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. . .
Showing posts with label south africa. Show all posts
Showing posts with label south africa. Show all posts
Saturday, May 16, 2009
Thursday, March 19, 2009
Riding in cars
riding A couple of days ago I ventured to a nearby PCV’s home to help her and her community members sew shade netting onto a hydroponics project. On a normal day this would require 3 combis and nearly 30 Rand. Well I had a lucky day and caught a free ride out of my village, 5km to the main road.
From there I had another free ride from the main road to Lebowakgomo. My driver along this 20 km stretch was a well-dressed man in a BMW who works as a facilitator for a mining company. He was a wealth of information. In the area where I live there are approximately 5 platinum mines and 2 chrome mines. He described the issues involved in the business (companies promise to support the village where they mine but don’t give enough, tribal authorities require them to hire unskilled locals, those who work for the company are victims of crime and high-jacking on the way to work, etc.) and that come June a new mine will be opening very near to my home.
Upon reaching Lebo I waited in a coombi for 40 minutes- alone-. (Remember coombis do not leave the rank until they are full and I was short some 14 other passengers) So again I had to walk down the road and find another ride. My driver this time was adorable old man with a receding hairline and afro (resembling bozo, minus the blue and flip and well, you get it). So he asked me questions such as: “Where do you live?” “What do you do?” and after each response he said a sing-song “Alleluia!” hehe. Next he asked if I was a Christian. I told him I was raised Roman Catholic. With this he went into a rather confusing and serious 5 minute tangent on the sign of the cross. Apparently he thinks that when Catholics cross themselves they make the cross sideways because the longer span of the sign of the cross is between your shoulders as opposed to vertically. (Are you following? I had to have him repeat and demonstrate at least 3 times) He had a real issue with this and referred to Catholics as “upside down Christians”. Without any semblance of a smile he offered a solution to this problem. “A person should rather make the shoulder touches nearer to the neck as opposed to the shoulder.” OOOk. . .
. . . so I paid 0 Rand to get there. . .
* * * * * * * * *
Some words/issues that are essential:
- blue pens are for leaners, black pens are for educators only.
- All notebooks must be covered in plastic wrap
- The person who watches over testing learners is called an invigilator
- The answer key is called a memorandum
- White-out is called typex
- Restaurant bills are called slips
- At the end of a sentence you put a full stop, not a period
- Rulers are necessary for most notebook writing
- You cannot draw in pen
- You cannot take notes in pencil
* * * * * *
2 animal stories:
- My tiny kitten had a 10 minute face off with a preying mantis. The mantis spread it’s bottom wings, lifted its front limbs, and let out a few noises of intimidation- but it never backed down from the kitten once.
- I saw a kid (baby goat) eating grass with a pack/herd/bunch of sheep and it let out a few very distinct “baaa’s”!!
From there I had another free ride from the main road to Lebowakgomo. My driver along this 20 km stretch was a well-dressed man in a BMW who works as a facilitator for a mining company. He was a wealth of information. In the area where I live there are approximately 5 platinum mines and 2 chrome mines. He described the issues involved in the business (companies promise to support the village where they mine but don’t give enough, tribal authorities require them to hire unskilled locals, those who work for the company are victims of crime and high-jacking on the way to work, etc.) and that come June a new mine will be opening very near to my home.
Upon reaching Lebo I waited in a coombi for 40 minutes- alone-. (Remember coombis do not leave the rank until they are full and I was short some 14 other passengers) So again I had to walk down the road and find another ride. My driver this time was adorable old man with a receding hairline and afro (resembling bozo, minus the blue and flip and well, you get it). So he asked me questions such as: “Where do you live?” “What do you do?” and after each response he said a sing-song “Alleluia!” hehe. Next he asked if I was a Christian. I told him I was raised Roman Catholic. With this he went into a rather confusing and serious 5 minute tangent on the sign of the cross. Apparently he thinks that when Catholics cross themselves they make the cross sideways because the longer span of the sign of the cross is between your shoulders as opposed to vertically. (Are you following? I had to have him repeat and demonstrate at least 3 times) He had a real issue with this and referred to Catholics as “upside down Christians”. Without any semblance of a smile he offered a solution to this problem. “A person should rather make the shoulder touches nearer to the neck as opposed to the shoulder.” OOOk. . .
. . . so I paid 0 Rand to get there. . .
* * * * * * * * *
Some words/issues that are essential:
- blue pens are for leaners, black pens are for educators only.
- All notebooks must be covered in plastic wrap
- The person who watches over testing learners is called an invigilator
- The answer key is called a memorandum
- White-out is called typex
- Restaurant bills are called slips
- At the end of a sentence you put a full stop, not a period
- Rulers are necessary for most notebook writing
- You cannot draw in pen
- You cannot take notes in pencil
* * * * * *
2 animal stories:
- My tiny kitten had a 10 minute face off with a preying mantis. The mantis spread it’s bottom wings, lifted its front limbs, and let out a few noises of intimidation- but it never backed down from the kitten once.
- I saw a kid (baby goat) eating grass with a pack/herd/bunch of sheep and it let out a few very distinct “baaa’s”!!
Thursday, March 12, 2009
Teaching, Ancestors, Tsotsi
Much has happened. I’ll begin with my teaching experiences. So it’s been approximately 10 weeks since I started teaching grade four natural science. It turns out that the “fourth grade slump” is a term that is not exclusively American. The transition from the core 3 subjects (literacy, numeracy, and life skills) to an extensive plethora of learning areas is stressful and difficult for learners.
So I elected to teach this year because I thought I could bring the learner-centered approach that South Africa is stressing in OBE (Outcomes Based Education). I enter the classroom with my positive attitude and perfectly crafted 5E science lesson plans (Engage, Explore, Explain, Elaborate, Evaluate). Only to be met by chaos . . . you see in an attempt to be self-sustainable our school has the teachers responsible for the possession and distribution of materials (pencils, sharpeners, rubbers, pens, rulers). Since I do not have my own classroom each time I enter a room I have to take 5-10 minutes for learners to distribute materials. This seems like a situation where the Classroom Coach (a book that gives the steps required to have effective classroom routines) would work. Well in my classroom it’s never that easy. There are learners talking and pushing each other from chairs because there aren’t enough chairs for 40 learners.
Once the materials are ready for use I struggle with classroom management. With so many kids I can’t keep an eye on them all. Some incidents that have occurred include: breaking a chair, tying a learners shoes to a chair, sleeping, making cats noises. . . EISH! I want to pull my hair out most days. I always say that the learners don’t respect me because they know that I won’t beat them like the other teachers. Last week I had a PC friend, Haley, come and observe me. Her feedback was so meaningful. She brought to my attention that yes, the other teachers beat, but at least they have a discipline plan. I, on the other hand, randomly try different techniques. So far: placing a learner outside the room (which is illegal I found out), making the learner sit in the front, having them stay after class, etc. My plan is that next quarter I will implement a discipline plan with the support of the headmaster. It will include consistent punishment and praise and hopefully lessen the stress I experience in the classroom. Currently this stress makes me want to pull my hair, scream, cry, and generally quit teaching. It’s been very emotionally burdening.
* * * * * * * *
Next topic: Ancestors.
Last week all of SA18 travelled to Blyde River Canyon for our LST (life skills training. . PC likes acronyms). Each of us brought a counterpart from the community or school so we could learn the steps required to begin a secondary project and how to write grants. Secondary projects vary but include: girls/boys clubs, gardens, small business development, computer classes, library projects, etc. I chose to bring Reneilwe Maputha. She is a primary teacher at Mannyetha Primary, also a head of department, mother of 2, Eco-Schools Coordinator, and generally optimistic woman who I enjoy spending time with.
If you remember I wrote about her earlier: see blog “Traditional Medicine.” Based on this cleansing month that she had in December she is still left with a few final ceremonies to free herself of the ancestral curse. Seeing as we were at a beautiful resort with views of the 3 rondevals there was much nature to entice her spirit. One day after our sessions she asked me to join her and Jerrina (PC Kelly’s counterpart) on a walk to the waterfall where she needed to collect holy water. So we walk behind the conference center, over a small bridge, and see a mini waterfall on the other side of a fence. She has her 2 liter bottle ready for collection but clearly she and J were going to have difficulty hoping the fence.
So I offer. She gives me a look. “What?” I say. She says, “Well last night you and Andrew (my partner for 6 months). . .” I say “We what?” She says “You know, did the naughty thing.” Me: “We what?” Her: “You know the silly silly.” Me: “You mean we had sex, so you don’t want me to touch your holy water because you think I sinned?!” Her: “No.” Me: “You think I sinned. . . “
Wow. That was a judgment; one which left me speechless. So I said fine, ok. They weren’t going to be able to hop that fence so I took them around the waterfall and over a different bridge. They didn’t think the stairs were going to go anywhere. I decided to climb solo and wave my scarf when I reached the top. Pleased with my confidence and persistence they followed up and in their dresses climbed over massive mossy and slippery boulders all the way to the waterfall.
Once there Rene took off her shoes and began filling the water bottle in the trickle of the waterfall. She was shocked at the lack of water since after breakfast it was apparently gushing. (I found that hard to believe since there hasn’t been any rain. . ) In any case after five minutes she decided to stand on a boulder while filling up. To cap off the holy water ceremony she stood in the waterfall: completely clothed in the icy waterfall. It was a beautiful sight! You must check out the photos on Picasa.
Later I asked if there are any other ceremonies she must complete. She needs to slaughter a cow by herself and then take the hide to the “East” where she will dig up her ancestor’s bones, talk to them, and then rebury them wrapped in the hide.
Why the water? To drink when she is ill. Now the cruel corker for this story . . . the waterfall was gushing earlier because it is man made . . . of all the natural waterfalls surrounding the facility she chose an artificial one.
* * * * * * * *
Final Topic: Tsotsis
I returned home from LST on Monday afternoon. Upon arriving at Mannyetha the following morning I was told I couldn’t enter in my usual gate. Apparently the school had been robbed Monday night.
The story is as follows: apparently there was a car driving around the village beginning at about 11pm. Come 1 or 2am they cut a hole in the outer fence, then the inner fence. From this point they crept around the school block and used a lock cutter to break in the thick metal security fence. From here they lured, or somehow trapped the night watchman. They bound his arms and legs to a chair and for the next hour or so they vandalized the school. The 2 computer labs were broken into (the burglar doors locks cut and the wooden door locks broken too) and only the nice HP hard drives were stolen. From there they broke into the administrative block where they stole the TV, VCR, 9 computer projectors (valued at R90,000), 12 classroom heaters, all the teaspoons and knives?, the kettle?, and the new flat screen computer/hard drive. They also broke the jojo (massive water tower) for no good reason. By the time the old security man freed himself and ran screaming through the village the men had long left.
The criminals certainly knew where to find the goods. They did not break into the most logical room, the headmasters. Instead they only entered the assistant headmaster’s room where the items were located. Also they didn’t take any of the cords for the projectors or computers. Clearly they have no idea how to use such things. . . they will likely be traded for a single case of beer.
So on Tuesday the police came and took fingerprints and photos of muddy footprints (caused by the jojo spilling). The headmaster called a community meeting. This is how it was learned the people had been around since earlier in the night. Other than that there wasn’t/hasn’t been any new information learned. But upon the end of the school day I returned home and heard a loud ringing. It turns out that Wonderboom has an informal messaging system! Someone rings a large old metal circle by the water pump and people gather! Apparently there was a concern that maybe these people just stashed/disposed of the items in the bush?!! (come on, they go through all this work to leave the items?!) In any case the community felt like they should do their part, which I commend. So hundreds of people made their way out into the bush and travelled from the small mountain to the large one and back to the main road. After 2 hours of walking. . no luck. But I did notice people came back with heads full of sticks for fires. Plus along the entire route people held branches of trees that are full of semi-sweet berries. So it was highly enjoyable for me, even if it turned out to be. . fruitless. HA
I’m saddened by this theft. Unfortunately thieves rob schools everyday. They take computers usually the day they are delivered. One time the thieves broke in a night too early. It seems like it’s always inside jobs. Last night my friend Kelly’s school was broke into and her computers stolen. There isn’t a push to catch these tsotsis. So they continue stealing expensive products that they likely do not know how to operate and then trade them for measly beer. Plus the cops are corrupt here too. . How to we change this cycle? How can we improve the education system when every new tool is promptly stolen? How do we not get frustrated?
So I elected to teach this year because I thought I could bring the learner-centered approach that South Africa is stressing in OBE (Outcomes Based Education). I enter the classroom with my positive attitude and perfectly crafted 5E science lesson plans (Engage, Explore, Explain, Elaborate, Evaluate). Only to be met by chaos . . . you see in an attempt to be self-sustainable our school has the teachers responsible for the possession and distribution of materials (pencils, sharpeners, rubbers, pens, rulers). Since I do not have my own classroom each time I enter a room I have to take 5-10 minutes for learners to distribute materials. This seems like a situation where the Classroom Coach (a book that gives the steps required to have effective classroom routines) would work. Well in my classroom it’s never that easy. There are learners talking and pushing each other from chairs because there aren’t enough chairs for 40 learners.
Once the materials are ready for use I struggle with classroom management. With so many kids I can’t keep an eye on them all. Some incidents that have occurred include: breaking a chair, tying a learners shoes to a chair, sleeping, making cats noises. . . EISH! I want to pull my hair out most days. I always say that the learners don’t respect me because they know that I won’t beat them like the other teachers. Last week I had a PC friend, Haley, come and observe me. Her feedback was so meaningful. She brought to my attention that yes, the other teachers beat, but at least they have a discipline plan. I, on the other hand, randomly try different techniques. So far: placing a learner outside the room (which is illegal I found out), making the learner sit in the front, having them stay after class, etc. My plan is that next quarter I will implement a discipline plan with the support of the headmaster. It will include consistent punishment and praise and hopefully lessen the stress I experience in the classroom. Currently this stress makes me want to pull my hair, scream, cry, and generally quit teaching. It’s been very emotionally burdening.
* * * * * * * *
Next topic: Ancestors.
Last week all of SA18 travelled to Blyde River Canyon for our LST (life skills training. . PC likes acronyms). Each of us brought a counterpart from the community or school so we could learn the steps required to begin a secondary project and how to write grants. Secondary projects vary but include: girls/boys clubs, gardens, small business development, computer classes, library projects, etc. I chose to bring Reneilwe Maputha. She is a primary teacher at Mannyetha Primary, also a head of department, mother of 2, Eco-Schools Coordinator, and generally optimistic woman who I enjoy spending time with.
If you remember I wrote about her earlier: see blog “Traditional Medicine.” Based on this cleansing month that she had in December she is still left with a few final ceremonies to free herself of the ancestral curse. Seeing as we were at a beautiful resort with views of the 3 rondevals there was much nature to entice her spirit. One day after our sessions she asked me to join her and Jerrina (PC Kelly’s counterpart) on a walk to the waterfall where she needed to collect holy water. So we walk behind the conference center, over a small bridge, and see a mini waterfall on the other side of a fence. She has her 2 liter bottle ready for collection but clearly she and J were going to have difficulty hoping the fence.
So I offer. She gives me a look. “What?” I say. She says, “Well last night you and Andrew (my partner for 6 months). . .” I say “We what?” She says “You know, did the naughty thing.” Me: “We what?” Her: “You know the silly silly.” Me: “You mean we had sex, so you don’t want me to touch your holy water because you think I sinned?!” Her: “No.” Me: “You think I sinned. . . “
Wow. That was a judgment; one which left me speechless. So I said fine, ok. They weren’t going to be able to hop that fence so I took them around the waterfall and over a different bridge. They didn’t think the stairs were going to go anywhere. I decided to climb solo and wave my scarf when I reached the top. Pleased with my confidence and persistence they followed up and in their dresses climbed over massive mossy and slippery boulders all the way to the waterfall.
Once there Rene took off her shoes and began filling the water bottle in the trickle of the waterfall. She was shocked at the lack of water since after breakfast it was apparently gushing. (I found that hard to believe since there hasn’t been any rain. . ) In any case after five minutes she decided to stand on a boulder while filling up. To cap off the holy water ceremony she stood in the waterfall: completely clothed in the icy waterfall. It was a beautiful sight! You must check out the photos on Picasa.
Later I asked if there are any other ceremonies she must complete. She needs to slaughter a cow by herself and then take the hide to the “East” where she will dig up her ancestor’s bones, talk to them, and then rebury them wrapped in the hide.
Why the water? To drink when she is ill. Now the cruel corker for this story . . . the waterfall was gushing earlier because it is man made . . . of all the natural waterfalls surrounding the facility she chose an artificial one.
* * * * * * * *
Final Topic: Tsotsis
I returned home from LST on Monday afternoon. Upon arriving at Mannyetha the following morning I was told I couldn’t enter in my usual gate. Apparently the school had been robbed Monday night.
The story is as follows: apparently there was a car driving around the village beginning at about 11pm. Come 1 or 2am they cut a hole in the outer fence, then the inner fence. From this point they crept around the school block and used a lock cutter to break in the thick metal security fence. From here they lured, or somehow trapped the night watchman. They bound his arms and legs to a chair and for the next hour or so they vandalized the school. The 2 computer labs were broken into (the burglar doors locks cut and the wooden door locks broken too) and only the nice HP hard drives were stolen. From there they broke into the administrative block where they stole the TV, VCR, 9 computer projectors (valued at R90,000), 12 classroom heaters, all the teaspoons and knives?, the kettle?, and the new flat screen computer/hard drive. They also broke the jojo (massive water tower) for no good reason. By the time the old security man freed himself and ran screaming through the village the men had long left.
The criminals certainly knew where to find the goods. They did not break into the most logical room, the headmasters. Instead they only entered the assistant headmaster’s room where the items were located. Also they didn’t take any of the cords for the projectors or computers. Clearly they have no idea how to use such things. . . they will likely be traded for a single case of beer.
So on Tuesday the police came and took fingerprints and photos of muddy footprints (caused by the jojo spilling). The headmaster called a community meeting. This is how it was learned the people had been around since earlier in the night. Other than that there wasn’t/hasn’t been any new information learned. But upon the end of the school day I returned home and heard a loud ringing. It turns out that Wonderboom has an informal messaging system! Someone rings a large old metal circle by the water pump and people gather! Apparently there was a concern that maybe these people just stashed/disposed of the items in the bush?!! (come on, they go through all this work to leave the items?!) In any case the community felt like they should do their part, which I commend. So hundreds of people made their way out into the bush and travelled from the small mountain to the large one and back to the main road. After 2 hours of walking. . no luck. But I did notice people came back with heads full of sticks for fires. Plus along the entire route people held branches of trees that are full of semi-sweet berries. So it was highly enjoyable for me, even if it turned out to be. . fruitless. HA
I’m saddened by this theft. Unfortunately thieves rob schools everyday. They take computers usually the day they are delivered. One time the thieves broke in a night too early. It seems like it’s always inside jobs. Last night my friend Kelly’s school was broke into and her computers stolen. There isn’t a push to catch these tsotsis. So they continue stealing expensive products that they likely do not know how to operate and then trade them for measly beer. Plus the cops are corrupt here too. . How to we change this cycle? How can we improve the education system when every new tool is promptly stolen? How do we not get frustrated?
Thursday, February 12, 2009
IST, life, and packages!
A couple of weeks ago I attended IST (In-Service Training) at Marapyane College; this is where our initial training took place from July to September last year. It was strange to revisit the place that held the initial emotions, memories, and impressions of this country. Not to mention the college looked like a jungle. When last there is was winter; summer has turned the brick walkways into fields of reeds. It looked ridiculously abandoned, which in a way it is. In short, the week was informative about HIV/AIDS, or as they like to say “healthy living” because HIV/AIDS is a phrase that makes people turn their listening ears off. We also met our new country director (who was a CD in Lesotho, and Ghana previously), had a session on mental health (which I loved and needed), a session on trees and gardens, and a few sessions run by PCV’s on successful programs they have created. The week also allowed catching up with the 33 volunteers who remain from the 44 that flew into Jo’burg in July. Each night was a drinking adventure- there was a bonfire, séance (well mostly a nice session of sharing while sitting cross-legged in candlelight), beer pong tournament, and a showing of The Dark Knight on a projector.
I have continued with my teaching of Natural Science and each day I enjoy it a bit more. The learners have begun to understand my expectation that they answer questions when called on and that they mustn’t fear me. Since critical thinking is severally lacking learners are not usd to coming up with their own ideas. They expect each question to have one correct (memorized) answer. Which reminds me that yesterday Karabo came into my room looked at my computer and in unison with her friend said a school-given definition of what a computer is and does. I have also begun working with Reneilwe, a foundation phase teacher, on the Eco-School Student Council. This is a group of 12 learners in grades 4-7 who will be the leaders in the coming year regarding the environmental initiatives and projects that the school takes on. We began today by addressing the issue of rubbish (and nutrition in a round about way). You see kids here eat cheese snaks/ zimbas (essentially cheetos in a variety of colors and flavors) for breakfast, snack, and dinner. When finished the wrappers are tossed onto the ground. They’re cheap and they’re sold on school grounds. So the ESSC made a box and collected all the wrappers of zimbas/snaks during their short break. They plan on using these wrappers as a shocking visual for an upcoming program and then using them in a to-be-determined art project. Please let me know if you have ideas. I say multiple times a day “The world is not your rubbish bin” and then insist the children pick up their garbage.
This past Friday my principal asked if I wanted to go to a workshop in Jo’burg. In a morning haze I agreed. Only after agreeing did he tell me he would pick me up from my home at 4:30am the next morning. So with the sun still sleeping I arrived at his home. 14 educators, 1 principal, and one sleepy volunteer climbed into a coombi at 5am. I took one for the team and sat in the far back seat, right hand side. Anyone who has ridden a coombi knows that this seat has an easily accessibly window (YAY!) and also a wheel indention that forces you to crunch up your legs (:BOO!). This particular coombi also had an unattached back seat which means that we leaned forward for the entirety of our 3.5 hour drive to Jo’burg. Luckily I slept for an hour or so. **SIDENOTE: I have never been to Jo’burg because we are not allowed there as PCV’s, it has over 100 murders a day. I had to receive special permission for this day trip. I figured I would get a small tour of the city maybe. . . ** I woke up only to find that the workshop was being held in a clearly affluent suburb of Jo’burg and a tour of the city was out of the question. St. Stithian’s College, a school for grades R-12, was the venue. The tuition for the school is R7000 a month!! That is far more than any teacher or average S. African could afford to pay! So the children of the rich attend this school and Africaaner teachers led the sessions. We began the day in true South African fashion with tea and biscuits followed by a prayer and gospel reading. From there we had a 1.5 talk on OBE (Outcomes Based Education) which is the current educational curriculum. Then a half hour tea and sandwich break. Finally we had an hour talk on how a classroom should be decorated to motivate students. Yes, that is it. 2.5 hours of lecture and back into the coombi we went. When I found out that this was the first of 10 Saturday workshops I knew I couldn’t justify attending another one. 8 hours of travel for less than 3 hours of lecture. Can you believe that not one other person complained about the travel time? And even more shocking- not one person brought a single reading material or activity along to occupy them during the hours of travel. They simply slept or looked out the window for 8 hours. I was in complete disbelief.
On an unrelated note: I received 3 FABULOUS care packages from my mom and sisters:-) In addition to many self-indulgent treats (jewelry, clothes, perfume, snacks, burst bees, etc) they gave me a soccer ball- which has already been worn in and punctured by barbed wire (about 15 boys play on a nearby football field each day after school now, thanks to this gift.) For the tiny boys I received 10 matchbox cars. I gave one to each boy and immediately they held races, built tracks in the sand, again after 2 days the cars looked as if they had been here for years. Then for the older girls I received earring hooks and beads. So we have made earrings out of beads, rocks wrapped in wire, and even from the feathers that the neighborhood boys bring me after slingshot birds. Also I received random toys (stuffed zebra, coloring books, fun hair ties, etc) and whenever I hand out these things I know I am really making the child feel special. So thanks a lot mom, Ab, Morg, these small things make the children ridiculously happy (and me too!).
I have continued with my teaching of Natural Science and each day I enjoy it a bit more. The learners have begun to understand my expectation that they answer questions when called on and that they mustn’t fear me. Since critical thinking is severally lacking learners are not usd to coming up with their own ideas. They expect each question to have one correct (memorized) answer. Which reminds me that yesterday Karabo came into my room looked at my computer and in unison with her friend said a school-given definition of what a computer is and does. I have also begun working with Reneilwe, a foundation phase teacher, on the Eco-School Student Council. This is a group of 12 learners in grades 4-7 who will be the leaders in the coming year regarding the environmental initiatives and projects that the school takes on. We began today by addressing the issue of rubbish (and nutrition in a round about way). You see kids here eat cheese snaks/ zimbas (essentially cheetos in a variety of colors and flavors) for breakfast, snack, and dinner. When finished the wrappers are tossed onto the ground. They’re cheap and they’re sold on school grounds. So the ESSC made a box and collected all the wrappers of zimbas/snaks during their short break. They plan on using these wrappers as a shocking visual for an upcoming program and then using them in a to-be-determined art project. Please let me know if you have ideas. I say multiple times a day “The world is not your rubbish bin” and then insist the children pick up their garbage.
This past Friday my principal asked if I wanted to go to a workshop in Jo’burg. In a morning haze I agreed. Only after agreeing did he tell me he would pick me up from my home at 4:30am the next morning. So with the sun still sleeping I arrived at his home. 14 educators, 1 principal, and one sleepy volunteer climbed into a coombi at 5am. I took one for the team and sat in the far back seat, right hand side. Anyone who has ridden a coombi knows that this seat has an easily accessibly window (YAY!) and also a wheel indention that forces you to crunch up your legs (:BOO!). This particular coombi also had an unattached back seat which means that we leaned forward for the entirety of our 3.5 hour drive to Jo’burg. Luckily I slept for an hour or so. **SIDENOTE: I have never been to Jo’burg because we are not allowed there as PCV’s, it has over 100 murders a day. I had to receive special permission for this day trip. I figured I would get a small tour of the city maybe. . . ** I woke up only to find that the workshop was being held in a clearly affluent suburb of Jo’burg and a tour of the city was out of the question. St. Stithian’s College, a school for grades R-12, was the venue. The tuition for the school is R7000 a month!! That is far more than any teacher or average S. African could afford to pay! So the children of the rich attend this school and Africaaner teachers led the sessions. We began the day in true South African fashion with tea and biscuits followed by a prayer and gospel reading. From there we had a 1.5 talk on OBE (Outcomes Based Education) which is the current educational curriculum. Then a half hour tea and sandwich break. Finally we had an hour talk on how a classroom should be decorated to motivate students. Yes, that is it. 2.5 hours of lecture and back into the coombi we went. When I found out that this was the first of 10 Saturday workshops I knew I couldn’t justify attending another one. 8 hours of travel for less than 3 hours of lecture. Can you believe that not one other person complained about the travel time? And even more shocking- not one person brought a single reading material or activity along to occupy them during the hours of travel. They simply slept or looked out the window for 8 hours. I was in complete disbelief.
On an unrelated note: I received 3 FABULOUS care packages from my mom and sisters:-) In addition to many self-indulgent treats (jewelry, clothes, perfume, snacks, burst bees, etc) they gave me a soccer ball- which has already been worn in and punctured by barbed wire (about 15 boys play on a nearby football field each day after school now, thanks to this gift.) For the tiny boys I received 10 matchbox cars. I gave one to each boy and immediately they held races, built tracks in the sand, again after 2 days the cars looked as if they had been here for years. Then for the older girls I received earring hooks and beads. So we have made earrings out of beads, rocks wrapped in wire, and even from the feathers that the neighborhood boys bring me after slingshot birds. Also I received random toys (stuffed zebra, coloring books, fun hair ties, etc) and whenever I hand out these things I know I am really making the child feel special. So thanks a lot mom, Ab, Morg, these small things make the children ridiculously happy (and me too!).
Thursday, January 22, 2009
Gobama!
On Tuesday I asked my learners if they knew what historical event was taking place that day. The first student I called on said one word, “Obama.” Thanks to television advertisements the inauguration was known throughout my community. Not until I arrived home did I learn that it was going to be broadcast live on one of the three channels my family gets. It turns out all three of the channels are owned by the South Africa Broadcasting Corporation (SABC1, SABC2, SABC3). Generally I grimace at these channels due to their power, manipulation, and mind games. But on Tuesday I took all my cruel words back- at 6:00 SABC2 broadcast live coverage of the greatest transition I have seen.
I sat down in my family’s family room and for the first time since the election I watched TV. As I sat alone on the velour couch I began sweating and sticking to the couch in the darkness of the evening. I saw Dick in his wheelchair and laughed, Aretha with her big bow and I laughed, Yo yo ma and company and I began getting goosebumps. By the time Obama’s nervous words were being spit out for his oath I was unsure whether I tasted the salt of my tears or sweat. Just as he took the podium to speak my host father took a seat. We were both shocked at the 2 million people gathered. How I wish I was one of them. I cannot think of words to describe the pride I have in my country, my president, and our nation’s future.
I remember being very young and thinking the Peace Corps sounded like a cool idea. When I finally applied over a year and a half ago I just thought it was a natural transition. Now, only now now do I feel ridiculous pride in my being an American abroad.
Wednesday morning I was greeted by my principal with an extended handshake and by the assistant principal saying “Congratulations Mr. President.” (This phrase has been repeated dozens of times already!) Today, Thursday at school I entered the boardroom (where the makes eat) and heard several comparisons between our inauguration and those that have occurred here. For one, nobody understands that Obama was reading a teleprompter. They were amazed at his ability to memorize (“. . . I mean did you see the woman after him, she couldn’t even memorize a short poem!”) Then they were amazed that he only spoke for 15 minutes or so; here the president would speak for hours. Then there was the comparison between Obama and Mandela (support from the people, black president, symbolism of freedom). Finally, how could the Americans not give applause to the orchestra musicians . . . not even sound. Again I had to explain that the microphones were probably to blame . . . I’m sure the crowd was deafening.
I am so looking forward to the next 4 years!
I sat down in my family’s family room and for the first time since the election I watched TV. As I sat alone on the velour couch I began sweating and sticking to the couch in the darkness of the evening. I saw Dick in his wheelchair and laughed, Aretha with her big bow and I laughed, Yo yo ma and company and I began getting goosebumps. By the time Obama’s nervous words were being spit out for his oath I was unsure whether I tasted the salt of my tears or sweat. Just as he took the podium to speak my host father took a seat. We were both shocked at the 2 million people gathered. How I wish I was one of them. I cannot think of words to describe the pride I have in my country, my president, and our nation’s future.
I remember being very young and thinking the Peace Corps sounded like a cool idea. When I finally applied over a year and a half ago I just thought it was a natural transition. Now, only now now do I feel ridiculous pride in my being an American abroad.
Wednesday morning I was greeted by my principal with an extended handshake and by the assistant principal saying “Congratulations Mr. President.” (This phrase has been repeated dozens of times already!) Today, Thursday at school I entered the boardroom (where the makes eat) and heard several comparisons between our inauguration and those that have occurred here. For one, nobody understands that Obama was reading a teleprompter. They were amazed at his ability to memorize (“. . . I mean did you see the woman after him, she couldn’t even memorize a short poem!”) Then they were amazed that he only spoke for 15 minutes or so; here the president would speak for hours. Then there was the comparison between Obama and Mandela (support from the people, black president, symbolism of freedom). Finally, how could the Americans not give applause to the orchestra musicians . . . not even sound. Again I had to explain that the microphones were probably to blame . . . I’m sure the crowd was deafening.
I am so looking forward to the next 4 years!
Thursday, December 4, 2008
post office
December 3, 2008 was a great day.
My principal called at 7am to say that I was not needed at school because the teachers were nearly finished marking. I turned off the snooze that had been ringing for a half hour and embraced the morning heat in my makeshift bed (a thick traditional blanket). Around about noon my body roused and I threw on my favorite dirty outfit of boy shorts and t-shirt. Walked into the heat of day and immediately laid back down in the shade. This time on the benches that surround my courtyard. Pleasure and Karabo were also on the benches and my mama was sprawled belly down on a rug on the concrete. Kelly, a nearby PCV, and I share a mailbox so we were going to meet in the main village, Masemola, for mail and food. I called Mohomu, one of the 3 taxi drivers that come to my remote village. He said he would be over “just now.” Just now is the probably the all vaguest of African time frames. It can mean anywhere from 20 minutes to 2 hours. Whereas “now” means within the next 10-20 minutes and “now now” means right now.
So an hour and a half later Mohomu arrived in his baby blue truck. The back of his pick up is covered with a lid that has small windows and wooden benches around the edges. As we left my village the distant sky was spitting lightening. What a beautiful site-relief from the heat!
An hour late I arrived at the post office. Kelly has befriended a group of women who were having a society meeting. (Society is a group that pools together money each month for funeral expenses. So if a family member dies then the society pays for food, the women bring bowls and dishes, help cook, in general they support each other.) Together we opened the po box and thankfully we were greeted by an abundance of papers! One paper said packages were ready to be claimed so we had to go into the post office. Due to the wind gusts and approaching storm the electricity was out in the post which means the computers were out, which means we couldn’t go through the customs payment process to claim the boxes. The postal man was persistent that without power he could not give the packages. He said just come back tomorrow. I tried persuading him by explaining how much it costs to get to and from the post (R20 or $2) and that tomorrow I wouldn’t be able to return. No luck.
But I was able to claim a package from my friend Ryan because it was fee free. So I opened it and took out some of the contents on the post office desk. Swedish fish. Kelly and I popped a few in our mouths and I whined about the other packages. Meanwhile the postman stared at us and finally asked for a taste of American candy. Ah-ha! Well, I said, if you can just give me these packages then I can give you some delicious American candies AND I bet the other packages have even more. So it was settled. 6 Swedish Fish and R50 customs fee for 2 great boxes packed with American goodness! I practiced great patience and did not open the boxes.
Instead we announced we would go to the butchery next door and pick up some meat to braii (grill). Hearing our plans the postman insisted we have his friend, Phil, show us the way. So Kelly, Phil, and I walked 100ft to the butchery. Phil chose the finest pieces of beef for us ladies. To the braii across the dirt lot we went. Phil set our meat on the brick wall and turned to the braii. Thump! Our newspaper wrapped meat landed on the dusty ground. Mmm. Phil didn’t flinch. Meanwhile a man in a half-buttoned black collar shirt with sunglasses and a gold dolphin chain introduced himself. We humored him for a bit then requested he leave us so we could talk alone. After three requests he left. Quickly another man approached, he stuck out his pinky fingers and after staring at him for a minute of so we put up our pinky fingers. He locked them and cut off circulation with the grip. He then moved our hands to behind his neck, then to the front and kissed each hand. Weird. At that point we decided to abandon Phil with our meats and take a seat away from the commotion.
It turns out commotion is not dependant on where others are but rather where we are. It began raining. Men continued greeting us with “Lehowa” (derogatory name for a white person), can I have money, can I have meat, I love you, will you take me to America, will you be my second wife, etc. Plus there was one man who came over with 6 ¼ teeth and frail thinness. He spoke in and out of Sepedi, English, and Africaans. Plus he mentioned Chinese and other really random things . . Later Phil told us he was crazy. By the time our meats were ready and we collected the pap from the spaza, the crazy man sat across from us with his frail legs crossed and pulled out a wad of newspaper stuff with dagga (pot). By the time we finished our meal he had smoked a very large joint and began singing jibber jabber to himself. We decided to give our cardboard box of bones and scraps to him. So I pushed it not even a foot on the cement and he jumped up, lifted the box and started gnawing and moaning. Hehe
From there we caught a free ride to the taxi rank. Kelly caught her coombi home and a kilometer later it broke down! Meanwhile I sat under a tin roof at a “kitchen” and the rank and enjoyed a free cup of tea as I waited for Mohomu.
The rest of my evening consisted of enjoying the goodies mom sent and then travelling around sharing small talk with my neighbors. At one home a grandmother had 10 foot long contraption that began with a pot over a fire- moved into a hollowed piece of wood- and ended with a straw going into an empty cold drink glass bottle (1.5L pop bottle). There was a clear liquid. Turns out they were making “Smirnoff” by heating water, mabele, and sugar. I took one smell and knew it was ultra flammable and not suitable for consumption.
My principal called at 7am to say that I was not needed at school because the teachers were nearly finished marking. I turned off the snooze that had been ringing for a half hour and embraced the morning heat in my makeshift bed (a thick traditional blanket). Around about noon my body roused and I threw on my favorite dirty outfit of boy shorts and t-shirt. Walked into the heat of day and immediately laid back down in the shade. This time on the benches that surround my courtyard. Pleasure and Karabo were also on the benches and my mama was sprawled belly down on a rug on the concrete. Kelly, a nearby PCV, and I share a mailbox so we were going to meet in the main village, Masemola, for mail and food. I called Mohomu, one of the 3 taxi drivers that come to my remote village. He said he would be over “just now.” Just now is the probably the all vaguest of African time frames. It can mean anywhere from 20 minutes to 2 hours. Whereas “now” means within the next 10-20 minutes and “now now” means right now.
So an hour and a half later Mohomu arrived in his baby blue truck. The back of his pick up is covered with a lid that has small windows and wooden benches around the edges. As we left my village the distant sky was spitting lightening. What a beautiful site-relief from the heat!
An hour late I arrived at the post office. Kelly has befriended a group of women who were having a society meeting. (Society is a group that pools together money each month for funeral expenses. So if a family member dies then the society pays for food, the women bring bowls and dishes, help cook, in general they support each other.) Together we opened the po box and thankfully we were greeted by an abundance of papers! One paper said packages were ready to be claimed so we had to go into the post office. Due to the wind gusts and approaching storm the electricity was out in the post which means the computers were out, which means we couldn’t go through the customs payment process to claim the boxes. The postal man was persistent that without power he could not give the packages. He said just come back tomorrow. I tried persuading him by explaining how much it costs to get to and from the post (R20 or $2) and that tomorrow I wouldn’t be able to return. No luck.
But I was able to claim a package from my friend Ryan because it was fee free. So I opened it and took out some of the contents on the post office desk. Swedish fish. Kelly and I popped a few in our mouths and I whined about the other packages. Meanwhile the postman stared at us and finally asked for a taste of American candy. Ah-ha! Well, I said, if you can just give me these packages then I can give you some delicious American candies AND I bet the other packages have even more. So it was settled. 6 Swedish Fish and R50 customs fee for 2 great boxes packed with American goodness! I practiced great patience and did not open the boxes.
Instead we announced we would go to the butchery next door and pick up some meat to braii (grill). Hearing our plans the postman insisted we have his friend, Phil, show us the way. So Kelly, Phil, and I walked 100ft to the butchery. Phil chose the finest pieces of beef for us ladies. To the braii across the dirt lot we went. Phil set our meat on the brick wall and turned to the braii. Thump! Our newspaper wrapped meat landed on the dusty ground. Mmm. Phil didn’t flinch. Meanwhile a man in a half-buttoned black collar shirt with sunglasses and a gold dolphin chain introduced himself. We humored him for a bit then requested he leave us so we could talk alone. After three requests he left. Quickly another man approached, he stuck out his pinky fingers and after staring at him for a minute of so we put up our pinky fingers. He locked them and cut off circulation with the grip. He then moved our hands to behind his neck, then to the front and kissed each hand. Weird. At that point we decided to abandon Phil with our meats and take a seat away from the commotion.
It turns out commotion is not dependant on where others are but rather where we are. It began raining. Men continued greeting us with “Lehowa” (derogatory name for a white person), can I have money, can I have meat, I love you, will you take me to America, will you be my second wife, etc. Plus there was one man who came over with 6 ¼ teeth and frail thinness. He spoke in and out of Sepedi, English, and Africaans. Plus he mentioned Chinese and other really random things . . Later Phil told us he was crazy. By the time our meats were ready and we collected the pap from the spaza, the crazy man sat across from us with his frail legs crossed and pulled out a wad of newspaper stuff with dagga (pot). By the time we finished our meal he had smoked a very large joint and began singing jibber jabber to himself. We decided to give our cardboard box of bones and scraps to him. So I pushed it not even a foot on the cement and he jumped up, lifted the box and started gnawing and moaning. Hehe
From there we caught a free ride to the taxi rank. Kelly caught her coombi home and a kilometer later it broke down! Meanwhile I sat under a tin roof at a “kitchen” and the rank and enjoyed a free cup of tea as I waited for Mohomu.
The rest of my evening consisted of enjoying the goodies mom sent and then travelling around sharing small talk with my neighbors. At one home a grandmother had 10 foot long contraption that began with a pot over a fire- moved into a hollowed piece of wood- and ended with a straw going into an empty cold drink glass bottle (1.5L pop bottle). There was a clear liquid. Turns out they were making “Smirnoff” by heating water, mabele, and sugar. I took one smell and knew it was ultra flammable and not suitable for consumption.
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