Crime

Last week I wrote a long weblog post on my personal frustrations and random sad, discouraging stories that are part of the culture. This Tuesday my motherboard took her last drag off the power cord and called it quits. So along with many other valuable pieces of data- so went my blog.

In a fit of need I went to town that same day and purchased a notebook. As I walked to the computer store I wore my jeans, sunglasses, smile, and backpack. I was weaving in and out of pedestrian sidewalk traffic at a brisk pace, per usual. When suddenly I felt a tug on my backpack- I spun my head to the right and spotted a man dabbing his nose with a handkerchief. Alright, maybe I was just bumped, fine. Not 3 seconds later I felt a more distinguished tug again. I whipped my body around and grabbed the man’s wrist with fierceness. He started shouting “Vhat? Vhat?. . . ” and I caused a scene with words. I threw my backpack in front and found the zipper of the outer compartment fully opened but the items (Nalgene bottles and gum) untouched. As the man disappeared into the crowd I walked on with shaky legs, elevated pulse, and a series of conversations with the women who witnessed the incident.

Crime is happening everyday in every South African community. (Not to say that it’s not that way in America.) There’s the non-profit managers who take money that’s meant for the OVCs (orphans and vulnerable children), the various governmental departments who spent 60% of their allotted funds on salaries, the police who work primarily on bribes, the payoffs for elections, the list goes on and on. Corruption is prevalent from the ANC all the way down to the school teacher.

Ubuntu means “I am because you are;” it’s a way of life. In the various South African cultures emphasis is on the group instead of the individual. If you come to my home, anything in the fridge is yours, your children sweep my yard if they play here, and there is always enough room for one more person in the given room/coombi. But ubuntu is not so idealistic in its reality. It is also a way to keep people from leaving the group, from succeeding. It is a way to use mass force to pull the individual back down to the level of the norm.

Example one: A man who lived in Troya,Marapyane owned a shop. As his shop flourished his neighbors began to envy him. In January they came into his home and injured him slightly, they came back last month and killed him.

Example two: My headmaster, Patrick, has turned an average school into a highly effective one. English is the medium of instruction; the learners are actually learning and performing well on exams. Consequently, the enrollment is 760 learners from 12 communities. As you can imagine the principals of these other community schools are not happy to see their enrollment dropping. (Keep in mind other schools probably have one/all of the following: teachers who do not know or teach in English- which is the language of national exams starting grade 4, teachers who sleep during class, those who choose to not teach, those who sit outside, those who don’t come, schools without books, without computers, without organization, etc.)

His success and drive has caused him so many issues. Next week there are SGB elections and principals from schools in the area are supposed to partner for the process. No one wanted to work with him, so he is the only person working alone. (Keep in mind many of these principal’s children attend Patrick’s school.) Yesterday we had people from the Department of Education here going through paperwork because we are under investigation . . . why? The only reason those in charge can figure out is because of all that’s right, the department believes something must be wrong. Then just today Patrick showed me a text message he was sent, written in Sepedi that said, “If you want to live, you must leave Mannyetha(the school).”

But, as Patrick says: “But what can we do? We must go on; we must go on.”

Chicago's Best

To begin- some disappointing news. . . As I wrote previously, my village was going to be receiving a Perfector-E water purification system. I just found out after a great deal of stalking the sponsors that it’s not happening. The primary reason is the additional expense of having to build a kilometer long pipe and pump from the river to the village. While I can logically understand this I am totally saddened that this opportunity has passed. Let’s start the process again . . .

Last Tuesday I invited an intimate group of sixth grade girls over to my home for a pizza party. If you understand my life here then you know what I’m going to say next- it turned into a chaotic group of well over 30 boys and girls. I laid out a mat in the yard, far away from the home, so as to not make a mess of the front stoop that my host mother so diligently cleans twice a daily. The older girls sat on the mat to shred cheese and tomatoes while I made the dough. In the hour it took for the flour to rise kids of all ages showed up with hungry bellies. I brought out a dozen colors of polish, a couple of jump ropes, crayons, and coloring books. When the time to assemble the pizzas I had to stick to my initial plan and only let the grade six girls take part. Upon cooking 4 pizzas I brought out 2” square pieces on a tray and had the kids form a line. They maintained order somewhat well for the first serving, but when it was time for seconds and everyone did not get a piece there were a few incidents of theft. Knowing how pizza creates thirst I brought out a single 2 liter of crystal light juice. Again, the kids formed a line for a single sip. But somehow the tallest kids made it to the front of the cue again while the Toka’s of the group were left dry-mouthed. Shame. Knowing the value of water for my family, I was unable to make more than 2 containers of juice. But still I’m certain the afternoon was a success. Everyone- I mean everyone- left with colored toenails, a taste of American culture, and a somewhat more satisfied stomach. (Pictures on Picasa!)

Today I was hoping to get a jump start on an idea for the girls club. I gathered 7 girls, armed with 3 reed cutting blades (think u-shaped knives) to head to the river. We were on our way when a grandmother began shouting. With a little help translating I learned that we could not cut the reeds today. Why? If we were to cut the reeds now, instead of in two weeks, the mermaids would get angry. They would make our houses walk away by causing rain storms. In all seriousness the kids understood this reasoning. You just never know the obstacles you’re going to face in Peace Corps. . .

4th grade questions. .

I have been communicating with my cousin Renee Bromer’s 4th grade teacher in Naperville, IL. Ms. Veach sent me this adorable list of questions from her class. I have also included my responses.

Nick wants to know: Do you eat pancakes in SouthAfrica? (Not normally, but you can find crepes here, which are called pancakes. And how do you say "Hello"? Thobela! (Toe-bell-ah)

Maegan wants to know: Do you celebrate birthdays? How do you celebrate? What kinds of birthday traditions do you have? (We do celebrate birthdays by having cake, but they are never celebrated at school and some people don’t know when their real birthday is, so they just celebrate around the time of their birthdays.)

Nick asks: What kind of wildlife do you have that you see on a regular basis? We see bunnies and robins and ducks, what kinds of things do you see? (We see goats, donkeys, cows, sheep, chickens, dogs, cats, snakes, rats, many types of birds and insects. Sometimes we see monkeys by the river! )

Nora has 2 questions: What kind of sports do you do? What do you eat for breakfast and dinner, normally? (Girls play netball which is somewhat similar to basketball but played on dirt usually. Boys play soccer. Normally people eat bread and butter or pap and chicken for most meals. Pap is a white thick corn-based food that really fills you up and people eat it for most meals.)

Nick would like to know how long your school days are. Our school day goes from 9:05 to 3:35. (Here school is from 7-3.)

Joey asks: Do you have the book, "Green Eggs and Ham" by Dr. Seuss? And have you read it? (Hehe, I love that book! No, we don't have that book here sadly.)

Renee asks: Do you have fast food places like McDonald's in your country? (We do have McDonald's here, but KFC is much more popular! Plus we have fast food places called: Chicken Licken and Something Fishy. Most people in my village do not leave so they can't eat there often.)

Tommy wants to know: Do your houses have basements? And do you have a lot of food to eat? (No houses here have basements. -What an interesting question!- People do not have very much food to eat here, just enough to get by. )

Aarij wants to know: How do you keep people safe from the pit latrine (they had a lot of questions about this)? (Haha! It's a regular toliet you sit on, but instead of flushing it when you're done everything just falls into a big pit. When children are being potty trained they just go outside on the ground until they are big enough for the toliet.)

Leen asks: If you do have McDonald's or fast food, do they serve the same foods that they serve here? (They serve many similar foods at fast food restaurants, people love to eat french fries, but here they are called chips and chips are called snacks.)

Wyli wants to know if your homes are far apart or close together? Can you walk to each other's houses easily? (Because of the history of apartheid in this country, prior to 1994 people of each different color had to live in their own areas. (blacks, colored (mixed race), indian, and white) So now this is slowly changing in urban areas but in the rural areas, where I live, only black people live here. The homes are close together because the apartheid government made black people live in one small area. We can easily walk to each others homes.)

Jacob wants to know if you go on field trips. (Once a year my school tries to organize a field trip to the city. )

Kayla asks: Is there such a thing as a white giraffe? (We read a book about one in class together) (Hehe, not that I know of. . but it’s very likely. . there are white lions!)

Lucas wants to know: Do you have any pets at home? What kinds of animals? (Some people have dogs or cats but people here do not treat animals like we do in the states. Animals usually just eat scraps or hunt for food. They are very skinny and have many diseases. Kids throw sticks at dogs or sometimes beat them. I recently was given a kitten and have been treating it really well to show others what a great friend a pet can be if you love them. )

Brendan wants to know if you know the Double Cheeseburger song from McDonald's. (Nope. Is this a popular song now?)

Robby asks: Has a villager ever been eaten by a lion? Has a stampede of elephants ever come through the village? (Haha, not here! But I know that one friend of mine had to take a car to school because lions roamed near her home. Sometimes a hippo or crocodile will be found in the river. In the past few months 3 dogs and 1 child were killed by a green mamba.)

Dorinda wants to know if anyone has ever seen or touched a white giraffe. (Not in my village!)

Tumelo's Wedding

This past weekend I was a bridesmaid for the first time in my life. I had some “standard responsibilities” such as: assisting the bride with her gowns, dancing, and wearing the same dress as 9 other women. But that is really the only point where “standard responsibilities” for an American and South African bridesmaid overlap.

I was asked a couple of months ago to be a bridesmaid for a woman who lives in my community. We had not had a friendship that went beyond greeting each other up until that point. But I was flattered none the less that she thought of asking me.

Friday 4pm: I arrive at the home of Tumelo, the bride, to pick up and try on my dress. Upon crossing my small, dusty village I arrive at Tumelo’s home where I am greeted by the stares of a dozen drunken men on the left hand side of the yard. With no more than a smile I turn towards the house, on the right side. In the backyard I find a dark tent (to be used for cooking), a caldron of traditional beer, and many grandmothers cooking porridge over a fire. I soon find a few young women who speak English. After a couple of hours of mingling the young women of the community gather on the front stoop- each armed with a knife brought from their homes. As I thought I was coming only for a dress fitting I needed to run home to collect my knife and peeler- wow, the peeler was a hit! We then begin to chop and peel the following vegetables: butternut (stains hands orange), carrots, potatoes, onions (my hands smelled for 2 days), peppers, tomatoes, cabbage, etc. Three hours later the sun has set and the vegetables are finished. We take a tea and biscuit break (biscuits are special for the wedding). While the young women were preparing vegetables the grandmothers were slaughtering and de-feathering twenty-some chickens.

Next up on the list of bridesmaid responsibilities: butchering chicken. Women work in twos for this task. One holds and pulls the body and the other saws with a dull knife. Since nothing goes to waste here the liver and intestines are tossed into a metal pan. Another pair of young women has the esteemed responsibility of taking the intestines and pushing a knife through the center, so as to slice the tube open. As feces squirts out, the smell nauseates me. But the seventh and eighth grade boys who stand in the darkness just outside the stoop beg me to give them a piece of intestines. . Nope. No way. I do not partake in this task; instead I turn to cutting sweet potatoes.

But just as I think I have escaped a task, the next appears without my having time to hesitate. A woman who is one of the cooks/cleaners at the school grabs my hand and pulls me onto the dance floor. I seem to have forgotten to mention that all this time traditional synthesized African music has been blasting from mega speakers into my ear (the same 20 songs). She insists on teaching me to dance so that I am prepared for tomorrow. We go round and round the porch line dancing. Although I feel confident, the laughter of dozens of women makes me question myself.

By 9pm I’ve heard Tumelo report that the dresses will be arriving “now now” more than 3 times and I’m tired. Plus my walking partner, Athlida, is ready to leave. So we do.

Saturday 5:30am: I’m up before the sun- bundled to keep warm in the morning darkness- and arrive at Tumelo’s to again find a dozen men drinking on the left and even more old women cooking in the back. The rest of the bridesmaids are awake after a mere 3 hours of sleep and cooking over temporary gas stoves in the food tent.

For the next 4 hours I am again chopping vegetables and stirring pots. At 10:30 I walk with 2 other bridesmaids across the village to the seamstress’s (Nancy’s) home to try on my dress. Up until this point I have no idea what to expect. So I am pleasantly surprised when I find a modern looking 2 piece, with a tube top and jacket. All three women strip and gown up. My tops too large and it happens to conveniently fall down just as a man crosses the doorway. No biggie, breasts are seen all the time here. Nancy alters the top and I’m back to the bride’s home for another hour.

12pm: I am free to go home, nap, bathe and then return by 2 for the wedding. While at home Karabo tells me her grandmother (my host mother) said that I can’t dance. Haha

Let me set the scene: half acre lot, 2 small homes, 2 large tents (one for food prep, one for ceremony), 30-40 overly drunk men, 20 grandmothers cooking, 20 children playing, 50 people of all ages dressed in their finest sitting in plastic chairs in the front yard., music blasting, cows mooing, grandmother’s shrieking in happiness, people dancing. . . although the wedding hasn’t begun officially the crowd has already been fed. At a South African wedding, everyone is invited and there is always enough food for one more mouth.

While Tumelo is having her fake nails glued on the groom sits besides her talking. The bridesmaids are drawing on eyebrows and glossing their lips. Her first dress of the day is white. She wears a veil, gloves, and pearls. She holds artificial flowers. The groom leaves just before the procession begins, he his groomsmen line up behind him. Flower girls lead the line of women out the front door of the home where we are matched with random partners of the opposite sex. We walk together, two-by-two in a dancing step, swinging our arms to the beat. People are sitting and standing all around as we circle the stoop, then out into the yard, and finally out into the street. Throughout the procession I receive cheers from community members and smiles/giggles from the children. Our procession is lead by a man in a top hat who holds a stick with a white flag high in the air so that everyone knows a wedding is going on. His eyes are barely open due to the copious amounts of alcohol he’s already consumed and remarkably his eyes remain in this state for the next 30 hours.

Before the procession reenters the yard the women of the bride’s family kneel and sing a song of welcome. As we step/dance back into the yard the bridal party enters the fabulously decorated tent. The bride and groom sit on a couch that is covered with a white sheet and raised a foot in the air. In front of them are 6 cakes. The bridal party sits at round tables and is greeted by an appetizer plate of chips, sweets, and mints, all mixed together.

There is a strict agenda for the wedding that will be under the direction of the emcee. We begin with a prayer, followed by the introduction of the wedding party. When I’m introduced the emcee asks if I’m single. Unfortunately his inebriation has not yet affected his short term memory so throughout the ceremony says several times over the echoing microphone “Molly, you with us?” The cameraman also had quite an attraction to me and so I’m sure I will occupy easily 20% of the wedding tape doing random things (eating with my fingers, daydreaming, wiping sweat from my forehead, laughing at the drunk men, staring adoringly at the straight-faced bride).

As the vows are exchanged I am not sure a single person is paying attention, this includes the bride and groom. They are not looking at each other or the priest. So peculiar . . in any case they end up exchanging gold rings and watches and there is a small applause. But still no kiss. I take it upon myself to teach the women and men at my table an American tradition, we start tapping our water glasses with forks. The emcee catches way and the man next to me shouts “We demand a kiss!” Tumelo looks at me sternly and suddenly I feel like I’m four years old. No kiss.

The vows are followed by the wedding party feasting on traditional foods, many of which have been ruined by a smothering of mayo. My thirst is hardly satisfied by the salty tap water. I yearn for a cold drink. Looking at the program I see cold drink does not come until after 3 speeches. . eish. After zoning out for 30 minutes I rejoin the wedding as 3 bottles of champagne are placed near the wedding cakes. The emcee calls me up to take a bottle. Two other bridesmaids join me. Tumelo tells me to shake the bottle and spray it over the cakes. As I thumb off the cork, a majority of the foam sprays onto the table. . I pour a full glass of champagne for Tumelo and her husband and leave the bottle on the cake table. The rest of the wedding party guests have a bit of champagne for toasting purposes. It turns out that Tumelo doesn’t drink. I watch her pour an entire bottle of champagne into the dirt.

After sipping the champagne the bridal party again lines up in pairs and us women dance our way back into the house. Costume change! We button brown fabric onto our shirts, put on a matching jacket, and tie a scarf in our hair. The bride puts on a gorgeous brown and orange traditional dress. We dance back out and redo the entire ceremony. . . this time relatives bring the new couple gifts of cups, plates, bowls, pots, etc. We again dance to the house again and the bride changes into a leather skirt and jacket. We dance in a circle, go inside change and voila- the wedding is finished. (Sorry for my lack of enthusiasm, it was a daunting experience.)

When I just said the wedding is finished, I meant for the day. Just before the wedding party departs for the groom’s home (with all 6 uneaten wedding cakes) I am called in to Tumelo’s room. Although I arrived at her home with my overnight bag she says that it would be better if I just arrive at the grooms the next day. I was actually upset about being uninvited to the grooms. My mind swells with possibly explanations for the change of plans- is there a traditional event that I can’t partake in? Does she not want me to go to the groom’s home? I later find out she didn’t want me to have to sleep on the ground with the 12 women in one room. I promptly tell Tumelo that I want to be treated just as everyone else and I add in “I slept on the ground for the first three months here!”

Sunday was essentially the same as Saturday. A few differences: bride wore an additional traditional dress, we actually ate the cakes, more drunk men than I have ever seen, and we took a ride around the village in a car! Also, since no one knew me in this village I spotted dozens more camera phones creeping around to shoot photos of me.

I thoroughly enjoyed the experience of being a part of Tumelo’s wedding day. Since most of my three days were consumed by Sepedi voices I had ample opportunity to enjoy mental solidarity. A few thoughts and topics surfaced again and again.

1: Alcoholism in men- this cultures lack of recognizing the seriousness of it, the way females still hold conversations with them, the way people do not even flinch at people who are passed out in the middle of the dance floor.

2: Work Ethic of women- never do these women complain about bearing the majority of work, or about their lack of sleep

3: Lack of Affection- there is never holding of hands, kissing, hugging, between any members of the opposite sex, or even really between mothers and children

(if you read this far, thanks, I know this was a boring post:-)

Look at photos of the wedding on my Picasa page!