Happy Valentine’s Day

I just got back from a week in Pretoria that became a little mini vacation when I met up with some friends that I met in Zambia last December. It reminded me of our Girls Night Out dinners in Austin and was a much needed recharging of batteries.

First, I’ll cover my business in Pretoria because some of it is interesting. The volunteer who was closest to me, but who I wrote left early is sometimes sorely missed. She was on a committee that required her to be in Pretoria frequently so she did my business there for me more often than not. It is not often that I need to go to Pretoria because a lot can be handled using the postal system. However, there are occasions when a trip is necessary and this was one of them.

In December, I visited the eye doctor who informed me that I was right on track with the ageing process, at least with respect to my eyes. I needed less strength for my distance vision, but unfortunately I needed a stronger prescription lens for close work. So he took my favorite spectacles to replace the lenses. I’ve been using my backup pair, but they do not hold my hair in place as nicely as my favorite glasses. I needed to pick up my new glasses. My hair is happy enough once again. I maintain that I can see more clearly than before, but that constant head adjustment with bifocals is irritating. Many of you know exactly what I mean. The rest of you will find out.

Then, I decided that I would take the exam to see if I have what it takes to be a Foreign Service Officer. Although one can study like crazy (we all did), but there is no real way to study for this test. For example, I knew the amendments to the Constitution, but the only question I had referring to the Constitution was about the document that preceded it, the Articles of Confederation. There were easy questions like the area of a rectangle, but then there were things I’d never heard of like the Maghreb. That is only one part of the test and I guess I probably did fair on it as the other parts were easy to me. There were 5 of us taking the test and 3 of us are Peace Corps Volunteers. It seems that PC service is one way of getting a leg up on others taking the test. I guess we will see as there is a long road after taking the test to become and officer and there are other things that interest me in life besides foreign policy.

The other thing that I do when I’m in Pretoria apart from PC business stuff, is try to get things that I can’t easily get in the village. For example, I needed a new version of iTunes so I went to the Mac store to get it. I also am teaching some people in my village to cross-stitch so I found a store there that has a very limited pattern selection, but enough to get folks going here. The art museum is very near the PC office so I usually check to see if there are new exhibits (for R6 it is hard to beat—great selection of Township Art and this time there was a fantastic photo exhibit). And the cinema is always a major attraction. I had wanted to see The King’s Speech, but alas it has not opened here yet. I saw The Tourist with Johnny Depp instead. Ok, but terribly predicable. Still, for an afternoon when I rarely get the opportunity, not bad. Ice Cream, Indian food, and the always-welcome shower rounded out the fun.

I could have come back on Thursday, but instead I called some friends who I met in Zambia last December. They live in Pretoria and we had talked about visiting The Cradle of Humankind the next time I was in town. They had tried to go one Saturday a couple of years ago, but got lost and gave up. As some will attest, lost doesn’t bother me, but I did pick up a little brochure that had a map. Off we went.

The Cradle of Humankind is a World Heritage Site and, in fact, encompasses several sites (15, I think) within a region. There is a site near to me, 2+ hours south, the area where we were is about 1 hour west of Pretoria, and there are some sites to the north. I was curious about why it is called The Cradle of Humankind when the skeleton fossils that I already knew about, Lucy and Ardi specifically, come from a region much more north and east of here (Kenya/Ethiopia). Similarly, the footprints discovered by the Leakey’s are in Tanzania. So why is this area referred to as The Cradle of Humankind?

It turns out that in this region, many fossils have been discovered that are classified as Australopithecus Afarensis or Australopithecus Africanus. Mrs. Ples, the Taung Child, and Little Foot are three that are mentioned. In fact Little Foot is still being excavated from the cave we toured and he hasn’t yet been classified further than Australopithecus. From what we saw, he is more complete than Lucy although possibly not as old. So the area, from an archeological viewpoint, is very well known.

We toured Sterkfontein Caves first. This is an old limestone mine where several of these fossils have been discovered. Some were likely lost due to the mining operation, but it can also be argued that they wouldn’t have been found at all if it weren’t for the mining interests. It is about an hour west of Pretoria and despite GPS coordinates, it is somewhat difficult to find. There are misleading signs to a restaurant as well as all sorts of things in the area being labeled The Cradle. Nevertheless, persistence and asking questions eventually pays off and we managed it this time.

The tour into the cave takes about an hour and we all enjoyed it. Our tour guide was a great guy who made the stories interesting. He told of miners cutting their way through the stalactites and stalagmites, divers who went down 40 meters and didn’t resurface, and people

and animals falling through the natural cave openings that have since been fenced. His argument, for example, for man not living in the caves was that fossils of man were found next to fossils of saber-toothed cats and that they couldn’t have coexisted in a cave. Valid enough reasoning, I think. The cave is easy to access, but there are stairs and some tight squeezes if you are a large person. Well worth the visit.

In the same region, there is a good museum about evolution in a visitor’s center called Maropeng. It is about another 8 or 10 km from the Caves. At first, I was prepared to think it a waste of money. We walked in and read a couple of wall posters, but that was all that appeared to be there. It turns out that the real interest is underground. It starts with a little boat ride, but that takes you into a museum that is awfully well done. It covers extinctions, evolution, resources and effects of each. The depictions are artful and thought provoking. For example, there is a graph of world literacy and the graph is done using pencils for each country. I really liked this. There are several interactive demonstrations (listen to Mr. Dodo and the Wooly Mammoth if you go) and the displays will definitely make you think. One statistic that was quoted was that North America and Europe spend $17B annually on pet food while it is estimated that it would take $19B to eradicate world hunger. We also got to put our hands in prints that Nelson Mandela made when the museum was opened. All in all, as long as you manage to get to the basement, this is another spot worth a visit. The views in the area are spectacular, just to top it off.

On our way back, only about another 10-minute drive, we stopped at a Lion & Rhino sanctuary. We had lunch in the pub there and then headed over to the crèche to see little kitties. For R30 per person, you can go into the pen to play with the lion cubs.

The ones we played with were 4-month old white lion cubs. They were frisky in the way that house cats are frisky, but you could definitely see wildness in them. They would stalk people, especially kids, and then pounce. One woman’s skirt was blowing in the wind, which seemed irresistible to the little cub. For us, they would play just like the kittens that they are, but their teeth are big and their claws hurt—a lot. One cat bit my friend on the side and there were definite teeth marks for the rest of the day. Their paws were the size of my hand, just for comparison. It was loads of fun and I’d do it again in a minute, especially if I could hold even smaller cubs.

There are bigger cats in large enclosures and it seemed that they liked to play with the tourists too. If you stared at one directly, they would

sort of charge you. Despite a fence between you and the big cat, you still got a little fright at this. There was one leopard who would play with us like this. He’d hide in the tall grass and then leap at least as high as I am tall and come at us. It was funny to play back. We’d hide and scrape our shoes in the scree—I’m sure he could see us through the grasses, but we still always gave a little yelp when he came flying.

One highlight of the afternoon occurred when a handler brought out a cheetah for a bachelor party that was on the premises. I got to pet the cheetah—they are especially soft just behind the ears while everywhere else is a bit coarse. Cheetahs purr very loudly. We could hear him 15 feet away. I enjoyed it, but I was always conscious of the fact that this purring cat could just eat me if he so chose. Luck was with me that day!

The whole area is a private reserve so you can see all sorts of other animals while driving through the park. One thing that we all wondered about was how these big cats got enough exercise, but we discovered, much to our pleasure that most of the cats are in much, much bigger enclosures and are able to do normal cat things like kill big things to eat. It seemed, at least on the surface that we saw, a pretty good life for the animals and it made them much easier to see up close. We watched some wildebeest frolicking all over the place for quite a while. They were much more fun to watch this way than some of the other times I’ve seen them just standing around with zebras. I enjoyed watching them, and it was definitely a lot easier to see things than in say Kruger Park.

To round out the weekend, we went to a Farmer’s Market that was fantastic. I had the best chai tea that I’ve ever tasted there. We also tried some donut-like things that were filled with cheese or meat. They were good. I bought some souvenirs to send home and another sharp knife for the village. Much thanks to Ilse and Koti for a fantastic weekend. We are planning to meet up again at Easter to hike in the Drakensburgs and I can’t wait!


Try Koti’s Squash recipe:

Get any round squash. We have round green ones that are about the size of a softball. Acorn squash would work too.

Cut them in half and spoon out the seeds.

Fill the spooned out area with creamed corn (just use the stuff from the can).

Sprinkle on top some grated cheese (we used white cheddar, I think).
Then sprinkle on some salt, pepper, and paprika.

Bake in the oven until the squash part is soft and the cheese is melted and browned, 350 F for 30 minutes.

Serve warm. I’ve made them twice now since I got back to the village.

My Only Full Year in SA is Complete

Happy New Year! I can’t believe that I just finished my only full year here in South Africa. In 2009, I arrived here in the late summer and I am scheduled to return to the US somewhere in September or October of 2011. I think back to the summer when I was between second and third grade. I was taking an astronomy class in summer school that year and it seemed like it took forever for the summer break to happen, then a long time studying stars, and then another long time until my birthday and Christmas came. Now, time has just sped up and before I know it, another year has passed. When did that happen?

I spent the festive season, as it is called here, having some fun and spending time with my SA families and friends. I really needed a good break—the end of the school year is basically in November here. 2010 was a fitful year of teaching here. The second term was cut short to accommodate the World Cup competitions. The third term was cut short due to a useless teacher’s strike. The fourth term is mostly exams and preparations for exams to determine progress. So in my mind, very little teaching was accomplished for the year despite an effort to provide extra classes. I’ve said before that there doesn’t seem to be much association here between actions and consequences. For example, teaching a concept, then taking a 5-week break before testing the concept, and then a realization that the kids didn’t actually remember anything and no connection is made. We taught it therefore, the kids should know it. Another example is trying to teach decimals when the kids don’t actually understand fractions. The schedule says that we are supposed to teach decimals today so decimals it is. Hence, now the kids don’t know decimals or fractions.

In my mind, the worst part is a principal who changes grades so that the kids will pass. Naturally, they fail the very next year. The kids who have worked really hard to get their good grades were, in my mind, diminished by the farce of the changed grades. We have been using a nationally mandated computer program to report grades and do report cards this year. Computer skills are weak here so I’ve been teaching the administrators, teachers, and principals how to use the system to get what they need. When I was asked to change the grades, I refused. I did show the administrator how to do what the principal asked, but I myself could not bring myself to put these kids in a worse situation by sugarcoating their lack of knowledge.

The upshot of this is learning that, to me, integrity is something that I hold in high esteem. Africa will take a type A personality and spit it out writhing on the floor. I’ve learned that things will happen whenever they happen and that isn’t always bad. Alternatively, if you want something done, make sure you ask an American. I haven’t spent much time in major cities at major corporations, but I don’t think there are many stress related injuries there. I also don’t have any statistics to back up my opinion, but I think that although there is obesity and associated diabetes, Africans when they are heavy, it is due to overeating starches and vegetables, not fat and sugar.

So after a frustrating start to December getting report cards issued, I took off for Zambia and Zimbabwe to paddle the Zambezi River. Katherine once suggested we canoe the Zambezi. This was after my first trip to Africa and I had seen plenty of crocodile infested rivers. I declined. Now though, the stretch of river just below Victoria Falls is full of white water and most crocodiles do not live through it. Hippos and other water dangers are also farther downstream. So off I went.

The hike down to the river (and back up at the end) is either challenging or brutal depending on how much of your life you’ve spent on the stair master. I found it brutal. I think it took about 45 minutes and it is mostly straight down and then slithering along on slippery basalt rocks. The river is white water is quick succession for the entire first day. After that, the rapids are farther in between, but we got to test our portaging skills over two separate water falls that were probably 30 feet high and at least one of them was also long. Camping on the riverbank is much like other rivers I’ve paddled with sandy camps and plenty of firewood and the food was fantastic. Unlike other rivers, the water was warm and we did see crocodiles. Pitting myself against white water and physical exertion was exactly what I needed to put my mind back in a better frame after report cards.

I spent Christmas and New Years with my supervisor’s family. I say supervisor, but the Mphumelas have become dear friends here in SA. They are near my age and I enjoy their company very much. The two boys are great fun and the extended family (mothers, aunts, brothers, in-laws, nieces, nephews) on both sides treat me exactly like another family member. We drove all over South Africa visiting, going to family reunions, to a local amusement park, to see a museum, and setting off fireworks. In the villages and townships, fireworks are sort of a self-produced venture. I saw just above all the rooftops the same kind of fireworks that you could buy at a roadside stand in Texas provided you are outside the city limits. It really was beautiful. I was thankful that there had been a lot of rain earlier in the day.

I also spent a couple of days in Pretoria and saw two fellow volunteers. It seems that when volunteers go to Pretoria, they get some business done (I had an eye doctor appointment), but then they go to the movies. My days of going to Sundance film festival trained me to be able to go to 3 movies in a day. It is fun and again helps balance the stress of living in a village.

So now, I’m back in the village. The new school year starts this week. Time continues to fly by and I didn’t do some things that I thought I would. War and Peace as well as Crime and Punishment go unread. Shame! I’ll try to get to it before I’m shipped back home.

Goodbyes, Farewells, and Other Celebrations

During the September teacher’s strike, I stayed in my village and had the opportunity to do some things that I normally miss because I’m at school during the day. It was a great time to experience village life more thoroughly and cement some friendships.

One such opportunity came when a close friend of my host mother died. She was the grandmother of one of the boys who comes to my house often and she spent many an afternoon at our house sitting under the shade tree sharing laughter. Funerals here in rural South Africa are sadly not uncommon. Saturday mornings are for funerals and it is not unusual to have 3 or 4 going on in the village each Saturday. No, the village isn’t that big if you are wondering. But there are high rates of HIV/AIDS infections killing people, accidents, suicides, and many older people. A little more than 10% of the kids at school are orphans. I’ve been to two funerals for kids at the primary school, another one for a son who committed suicide, and many more for parents, grandparents, or other relatives of teachers and friends.

Up until this time, my involvement was usually going with the crowd of people to the tent set up at the family’s home. The services start early in the morning, by 7am usually, which avoids the heat of the day and is light during winter. The service is usually a couple of hours long with prayers, songs, and remembrances spoken in front of the casket. Then the people go to the cemetery, the casket is lowered into the grave, and the men shovel the dirt onto the casket finishing by covering the grave with rocks. The women sing, console, ululate, wail, and generally grieve in the truest sense of the word. We help people who are overcome with emotion, pour water and hand out toilet paper for the tears, and sing to help cover the emotional parts when someone has collapsed from either grief, heat, or exhaustion. After this ceremony is complete, everyone goes back to the house where there is a bit more eulogizing and then they are fed a meal.

Every time I participate in a funeral, I am reminded of the sense of community that is evident during this process. But I had never contemplated the amount of work that goes into the preparations for the funerals. Then Mma Kgosi (Mrs. Chief, my host mother) lost her good friend. Our family was able to participate the week leading up to the funeral in a way for which I am grateful to have been allowed to participate.

The grandmother who died sent her grandson to fetch Mma Kgosi when she knew she was ill and probably dying. Mma Kgosi spent a lot of time with her friend until she died. At which time, the body is washed and the rest of the family and friends are all phoned to come following the wishes of the woman. If she ever went to the clinic or the hospital, I never heard about it. To my knowledge, this all happened at home with her friends and family all surrounding her. The funeral home is contacted and they do come to collect the body to prepare it for the funeral that will be held that Saturday or the following Saturday. It depends on how quickly the family and friends can get to the village. Transport is not easy and it truly does take a week or more sometimes.

My host sister, Barbara, another teacher who lives here with us, and I went over to the friend’s house starting on Thursday. We started baking a kind of cookie that is similar to shortbread. The three of us worked with some other women from the village in the deceased home for at least 10 hours that day baking these cookies. I didn’t count them all, but quit counting after 1,000. These are given to the visitors to the house as well as to the people who come to the

funeral. During this week, there are women from the village who come to the house to stay with the family, pray with them, sing with them, etc. There are informal prayer services several times during the week where the ancestors are called upon to look after the soul of the newly deceased.

Friday, the women reassembled to start preparing the vegetables for all the salads that are prepared. In my village, there will always be a beetroot salad (my favorite), coleslaw, something called chakalaka that I love, a potato salad, a cooked cabbage salad, a baked bean salad, and a butternut squash or pumpkin salad. That is the minimum for salads. There will also be pap (think really stiff grits), rice, sometimes samp (looks and tastes a bit like hominy), and chicken and beef, sheep, or goat. The women cook in enormous black pots that are brought from the other women’s houses. They cook over an open fire outside. It takes all night for the preparations.

Women taking a break

The men are not idle while the women are doing the cooking and consoling. They, of course, come in the kitchen to get cookies, but they are mainly outside preparing the yard for the tent which is put up two or three days beforehand.

They also dig the grave and slaughter the cows or sheep. They collect the firewood for the women and are generally helpful. Women slaughter the chickens. The men cook all the meat for the celebrations. Again, it takes all night.

The body is brought back to the house on Friday night. This means interruption in the work for a prayer service, singing, and the women sit with the deceased that entire night. Some men also sit, but it is generally the women. Then early Saturday morning, the part I was familiar with already starts.

If you didn’t know better, you would swear that there was a big party being planned. The sense of community is very strong and I felt honored to be a part of all the preparations with my host sisters and mother while the boys all did their part with the digging and slaughtering. It is hard for me to describe how much I enjoy being in the midst of the families of the village and just pitching in as expected with all the other women. My favorite is to do the beetroot that stains my hands for days going forward. The beetroot is usually mixed with mango chutney and I love this dish. I could and have eaten just that for a day.

A year or sometimes many years later, the entire thing is sort of repeated at something called a Tombstone Unveiling. Everyone gathers again at 6am, there is a shorter ceremony with prayers, songs, and then the tombstone is unveiled at the grave. Then everyone goes back to the house again for the meal. You don’t want to go to these things after having eaten a full breakfast.

It seems odd to me that many of these families don’t have enough to eat during everyday life, but when someone dies, all this food comes somehow. It costs a lot to feed everyone and often people who come, donate 10 rands to help cover the costs involved.

It seems to me that all the celebrations have the same food and the same type of preparation with lots of people coming to help. One change is that for happy celebrations, bojalwa or a traditional beer is brewed. This tastes to me like yeast and water, but it is a sorghum beer and packs a punch. I’ve never seen this at a funeral, but I have seen it at weddings, anniversary parties, Christmas and New Years, that sort of celebration.

Now when the Peace Corps Volunteers leave the village to return home, a large celebration is held, normally called a Farewell Celebration. Regretfully, I had the chance to participate in one of these recently when the nearest volunteer to me returned to the US early to accept a job with a previous employer. My boys loved Sonja, principally for her iTunes playlists and her video games that are much more to their liking than mine since she is a lot younger than I am. She came to my house along with some of her girls Sonja's girls and my boys

(who like me, hah!) to tell the boys she was leaving early. Their reactions were almost tearful…one told me that “my throat feels like crying” and another said, “sister Karen, can’t you just talk to her and tell her to stay”. They’ve since decided that there must be a way that she can now send them Game Boys and Nintendos from the US. I’ve told them not to get their hopes up.

The Farewell celebration was held at the school where she worked and was lovely. The speeches were particularly moving with her host father saying that he was losing a daughter. That made me cry and I decided then and there that I wasn’t having one of these celebrations at my village. I love them all too much and figured I’d just be crying, as they are all already talking about how much they’ll be crying in a year when the time comes. I said that I’m planning to just sneak out in the middle of the night without saying goodbye. I’m sure there is no way that will happen, but it is what I’d like to do. These celebrations are big with the entire area coming to say Farewell in many cases (I’m known by name in at least a 30km radius to my village). One couple was honored with a slaughtered cow and 100 chickens…like I said, BIG. There are prayers and thanks and lots of hugging and crying. I thought it was very moving to have everyone stand in a circle holding hands, to say a prayer to wish her well in her future. Again, that sense of community is very strong here. I believe I’ll just say au revoir as I know I’ll be back many times and my heart will stay.

Saying goodbye here in South Africa when I’d like to be in the US saying goodbye to friends or family is maybe the only hard thing I’ve had to work through. Since I’ve been here, I’ve lost a beloved aunt who shared a love of cross-stitch, the husband of a good friend who was one of the kindest men I’ve known, and just this past week a coworker that I would have liked to believe was indestructible. Those times would have been easier, at least on me, if I had been there to say goodbye in my own way and to share grief with friends and family. Those have been the only times when I’ve felt like my choices have taken me away from something important or that I’ve felt alone. Somehow, just talking about it to friends here in the village or even to the one or two other volunteers I’d be comfortable sharing my feelings with doesn’t seem appropriate to me. I don’t know why, but it seems easier to me to put a smile on my face and go to school where people make me laugh all the time. Other friends are going through difficult times more or less without me, but I lend support through emails, phone calls, letters, or little packages that I send home. It isn’t the same, but my hope is that the little support I can give from here is enough for now. I wouldn’t trade this experience for anything and think this past year has been one of the happiest of a truly blessed life, but there are times when it is hard. I’m grateful that those days are few and far between, but my thoughts are with the US during those times no matter where my body and heart are.

Teacher's Strike and Road Trips

Sept 30, 2010

Teacher’s Strike and Road Trips

We started out the third term at school with a pending teacher’s strike. We were at school for about 3 weeks and during that time it seemed that the major topic of discussion was if the teachers would strike or not. It seemed inevitable to me that they would because the main thing I heard was that they all deserved a pay increase because other sectors had received one. I didn’t hear anything about whether or not the work they did was improving or if the kids were better off now than they had been a year or two ago. Just that they deserved a pay increase because others had gotten one. Sure enough, the strike came and work ground to a halt.

I should say here that the Peace Corps wants us to remain uninvolved and say nothing despite the fact that we are working in the schools so my comments on this are my own opinions and have nothing to do with Peace Corps policy or the US government’s policies.

The terms are each usually about 50 days long. There are 4 school terms per year. This year, our second term was cut short because of the World Cup that was held in June/July. The government didn’t want extra transport on the roads during the games so that they could better facilitate the traffic to the venues. On the whole, I agree with this because SA traffic is horrendous at best. On the downside, there were no games within several hundred kilometers of where a lot of kids go to school and they were adversely affected by not being in school. Couple this now with a strike that wipes out the third term and kids have learned very little this year.

To be fair to the teachers, the government officials earn about R700, 000 per year. They are given a very generous housing allowance and a car allowance. I’ve heard them say “they must drive a Mercedes Benz because their position demands they have that type of status car”. I have yet to hear anyone suggest something like a company car to be driven on the rare occasions when they have to ferry someone who demands to be driven in a Mercedes. There is a fair amount of nepotism and in fact it appears that man can be and are corrupted by power at some point.

In contrast, the often better educated teachers with more experience can earn as little as R150, 000 per year, receive a R600 housing allowance per month, and have no car allowance. This also applies to nurses and most public officials. They often cannot afford to buy a house and sometimes live in poor conditions. Most of the teachers do a fantastic job, but there are many that need to be culled from the herd because of absenteeism, alcoholism, and abuse. Those give the majority a bad name. On strike, they were destroying property and injuring those who chose to go to school and teach.

The disparity provides perfect conditions for a strike. The unions do not solve the problems within their ranks and the government officials do not admit that what they are providing for themselves is unjust. In the end, the kids are not learning what they need to learn to succeed. It is a shame. Our kids went to school at about a 50% rate during this time…I went to one or the other of our schools everyday and did all sorts of things from painting the schools to playing math games. During this time is the first time in 14 months that I thought of going to Canada (it is hot in Texas this time of year!) and telling them all to call me when they get their shit together. I hate seeing the kids suffer because of grownups and their power struggles.

Once we did get back to school, it was time for me to get my mid-service dental and medical checkups. I went to the most advanced dental clinic to have my teeth cleaned. There was a machine there that would image your mouth for a crown, cap, veneers, etc. and it would make a mould that would be ready in an hour. It was really cool to see. The dental hygienist who cleaned my teeth really did a thorough job of it and it felt good to get the gunk off. I’ve got a generally clean bill of health and am glad that part is done. I don’t think anyone likes medical work except the doctors.

At school, I’ve been on three school road trips in 2 weeks. The volunteer before me said it best. I love her phrasing: “I think most Americans would fold on a South African road trip with the kids.” First of all, in 14 months I have yet to be on a school trip where the adults were not all drinking alcohol first thing in the morning on the bus—kids or no kids. It is irksome and dangerous and many volunteers can attest to the fact that the bus drivers will also indulge when they are waiting for the kids to show back up, usually all day. Second, the primary school kids will sing at the top of their lungs standing in the aisles and anywhere else you can imagine—for the whole trip. If it is 16 hours, then there is 16 hours of singing. The buses are always overcrowded and you will not be in the lap of luxury. If you are going with older kids, they will expect a stereo system on the bus and will play music at really, really high volume. They will sing and dance along with the stereo. I used earplugs and my ears were still muffling sound more than 8 hours after I got off the bus. You must shout to be heard even by the person sitting immediately on top of you and you will be hoarse by the time you get where you are going. It is not restful. Third, in SA the gender roles are pretty strongly defined. Men are in charge of barbecues (they call it braai), some cooking (i.e., they will fry eggs), and making sure there is beer. The women do most everything else. There are exceptions, of course, but this is the general trend. It can be frustrating. But, if you are prepared, you can have a fantastic time.

My nearest volunteer is Sonja. She’s a lovely young lady and we share an engineering background as well as work in the semiconductor industry. She and I both lived in Austin prior to joining the Peace Corps and we both grew up in Pennsylvania. Her two schools are huge compared to mine and two of our principals are very good friends. She has invited me to go on several of her school trips and I’ve always enjoyed myself. Her teachers are a lot of fun and I enjoy learning different things with them. This time it was a sports trip to Ottosdal about 2 hours away on a Saturday.

Last year, this trip was Sonja’s introduction to life in the village and she had the best stories hands down when we all rejoined to talk about our experiences—drunk bus drivers, trips to the hospital for injuries, a principal who was freaked out by the hospital, extremely overcrowded

buses, alcohol, more alcohol…I’m pretty sure we all wondered what it was exactly that we had just gotten ourselves into. This year, the trip wasn’t quite as exciting (thank goodness!). The boys lost both soccer matches and the girls won both netball matches. One note about the village matches…soccer is played often with no shoes on rough ground. The “grass” is usually just brown dirt with nettles, stickers, and glass about so it is amazing that there aren’t more injuries. Kids don’t always have a pair of shoes…

NET BALL CHAMPS

I can say that every new place we visit, Sonja and I are the unusual ones in the crowd and generate a lot of questions and curious looks. This trip was no exception and by the end of the day, I had three new marriage proposals. Usually I say my conditions are that I won’t do your laundry, if I cook you clean and vice versa, and I am not having your babies for any reason. That generally is enough to persuade men that I’m not the woman of their dreams. By now, most of the teachers we know get a good laugh out of us. The new people get let down easily and everyone is happy.

The second trip was with my primary school to Gold Reef City in Johannesburg. Joburg is about 5 hours away. These kids are all from grades 1-6 so the little ones are 6 or 7 and the bigger ones are 10 or 11. We had 85 people and I think the

bus officially carried 60. Mr. Segatle and the sports committee who organized the trip made the right call and got another little mini-bus to carry all the kids. The bus driver was not accustomed to driving in the big city so several times I thought we were going to die. He would just stop in the middle of the motorway in Joburg while he tried to change lanes.

One huge plus was that after a year of listening to me gripe about alcohol on school trips and being a responsible role model, the principal got the adults together and banned alcohol. I didn’t know if it would work, but it did and I think the trip was much better without it. The bus drivers were also told of the rule and they didn’t run off and buy their beer while we were at the amusement park. It was a first and I hope it will continue in this vein for future kids’ trips. Maybe that will be one of my Peace Corps accomplishments along with banning the beatings at the middle school!

We also went to the planetarium. The guy operating the show started out asking everyone if they had looked at the sky and talked about Venus, Mars, and Jupiter being in the sky right now. He handed out copies of a star chart and showed them how to use it and then told the kids to look for Venus that very evening right after the sun went down. The minute he turned out the lights, there were loud oohs and ahhs as the show began. The kids learned about the planets, but all 6 of us adults had been up cooking the breakfast that we took with us since 2:30am. (We left the school at 4am.) Naturally, we all dozed from Jupiter to Neptune and laughed about it afterwards.

We then took the kids to Gold Reef City. It is an amusement park that is built around the old gold mines upon which Johannesburg was founded. The tour of the mine had them all donning hard hats, going down the mine elevator to a depth of 225 meters, and then touring the mine tunnels. It was fun, but I don’t think I could be a miner. It was and still is a hard job. In the mine elevator, the kids were all singing Shosholoza that is a song about a steam trains that is used for marches, football matches, and sort of motivational. It is a bit like The Little Engine That Could for inspiration. The kids all rode the rides until we left. It was getting dark as we pulled out of the parking lot, handed them KFC, and braved the big motorway again. We got home after midnight and again the kids stood, danced, and sang the whole way. I was exhausted.

The third trip was with my middle school to Durban on the coast, some 16 hours away. The kids here are all in grades 7-9 so they are aged 12-20. Many of them had never even been out of the village, not even to some of the smaller towns around here, 60 km away. Durban is on the coast and is the center of the Indian population in South Africa. It is the place where Mahatma Gandhi made his first forays into passive and non-violent resistance. Although the kids didn’t sing their own songs the entire way, they did make good use of the stereo system on the bus which was cranked up to concert volume the entire 16 hours—yes, even at night. I used earplugs and my hearing was still muffled 8 hours after I got off the bus. I shudder to think of what will happen when I’m 70.

There were 38 kids, the principal and me. I thought we needed another adult, but when I raised the issue I heard that it was 20 kids each to mind, which is far less than 1 classroom full. Still, I had a sneaking suspicion that I would be minding 38 kids and 1 principal. Turns out I was right. I did ban the principal from drinking alcohol in front of the kids and at least we didn’t have that problem.

Several groups of friends from Austin & Canada sponsored kids for this trip and I can’t tell you all the ways in which the kids’ lives have been changed. One example is Jeff, an orphan in grade 7. We were walking along the beach when they asked questions about things that were far off at sea. I had my binoculars that I showed them how to use to see those things. They noticed oil tankers, cargo ships, oilrigs, buoys, and closer in some surfers. One kid was so mesmerized by what he was seeing that he failed to notice the waves coming in and got his tennis shoes and trousers wet up to the knees. A few days later, Jeff found a pair of small binoculars for R60 in a shop. He came running up to me to see if I’d buy them for him, which I did. He looked at EVERYTHING through those binoculars for the rest of the trip.

The grade 9 boys, some of whom I’ve been hounding to get to school on time and show some responsibility, asked to go off one afternoon to look at other stuff instead of going on the boat. There were 5 of them and they were all really behaving well so I said yes and that I’d see them later at the hotel. The rest of us went off to the harbor to take a little cruise and eat at a burger place. There was a big soccer match on that everyone wanted to see so they watched that.

We got back to the hotel later than I wanted so I was a little worried what my older kids had gotten themselves into while we were gone. When I got back, they were all there waiting and when I asked them how their afternoon was, I was told, “They saw prostitutes, but didn’t touch them as they didn’t want any diseases”. I had already had a talk with all the kids about boys being in girls’ rooms and vice versa saying that I was sure they’d keep the door open when someone was in there. I also said I was not going to explain it to their parents when they were caught pregnant from the Durban trip, but after the snickering died down, they all knew exactly what I was talking about.

The principal and I had several disagreements, all mainly centered on responsibility. After I refused to hold the room keys (including the principal’s), I said that they all looked after all sorts of things at home. Many were orphans and/or took care of younger siblings at home. They are good kids and they can keep track of their stuff. I asked him if they weren’t going to learn this now while they are this age, when are they supposed to learn it? In the end, we didn’t have any lost keys, any lost wallets, or any pregnancies that I know of. The kids were great.

We did have forgotten toothbrushes, one case of seasickness, a discussion about why toy guns aren’t a good idea, a strained muscle, a headache, countless requests for R5 to buy X or to play video games, one kid who needed different food because “hamburgers make me vomit”, kids who were cold, kids who needed an apple or an ice cream to tide them over, a principal who was bored/tired/hungry etc. on the bus (and who got busted for smoking in the back of the bus)…you name it. We had all those normal road trip things. Mainly I doled out hugs, a lap to sleep on, R5 for whatever, explanations from evolution to AIDS and sex, and anything else you can imagine. It was great fun, but I’m so glad to be home!

The kids had the time of their lives and THANKS to everyone at home who helped me out and sent a kid or three! You are my heroes.