As a PCV I am not allowed to drive a vehicle or ride on a motorcycle.
Therefore I travel like everyone else . . . on kombis.
You may ask, what is a kombi?
Before I arrived here I read Disgrace by Coetzee and was intrigued by this idea of travel. So here’s the deal:
-16 passenger van
-Windows are always closed, regardless of heat because women (& men) don’t want to mess their hairstyles
-Music is generally ridiculously loud
-You are expected to hold other peoples bags, buckets, and even children
-If you sit next to the driver you are responsible for making change and holding money throughout the duration of your trip
*my brother is over my shoulder and said I have to balance good things and bad- so the good:
- they are efficient ways to travel in mass
- they will get you from A to B. . . eventually. . .
- drivers are protective of passengers
- taxi cue marshalls are helpful and will never overcharge you
So my first time traveling alone on the kombi I was told to sit in the front seat- next to the driver. One foot near the driver (on the right side!) and one foot near my extra close neighbor and one shifting gear in between. I later determined this seat was also given to me so that I could be seen by each person we passed on the dirt road. The trouble with this seat is that I was the fare collector. I managed somehow; I laughed a lot, I spoke Sepeish (Sepedi-English), I dropped money on the floor, I lost some money on the floor, I laughed some more. I made it. This trip took 2 hours when I drove in my principal’s car. When taking the kombi system it took 5 hours and 4 different kombis.
This story was told to me by some friends. So it’s early Saturday morning and they want to travel to town. They flag down a kombi and pile in. Just as they are pulling away the driver pops open a Castle Lite and drives away from the direction of town. He then pulls into a yard, exits the vehicle, and goes inside the house. Meanwhile the PCVs are left with deafening music. One says “Why don’t you turn it down?” the other says “We would like to live.” 5 minutes later the driver returns and states that it’s national hangover day. They drive away towards town and then suddenly stop and the driver begins backing up in the middle of the road some 50 yards to a woman who’s holding an umbrella and carrying a baby on her back. He says “I think she wants to go to Marapyane.” (Note: she did not flag him down.) So the woman hands LaTosha (PCV who is in the front row) her baby and then she climbs to the back row (4th row). Ten minutes later they arrive at their destination, LaTosha still with baby in hand.
Thursday, September 25, 2008
Wednesday, September 24, 2008
Understanding of the society in which I live
This past week began with 3 days of walking door to door throughout the community. I introduced myself to each person I met and attempted to determine who resided in each home, sometimes to no avail. Additionally, we discussed what is working well in the community and what needs to be improved in the coming years to make life more fulfilling.
I mapped Wonderboom during school hours and was met mainly by women between the ages of 22 and 28 and women over sixty. In general these women said gardening, washing, and cleaning are the most enjoyable parts of life. Not a single woman I met in the community of approximately 800 had a steady income. A few sold vegetables, goats, and mats to neighbors. Other than local trading and government support there appears to be no circulation of money. Magallame Mahlare, an older woman clapped her hands and said “no money, no man, no food.” Additionally, nearly every person mentioned the issue of water. Residents must walk at least a kilometer to fetch water from the Lepelle River, often several times a day. There are broken taps all around town and without water gardening is impossible and collecting water takes up a great deal of time and energy.
The men in this village are not very visible during the days. But upon investigation I found that several work together to support each family. For instance, men worked together to make bricks, dig a grave, discuss the school, etc. Although several men seem productive there is still a great deal of alcoholism in the village.
Children in this village speak English especially well since they attend Mannyetha which uses English as the language of instruction. The boys enjoy passing time by playing soccer, catching birds, running near the river and relaxing in the shade. The girls in this village seem to help out at home. They are generally responsible for fetching water and wood from the river.
My understanding of Wonderboom’s social functioning is that women bear a majority of the workload. They rise early and stay up late to ensure the functioning of a family. Many families consist of grandmothers raising grandchildren while mothers and fathers work in Polokwane, Pretoria, or Johannesburg.
I mapped Wonderboom during school hours and was met mainly by women between the ages of 22 and 28 and women over sixty. In general these women said gardening, washing, and cleaning are the most enjoyable parts of life. Not a single woman I met in the community of approximately 800 had a steady income. A few sold vegetables, goats, and mats to neighbors. Other than local trading and government support there appears to be no circulation of money. Magallame Mahlare, an older woman clapped her hands and said “no money, no man, no food.” Additionally, nearly every person mentioned the issue of water. Residents must walk at least a kilometer to fetch water from the Lepelle River, often several times a day. There are broken taps all around town and without water gardening is impossible and collecting water takes up a great deal of time and energy.
The men in this village are not very visible during the days. But upon investigation I found that several work together to support each family. For instance, men worked together to make bricks, dig a grave, discuss the school, etc. Although several men seem productive there is still a great deal of alcoholism in the village.
Children in this village speak English especially well since they attend Mannyetha which uses English as the language of instruction. The boys enjoy passing time by playing soccer, catching birds, running near the river and relaxing in the shade. The girls in this village seem to help out at home. They are generally responsible for fetching water and wood from the river.
My understanding of Wonderboom’s social functioning is that women bear a majority of the workload. They rise early and stay up late to ensure the functioning of a family. Many families consist of grandmothers raising grandchildren while mothers and fathers work in Polokwane, Pretoria, or Johannesburg.
Brief & Random
So I arrived in Johannesburg on July 15 and immediately traveled to Marapyane College, an abandoned teachers college in the Mmpumalanga Province. Some years ago the government did an audit of the country and determined there were too many teachers. The solution? Close 20 teachers colleges. . . here we are today with 17,000 unfilled teaching positions.
The 44 of us stayed in the college dorms for the first week. We ate 5 meals a day, 2 of which were tea breaks complete with sandwiches and biscuits. We met our language trainers, the country director, and our first chickens. It turns out roosters can crow all night and truly are alarm clocks. That first week my body began to adjust to waking at 6 and now sometimes I roll over at 5:45. All of us were given a great deal of information in preparation for moving into home stays where we stayed for the first 2 months. So what exactly did we need to know before moving in with a rural South African family?
- how to bathe in a bucket (top down with a towel underneath yourself)
- hold your elbow when shaking hands to show respect
- people show affection by holding hands with those of the same sex
- they will assume that those of us who are white speak Africaans
- they will except those of us who are black to learn the language quickly
- how to wash clothes in a bucket
- get up before your parents to pour out your pee bucket
- people go to sleep after “Generations” (soap opera @ 8pm)
- food in the fridge is everyone’s food, the only food that’s yours is in your belly
- ONLY use your right hand when accepting –anything- never use your left (My brother just handed me a pen and I reached for it with my left he pulled back until I reached with my right. Also interestingly women only paint the nails on their left hand!)
What did the South African parents need to know about Americans?
- we drink a lot of water
- if we are sitting alone somewhere it does not mean we are lonely
- we like to read
* Since apartheid has ended villages and signs are slowly changing from Africaans names to Sotho names. Many villages have two names now i.e. Warmbads to Bela Bela, Pietersberg to Polokwane.
* Pap is many peoples “favorite food” it’s eaten most days by most people. It’s essentially finely ground mealie meal/corn meal . . . it’s eaten as a soft porridge for breakfast and as a thick solid oblong ball for lunch and dinner. Generally it’s eaten with grated tomatoes or sopa, a thick brown gravy with beans. . . I think. Whatever the case it has grown on me and is making me grow.
. . . Which brings me to weight. At my first homestay my mother grabbed my arm fat and said “OOO, you’re getting fat!” Then when I arrived at my permanent site the second time my brother Puku said “What do they feed you in Marapyane? Your cheeks are fat.” Then there’s my new host father who insists on my eating all the time. Each of these comments led me into a cultural conversation. Here people want to be fat, which they also consider strong. They want me to also be fat so that everyone can see I’m not suffering. These comments I may(?)get used to in time. . . but until then they are motivation for me to run with the girls in my village!
Ubuntu. Philosophy of life here. It means essentially I am because you are. How I love this place, these people, this life.
The 44 of us stayed in the college dorms for the first week. We ate 5 meals a day, 2 of which were tea breaks complete with sandwiches and biscuits. We met our language trainers, the country director, and our first chickens. It turns out roosters can crow all night and truly are alarm clocks. That first week my body began to adjust to waking at 6 and now sometimes I roll over at 5:45. All of us were given a great deal of information in preparation for moving into home stays where we stayed for the first 2 months. So what exactly did we need to know before moving in with a rural South African family?
- how to bathe in a bucket (top down with a towel underneath yourself)
- hold your elbow when shaking hands to show respect
- people show affection by holding hands with those of the same sex
- they will assume that those of us who are white speak Africaans
- they will except those of us who are black to learn the language quickly
- how to wash clothes in a bucket
- get up before your parents to pour out your pee bucket
- people go to sleep after “Generations” (soap opera @ 8pm)
- food in the fridge is everyone’s food, the only food that’s yours is in your belly
- ONLY use your right hand when accepting –anything- never use your left (My brother just handed me a pen and I reached for it with my left he pulled back until I reached with my right. Also interestingly women only paint the nails on their left hand!)
What did the South African parents need to know about Americans?
- we drink a lot of water
- if we are sitting alone somewhere it does not mean we are lonely
- we like to read
* Since apartheid has ended villages and signs are slowly changing from Africaans names to Sotho names. Many villages have two names now i.e. Warmbads to Bela Bela, Pietersberg to Polokwane.
* Pap is many peoples “favorite food” it’s eaten most days by most people. It’s essentially finely ground mealie meal/corn meal . . . it’s eaten as a soft porridge for breakfast and as a thick solid oblong ball for lunch and dinner. Generally it’s eaten with grated tomatoes or sopa, a thick brown gravy with beans. . . I think. Whatever the case it has grown on me and is making me grow.
. . . Which brings me to weight. At my first homestay my mother grabbed my arm fat and said “OOO, you’re getting fat!” Then when I arrived at my permanent site the second time my brother Puku said “What do they feed you in Marapyane? Your cheeks are fat.” Then there’s my new host father who insists on my eating all the time. Each of these comments led me into a cultural conversation. Here people want to be fat, which they also consider strong. They want me to also be fat so that everyone can see I’m not suffering. These comments I may(?)get used to in time. . . but until then they are motivation for me to run with the girls in my village!
Ubuntu. Philosophy of life here. It means essentially I am because you are. How I love this place, these people, this life.
Wednesday, September 17, 2008
Briefly. . .
I want to thoroughly update my blog however each day comes and goes with more happening and I continue procrastinating. The thought of summarizing two months in a concise entry is overwhelming. So I am just going to begin by talking about life and then catching up the rest later.
Last Friday we had our swearing in as volunteers. We had a great ceremony with speeches by the US Ambassador and two PCVs who spoke in Sepedi and Siswati. The principals whom we will be working with over the next two years attended and after we ate a traditional feast (sour pap, cabbage, beets, chicken, setempa- I’ll explain these foods later. . .) we were swept away- each to a different village.
I drove two hours from Mpumalanga to the area of GaMasemola which is in the Limpopo Province just maybe 50km south of Polokwane. The village I stay in is 5 km from a main road and my nearest PCV, Kelly, said her principal referred to the area in which I live as the “bush”. I am absolutely in love with my village. We are located in a semi-mountainous area with gravel everywhere. There are approximately 800 residents here, 2 tuck shops, my key primary school Mannyetha, and a ridiculous amount of goats.
I am adjusting to daily life which seems to revolve around the Lebelle River. The 2km winding path that takes me from home to the river slowly transforms from low-lying prickly bushes, aloe plants, and dust to lush grasses and massive trees. Since it has not rained here since March I walk (or rather glide at a slow African pace) with my sisters to the river each day. Once we pass the herds of cows that feast on the tall river grasses it’s a sprint down the warm sand to the rivers edge. We scrub down the 20L buckets with pebbles. I never seem to clean my bucket up to Pleasure’s standards- she always insists on “helping” me. Then the girls help me wrap a scarf for my head and hoist the container up. The first time I carried a ½ bucket, but since then I’ve been able to carry my share of water. The neighbors stare and laugh from their yard. I just shout “Ke na le mathla!” (“I have power!”) Lebelle is also where I wash my clothes, swim, and occasionally am lucky enough to spot a monkey in the trees. But I’ve learned to keep sightings to myself so that the boys don’t take out there slingshots. Slingshots lead to monkeys moving across the trees until there’s no where to go but down, from there the dogs take over chasing until. . . well let’s just say it’s not a pretty end.
I’m staying in a room that has a door leading directly outside, but I’m just a wall away from my 20 year old brother. Then main home is steps away; we share a concrete patio. In the main home stays my mother who only speaks Sepedi, my father who worked in a DeBeers mine for 30 years and four children. Daily life consists of: heating water over a fire in the fire hut, taking baths in a bucket not much larger than a couple huge dog bowls, peeing in pit toilet during the day, at night in a small bedside bucket, and fetching firewood from near the river (the only place to find trees). It’s amazing how quickly a person can adjust. One thing for sure, I’ve relearned all things I knew in the states and nothing is simple.
I’m exhausted from today, dust down my lungs, sun on my skin, lots of walking. . . I promise to write more later.
Last Friday we had our swearing in as volunteers. We had a great ceremony with speeches by the US Ambassador and two PCVs who spoke in Sepedi and Siswati. The principals whom we will be working with over the next two years attended and after we ate a traditional feast (sour pap, cabbage, beets, chicken, setempa- I’ll explain these foods later. . .) we were swept away- each to a different village.
I drove two hours from Mpumalanga to the area of GaMasemola which is in the Limpopo Province just maybe 50km south of Polokwane. The village I stay in is 5 km from a main road and my nearest PCV, Kelly, said her principal referred to the area in which I live as the “bush”. I am absolutely in love with my village. We are located in a semi-mountainous area with gravel everywhere. There are approximately 800 residents here, 2 tuck shops, my key primary school Mannyetha, and a ridiculous amount of goats.
I am adjusting to daily life which seems to revolve around the Lebelle River. The 2km winding path that takes me from home to the river slowly transforms from low-lying prickly bushes, aloe plants, and dust to lush grasses and massive trees. Since it has not rained here since March I walk (or rather glide at a slow African pace) with my sisters to the river each day. Once we pass the herds of cows that feast on the tall river grasses it’s a sprint down the warm sand to the rivers edge. We scrub down the 20L buckets with pebbles. I never seem to clean my bucket up to Pleasure’s standards- she always insists on “helping” me. Then the girls help me wrap a scarf for my head and hoist the container up. The first time I carried a ½ bucket, but since then I’ve been able to carry my share of water. The neighbors stare and laugh from their yard. I just shout “Ke na le mathla!” (“I have power!”) Lebelle is also where I wash my clothes, swim, and occasionally am lucky enough to spot a monkey in the trees. But I’ve learned to keep sightings to myself so that the boys don’t take out there slingshots. Slingshots lead to monkeys moving across the trees until there’s no where to go but down, from there the dogs take over chasing until. . . well let’s just say it’s not a pretty end.
I’m staying in a room that has a door leading directly outside, but I’m just a wall away from my 20 year old brother. Then main home is steps away; we share a concrete patio. In the main home stays my mother who only speaks Sepedi, my father who worked in a DeBeers mine for 30 years and four children. Daily life consists of: heating water over a fire in the fire hut, taking baths in a bucket not much larger than a couple huge dog bowls, peeing in pit toilet during the day, at night in a small bedside bucket, and fetching firewood from near the river (the only place to find trees). It’s amazing how quickly a person can adjust. One thing for sure, I’ve relearned all things I knew in the states and nothing is simple.
I’m exhausted from today, dust down my lungs, sun on my skin, lots of walking. . . I promise to write more later.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
