebuilt into the person that I really want to become. Life simply is not a dress rehearsal. I have only this one chance to have this experience so I must take it and get absolutely every thing I can out of it. This is Africa.
Ngiba ivolunteer
I MADE IT! After two months of blood, sweat, tears, frustration, laughs, new friends, amazing sunsets, and a new family; I have finally sworn in as an official Peace Corps Volunteer!!! I am moving tomorrow to KZN for two years and am both anxious and excited about beginning this part of the journey. I will be writing much more poignant entries than I have been as soon as I settle into my permanent site. I have a cell phone now. I love getting mail, e-mail, and phone calls, so if you want my number, please let Nida know or my parents and they can hook you up. Thanks for the support. I promise to write a entry that isn't so lame next time.
Sunday, March 23, 2008
Changing
Sanibonani! I am writing this from the home of my school principal, Mrs. Logan. She has a fabulous house and a fabulous family, and obviously internet. As training is winding down and I am prepare to swear in as an official Peace Corps Volunteer (whoot whoot) I am reflecting a lot more on this experience than I normally do. I cannot really do justice in explaining how much I have learned, especially about myself, since I have been here. I have learned that as an American it is entirely impossible to bathe in a less than two liters of water, including washing one’s hair, and not be dirty. I have learned that chicken feet and chicken face really taste just a disgusting as they look. It has occurred to me that Americans work entirely too hard and for entirely too long. Time is of almost no consequence here and there is something terribly frustrating and yet freeing about it. Before this experience, I had never: killed a snake, been forced to speak a language with clicks to be understood, ate pap with every meal, chased and captured an escaping chicken, seen myself as a white person and having that mean something significant, carried an umbrella when it is not raining to protect my skin from the sun, had skirts comprise over 60% of my bottom attire, used a pre-paid cell phone, worried about being mugged, had to explain why I dislike President Bush, and spent six hours at church for one service among so many other things.
I have learned that life in a developed country is something to be appreciated and question. As Americans, we should stop complaining when the bus is late or when the doctor only sees us for ten minutes when we are sick with a cold. Here, the bus might never come and sometimes people being tested and/or treated for HIV/AIDS see no doctor at all because there is not one available. At the same time, we must question what living in a developed country means. Take your sweater off for a minute and look at the label. Where was it made? Cambodia, China, United Arab Emirates, Honduras? Do you ever wonder how much those people are being paid and in what conditions are the working? Did they have to walk 5 miles to get to the factory and leave their young children to fend for themselves while they go off to make the only money that is to be made in their area? Do they face dangerous road conditions or crime on their way to work? These are issues that we simply do not really deal with in America. Yes, millions of people have it incredibly rough and are really struggling to make ends meet and to provide for their families in America. But take a look at developing countries like South Africa. The unemployment rate is 41% now and in the area in which I am living, over 38% of the population is infected with HIV/AIDS. Kwa-Zulu Natal is the area with more people living with HIV/AIDS than any other place on Earth. As Americans we cannot imagine what these statistics look like, but let me tell you how I see it.
In Limpopo, I hang out regularly with 8 teenage girls who come to practice English with me and learn about America. Not one of them has both parents still living. Most of them have neither living. One of my close family members here in SA is has to use crutches to walk to my house which is only four houses from his because he is simply too weak from TB which he has contracted after being diagnosed with AIDS. This weekend in Mondlo (my township) in KZN, my sister says there were between 12 and 15 funerals. One of the boys who comes to my new family’s house every night to hang out with us comes over at night because he is lonely at home since his parents both died last year. He is 18. He lives alone in their home. The numbers are startling and it seems that there is no natural limit to the virus. However, the numbers are not a profound as the personal stories and the lives that have been infected and affected by this virus. So please, feel not guilty when you lay you head down to sleep in your comfy bed in your nice home with heat, AC, electricity, running water, and other standard amenities because you have worked to have these things and you deserve to have them if you want them. However, please remember that life is not as easy in other parts of the world and millions with be going to sleep cold, hungry, and sick tonight. So, if you can do something to help, then do it. People are waiting.
I am not trying to sound bitter because I am happy to be here and I do miss my life in the States. However, I am dealing with so many different things here, both significant and not so, that it is difficult trying to manage them all at once. Sir Oliver Wendell Holmes put it best, “A mind that is stretched by a new experience can never go back to its old dimensions”. My mind is changing constantly and I am learning how to reconcile that daily. And I firmly believe that ALL Americans should have this experience. It really changes the way you see the world and see yourself. I am a far more grateful individual than I ever could have been before. Peace Corps has taught me not to see the glass as half empty, rather it has taught me to wonder “hey, I could bathe in that”.
I have learned that life in a developed country is something to be appreciated and question. As Americans, we should stop complaining when the bus is late or when the doctor only sees us for ten minutes when we are sick with a cold. Here, the bus might never come and sometimes people being tested and/or treated for HIV/AIDS see no doctor at all because there is not one available. At the same time, we must question what living in a developed country means. Take your sweater off for a minute and look at the label. Where was it made? Cambodia, China, United Arab Emirates, Honduras? Do you ever wonder how much those people are being paid and in what conditions are the working? Did they have to walk 5 miles to get to the factory and leave their young children to fend for themselves while they go off to make the only money that is to be made in their area? Do they face dangerous road conditions or crime on their way to work? These are issues that we simply do not really deal with in America. Yes, millions of people have it incredibly rough and are really struggling to make ends meet and to provide for their families in America. But take a look at developing countries like South Africa. The unemployment rate is 41% now and in the area in which I am living, over 38% of the population is infected with HIV/AIDS. Kwa-Zulu Natal is the area with more people living with HIV/AIDS than any other place on Earth. As Americans we cannot imagine what these statistics look like, but let me tell you how I see it.
In Limpopo, I hang out regularly with 8 teenage girls who come to practice English with me and learn about America. Not one of them has both parents still living. Most of them have neither living. One of my close family members here in SA is has to use crutches to walk to my house which is only four houses from his because he is simply too weak from TB which he has contracted after being diagnosed with AIDS. This weekend in Mondlo (my township) in KZN, my sister says there were between 12 and 15 funerals. One of the boys who comes to my new family’s house every night to hang out with us comes over at night because he is lonely at home since his parents both died last year. He is 18. He lives alone in their home. The numbers are startling and it seems that there is no natural limit to the virus. However, the numbers are not a profound as the personal stories and the lives that have been infected and affected by this virus. So please, feel not guilty when you lay you head down to sleep in your comfy bed in your nice home with heat, AC, electricity, running water, and other standard amenities because you have worked to have these things and you deserve to have them if you want them. However, please remember that life is not as easy in other parts of the world and millions with be going to sleep cold, hungry, and sick tonight. So, if you can do something to help, then do it. People are waiting.
I am not trying to sound bitter because I am happy to be here and I do miss my life in the States. However, I am dealing with so many different things here, both significant and not so, that it is difficult trying to manage them all at once. Sir Oliver Wendell Holmes put it best, “A mind that is stretched by a new experience can never go back to its old dimensions”. My mind is changing constantly and I am learning how to reconcile that daily. And I firmly believe that ALL Americans should have this experience. It really changes the way you see the world and see yourself. I am a far more grateful individual than I ever could have been before. Peace Corps has taught me not to see the glass as half empty, rather it has taught me to wonder “hey, I could bathe in that”.
Changing
Sanibonani! I am writing this from the home of my school principal, Mrs. Logan. She has a fabulous house and a fabulous family, and obviously internet. As training is winding down and I am prepare to swear in as an official Peace Corps Volunteer (whoot whoot) I am reflecting a lot more on this experience than I normally do. I cannot really do justice in explaining how much I have learned, especially about myself, since I have been here. I have learned that as an American it is entirely impossible to bathe in a less than two liters of water, including washing one’s hair, and not be dirty. I have learned that chicken feet and chicken face really taste just a disgusting as they look. It has occurred to me that Americans work entirely too hard and for entirely too long. Time is of almost no consequence here and there is something terribly frustrating and yet freeing about it. Before this experience, I had never: killed a snake, been forced to speak a language with clicks to be understood, ate pap with every meal, chased and captured an escaping chicken, seen myself as a white person and having that mean something significant, carried an umbrella when it is not raining to protect my skin from the sun, had skirts comprise over 60% of my bottom attire, used a pre-paid cell phone, worried about being mugged, had to explain why I dislike President Bush, and spent six hours at church for one service among so many other things.
I have learned that life in a developed country is something to be appreciated and question. As Americans, we should stop complaining when the bus is late or when the doctor only sees us for ten minutes when we are sick with a cold. Here, the bus might never come and sometimes people being tested and/or treated for HIV/AIDS see no doctor at all because there is not one available. At the same time, we must question what living in a developed country means. Take your sweater off for a minute and look at the label. Where was it made? Cambodia, China, United Arab Emirates, Honduras? Do you ever wonder how much those people are being paid and in what conditions are the working? Did they have to walk 5 miles to get to the factory and leave their young children to fend for themselves while they go off to make the only money that is to be made in their area? Do they face dangerous road conditions or crime on their way to work? These are issues that we simply do not really deal with in America. Yes, millions of people have it incredibly rough and are really struggling to make ends meet and to provide for their families in America. But take a look at developing countries like South Africa. The unemployment rate is 41% now and in the area in which I am living, over 38% of the population is infected with HIV/AIDS. Kwa-Zulu Natal is the area with more people living with HIV/AIDS than any other place on Earth. As Americans we cannot imagine what these statistics look like, but let me tell you how I see it.
In Limpopo, I hang out regularly with 8 teenage girls who come to practice English with me and learn about America. Not one of them has both parents still living. Most of them have neither living. One of my close family members here in SA is has to use crutches to walk to my house which is only four houses from his because he is simply too weak from TB which he has contracted after being diagnosed with AIDS. This weekend in Mondlo (my township) in KZN, my sister says there were between 12 and 15 funerals. One of the boys who comes to my new family’s house every night to hang out with us comes over at night because he is lonely at home since his parents both died last year. He is 18. He lives alone in their home. The numbers are startling and it seems that there is no natural limit to the virus. However, the numbers are not a profound as the personal stories and the lives that have been infected and affected by this virus. So please, feel not guilty when you lay you head down to sleep in your comfy bed in your nice home with heat, AC, electricity, running water, and other standard amenities because you have worked to have these things and you deserve to have them if you want them. However, please remember that life is not as easy in other parts of the world and millions with be going to sleep cold, hungry, and sick tonight. So, if you can do something to help, then do it. People are waiting.
I am not trying to sound bitter because I am happy to be here and I do miss my life in the States. However, I am dealing with so many different things here, both significant and not so, that it is difficult trying to manage them all at once. Sir Oliver Wendell Holmes put it best, “A mind that is stretched by a new experience can never go back to its old dimensions”. My mind is changing constantly and I am learning how to reconcile that daily. And I firmly believe that ALL Americans should have this experience. It really changes the way you see the world and see yourself. I am a far more grateful individual than I ever could have been before. Peace Corps has taught me not to see the glass as half empty, rather it has taught me to wonder “hey, I could bathe in that”.
I have learned that life in a developed country is something to be appreciated and question. As Americans, we should stop complaining when the bus is late or when the doctor only sees us for ten minutes when we are sick with a cold. Here, the bus might never come and sometimes people being tested and/or treated for HIV/AIDS see no doctor at all because there is not one available. At the same time, we must question what living in a developed country means. Take your sweater off for a minute and look at the label. Where was it made? Cambodia, China, United Arab Emirates, Honduras? Do you ever wonder how much those people are being paid and in what conditions are the working? Did they have to walk 5 miles to get to the factory and leave their young children to fend for themselves while they go off to make the only money that is to be made in their area? Do they face dangerous road conditions or crime on their way to work? These are issues that we simply do not really deal with in America. Yes, millions of people have it incredibly rough and are really struggling to make ends meet and to provide for their families in America. But take a look at developing countries like South Africa. The unemployment rate is 41% now and in the area in which I am living, over 38% of the population is infected with HIV/AIDS. Kwa-Zulu Natal is the area with more people living with HIV/AIDS than any other place on Earth. As Americans we cannot imagine what these statistics look like, but let me tell you how I see it.
In Limpopo, I hang out regularly with 8 teenage girls who come to practice English with me and learn about America. Not one of them has both parents still living. Most of them have neither living. One of my close family members here in SA is has to use crutches to walk to my house which is only four houses from his because he is simply too weak from TB which he has contracted after being diagnosed with AIDS. This weekend in Mondlo (my township) in KZN, my sister says there were between 12 and 15 funerals. One of the boys who comes to my new family’s house every night to hang out with us comes over at night because he is lonely at home since his parents both died last year. He is 18. He lives alone in their home. The numbers are startling and it seems that there is no natural limit to the virus. However, the numbers are not a profound as the personal stories and the lives that have been infected and affected by this virus. So please, feel not guilty when you lay you head down to sleep in your comfy bed in your nice home with heat, AC, electricity, running water, and other standard amenities because you have worked to have these things and you deserve to have them if you want them. However, please remember that life is not as easy in other parts of the world and millions with be going to sleep cold, hungry, and sick tonight. So, if you can do something to help, then do it. People are waiting.
I am not trying to sound bitter because I am happy to be here and I do miss my life in the States. However, I am dealing with so many different things here, both significant and not so, that it is difficult trying to manage them all at once. Sir Oliver Wendell Holmes put it best, “A mind that is stretched by a new experience can never go back to its old dimensions”. My mind is changing constantly and I am learning how to reconcile that daily. And I firmly believe that ALL Americans should have this experience. It really changes the way you see the world and see yourself. I am a far more grateful individual than I ever could have been before. Peace Corps has taught me not to see the glass as half empty, rather it has taught me to wonder “hey, I could bathe in that”.
Saturday, March 15, 2008
Almost Done
Yes folks, the kids is back. This is part three of the uploads from Africa. this week has been incredibly exciting and I have some interesting stories to share but very little time. No, I have not killed any snakes since the first time. However, the war against the insects is still raging and I am still victorious. Don't have much time to write now but am working on uploading some pics to check them out. Will write more next week probably once I am at my permanent site. I will be working with the Inkanyiso Special School with 318 severly mentally disabled learners. I am really looking forward to my site visit on Monday. Wish me luck! I am sure I will have a ton to write next week. Until then...
Saturday, March 8, 2008
Village Life So Far
Wow. How do I begin to describe this experience? First of all, I would like to apologize for the less than fabulous previous blog entry. I was just at a loss for words as to how to even begin to describe what I have been experiencing here. The Peace Corps’ slogan is “the toughest job you’ll ever love”. This couldn’t be more true. I love my job and it presents me with challenges each day; some small and some enormous, but all significant. I am writing this in the back of a khumbi on my way to town so that when I arrive I have save internet time and just type. For those who don’t know, a khumbi is a van that is supposed to hold 15-16 people but we usually fit 19. I am watching the green mountains and expansive grasslands from a window seat and thinking, “Man, am I lucky to be alive and be here”. It is incredibly difficult to describe this place in a way that can actually paint a picture worthy of this experience. This is the reason I am attempting to upload pictures to my website, see the link on the right hand side titled “Christi’s Photos”. The pictures can help you see Afrika through my eyes but not in a way that really does this place justice and thus is the reason why I am not in many pictures. I am also attempting to find a way to upload videos quickly here so that this will also aid in sharing this experience with those back in the States.
Okay enough of this intro business. This is how my experience has been. I arrive in South Afrika on Jan 31 and stayed at a college in Mokopane in the Limpopo province for ten days. There my group began forming friendships that I am sure are going to last for a very long time. We learned about safety and security measures, received countless injections, studied Afrikaans and Sepedi, and gained a tremendous amount of knowledge on apartheid.
Then, we moved to Bakenburg and the surrounding villages with our new families. My family is fantastic! As mentioned in the previous blog, I have two brothers (one who lives at school), three sisters, one mom, and a gogo (grandmother) living in one house. Actually my gogo lives down the street with my uncle and other gogo who are both very ill. My mom is certifiably insane and I love her for it. She is as crazy as me and it is fantastic! From the very first day I moved in she has treated me like a daughter. She yells at me when my hair looks crazy or when my clothes need to be ironed. She tells me she loves me and calls me fat in the same sentence. Then she tries to feed me because “you too little”. She hands me a broom while telling me to wash the dishes. She doesn’t let me call her Momma Francina, only Momma and won’t talk to me unless I call her Momma. She is awesome and I love her! I also love my gogo who laughs at nearly everything I do, especially when I do laundry, attempt to cook, or try miserably to speak Sepedi. My host sister is a blessing from God. She is my culture and language translator and makes me so happy! She is one of my best friends here and I will be sad to move away from her in less than a month. She is teaching me to dance and trust me, that is hilarious. White people just should not try to mimic African dancing. It just doesn’t work. I would know..I see me.
Ngifunda IsiZulu kodwa ngihlala eLimpopo. I said I am learning Zulu but living in Limpopo, which is a Sepedi speaking area which presents daily communication issues. But if you saw me on the street you would think I am deaf because I gesture so many things in order to communicate now. I spend about 9 hours a day in class learning Zulu and Peace Corps info. I love my group because we are so diverse in our personalities. It is fabulous. Here is how a typical day of mine goes….
6:00 AM Wake up and take put away mosquito net and get ready for school.
7:45 Leave house and walked ten minutes to language
8-10:30 Learn Zulu
11:00 Train at center
1:00 Lunch
2:00-5:00 Train and Zulu
5:00 Get driven to tar road and then walk 25 minutes home
6:00- 7:00 Help make dinner, kill snakes, chase rooster for fun, play with neighborhood kids, and make my family laugh
7-8: Dinner
8:00 Generations…soap opera..yes I know
8:30-9:15 Heat water, pour in bucket, take bath, go outside and dump water
10:00 Get net out and kill all cockroaches in room and go to bed
I killed a snake this week. I was in the kitchen cutting cucumbers in the kitchen when I thought I saw something out of the side of my eye. I looked down and though “Wow that is a big worm”. Then I thought “Wow that worm slithers”. This is when I realized it was not a big worm, but was in fact small snake… not cool. So I yelled for my sister..she bug sprayed is and I flashlighted it and then we killed it with a shoe. Then my host brother runs in and throw water all over the floor. I say “Surprise (brother), why did you do that?” My sister says “It is the water of the church”. Then my mom runs in butt naked from her bath and yells “Tell me Manakedi!” So I tell her what happened and she says “Where is the mother?” So now I am constantly aware that a big mother snake is probably missing her baby. Hopefully she will stay away. Snakes are no good here and so South Afrikans kill them always.
It is nearly impossible to me to get to my house without ten little children following me home and insisting that I play with them for at least an hour no matter how exhausted I may be. So, I tried to sneak into the house through the corn field and I was almost home free yesterday, but one of them was waiting behind the toilet and caught me…I give up. So now my fan club has grown from five kids, to seven, and yesterday there were twelve. They touch my skin, play with my hair, and teach me songs, dances, and clapping games…they are awesome and they do not care that I don’t speak their language...they get me and in an odd way I am glad that they constantly harass me and walk me home everyday.
There is so much more I would like to say but I really must get off the computer before I run up to high of a bill…I only make $15 USD here a week. I am in love with South Afrika and I am terribly missing my family and friends. I wish we could all be experiencing this together, but I am learning so much on my own and I am becoming a better person everyday because of this experience. Thank you so much for you continuously support and love. Keep those letters and e-mails coming! I will answer e-mails and such when I get more time.
Uthando (love)…Christi Manakedi Nqobile (there is a click in there) Kekana Gibson
Okay enough of this intro business. This is how my experience has been. I arrive in South Afrika on Jan 31 and stayed at a college in Mokopane in the Limpopo province for ten days. There my group began forming friendships that I am sure are going to last for a very long time. We learned about safety and security measures, received countless injections, studied Afrikaans and Sepedi, and gained a tremendous amount of knowledge on apartheid.
Then, we moved to Bakenburg and the surrounding villages with our new families. My family is fantastic! As mentioned in the previous blog, I have two brothers (one who lives at school), three sisters, one mom, and a gogo (grandmother) living in one house. Actually my gogo lives down the street with my uncle and other gogo who are both very ill. My mom is certifiably insane and I love her for it. She is as crazy as me and it is fantastic! From the very first day I moved in she has treated me like a daughter. She yells at me when my hair looks crazy or when my clothes need to be ironed. She tells me she loves me and calls me fat in the same sentence. Then she tries to feed me because “you too little”. She hands me a broom while telling me to wash the dishes. She doesn’t let me call her Momma Francina, only Momma and won’t talk to me unless I call her Momma. She is awesome and I love her! I also love my gogo who laughs at nearly everything I do, especially when I do laundry, attempt to cook, or try miserably to speak Sepedi. My host sister is a blessing from God. She is my culture and language translator and makes me so happy! She is one of my best friends here and I will be sad to move away from her in less than a month. She is teaching me to dance and trust me, that is hilarious. White people just should not try to mimic African dancing. It just doesn’t work. I would know..I see me.
Ngifunda IsiZulu kodwa ngihlala eLimpopo. I said I am learning Zulu but living in Limpopo, which is a Sepedi speaking area which presents daily communication issues. But if you saw me on the street you would think I am deaf because I gesture so many things in order to communicate now. I spend about 9 hours a day in class learning Zulu and Peace Corps info. I love my group because we are so diverse in our personalities. It is fabulous. Here is how a typical day of mine goes….
6:00 AM Wake up and take put away mosquito net and get ready for school.
7:45 Leave house and walked ten minutes to language
8-10:30 Learn Zulu
11:00 Train at center
1:00 Lunch
2:00-5:00 Train and Zulu
5:00 Get driven to tar road and then walk 25 minutes home
6:00- 7:00 Help make dinner, kill snakes, chase rooster for fun, play with neighborhood kids, and make my family laugh
7-8: Dinner
8:00 Generations…soap opera..yes I know
8:30-9:15 Heat water, pour in bucket, take bath, go outside and dump water
10:00 Get net out and kill all cockroaches in room and go to bed
I killed a snake this week. I was in the kitchen cutting cucumbers in the kitchen when I thought I saw something out of the side of my eye. I looked down and though “Wow that is a big worm”. Then I thought “Wow that worm slithers”. This is when I realized it was not a big worm, but was in fact small snake… not cool. So I yelled for my sister..she bug sprayed is and I flashlighted it and then we killed it with a shoe. Then my host brother runs in and throw water all over the floor. I say “Surprise (brother), why did you do that?” My sister says “It is the water of the church”. Then my mom runs in butt naked from her bath and yells “Tell me Manakedi!” So I tell her what happened and she says “Where is the mother?” So now I am constantly aware that a big mother snake is probably missing her baby. Hopefully she will stay away. Snakes are no good here and so South Afrikans kill them always.
It is nearly impossible to me to get to my house without ten little children following me home and insisting that I play with them for at least an hour no matter how exhausted I may be. So, I tried to sneak into the house through the corn field and I was almost home free yesterday, but one of them was waiting behind the toilet and caught me…I give up. So now my fan club has grown from five kids, to seven, and yesterday there were twelve. They touch my skin, play with my hair, and teach me songs, dances, and clapping games…they are awesome and they do not care that I don’t speak their language...they get me and in an odd way I am glad that they constantly harass me and walk me home everyday.
There is so much more I would like to say but I really must get off the computer before I run up to high of a bill…I only make $15 USD here a week. I am in love with South Afrika and I am terribly missing my family and friends. I wish we could all be experiencing this together, but I am learning so much on my own and I am becoming a better person everyday because of this experience. Thank you so much for you continuously support and love. Keep those letters and e-mails coming! I will answer e-mails and such when I get more time.
Uthando (love)…Christi Manakedi Nqobile (there is a click in there) Kekana Gibson
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