Last week we held a camp for orphans and vulnerable children (OVCs) at our site. 51 children learned some life skills, learned to express their feelings, share their problems, developed some confidence in themselves, ate nutritious meals and had a lot of fun. For pictures click here.This is the culmination of effort beginning in January. In February and March we wrote a proposal for a grant from the Peace Corps, putting some American tax dollars to work helping very needy children. Having a cold yet commonly understood acronym, “OVC”, for such warm and beautiful children speaks of the pervasive problems this epidemic has produced. Most OVCs continue to live in their community after they’ve lost their parents. They may live with extended family or often live as child headed households. In our area, rural KwaZulu Natal, there are few organizations to help these children.
We worked out the initial concept of the camp with our supervisor. The hospital has a lot of land on the mountain ridge we live on. The hospital is a part of a world wide charitable organization and is looking for ways to help OVCs in South Africa. We decided to do a camp as a pilot project to show the larger organization the potential for helping OVCs, with the aim of selling the organization on creating a permanent facility there.
Turning grant money into happy children was often a tortuous conflict of cultures. In our initial musing on the camp we thought we might be able to create a terrific camp for 50 kids during the school holidays in September or December 2007 (September my supervisor target, December my most optimistic guess). For a number of reasons we had to move the camp up to July. In the mean time, negotiations with the Peace Corps resulted in dropping the target from 50 kids to 30, to meet grant funding caps. So when I proudly told my supervisor in April that we had finally received a grant for 30 kids he immediately started trying to scramble to turn 30 into 50. So now I start fretting about doing a camp twice the budgeted size in half the time. I’d call a meeting, ask questions, cry, and rend my clothes— all to the same response, “Not a problem”. For 2 months, I’d nag, my supervisor would respond, “Not a problem”. By the first week in June there was no visible progress, I had spent no money and we didn’t have any staff on hand, or even firmly committed. I was about to write to the Peace Corps and return the grant.
The turning point was getting the Camp Director a young man with some 10 years experience working at a similar camp for OVCs in Zimbabwe. Plans for the confidence/challenge/rope course came in, construction began. Training plans for the weeklong training of our camp counselors and adult leaders were finalized. Camp agenda and training programs were finalized. We got support from the Social Welfare department who provided a social worker, South African Police Service provided a team from there Child Protective Service to talk about child abuse (a terrible problem for these vulnerable children), a psychologist told how to provide referalls. We had a real staff identified and by June 24 the training of the counselors began.
The kids, aged 9 to 14, arrived on the 29th and the fun began. We had a program for our children aimed at letting each child know he was not alone. Others shared similar situations. There is a stigma attached to OVCs here and sharing the experience helps. The children write and tell about there life and problems. The counselors worked with the children to help them understand they had strengths and resources and could successfully work through their life. The kids were challenged to extend themselves, they climbed ropes, went on a 25km trek (mostly cross country), they learned skills, leather working, beading, sewing. All with the aim of improving the kids self confidence. Mainly the kids had fun. It was a joy to hear the laughing, shouting and singing ringing down from the kids campsite.
The camp was a roaring success. Children were happy and excited. The adult and youth leaders developed as real counselors. There were no injuries (save for a scratch on my wrist clambering down a cliff on the 25km trek – I am much clumsier than the kids). Three referrals to Social Welfare were made to get grant monies for children. There exists new bonds between the OVCs and the counselors who were selected from the villages where the kids came from. There is a commitment from local agencies to continue support for the kids. Final assessment:” Not a problem”.
Tuesday, July 10, 2007
Saturday, May 26, 2007
Adapting
I started this blog update several months ago but never completed and posted it so I suppose now is about time to that. We’ve been in South Africa for almost a year. We’ve seen seasons change Struggled with customs to minimize offense and have tried to learn 2 new languages (one of them is English). It was easier writing blogs when we first arrived and everything seemed like a strange adventure. Most days life doesn’t seem like a strange adventure, it just seems like life and work.
Seasonal Change – Living like a forest ranger
As a California city person, my life here has been enlightening. We live in a very rural, near-wilderness region. I love the outdoors but before coming here my outdoors experience consisted of short trips to parks now I’m like the park ranger – here all year long. Here I have had the opportunity to watch the same small stretch of land over months.
Our first visit to the hospital was at the end of winter before we finished training. The area is golden brown. Leaves are off the acacia trees leaving their parasol tops a cartoonishly sinister mesh of branches. The brown of the grasses and leafless tree is contrasted with the brilliant red of coral trees which sparsely color the area. The air is dry and cool. Temperatures are much like Los Angeles, 65-75F during the day, 45-55F at night, the difference is that South Africa is convinced it is AFRICA, hot and steamy. Therefore no heating, no insulation and no weather stripping, plus real South African homes have ventilation holes near the ceiling. So unlike Los Angeles, South Africa is coooolllldddd.
We returned to start our service in late September, the beginning of Spring. The grasslands are still gold and brown, the trees still bare. The first sign of springtime is the jacaranda tree. Along the route into town and all through the town of Vryheid, large (30-40ft) jacarandas add a purple counterpoint to the coral trees dots of red.
Spring in Zululand is a fast paced adventure. Every week a new vista is painted. The first act that Spring produces is a low carpet of bright blue blossoms showing through the brown remains of last years grassland growth. The next week brings out the next act in this serial drama – tall darker blue flowers that are complemented by the first colorings of green in the grasses. The next week brings out a low yellow carpet of flowers to compete and overshadow the blues. The small yellow flowers have a couple weeks in the spotlight but are then outshown by large yellow flowers which overwhelm all the others. Green then becomes the theme of the week. At first the grasses are low and mixed with last years remains; they seem almost grey. The next week they become brilliant emerald green, a gem that spans miles square.
By Summer, December, the acacias have filled with leaves, parasols over the grasslands. The thornbark acacia is the signature of the South African grasslands. It’s parasol covering is pure Disney Lion-King. In summer the grasses are still green but have begun to develop shocks of seeds, some grasses with yellow seeds, some with red-brown. Looking out across grasslands now looks like fields of green seen through gold or copper gauze. The carpets of wild flowers are gone but have been replaced by gaudy spots of purple, pink and yellow.
Summer in Zululand is the rainy season. I find it amusing that LA’s rainy season November to April is the same as here. LA’s is winter, this is summer. Summer days here in the mountains of Zululand are in the 70’s and low 80’s, usually with some clouds in the sky. The mornings are often foggy (called mist here). The mist lifts by mid-morning. By late afternoon there are thunderheads in the sky. Evening temperatures drop to the high 60’s and often are rainy. To someone from Southern California the rains are high drama. Lightening, thunder, wind whistling through cracks in the windows, downpours beating on our tin roof make for a thrilling experience.
As I write this it is almost June, and the temperature is down. This past week the highs were in the 40’s (Fahrenheit) and the lows were in the high 20’s. The leaves are dropping from the trees and again the hillsides are golden. The poinsettia bush (tree?) in our back yard is in full bloom. The people of my area distinguish 3 seasons, Spring, Summer, and Winter (includes Fall), The isiZulu for Winter is ubusika, which also means “it cuts”. When the Zulu were barefoot the winter cold would crack the skin on the soles of their feet. The cold season still comes quickly and with a cutting vengeance.
English as a Second Language
South African English is both delightfully direct and hopelessly obscure. On the direct side if you get a dent in your fender you don’t go to a body shop you go to a panel beater. If you drive near a hospital you’ll find signs saying “No Hootering”. Hooters are automobile horns; I don’t know what South Africans visitors make of the American restaurant chain of that name. The direct language carries over into commerce. Americans have stores called “Pick and Save”, here we have “Pick and Pay”. My favorite is the ZA name for HMO’s, with real clarity of language they are called Medical Schemes.
Obscurity comes in trying to establish times and distance. Call a person who was supposed to be at your site 15 minutes ago and ask him when you can expect him. The answer is invariably “I’m on my way, I’ll be there just now. Just Now is ZA English for the indefinite future, some time between 5 minutes from now and the 2010 World Cup. If you try to press the importance prompt arrival you will be rewarded by the much more precise statement, “Not a problem, I’ll be there now now.” Now Now is the more definite indefinite future and refers to a time somewhere between 4 minutes from now and the 2008 Summer Games.
Adapting
As I said at the top of this update, life here in ZA just seems like life, and Zululand just seems like the place I live. Writing things down in the blog does remind me that Zululand isn’t a suburb of Los Angeles and this really is an adventure.
Seasonal Change – Living like a forest ranger
As a California city person, my life here has been enlightening. We live in a very rural, near-wilderness region. I love the outdoors but before coming here my outdoors experience consisted of short trips to parks now I’m like the park ranger – here all year long. Here I have had the opportunity to watch the same small stretch of land over months.
Our first visit to the hospital was at the end of winter before we finished training. The area is golden brown. Leaves are off the acacia trees leaving their parasol tops a cartoonishly sinister mesh of branches. The brown of the grasses and leafless tree is contrasted with the brilliant red of coral trees which sparsely color the area. The air is dry and cool. Temperatures are much like Los Angeles, 65-75F during the day, 45-55F at night, the difference is that South Africa is convinced it is AFRICA, hot and steamy. Therefore no heating, no insulation and no weather stripping, plus real South African homes have ventilation holes near the ceiling. So unlike Los Angeles, South Africa is coooolllldddd.
We returned to start our service in late September, the beginning of Spring. The grasslands are still gold and brown, the trees still bare. The first sign of springtime is the jacaranda tree. Along the route into town and all through the town of Vryheid, large (30-40ft) jacarandas add a purple counterpoint to the coral trees dots of red.
Spring in Zululand is a fast paced adventure. Every week a new vista is painted. The first act that Spring produces is a low carpet of bright blue blossoms showing through the brown remains of last years grassland growth. The next week brings out the next act in this serial drama – tall darker blue flowers that are complemented by the first colorings of green in the grasses. The next week brings out a low yellow carpet of flowers to compete and overshadow the blues. The small yellow flowers have a couple weeks in the spotlight but are then outshown by large yellow flowers which overwhelm all the others. Green then becomes the theme of the week. At first the grasses are low and mixed with last years remains; they seem almost grey. The next week they become brilliant emerald green, a gem that spans miles square.
By Summer, December, the acacias have filled with leaves, parasols over the grasslands. The thornbark acacia is the signature of the South African grasslands. It’s parasol covering is pure Disney Lion-King. In summer the grasses are still green but have begun to develop shocks of seeds, some grasses with yellow seeds, some with red-brown. Looking out across grasslands now looks like fields of green seen through gold or copper gauze. The carpets of wild flowers are gone but have been replaced by gaudy spots of purple, pink and yellow.
Summer in Zululand is the rainy season. I find it amusing that LA’s rainy season November to April is the same as here. LA’s is winter, this is summer. Summer days here in the mountains of Zululand are in the 70’s and low 80’s, usually with some clouds in the sky. The mornings are often foggy (called mist here). The mist lifts by mid-morning. By late afternoon there are thunderheads in the sky. Evening temperatures drop to the high 60’s and often are rainy. To someone from Southern California the rains are high drama. Lightening, thunder, wind whistling through cracks in the windows, downpours beating on our tin roof make for a thrilling experience.
As I write this it is almost June, and the temperature is down. This past week the highs were in the 40’s (Fahrenheit) and the lows were in the high 20’s. The leaves are dropping from the trees and again the hillsides are golden. The poinsettia bush (tree?) in our back yard is in full bloom. The people of my area distinguish 3 seasons, Spring, Summer, and Winter (includes Fall), The isiZulu for Winter is ubusika, which also means “it cuts”. When the Zulu were barefoot the winter cold would crack the skin on the soles of their feet. The cold season still comes quickly and with a cutting vengeance.
English as a Second Language
South African English is both delightfully direct and hopelessly obscure. On the direct side if you get a dent in your fender you don’t go to a body shop you go to a panel beater. If you drive near a hospital you’ll find signs saying “No Hootering”. Hooters are automobile horns; I don’t know what South Africans visitors make of the American restaurant chain of that name. The direct language carries over into commerce. Americans have stores called “Pick and Save”, here we have “Pick and Pay”. My favorite is the ZA name for HMO’s, with real clarity of language they are called Medical Schemes.
Obscurity comes in trying to establish times and distance. Call a person who was supposed to be at your site 15 minutes ago and ask him when you can expect him. The answer is invariably “I’m on my way, I’ll be there just now. Just Now is ZA English for the indefinite future, some time between 5 minutes from now and the 2010 World Cup. If you try to press the importance prompt arrival you will be rewarded by the much more precise statement, “Not a problem, I’ll be there now now.” Now Now is the more definite indefinite future and refers to a time somewhere between 4 minutes from now and the 2008 Summer Games.
Adapting
As I said at the top of this update, life here in ZA just seems like life, and Zululand just seems like the place I live. Writing things down in the blog does remind me that Zululand isn’t a suburb of Los Angeles and this really is an adventure.
Tuesday, December 05, 2006
AIDS Awareness
Last Friday was International AIDS Day and we had a rally to increase HIV/AIDS awareness. The rally was a positive experience for all participants but I found the idea of increasing AIDS awareness ironic. I am surrounded by, almost overwhelmed by my awareness of the pandemic. In the States we ignore AIDS, here I am confronted with it daily.
• My shopping town, Vryheid, is small, comparable to a town in the California’s Central Valley – say Pixley, but it seems to have a funeral parlor, grave stone supplier or mortuary on every block.
• My supervisor is the minister of 4 rural churches; none of them exceed 100 members. He conducts funerals at least twice per month, this weekend alone he had two.
• I went to a meeting at the district Department of Health yesterday. On the wall I noticed a plaque entitled “10 Years of Freedom”. It honored the people who died while serving the Department of Health in the Zululand District in the ten years from 1994 to 2004. There were somewhere between 150 and 200 people listed, perhaps 20 died at an age greater than 50.
• The hospital doesn’t have the luxury of quietly transporting the deceased in camouflaged gurneys like Torrance Memorial Hospital did. I frequently look out my window and see gurneys covered with a white sheet with a red cross accompanied by nurses wearing face masks.
• In the last half kilometer to the taxi rank there are at least 5 HIV/AIDS related billboards.
• I walk through the wards of the hospital and see men who are mainly bones huddled on their beds.
• I don’t like to ask kids about their parents, the answer often is no parents.
When we go town on business we go in the hospital vehicles with hospital drivers. The driver and Susan, my wife, were talking about TV shows. The driver asked Susan, “Why don’t your (American) shows ever talk about AIDS?”
• My shopping town, Vryheid, is small, comparable to a town in the California’s Central Valley – say Pixley, but it seems to have a funeral parlor, grave stone supplier or mortuary on every block.
• My supervisor is the minister of 4 rural churches; none of them exceed 100 members. He conducts funerals at least twice per month, this weekend alone he had two.
• I went to a meeting at the district Department of Health yesterday. On the wall I noticed a plaque entitled “10 Years of Freedom”. It honored the people who died while serving the Department of Health in the Zululand District in the ten years from 1994 to 2004. There were somewhere between 150 and 200 people listed, perhaps 20 died at an age greater than 50.
• The hospital doesn’t have the luxury of quietly transporting the deceased in camouflaged gurneys like Torrance Memorial Hospital did. I frequently look out my window and see gurneys covered with a white sheet with a red cross accompanied by nurses wearing face masks.
• In the last half kilometer to the taxi rank there are at least 5 HIV/AIDS related billboards.
• I walk through the wards of the hospital and see men who are mainly bones huddled on their beds.
• I don’t like to ask kids about their parents, the answer often is no parents.
When we go town on business we go in the hospital vehicles with hospital drivers. The driver and Susan, my wife, were talking about TV shows. The driver asked Susan, “Why don’t your (American) shows ever talk about AIDS?”
Saturday, October 28, 2006
Saturday Stroll with Zebras
We went for a walk on Saturday in our shopping town, Vryheid. The jacarandas are losing their blossoms but they are still glorious. Somehow the jacarandas seem more purple here than in LA.
Vryheid is a prosperous agricultural Afrikaaner community of about 30,000. Susan is admiring the landscaping in this upscale neighborhood. Turning the corner from this bit of suburbia we return to Africa.
Vryheid was the site of some major action in the Anglo-Boer Wars. The city set aside the area of the battles as a park and now as a nature preserve. Susan is on the road leading to the nature preserve. The hill you see is very steep and about 500 to 700 feet altitude gain from this point. There is a road through thick forest to the top. At the top is a plateau with grassland.
The forest going up the hill is filled with birds and clearings with wild flowers. Unfortunately I am not an expert birdwatcher and so have not done a good job of taking pictures of birds. This is a picture of a weaver-bird nest. The nest is delicately constructed, hangs from a branch with an entrance at the bottom.
Taking a photograph is an acceptable excuse for stopping to catch ones breath so more road pictures. We spent 3 hours on this hike and were the only people in the nature preserve.
Then you turn down slope to a large grassland plateau with animals. Here we have the Africa of the American imagination but you can still see Vryheid two km away. South Africa is a very complex country.
There are zebras, eland and other assorted antelope. They watch you carefully and run when you get within about 30 yards.
Saturday, October 21, 2006
Pictures from the Women's Conference
The first weekend as Peace Corps Volunteers at site the church affiliated with our hospital had a women's conference. Churchladies from all parts of Zululand came in their Sunday finery. This lady is wearing a traditional Zulu woman's hat. It is completely covered with detailed geometric designs in delicate beadwork.
The women sang and danced for the better part of three hours. More stamina than I could muster.
Susan very bravely volunteered to judge the basket decoration contest. Here are the entries.
Here are the winners
Pictures of Training Farewells
I am able to get some fast internet today so I will add some pictures to the blog.
This is a the walk to our training site on a typical day. The local high school was next to the training site so we walked along with all the local teenagers.
At the end of our training our homestay family threw a braai (barbeque) in our honor. This is a picture of the "Pink Palace", our home stay residence on the day of the braai, party goers are milling about.
This is another picture of people at the braai. These are members of our homestay family.
Susan helping prepare some of the braai fixin's.
A meal is not a meal without a helping of ipalishi = pap = corn meal mush = grits. Here it is prepared over an open fire in a 3 gallon traditional 3-legged pot. (Usually seen in the USA in cartoons with a missionary being prepared as stew)
This is a picture taken at the farewell party the Peace Corps Trainees gave to honor our homestay families. The lady seated is our homestay mother and the man on the left is the oldest of our homestay brothers.
We had traditional dancers at the farewell party.
Saturday, October 14, 2006
Random Thoughts
Who is this blog written for?
If some items in these pages seem odd, I am writing for three audiences. First friends and relatives, I am trying to stay connected. Second, people who think they might become South African Peace Corps Volunteers trying to find out what the real PC is like; this is paying back for the blogs I read while preparing for serving. Finally, I am writing for myself; weeks go by so quickly (and days sometimes so slowly) I want a way to capture my responses to this African life.
White Magic:
Mr. Zulu drives the khumbi (15+ passenger van / jitney) that serves as our area’s sole transport. He leaves at 6:30-ish for Vryheid and returns at 3:30-ish. Mr. Zulu is very traditional, is related in some fashion to the Zulu king, and speaks very little English. He is a very nice man. We saw him on Friday and with much hand signaling, our poor isiZulu and some body language (generally acting like a crazy umlungu (white guy)) let him know we wanted to take his khumbi to town the next morning. That Saturday when we went to get the khumbi he greeted us warmly and insisted we take the two front seats beside him. After he started driving he began to fumble through some papers and retrieved 3 lotto forms and asked Susan aka Nonhlanhla (means good fortune in isiZulu) to pick numbers. Crazy, umlungu and “good fortune” a perfect trifecta – sure to win big.
Besides isiZulu we need to learn English
I didn’t realize I had a problem with English until coming here. A biscuit is actually a cookie and a scone is a biscuit, as in “I’d like an Oreo biscuit and a scone with ham gravy”. Robots are traffic lights, as in “Turn left at the second robot” or “The robot is turning red”. Paraffin is kerosene, as in “Fill the camp stove with paraffin.” Geyser (pronounced GEE-zer) is a hot water heater as in “The old geyser doesn’t get hot anymore”. Stiffie is a USB thumb drive. Bakkie (pronounce more or less BUG-gy) is a personal motor vehicle, generally referring to a fairly beat up small pickup truck coated with mud and a fine sheen of road dust.
I love the SA usage of “this side”, “that side”. I don’t know if the usage is universal in SA but it certainly is used here in KZN. Seemingly every person, thing, place or concept is associated with a side. The usage provides a wonderful level of ambiguity, as in “He’s over that side today”. This might mean is in the next room, next door, down the road, over the hill, across the country, in the United States or around the world.
Getting plugged in
Electricity is a problem. No not the problem that out here the power goes out with every good storm – that problem could be fixed. No the deepest problem with the electrical grid is the electrical plug. South Africa has a power plug found no where else. The plug is roughly the size and shape of Tyrannosaurus Rex’s fore-paws. It has three round prongs each about a quarter of inch diameter and a little over an inch long.. So far no problem, a little unwieldy perhaps– a 6 outlet power strip is the size of a small aircraft carrier – the problem is that even South Africans don’t use it. About half the electrical appliances use the European plug with two small round prongs and virtually all electronic gadgets use the European plug – this includes items manufactured in SA for South Africa. This means that nearly every electrical outlet needs an SA to European adapter (and of course the Crazy American needs a American flat prong to European round prong adapter to go into the European to SA adapter).
The amazing fact is that the adapters don’t work. Get to work in the morning and plug your laptop into the American-to-European adapter, then plug the American-to-European adapter into the European-to-SA adapter then plug the whole mess into the wall and NOTHING happens. This is when the fun starts. The trick is to jiggle the various plugs for five or ten minutes until you hear a crackle, see a satisfying arc of sparks, feel a small jolt of electricity in your fingers, perhaps see the overhead lights dim; this means you’ve found a connection. If you move anything you lose the connection and you must start jiggling all over again.
I suppose this is a pretty petty rant – some PCV’s and lots of South Africans don’t have electricity at all but I was frustrated this week when I bought an extension cord. When I tried to use it the first time it didn’t work. How can one sell an extension cord that doesn’t work? So many cultural adjustments.
Birdwatching for Dummies
Birds in South Africa are amazing. I sit at my window and each day I see new varieties. It helps that I am a naïve American so that even the commonest of birds look and sound exotic. I suppose that my excitement can sound odd to a South African like raving over sighting a pigeon or sparrow might sound to an American. The sights and sounds of these beautiful birds warm my spirit.
The Yearly Cycle
This year has been very confusing for us. We have had 2 winters , 2 springs and parts of 2 summers and no fall at all. We are now in South African spring-time which seems to sprinkle in a few days of summer now and again. The mountains are turning green with the increased rainfall and are filling with wild flowers. Jacarandas are native to South Africa and are in full spectacular flower. Somehow the jacarandas seem to have a deeper, more intense purple here than in LA.
If some items in these pages seem odd, I am writing for three audiences. First friends and relatives, I am trying to stay connected. Second, people who think they might become South African Peace Corps Volunteers trying to find out what the real PC is like; this is paying back for the blogs I read while preparing for serving. Finally, I am writing for myself; weeks go by so quickly (and days sometimes so slowly) I want a way to capture my responses to this African life.
White Magic:
Mr. Zulu drives the khumbi (15+ passenger van / jitney) that serves as our area’s sole transport. He leaves at 6:30-ish for Vryheid and returns at 3:30-ish. Mr. Zulu is very traditional, is related in some fashion to the Zulu king, and speaks very little English. He is a very nice man. We saw him on Friday and with much hand signaling, our poor isiZulu and some body language (generally acting like a crazy umlungu (white guy)) let him know we wanted to take his khumbi to town the next morning. That Saturday when we went to get the khumbi he greeted us warmly and insisted we take the two front seats beside him. After he started driving he began to fumble through some papers and retrieved 3 lotto forms and asked Susan aka Nonhlanhla (means good fortune in isiZulu) to pick numbers. Crazy, umlungu and “good fortune” a perfect trifecta – sure to win big.
Besides isiZulu we need to learn English
I didn’t realize I had a problem with English until coming here. A biscuit is actually a cookie and a scone is a biscuit, as in “I’d like an Oreo biscuit and a scone with ham gravy”. Robots are traffic lights, as in “Turn left at the second robot” or “The robot is turning red”. Paraffin is kerosene, as in “Fill the camp stove with paraffin.” Geyser (pronounced GEE-zer) is a hot water heater as in “The old geyser doesn’t get hot anymore”. Stiffie is a USB thumb drive. Bakkie (pronounce more or less BUG-gy) is a personal motor vehicle, generally referring to a fairly beat up small pickup truck coated with mud and a fine sheen of road dust.
I love the SA usage of “this side”, “that side”. I don’t know if the usage is universal in SA but it certainly is used here in KZN. Seemingly every person, thing, place or concept is associated with a side. The usage provides a wonderful level of ambiguity, as in “He’s over that side today”. This might mean is in the next room, next door, down the road, over the hill, across the country, in the United States or around the world.
Getting plugged in
Electricity is a problem. No not the problem that out here the power goes out with every good storm – that problem could be fixed. No the deepest problem with the electrical grid is the electrical plug. South Africa has a power plug found no where else. The plug is roughly the size and shape of Tyrannosaurus Rex’s fore-paws. It has three round prongs each about a quarter of inch diameter and a little over an inch long.. So far no problem, a little unwieldy perhaps– a 6 outlet power strip is the size of a small aircraft carrier – the problem is that even South Africans don’t use it. About half the electrical appliances use the European plug with two small round prongs and virtually all electronic gadgets use the European plug – this includes items manufactured in SA for South Africa. This means that nearly every electrical outlet needs an SA to European adapter (and of course the Crazy American needs a American flat prong to European round prong adapter to go into the European to SA adapter).
The amazing fact is that the adapters don’t work. Get to work in the morning and plug your laptop into the American-to-European adapter, then plug the American-to-European adapter into the European-to-SA adapter then plug the whole mess into the wall and NOTHING happens. This is when the fun starts. The trick is to jiggle the various plugs for five or ten minutes until you hear a crackle, see a satisfying arc of sparks, feel a small jolt of electricity in your fingers, perhaps see the overhead lights dim; this means you’ve found a connection. If you move anything you lose the connection and you must start jiggling all over again.
I suppose this is a pretty petty rant – some PCV’s and lots of South Africans don’t have electricity at all but I was frustrated this week when I bought an extension cord. When I tried to use it the first time it didn’t work. How can one sell an extension cord that doesn’t work? So many cultural adjustments.
Birdwatching for Dummies
Birds in South Africa are amazing. I sit at my window and each day I see new varieties. It helps that I am a naïve American so that even the commonest of birds look and sound exotic. I suppose that my excitement can sound odd to a South African like raving over sighting a pigeon or sparrow might sound to an American. The sights and sounds of these beautiful birds warm my spirit.
The Yearly Cycle
This year has been very confusing for us. We have had 2 winters , 2 springs and parts of 2 summers and no fall at all. We are now in South African spring-time which seems to sprinkle in a few days of summer now and again. The mountains are turning green with the increased rainfall and are filling with wild flowers. Jacarandas are native to South Africa and are in full spectacular flower. Somehow the jacarandas seem to have a deeper, more intense purple here than in LA.
Tuesday, September 26, 2006
Volunteers at last
Susan and I were sworn in as Peace Corps Volunteers on September 21st. We are now official PCVs, proud members of SA15 (the 15th PC cohort in to South Africa). We are situated at our work site for the next two years. The time period from my last blog update to date has been busy. We went to the city of Rustenberg to meet our supervisor, traveled to our work for orientation, visited with a current PCV (from SA14), returned to the training site, had more training, had a going away party with our homestay families, had the swearing-in ceremony, and of course had a couple of braais in the meantime (South Africans seems to look for any excuse to have a braai (celebratory barbeque)).
The supervisor’s meeting in Rustenberg was a welcome if jarring change from the village life at our training site. South Africa is a land of contrasts. After waking in our village to a bucket bath, pit toilet and cautiously boiled water, we arrive at a resort in Rustenberg and are greeted with cream scones and our first cup of brewed coffee in South Africa. The resort was a welcome respite – beautiful grounds, plentiful and delicious meals, hot showers, dependable electricity, and flush toilets. I missed the early morning nature walk but those who made it reported seeing zebra and wildebeest. It was hard for my mind to adjust from village life in early 20th century to 21st century resort living.
From Rustenberg in Northwest province we traveled to our site in KwaZulu-Natal. Our site is a hospital on a mountain ridge. The hospital is surrounded by forest. Our accommodation is a one-room flat adjoining the hospital administration office.
The hospital is small – current census is 92, there is a maximum capacity of 110 but they try to keep at least 10 beds available for emergencies. The hospital was originally build as a TB sanitarium, but now serves as an AIDS hospice, TB treatment center, and emergency care facility for the local area. There is one doctor at the hospital for two days per week and one pharmacist for two days a week. The area is very remote and very rural. The local village has about 10 houses and a tuck shop (the rural South African version of 7-11). The area does not have electricity and water is an occasional event. On the other hand our accommodations are plush – electricity, flush toilets, indoor water, and hot showers – South Africa is a place of jarring contrasts.
Our living area is a one room flat adjoining the hospital administration office, we have a kitchen area, shower and bathroom in what was once a hallway in the administration area. The site is beautiful, at supper time we sit at our dining table and look out at sunset across a broad valley with rough rock formations and cliffs. The Zulu king, Shaka, was reported to have tossed his enemies off these cliffs as a expedient means of gaining concensus in the 1800’s. Being on the hospital grounds, there is a staff of gardeners which maintains the lawn and flowers in our backyard. The back yard is small, but is at the end of the ridge top – there is a steep drop of several hundred meters at the end of our yard. The mountainside is home to lots of birds – all beautiful and exotic to Californians.
After visiting our work site, meeting our supervisor and seeing our assignments, returning to training seemed difficult. The last two weeks of training were informative but there was a sense of impatience and anxiety hanging over all the sessions. Our homestay family held a braai in our honor with our language class, all the language trainers, and lots of neighbors/relatives. Braai’s are wonderful feast – grilled beef, chicken and wors (Afrikaans for wurst = sausage), stew, salads, veggies, and mountains of pap (corn meal mush). The meat is grilled over the embers of branches brought in from the local woods. The branches are cut (broken) long so that the ember end can be under the meat but the branch is still on fire further up. As the ember end dies out the branch is inserted further bringing fresh embers into the broiling area. The result is a very smokey tasting meal.
In final weekend of training all the trainees went to a mall in Pretoria to buy household goods for “settling-in” into our new homes. Shopping day was Susan’s and my anniversary so we spent more time having a celebratory multi-course “Continental” lunch than shopping. The mall in Pretoria was barely distinguishable from Del Amo mall in Torrance, another jarring moment in South Africa – awakened with roosters and goats then off to the mall.
Leah, our Assistant PC Country Director i.e. the boss for NGO’s, had a closing ritual for our final class. She had us write down all our unfulfilled Peace Corps expectations on a piece of paper, and then one by one had us set a match to them and burn them. Then she gave out flowers made of wire and beads, and pieces of paper shaped like petals. We wrote new plans for our two years here and placed them as petals on the wire flowers. We went outside and formed a circle; one by one we said one of our new expectations and planted our flower.
We spent the night before swearing-in at the same rondovaals we stayed in when we first arrived in country. When we arrived we thought the rondovaals were quaint and primitive. By the end of training we looked forward to a night there with the luxury of electricity, flush toilets and hot showers. I suppose that’s what the training was all about.
The swearing-in was held at a resort near our training village and just outside the border of a nature preserve. The ceremony touched me more than I expected. I was proud to have made it through training (even if my Zulu is less that comprehensible), sorry to say good-bye to my fellow trainees and eager to get on with my new life. Like much of Peace Corps – a wild mix of emotions.
I am writing this on Tuesday. Swearing-in was on Thursday, Friday was spent shopping in Vryheid for groceries, household goods and an Internet data card for my PC—we are now connected (sort of). We have intermittent GPRS service at our site, I’m really not complaining – its amazing to have any Internet access when our nearest grocery store is 80 km away.
Saturday and Sunday were spent in Nongoma at church women’s conference that our supervisor was attending. The women at the meeting were dressed in a spectacular array of finery: traditional Zulu dress, “pinafores” (matching head-scarf, apron and full skirted dress, and the occasions modern dress. One session consisted of 4 hours of singing, dancing and marching up to the altar to give offerings – non-stop. These little old ladies have stamina.
Monday was a South African holiday so Susan and I hiked around the area to get our bearings. There is a former tea plantation about 6 to 8 km from us. For reasons not clear to me the plantation ceased operations though there are still people living in the plantation housing.
Today we finally started work. I have a job, my title is Operations Manager. I am not real sure what that entails, but I think it means I am now the assistant hospital administrator. Today I started sorting through human resource processes, procedures and forms, trying to assemble a workable set of HR procedures for the hospital.
The supervisor’s meeting in Rustenberg was a welcome if jarring change from the village life at our training site. South Africa is a land of contrasts. After waking in our village to a bucket bath, pit toilet and cautiously boiled water, we arrive at a resort in Rustenberg and are greeted with cream scones and our first cup of brewed coffee in South Africa. The resort was a welcome respite – beautiful grounds, plentiful and delicious meals, hot showers, dependable electricity, and flush toilets. I missed the early morning nature walk but those who made it reported seeing zebra and wildebeest. It was hard for my mind to adjust from village life in early 20th century to 21st century resort living.
From Rustenberg in Northwest province we traveled to our site in KwaZulu-Natal. Our site is a hospital on a mountain ridge. The hospital is surrounded by forest. Our accommodation is a one-room flat adjoining the hospital administration office.
The hospital is small – current census is 92, there is a maximum capacity of 110 but they try to keep at least 10 beds available for emergencies. The hospital was originally build as a TB sanitarium, but now serves as an AIDS hospice, TB treatment center, and emergency care facility for the local area. There is one doctor at the hospital for two days per week and one pharmacist for two days a week. The area is very remote and very rural. The local village has about 10 houses and a tuck shop (the rural South African version of 7-11). The area does not have electricity and water is an occasional event. On the other hand our accommodations are plush – electricity, flush toilets, indoor water, and hot showers – South Africa is a place of jarring contrasts.
Our living area is a one room flat adjoining the hospital administration office, we have a kitchen area, shower and bathroom in what was once a hallway in the administration area. The site is beautiful, at supper time we sit at our dining table and look out at sunset across a broad valley with rough rock formations and cliffs. The Zulu king, Shaka, was reported to have tossed his enemies off these cliffs as a expedient means of gaining concensus in the 1800’s. Being on the hospital grounds, there is a staff of gardeners which maintains the lawn and flowers in our backyard. The back yard is small, but is at the end of the ridge top – there is a steep drop of several hundred meters at the end of our yard. The mountainside is home to lots of birds – all beautiful and exotic to Californians.
After visiting our work site, meeting our supervisor and seeing our assignments, returning to training seemed difficult. The last two weeks of training were informative but there was a sense of impatience and anxiety hanging over all the sessions. Our homestay family held a braai in our honor with our language class, all the language trainers, and lots of neighbors/relatives. Braai’s are wonderful feast – grilled beef, chicken and wors (Afrikaans for wurst = sausage), stew, salads, veggies, and mountains of pap (corn meal mush). The meat is grilled over the embers of branches brought in from the local woods. The branches are cut (broken) long so that the ember end can be under the meat but the branch is still on fire further up. As the ember end dies out the branch is inserted further bringing fresh embers into the broiling area. The result is a very smokey tasting meal.
In final weekend of training all the trainees went to a mall in Pretoria to buy household goods for “settling-in” into our new homes. Shopping day was Susan’s and my anniversary so we spent more time having a celebratory multi-course “Continental” lunch than shopping. The mall in Pretoria was barely distinguishable from Del Amo mall in Torrance, another jarring moment in South Africa – awakened with roosters and goats then off to the mall.
Leah, our Assistant PC Country Director i.e. the boss for NGO’s, had a closing ritual for our final class. She had us write down all our unfulfilled Peace Corps expectations on a piece of paper, and then one by one had us set a match to them and burn them. Then she gave out flowers made of wire and beads, and pieces of paper shaped like petals. We wrote new plans for our two years here and placed them as petals on the wire flowers. We went outside and formed a circle; one by one we said one of our new expectations and planted our flower.
We spent the night before swearing-in at the same rondovaals we stayed in when we first arrived in country. When we arrived we thought the rondovaals were quaint and primitive. By the end of training we looked forward to a night there with the luxury of electricity, flush toilets and hot showers. I suppose that’s what the training was all about.
The swearing-in was held at a resort near our training village and just outside the border of a nature preserve. The ceremony touched me more than I expected. I was proud to have made it through training (even if my Zulu is less that comprehensible), sorry to say good-bye to my fellow trainees and eager to get on with my new life. Like much of Peace Corps – a wild mix of emotions.
I am writing this on Tuesday. Swearing-in was on Thursday, Friday was spent shopping in Vryheid for groceries, household goods and an Internet data card for my PC—we are now connected (sort of). We have intermittent GPRS service at our site, I’m really not complaining – its amazing to have any Internet access when our nearest grocery store is 80 km away.
Saturday and Sunday were spent in Nongoma at church women’s conference that our supervisor was attending. The women at the meeting were dressed in a spectacular array of finery: traditional Zulu dress, “pinafores” (matching head-scarf, apron and full skirted dress, and the occasions modern dress. One session consisted of 4 hours of singing, dancing and marching up to the altar to give offerings – non-stop. These little old ladies have stamina.
Monday was a South African holiday so Susan and I hiked around the area to get our bearings. There is a former tea plantation about 6 to 8 km from us. For reasons not clear to me the plantation ceased operations though there are still people living in the plantation housing.
Today we finally started work. I have a job, my title is Operations Manager. I am not real sure what that entails, but I think it means I am now the assistant hospital administrator. Today I started sorting through human resource processes, procedures and forms, trying to assemble a workable set of HR procedures for the hospital.
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