October 8, 2010
It would be a crime if I didn’t describe the nature here in Mpumalanga, as we’re nearing spring/summertime and the rainy season is beginning. From my window I can look out over the veld, miles of yellow grass fading into a hazy blue horizon. You can’t help but feel free when you walk past that in the morning on the way to school. Some of the trees here are blooming pure purple, and scattered on the grass are bright petals as thick as a shadow. Today at school I saw a crow with a white neck fly around one of these trees and thought how nice-looking it was. Meanwhile, the mulberry tree in our yard is yielding purple berry-fruits and it’s getting warmer.
Yesterday evening I experienced my first African thunderstorm, which the neighbors assure me was insignificant --- but I was awestruck. It’s been dry lately but that afternoon the sky above the veld grew very dark blue, and beyond the grazing cows shade crossed over the fields, rapidly nearer and nearer. A strong wind, a heavy rain . . . and the storm was upon us. It pounded hard upon my tin roof and the electricity went out. Then I stood by the window and looked out into the darkness, and over and over the thunder rang and the veld lit up rapidly. In those split seconds of illumination, the grass looked unnaturally yellow and the sky strangely bright blue. It was so cool!
So there’s a bit of excitement for you. Life here in the village seems so quaint and I’m learning the true meaning of Ubuntu. Ubuntu is at the heart of South African culture and everyone knows the term and what it stands for: I am because you are. I am who I am because of you. In other words, we are all dependent on each other and share each other’s pain and sorrow . . . give if your neighbor is needy with no thought as to whether you’ll get anything in return.
And I love my colleagues! I’ll post more about it all now that I’m starting to figure out this Internet thing!
Love, Nhlanhla
Monday, October 11, 2010
Sep
Today, my first day at the junior secondary school here in the village, lived up to all my imaginings of what Africa and my job here would be like. My situation is lovely. The strike was suspended, maybe permanently, so we all swore in, said bittersweet goodbyes, and scattered off to our various sites. I’m situated in a village in Mpumalanga, not far from the training college or a few other volunteers. I live with a gogo (grandmother) and her five-year-old granddaughter Senaye (S’na). Imagine me trying to whip Gogo’s four cows into the corral when the whip keeps getting tangled in branches, while the cows stare at me balefully. Or running in the afternoon down the village’s dirt roads, accompanied by eight kids who stand obediently in a line as I lead them in stretches before and after. I basically never thought of myself as a cowgirl or aerobics teacher, but there you are.
I’m also learning patience. When my principal and I visited the village chief, the lackadaisical village atmosphere was as heavy in the air as incense in a chapel. I sat in a chair opposite the chief, who was only distinguished by the animal skin hanging on his chest. The conversation was slower than any I think I’ve ever had! One man would make a comment and my principal would murmur in understanding. Pause. Then he’d answer, gently, usually staring out at the street and berry tree (I don’t know the name) instead of his interlocutor, who would also murmur in agreement while staring at the ground. I’ve picked up enough of South African culture to know roughly how to act: slowly, respectfully, informally. I poured the chief Coca Cola before the others, for example.
As for the school and my future colleagues, I feel really glad and lucky (like my name, Nhlanhla). I only work at one school, and it seems like everyone knows what I’m there for because there have been Peace Corps volunteers in this village before. I’ll be teaching Grade 7, after I observe the place and do a needs assessment (we’re talking for weeks, not days). I’m supposed to do this before starting projects, and my co-workers are cool with that. They’re also super interested in me, and respectful. I only hope I can live up to the principal’s description of me as “an experienced English teacher.” Wow. I present myself professionally, but I don’t pretend to a lot of classroom teaching. They seem to welcome me for whatever my strengths are, and I was touched by the principal’s introduction of me to the students at assembly. He told them to respect me, and they were clearly impressed by the fact that I’m from America. That’s a typical reaction, and I know they’ll soon be asking if I’ve met Will Smith, Shakira, and Biance! Did I even spell Shakira right? I guess I’ll have to say no.
I miss my PST host family though (Lina, etc.) Busi and I wrote a play that we performed with Kgomotso and Shirley, a couple of others, and some fellow volunteers. We actually brought it to the Ndebele College when the families visited for a farewell braai. I really grew close to my family there and I plan on visiting them a lot. The Peace Corps wants me to stay at site for the next three months though. And I’m already integrating myself into this community. My isiNdebele’s really good, if I do say so myself, so that helps! Even though this house is really big (there are actually two houses on the property, a huge kitchen with an electric stove, a flush toilet and even a washing machine) the village atmosphere is here waiting for me and the people are welcoming. It’ll be hard to be away from the other PCVs, maybe, but I’ll meet up with the ones who live nearby. In the meantime, the kids are great and the faculty and I are developing a great rapport, I’m feeling confident that I do have something to offer the school. Maybe we can have a play-writing club! That’s a good way of teaching English to seventh-graders and it aligns with the national curriculum standards . . . we’ll see!
Love, Nhlanhla
I’m also learning patience. When my principal and I visited the village chief, the lackadaisical village atmosphere was as heavy in the air as incense in a chapel. I sat in a chair opposite the chief, who was only distinguished by the animal skin hanging on his chest. The conversation was slower than any I think I’ve ever had! One man would make a comment and my principal would murmur in understanding. Pause. Then he’d answer, gently, usually staring out at the street and berry tree (I don’t know the name) instead of his interlocutor, who would also murmur in agreement while staring at the ground. I’ve picked up enough of South African culture to know roughly how to act: slowly, respectfully, informally. I poured the chief Coca Cola before the others, for example.
As for the school and my future colleagues, I feel really glad and lucky (like my name, Nhlanhla). I only work at one school, and it seems like everyone knows what I’m there for because there have been Peace Corps volunteers in this village before. I’ll be teaching Grade 7, after I observe the place and do a needs assessment (we’re talking for weeks, not days). I’m supposed to do this before starting projects, and my co-workers are cool with that. They’re also super interested in me, and respectful. I only hope I can live up to the principal’s description of me as “an experienced English teacher.” Wow. I present myself professionally, but I don’t pretend to a lot of classroom teaching. They seem to welcome me for whatever my strengths are, and I was touched by the principal’s introduction of me to the students at assembly. He told them to respect me, and they were clearly impressed by the fact that I’m from America. That’s a typical reaction, and I know they’ll soon be asking if I’ve met Will Smith, Shakira, and Biance! Did I even spell Shakira right? I guess I’ll have to say no.
I miss my PST host family though (Lina, etc.) Busi and I wrote a play that we performed with Kgomotso and Shirley, a couple of others, and some fellow volunteers. We actually brought it to the Ndebele College when the families visited for a farewell braai. I really grew close to my family there and I plan on visiting them a lot. The Peace Corps wants me to stay at site for the next three months though. And I’m already integrating myself into this community. My isiNdebele’s really good, if I do say so myself, so that helps! Even though this house is really big (there are actually two houses on the property, a huge kitchen with an electric stove, a flush toilet and even a washing machine) the village atmosphere is here waiting for me and the people are welcoming. It’ll be hard to be away from the other PCVs, maybe, but I’ll meet up with the ones who live nearby. In the meantime, the kids are great and the faculty and I are developing a great rapport, I’m feeling confident that I do have something to offer the school. Maybe we can have a play-writing club! That’s a good way of teaching English to seventh-graders and it aligns with the national curriculum standards . . . we’ll see!
Love, Nhlanhla
September 1, 2010 cont'd!
Another unique feature of this “Rainbow Nation” is the 1st world/3rd world divide we witnessed on our trips to Pretoria and Johannesburg. Last Saturday, in Jo’burg, we went to the Apartheid Museum and then to the mall. It’s as developed as an American city. Electricity, faucets that turn on automatically, stores that sell humus or bree cheese, etc. And then we came home to bucket baths (which are actually fine once you get the hang of it) and dirt roads with kids running barefoot everywhere, and tin shacks and cement buildings, and chickens and goats and cows. It’s weird, my family (surname Mahlangu) has a TV and radio but no running water.
This post is long, but I’m trying to sum up a month’s worth of complete newness. It’s stressful to be the center of attention in a new culture. But my fellow PCTs make a great support network! Our village representatives set up a system where we leave little notes in each other’s envelopes, stapled to a wall at the college. Some are anonymous, like the illustrated installments I get of Lewis Carroll’s “The Jabberwocky,” and some are sweet messages from individual friends. Our South African teachers nicknamed me “Reebs” after the famous singer Rebecca, Queen of Gospel, and it stuck. And back in the village they know me as Nonhlanhla (or Nhlanhla). It means “lucky”!
That’s it for now! I love you all and I’ll buy a cell phone and Internet phone (or modem stick) very soon. Volunteers also have lots of time to write at their site, which for me will be the village of Gemsbok, only a couple of hours outside of Pretoria. I’ll be living with an ugogo and am teaching at a junior secondary school. I’ll also be continuing a previous volunteer’s Healthy Living Project, teaching about HIV/AIDS. It’ll be hard but I’m really looking forward to seeing my site . . . when the strike ends! That’s Pre-service Training in a nutshell.
Love, Nhlanhla
This post is long, but I’m trying to sum up a month’s worth of complete newness. It’s stressful to be the center of attention in a new culture. But my fellow PCTs make a great support network! Our village representatives set up a system where we leave little notes in each other’s envelopes, stapled to a wall at the college. Some are anonymous, like the illustrated installments I get of Lewis Carroll’s “The Jabberwocky,” and some are sweet messages from individual friends. Our South African teachers nicknamed me “Reebs” after the famous singer Rebecca, Queen of Gospel, and it stuck. And back in the village they know me as Nonhlanhla (or Nhlanhla). It means “lucky”!
That’s it for now! I love you all and I’ll buy a cell phone and Internet phone (or modem stick) very soon. Volunteers also have lots of time to write at their site, which for me will be the village of Gemsbok, only a couple of hours outside of Pretoria. I’ll be living with an ugogo and am teaching at a junior secondary school. I’ll also be continuing a previous volunteer’s Healthy Living Project, teaching about HIV/AIDS. It’ll be hard but I’m really looking forward to seeing my site . . . when the strike ends! That’s Pre-service Training in a nutshell.
Love, Nhlanhla
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