Happy New Year 2014!

It is a bit hard for me to believe that the whole of 2013 is gone and I was on the continent of Africa for every second of it. What an incredible year. I’m not one for new year’s resolutions, because frankly, I have never had much success with them. Instead, I will just be thankful that all has gone so well thus far, and that I will be returning home to the US sometime later this year.

 After being away for Christmas, I was fortunate enough to spend these past few days at home in my village to experience part of the “festive season” and to ring in the new year with my host family and neighbors.

One of the twenty-three groups competing for top prize.

One of the events that I missed last year, because I was traveling, is an annual Zulu dance competition that happens on the 30^th of December. Groups of men from all around the area gathered in the village, just down the road in an open field actually, to compete for a cow (the first place prize) and various cash amounts (for second, third, and fourth places). There were twenty-three groups in all performing routines that were original in nature, but required to have various components of the traditional Zulu warrior dances. Matching costumes and accessories, such as shields and flags, were a must have for the serious competitors. I think that things were supposed to get started around 9am, but they didn’t get going until closer to 11am. The crowds grew as the day

The Judge

progressed, with nearly everyone bringing an umbrella to protect themselves from the blazing hot sun. Local village women and bottle shop owners set up tents or opened the back of their pick-up trucks as make-shift concessions stands selling beer, cold drink (soda), and various snacks. When the final results were announced around 3:30pm, people were excited to cheer on the winners but eager to get home after a long day. Those that did not finish in the top four will have to wait until next year to try again. I won’t be here to see it, but I am sure it will be equally entertaining for those that attend.

Looks like rain? No. Using umbrellas for shade.

This group came in first place.

One of the concession stands available to viewers.

As for New Year’s Eve, it was much the same as last year. A nearby family had a late night party (music supplied by the stereo of a minibus taxi) with a small fireworks show at midnight. Things wrapped up around 1:00am, as most people would be getting up early this morning to cook a special meal to be eaten after attending church for most of the day. Rather than cooking, I spent the day cleaning and getting ready to travel down to the Wild Coast for the remainder of the holiday before school begins again on the 13^th of January. Hopefully the weather will cooperate and it will be the perfect way to end the summer break. Either way, I’m looking forward to the start of school the new adventures that are sure to come with it.

Vacation Part 1: KZN

I was SO excited to leave on Tuesday for the first of my two vacations – it was like Christmas came early! Don’t get me wrong, it was nice to have some down time in the village and hang out a bit more with my family, but mostly I was dodging raindrops, so I was looking forward to traveling to an area with better weather. I was able to make the trip from my village to St Lucia in record time! Four taxi rides and barely any waiting, reinforcing the notion that the holidays are the only time to travel long distances by minibus taxi. Later in the afternoon, I met up with my friend Kelsey and her parents, who drove in from Nelspruit, and our vacation was officially underway.

Blue-cheeked Bee-eater in St Lucia.

On Wednesday, Kelsey and her family wanted to relax and explore a bit of St Lucia on foot. We took a nice walk down to the ocean by way of the boardwalk, and on the way I snapped a few pictures of some birds found in the area. With the help of Kelsey’s mom, I was able to identify them, and I will hopefully print out their pictures to add to the collection I have going at home.

The monkeys that invaded our house!

On Thursday, while hanging out in the house in the late afternoon, two monkeys climbed through the kitchen window to raid our fruit supply. After getting over the shock of seeing them, I chased back out and shut the window, although not before they got away with a banana and a mango. I then had to make sure all the windows in the house were closed because within a few minutes they had found their way to the bathroom window and were starting to climb through.

Birding in St Lucia.

Friday’s weather was picture perfect so I took advantage by taking two walks on the nearby trail (one in the morning by myself and one in the late afternoon with Kelsey and her mom) to try to see some birds. To be honest, I didn’t see a whole lot either time, but it was still a pleasant walk. The time in between was spent reading by the pool and exploring the shops in town.

Kudu, just off the road, in the estuary.

Saturday was another gorgeous day, and a perfect opportunity to see the sites of the nearby iSimangaliso Wetlands. We headed out in the late morning, and not long after we drove past the entrance gate, we began to see wildebeests, warthogs, kudu, and zebras scattered throughout the grasses of the estuary. When we arrived at our destination, the beaches of Cape Vidal, we were taken aback by the strength of the wind. Before we could enjoy the warm Indian Ocean, we had to secure our belongings from blowing away and even make sure all our bags were tightly closed to keep as much sand out as possible. While hanging out on the beach, we ran into three other PCVs from our cohort who were traveling down the coast of KZN with family from the States – a rather small world J. After about two hours splashing around in the surf, we were ready to

The Indian Ocean at Mission Rock Beach.

move on, eager to escape the wind, but also to see some of the other landmarks in the estuary. As we traveled back to St Lucia, we first stopped at Catalina Bay to take in the view of some of the swamp and marshland areas in the estuary. And just a little further down the road, we pulled off to see Mission Rock Beach. Rather than sand, the shore is filled with large rocks and beautiful tide pools that are perfect for relaxing. We arrived home early enough to walk into town and stock up on fruit before the markets closed; and later that evening we enjoyed a delicious sushi dinner. Could not have planned a better day.

The diverse environments of the iSimangaliso Wetlands.

Christmas Time in the Village

Unlike last year, I have been in the village for a lot more of this December school break. Not necessarily my original plan, but this being the case, I wanted to make sure that I decorated my hut appropriately for the holidays. And since I was sent some extra crafts from America, I was able to make sure my family’s house was trimmed as well. Being here also gave me the chance to see how the women in the community organize themselves to prepare for any celebrations around Christmas and New Year.

Oh, Christmas Tree.

Last week, after I returned home on the last day of school, I decided it was time set up everything inside of my hut. I dug up and dusted off the little, faux tree that was left behind by the last volunteer. On it I hung a few ornaments that were sent last season, in addition to a few things I have collected since my arrival. New this year are some trimmings for the mosquito net and the curtains on each window. A friend from home was nice enough to send half a dozen or so packages of holiday crafts, like snowflakes and gingerbread men, that could be decorated with markers, stickers, and glitter. I’m not necessarily sure they were meant for my personal use, but they were too cute to pass up, so I hijacked a few before sharing with the rest of the village. My desk is home to a small wire Baobab tree that I bought in Namibia; now fully stocked with felt snowmen and Christmas trees. This same tree donned pumpkin lights and a large felt pumpkin cutout just a few weeks ago, so I am trying to rotate the décor appropriately for the season. Next up: Valentine’s Day ;-)

A few new crafts sent from America.

My desk has decorations to make the season bright.

My sisters Toe and Niki create a few holiday decorations.

A few days ago (when it finally stopped raining), my host sisters were able to come over and finish decorating the rest of the gingerbread men and snowflakes, which they then took to their house and hung around the living room. I can’t say for sure, but I am pretty confident it is the first time that they have had something like that in the house for Christmas, and they must have said about a thousand times that everyone who came to visit was going to be very jealous. It was quite special to see them so pleased. It was also quite hilarious to see decorated snowflakes hanging around a home that should only see snow at Christmas when the apocalypse is happening.

My sister Philile hangs a few of the decorations
in the family living room.

Women around the village come together at this time
of year to buy many common items in bulk.

That same day, I also helped my family bring home a huge delivery of groceries in preparation for the holiday season. My host sister Philile explained that at this time every year, groups of women get together and pool their money (in some cases as much as R20,000 per group), and buy things like flour, sugar, rice, eggs, beans, etc, in bulk, thus giving everyone a good discount. The groups are formed based on how much money each individual is able to contribute and the groceries they are interested in buying. After they have formed their group, the women will choose a day to go to town (everyone in the group participates), shop around to compare prices, and then buy everything that they can. In order to get the goods home, they pay someone with a bakkie (a pick-up truck) to deliver all the items to

Niki, Toe, and Philile are responsible for carrying most
of the groceries through the village back home.

a central location in the village. From here, everyone collects their share of the order, so usually the members of the shopping group also live relatively close to one another, but that is not always the case. I asked if there was ever any drama to forming the groups; like certain neighbors being excluded, or if it was a terrible thing if you changed from one group to another from year to year. I was only given a quizzical look, and told “no.” Some years you can afford more, some years less, so you find whoever can pay about the same amount as you and go from there. It is good to know that logic prevails every once in a while.

Although I was a bit disappointed that my trip to Pretoria was cancelled this past week (mostly I was desperate to escape the rain and cold that consumed the area for nearly two weeks, but it was considered a security risk to be there because of all the events surrounding Mandela’s death), it was a blessing to be able to plan for the holidays with my family. And sun came out eventually.

The Passing of an Icon

This past Friday morning, I woke up early and leaned over to see I had received an SMS (text) message at some point during the night. Odd, I thought. I don’t get many SMS messages and I certainly don’t get them when I am asleep. It turned out to be from the Peace Corps and it was a brief statement to let us know that Nelson Mandela has passed away. I couldn’t help but wonder what was in-store in both my shopping town and my village. Shutdowns? Chaos? Vigils?

Wrong on all accounts. Since I was making my way from a local lodge back to my village that Friday morning, I was going to need to catch a few taxis and pass through town. As I walked along the road to catch the first taxi, I could not identify anything that would point to transport being any different for the day. Minibus taxis seemed to be up and running as usual. When I got on the first taxi, I noted that the driver had the radio tuned to a local news station that was reporting news about Mandela’s death, but no one seemed to be paying much attention. Since I had to go through town to get back home, I had a chance to walk around and see if anything was up. Nope. It could have been any other day. The post office was fully operational – and by that I mean they were as slow as ever in finding the five packages that were waiting for me. Stores and shops were all open for business and people were queuing up for purchases. I almost wondered if there had been some error and that the news had not been delivered. As I sat at the rank and waited for my next taxi to fill, I heard people mention his death without much excitement, but it confirmed the information was out there; it was simply not a big deal. When I got to school later that morning (after stopping at home to drop off all the great stuff from the mail), I briefly spoke to my principal about his passing. She shook her head and said that a great man had died. And that was it. When I asked what she thought would happen next, she simply said, “nothing.” In fact, she went on to say that she believed he may have been dead for a while and his family was just waiting for the right time to make the announcement. Unlikely, although certainly an interesting theory. Otherwise, she did not see any major changes happening any time soon in the area, unless there are upsets or surprises in the elections scheduled for next year.

As for the rest of the weekend, I wish I had some amazing story to tell about a local ceremony or function that was held to honor his historic life, but I do not. What I came to realize is that the people in my village certainly think Mandela was a great man and he did great things, but his death was not relevant to their day-to-day lives. Those who have access to a radio listened to the reports and plans for the upcoming memorial service in Soweto and funeral at his birthplace in Qunu, but nothing was planned for our village. I even asked my host family more than once to tell me if I was going to miss something. They said they couldn’t imagine anything happening, but they would let me know if they heard differently.

It is hard for me to say at this point if I am surprised by this reaction. At first I would say I was quite surprised. I, like many volunteers, believed that his passing would be a defining moment in our service, when one of the greatest leaders in the country’s history left the stage – how could it go so unnoticed in the village? But now it does not seem so surprising. The event did not go unnoticed, it was just not recognized with the fanfare and spectacle expected in today’s media. Many of the churches were said to have spoken solely about Mandela at their services yesterday and today, and individuals prayed for him and for the country as a whole. But there was no reason to do more than that. They honored him in a manner that was best for them – quietly and gallantly – the same manner in which Mandela led his life. A fitting tribute indeed.

My 2nd African Thanksgiving

I know I have said this before, but it is a strange feeling to be in my second year here and repeating major events, like Thanksgiving, as a PCV. I can’t help but think about how fast time has gone by. I can’t help but wonder what it will be like in another year when I am back in the US. And I can’t help but be amazed that I was able to get my hands on a few pieces of turkey for the big day.

As a quick reminder, last year I went to school in the morning (as it is not a holiday here), was picked up in the early afternoon along with the rest of the volunteers in the area, and taken to a nearby guesthouse that allowed us to use their kitchen to cook Thanksgiving dinner. It was nice to be with friends, old and new, to celebrate and be thankful, although I was not a fan of the cooking aspect of the event.

The Thanksgiving turkey prepared by the hotel.

This year had a bit of a different feel. Last weekend I traveled to Limpopo to be a part of the In-Service Training for SA28, the next group of education volunteers, for the week. This meant that unlike last year, I would not be near the volunteers in my area, but I would still be able to celebrate with Americans. It also meant, that unlike last year, I would not have to cook any of the food, but would still be able to eat many of the traditional Thanksgiving fare. The hotel went out of its way to get a turkey (not a popular food item here) and prepare some typical Thanksgiving dishes for our group. And even though there were sessions and presentations throughout the week and weekend, Thanksgiving Day was a free day for us to relax and enjoy, which for me meant a lot of reading, writing, eating (of course), and watching a movie. There was no Macy’s parade watching or Black Friday planning, but those things will be there when I return. For now, I had a chance to be thankful for experience I am having (both the good and the bad) as a Peace Corps Volunteer in South Africa.

Death as a Way of Life

A cemetery in the village. Some are marked
with large tombstones. Some are marked only
with the stones surrounding the burial plot.

Although death is a common occurrence here, it is only just recently that it has crept into my close circle of contacts. Most of the reason is simply the amount of time I have now lived here. When I first arrived, I didn’t know anyone. Even if a distant relative passed away, my family would wave it off and say that there was no reason for me to trouble myself with attending the viewing or funeral. Now I know the people in my host family; I know my neighbors in the village; I know the families of the teachers at my school. Death is no longer something that can be waved off. And it is becoming clear how common of an occurrence it is. In the past month, three families that I know have had to cope with the passing of people whose lives were just getting started.

On the last Friday of October, the eldest son of one of the grade 5 and 6 teachers was found dead at his home. The details were a bit sketchy. I know that the boy was in his mid-twenties and was working to become a doctor at the local hospital in our shopping town. It appeared as though he had a heart attack, and we were told that he was found early in the morning by his girlfriend.

The teacher was obviously not in school on Friday, but we saw him the following Tuesday when we went to his home for the visiting. We all arrived at school as normal, but the students were dismissed at 11am after lunch had been served. The principal arranged for a minibus taxi to come and pick us all up and drive us nearly two hours away to his very deep rural home. Once we arrived, we were ushered into the house of the ancestors (all Zulu families have one of these) where the mother of the deceased was sitting on a mattress on the floor, against the wall, wrapped in a number of blankets, next to a lit candle. She was in mourning and would stay like this for a week. Other female members of the family would sit in the house with her during the day and even sleep with her at night. She would be brought meals and anything else that she needed until she left to attend the funeral on the following Saturday. As we entered the house, we sang songs of sorrow and grief and sat on mats laid out on the floor. Several teachers recited passages from the Bible and led the group in prayer. More songs and more prayers followed. I really couldn’t tell you what was being said, but it didn’t matter. The atmosphere was quite sad, as expected. When it was over, we went outside to pass along our condolences to the men in the family who sat in the shade under a tree. And then we moved to another house where a few chairs and more mats were set up and we were served a meal of rice, chicken, and some butternut: something that everyone is served when they come to pay their respects. We spent about 45 minutes to an hour total at the house before we re-boarded our transport and were on our way back to the village. It may seem odd that we shut down school for this, but Zulus place great importance on relationships, and to not make this visit would be considered extremely rude. It was certainly not pleasant, but it was an important way to show respect.

A mere one week later, the first Monday morning of November, I was stunned to learn that a young girl in grade 11 and cousin to my host family, committed suicide over the weekend. (Gruesome detail: here, nearly all suicides are by hanging.) What was worse, should that be possible, is that this was the second child of the family to commit suicide. An older brother took his life about two years earlier. The news was given to the principal of the secondary school (which is across the road) that morning by a relative of the deceased. The principal then relayed the message to our staff, since nearly every single teacher also knew the girl. The learners at our school were instructed to stay in their classrooms while all but one of the teachers walked with the teachers from the secondary school to the home of deceased in a nearby part of the village. During the 20-minute journey, I had a very insightful discussion with the principal of the secondary school about how Zulus traditionally respond to this tragedy. He explained that during the next week, family and friends would visit just as they would for any other death, to mourn the loss and to show their support. But after the funeral, no one would visit again until the family had been “cleansed” by an elder or traditional healer of the village. The cleansing will involve the slaughtering of a goat and a variety of rituals to rid the home of any spirits that might have caused this. When I asked for other details, he said that was all he knew because one would only have attended this ceremony if there was a suicide in the immediate family, and thankfully, that has never happened to him. Obviously, I hope it does not happen to me either. Our visit followed the same pattern as the previous visit, minus the food as there had not yet been time to prepare anything for visitors.

Just two weeks later, on the third Monday of November, an urgent staff meeting was called after morning assembly to let us know that the young adult daughter of one of our grade R teachers had passed away over the weekend. No one seemed interested in discussing the cause or details (it was not a heart attack and it was not suicide). She lived a few families down from me, and in the past two or three months, she was rarely seen because she had “terrible flu.” I would bet my life there was more to the story than that, but I don’t want to speculate. No matter what the cause of death, it was quite sad to attend a third wake in just over four weeks. As with the past two deaths, all of the teachers visited the house the next day to express our condolences and grieve with the family. It was quite sad. It does not get easier. And it will likely not be the last time.

Visitors, Visitors, Visitors

Just as I had a few visitors near the end of October, the second week of November proved to be another high season for coming to see the library, which is nice because I really do enjoy having people come, whether they stay at my house or stop by for the afternoon.

Grade 6 learners gather around as I
introduce the game Memory.

The first pair to come was Ted and Amy, who both live in Southern KZN. I met them in town on Sunday afternoon (after a big shopping spree at the grocery store) and then we headed back to my house. They were fascinated at how I lived without electricity and all the little things that I did to get by: the paraffin lamps, the concrete blocks on the floor as a makeshift refrigerator, and the solar panel that charges the car battery when I need to recharge my cell phone or laptop on weekends. They also like to cook, so I ate really well for a few days. Of course, their main reason for visiting was to see the school library in action, so they came to school with me on Monday, got the grand tour, met

Amy, me, and Ted in my front yard.
Always great to have visitors.

most of the teachers, and then helped out when grade 6 came to the library. It was nice because they took lots of pictures and a few videos of me, something that I really don’t have. They both had to leave Tuesday morning to get back to their own sites and schools, but I think it was a worthwhile trip for everyone.

The next pair to stop by was Katrina and Michael, who both live in Northern KZN. They weren’t really coming to see me, but instead were spending the week with Liz to help her sort through the hundreds of boxes of books that were delivered last week by Books for Africa. Since they were in the area, though, they thought it would be fun to visit a few others, and I was more than happy to play host for the afternoon. They followed pretty much the same school routine as Ted and Amy: arrived before lunch, met a few teachers, and then came to the library to help out with grade 7. At one point, Michael looked around and said, “Maybe I have been out of America for too long, but right now I feel like I am in a school library back in the States.” He can come back any time to visit J. It was a nice thing to hear. The added bonus of their visit was that when they were dropped off, they also dropped off the 23 boxes of new books for our school – no need to worry about picking them up! As much as I wanted to dive into them to see what we got, I realized that it is more important to wait until I have some additional help. I don’t want it to be only me that sorts and shelves these books. This is my big chance to make sure someone else knows what is going on. It will probably take until the beginning of next school year to get things going, but that is just fine. The principal suggested the same thing, so no one seems to be worried that I am not doing my job. For now the boxes are sitting in the computer lab until we are ready to get things underway.

The last visitor of the week was my Peace Corp boss, Lydia. She is the person that placed me at this site and has visited once or twice over the past year and a half to make sure that all is going well. She arrived at the school early Thursday morning to meet with my principal and be sure that there were no problems. After they were done, I had a chance to sit down with her and chat about my work this year and my plans for next school year. Of course, we took a quick look around the library.  While there, Lydia told me that the principal admitted that it was wrong of her not to have taken me to the awards ceremony in Durban last month. That was a bit of a surprise.  The principal certainly never said anything to me. Lydia said it may be something that she wanted me to know, but couldn’t bring herself to say. This was her way of relaying the message. Either way, it was nice to hear. After finishing up at the school, we took a quick trip to my house in the village to say hello to my host family and make sure that everything there was running smoothly. Lydia also wanted to check to see if my host family was up for having one more volunteer come after me, to which they said, “no problem.” She also agreed that my rondavel belonged on the cover of Architectural Digest for its stunning décor. With that, she dropped me back at school and was off to visit another volunteer in the area.

Sadly, I haven’t had any visitors since, but it is no matter. I have a feeling there will be another high season just around the corner.