A Year of Firsts

Happy birthday to me. Happy birthday to me.

This will be my first birthday spent outside of the USA. Plans for the day: Prepare and eat lunch and dinner, read in the sun, sleep around 8 or 9pm. Every American-type person in the area has left to explore locations of various distances so I have just been doing a bunch of time passing these days.

Painting my house seemed like a pretty solid project so I went and bought 10 Liters of the cheapest white paint the store sold for 85 Rand and set to it yesterday. The claims of 1 liter for every 6-8 square meters were highly exaggerated as I ran short of covering my 50 square meters of wall. I had a bit of an outcry against the covering of the Ndebele paintings. One teacher who stopped by said that I was destroying the only piece of Ndebele art in the whole of Tjakastad. I told her it that since it was American who painted it that I had no qualms about covering it up. Besides in my minds eye I'm planning on painting it again in that style but more elaborate. Also the walls were turning into more grey cement than white paint. They needed a new coat.

I will have to buy another 10 liter bucket and give it another layer since the old paint is clearly seen through the new white. Also of note are the two sunflowers I have growing. They are the 'American Giant' breed of sunflower whose heights are regularly supposed to reach up to 15 feet. Needless to say these ones underperformed.

...In other news I have been hanging around with the kids exclusively these days. My oldest real friend in the village is an 18 year old born-again Christian guy who lives across the street. He has been off at some work internship thing in the mountains for the past few weeks so the average age of someone I have been spending time with is 12.

This is doing wonders for my siSwati skills. It also makes me feel like I am a kid on school break all over again. We watch videos, throw the football in the yard, and play monopoly. Nothing to do and nothing needs done. Carefree living.

At times it also makes me feel like Puff the Magic Dragon. There seems to be a pretty reliable age at which kids lose interest in the friendly neighborhood Peace Corps volunteer. I would say that age is somewhere around 15 or 16. Younger kids love hanging out with me. I think its partly because I have lots of good food in my house and partly because I am the only older person who will give them any attention and spend time with them. Raising kids here is a pretty hands off process. The 3 kids of my host family play all day in the yard or around the block with no supervision whatsoever. They return to the house when called for chores or to eat or bath, etc. No adult plays with them, reads to them, or as far as I can tell does anything with them whatsoever except smack them when they do something bad. I have also never seen a high school age kid play or have fun with a younger one.

One 18-ish guy told me on the bus that he always sees me playing with the kids. He said that the reason he doesn't bother with kids is that they say if you play with children then it means you yourself will not have any children of your own. So he said he is going to wait until when he has kids before he pays them any attention. I don't know if this is the dominant ideology amongst men in the area, but absentee fathers surely are. My 23 year old host brother had his child over to the family house on 1 single day out of the year that I spent here. As far as I know he doesn't see her much more than that over the course of 12 months. I have also never met any of the fathers of the 3 kids in my family. I think more likely that superstition is just an explanation for a behavior rather than the reason for the behavior. My theory is that raising children (until they can walk and talk) is seen as a woman’s responsibility and the men couldn't really care less about the task. After that the kids raise themselves in packs.

In any case the kids love the attention they get from me. When they color with the crayons I bought for them for Christmas (which stay in my house) they run back and forth to me in turn and show me their scribbles to see what I will say about them, running back to the table to tell everyone else what I said. Since they don't speak the language, it doesn't matter what I say if I say it in English...'Ah it looks like a house!' gets turned into "Garrett says 'loo likay how!'" when they proudly tell the other kids what I said about the drawing.

It is different for older kids. Once they hit that certain age mark, they start to have other priorities. They start trying to impress other people their age and they don't to be known as the friend of the umlungu (white guy). They worry about wearing nice clothes and having cool cell phones with features they will never use. And Garrett the Magic Peace Corps Volunteer gets left behind.

There is also an issue of the communication barrier. Kids in high school are usually embarrassed to speak English in front of me, worrying about how their mid-level abilities (which should be fluency by this point according to the national school system who says English only should be spoken in the classroom starting by grade 4) will sound to my perfect-English-speaking ear. There also is the issue of connection on a deeper level. How can you as a 16 year old village kid who has rarely been out of the village, let alone the province, who doesn't read books, only experiences culture through afternoon television shows and has no real opinions about anything relate to an advantaged 24 year old American who has probably experienced more of the world and accomplished more than you probably will in your entire life. The big fish in the village because of familial wealth or personal attractiveness has his or her bubble burst when I come into the picture. Again, this is my theory of my friendships drop off after maturity, unintentionally self-important sounding.

Sometimes I get a lot of stress through these relationships. I worry about these kids. I had a pretty tormented time a few weeks ago when I got a midnight phone call from the 2 14-year old girls who live across the street. They said they were at one of the local taverns (probably the one owned and frequented by one of the high school teachers) and were drunk like this was something to brag about. 6am comes and their friend is outside my house concerned because those two never came home and she’s worried about getting in trouble... Taverns here aren’t your laid back local bar in USA. They are usually dark, seedy 1-room brick buildings with blasting music. 4 guys for every girl. No carding so the age of entry starts around 13. Beer bottles are disposed of by throwing them in the parking lot. Broken glass everywhere. The mens toilet is the side of the building. Guys jump at the opportunity to feed girls drinks and take advantage of their drunkenness.

I called their mom. Doubt they were given the slightest reprimand. Probably are excited to go back as soon as the parents are out of town for the night. I lose sleep over stuff like this.

It can be a dangerous world to grow up in.

New Phone Day

Yesterday in Pretoria I was once again granted the opportunity to buy something new. This time it was a cell phone. The dark forces of the world were apparently weighted against me. I was walking to the small mall not too far from our hostel at 10:00 in the morning. Keep in mind that this hostel is in one of the most quiet and nicest neighborhoods in the area. Another volunteer had just left before me by herself. I walked alone because I figured that 1. I could buy some stuff I needed and have Scott meet up with me in a few hours at the mall and 2. This area is one of the nicest and most quiet neighborhoods around... I didn't make it 2 blocks.

I came out of the gate and strolled down the street in my happy-go-lucky and innocent way enjoying the morning sunshine and wondering if all the dogs on the street bark at me in particular or at everyone who passes by. At this point three shady looking guys come around the corner and scatter. I saw these guys and thought 'Damn... I'm getting mugged'. One by one I was surrounded as they asked me random stuff which I ignored. One of the guys grabs me from behind and the other two more or less empty my pockets. I decide to help them out and take out my cheap cell phone saying 'Here take the f****** thing'. I made rare vocal use of the F word because I was under a bit of stress at the time and it seemed wholly appropriate.

One of the guys goes 'Where's the money??'. I say 'I don't carry money on me because I don't want people to steal it...' and with that I turned and walked away like nothing had happened. In reality I had a good 200 Rand in my pocket. I guess I earned the trust of the robbers when I so kindly handed them the phone. They must not have been able to think of any reason why a person getting robbed wouldn't keep any secrets from their assailants.

I went straight to the mall and bought myself a new phone. I had Vodacom switch my phone number back and amazingly retrieved all 40 Rands of my airtime. So in the end I was out: 1 Nokia phone that was almost a year old which I paid less than $30.00 for and a camo patterned bandanna that I had recently used to dry the entirety of my body after a shower. Not a very good haul by any means.

I have to give mad props to our Peace Corps security officer who told us all about muggings, how to handle them and how to limit the damage. Thanks to him I had my cheap phone in my pocket and my nice phone buried in my bag. I pretty much bought that phone for the purpose of being stolen.

Also, Vodacom was very quick in getting my number back to me and everything up and working like old.

Finally, to the robbers themselves. I think the mugging experience was one of the most expedited processes I have been through in this country. Quick and to the point. They took my cheap things off my mind and allowed me the freedom to renew my phone inventory. I hope they are enjoying that handkerchief.

Sunny Side of Life

Don't get me wrong. Some of these entries may lean towards the cynical side of life. The negatives are over-represented on my blog. In practice, day after positive day will pass. Days where a spontaneous game of football with 40 kids in the streets takes place as the sun sets. Or days where a rare power outage at night allows for a wild game of hide and seek in our yard. These good days are plentiful. But usually they don't make for thrilling subject matter. It is when something bad happens that I am compelled to write. I also don't like to only blog about sunshine and skittle rainbows. The Peace Corps is by far the toughest social experience I have ever had. My self esteem has taken many a beating and my patience given plenty of exercise. That side of this job needs to be addressed.

I love it here and I am very happy. I really dislike school holidays and I am starting to consider weekends as the time that gets in the way of working, instead of the light at the end of the tunnel that got me through my weeks last year. I look forward to just about every new day. I appreciate every piece of fruit, deliciously fresh and dirt cheap. Life is beautiful...

Last week I gave a presentation about STI's, safe sex, HIV, and the like, to all the grade 12 students at my high school. I worked on it for about a week or so in PowerPoint. I tried to make it cool and hip. I use the SiSwati slang when I refer to the private parts. The kids laugh at all the right parts. It was probably the most fun I have had doing 'work' since I got here. All the teachers preach abstinence while half the school gets pregnant. I was told to stress the point that if you needed to resort to using a condom, it is because you are a failure at abstaining.

I disregarded that. My approach is one of total honesty. Ideally, I would like to be the guy that the kids can feel comfortable coming to and asking for advice. That won't happen if I act like some kind of American saint who is free from vice. 'Yea, most people drink alcohol in America. Yes I drink, too.' I think this approach is working for me. Others have chosen to put on the Respect-Costume and I guess that works for them, too.

I want to give the talk to the entire school, grade by grade. Unfortunately, June 2 marked the start of exams. From here until the end of the month, the students will be taking texts. Most won't come to school everyday. When they do come, they will come late or leave early. Teachers will be sitting around all day. I can't stand this time of year.

Luckily I now have Kristy's map painting to help on and Scott has somehow started getting me inroads at the Tjakastad home-based care NGO that he has never even visited. This school break should be a productive one.

Truth in the 'Stad

Pineapples!

Something Finished

I can say that my world map mural project at the high school is complete. Once I had all the supplies together, I went out and masked off an area of wall and started painting by myself. Within the hour a group of grade 9 guys, who apparently were doing nothing in class, came out and started picking up brushes. We had the whole 2-4 meter wide world map space and its sister 1.5 meter squared South Africa space primed in under 3 hours. The next day we covered both with light blue paint in even less time. That night 2 students, my friend Thokozani, Scott and I used the schools digital projector to trace the map onto the wall. Next morning we painted in the countries with the help of Jeff and Kristy. I traced the countries on the following monday. Basically the whole thing took less than 5 days of work. Speedy.

In other news, I have been waiting since the 25 new computers arrived in February to start computer instruction. 13 of those computers were missing the correct power cords and I refused to teach in a half completed lab when the school was easily capable of buying the needed cables. Again this week I asked the guy in charge of the lab how we could move this process along. He told me that the computer teacher was given the task of getting a quote and that I could help him get some quotes. Called the big computer store in Nelspruit. 1150 Rand for 13 cables. I tell the principal... 'Ok that's fine. When can you go buy them?' Didn't matter how much it would cost. The school would cover it. So I am left wondering what the heck took so long when the purchase did not even need approval.

Still, we will have 25 fully functional computers this time next week. Hells yea.

Extreme Scripture

I was hanging out in the library at school yesterday with my counterpart and a few other people. We were talking about the upcoming painting of my big world map mural when this social worker, Nombuso, said that she can't paint if it is on a Saturday because she goes to church then, nor on a Sunday because that is her day of rest. I didn't react much to this beyond saying 'Psh' and shaking my head. A few seconds later I happened to look down and see a mini-bible on a desk. I picked it up.

Now this girl Nombuso likes to be sarcastic and bother me whenever possible. She is very annoying. She asks me if I would like to read one of my favorite passages, throwing in a smirking laugh for good measure. I certainly am not the bible quoting type but I couldn't give her the satisfaction of besting me.

I thought back to watching the WWF when Stone Cold Steve Austin was around and his slogan was 'Austin 3:16' and I remembered that when he coined he mentioned John 3:16. I decided to would wing it and so I say "Sure. That would be John 3:16" and I flip to it. I used a voice of gravity and meaning. "And god so loved the world... that he gave his only begotten son... that whoever believes in him shall not perish but shall have everlasting life."

My counterpart let out a gasp of surprise and the cleaning lady stopped her mopping to hear me read it. Everyone was amazed that I knew the scripture and I totally proved my skill in the area of bible knowledge. Holla.

... In other news, Kristy and I went down to the local hardware store Build-It to get our final shopping list for the map murals. We figured we would just use our fundraising money to pay for the most we could and do the rest out-of-pocket. That is when the manager of the store told us he would just donate all the paint for our maps. 350 rand of paint. 10 liters of paint. I can honestly say that I was shocked. Completely amazed. Total happiness. With this paint we have plenty of money left over to fund the other materials for the project. 

The birds sang, the sun shone and for this week in South Africa, all was well in the world.

Prepaid Phone Charged With Prepaid Electricity

I am loving this autumn weather. Once the sun sets the temperature quickly starts dropping into the 50s. Then it seems like as soon as the sun rises we are back into the 70s, getting up in the 80s around noon.

School has been out for two weeks since the end of the first term. The Longtom Marathon took place on the 28^th. Thank you to everyone who donated to the KLM foundation in my behalf! I think Peace Corps South Africa as a whole raised around 14,000 bills. I finished the 13.1 mile half marathon in 1 hour and 56 minutes. That’s a bit less than 9 minutes per mile on average.

April 12 will be the 9 month mark for my time in country. I can gauge how long I have lived here based on the number of people in my cell phone contact list. The more personal connections I make, the more I have felt at home here.

Concerning cell phones, most people use prepaid phones instead of contracts. At least in the village, there seems to be a continual shortage of air time. When kids come over to my house and see my phone they automatically pick it up and type in the code to see how much air time I have. I have seen this happen over and over with people between the ages of 12 to 24. When they see that I have about 40 rand of airtime they turn to show their friends in amazement or shock. ‘Why do you have so much airtime?!’ I guess nobody buys airtime in sizes greater than 5 rand at a time.

This 5 rand of airtime is then put to its best use calling people and hanging up after 1 ring. The goal is that the person will see the missed call and use their own 5 rand of airtime to return (and pay for) the conversation. I get this kind of thing all the time. I usually refuse to call back. Sorry but there is no way in hell I am going to pay to call a certain teacher who probably makes 7 times as much money as I do each month, owns a local tavern and drives a black 3 series BMW. This guy can afford to buy some damn airtime.

*Philani is standing next to me right now with his hands down his pants dancing to the Marvin Gaye song I have playing.

Overall, prepaid bills are an amazing thing. You know exactly how much of whatever service you’re using. The electricity is prepaid too. One night I was suddenly plunged into darkness. It wasn’t a blackout because the houses next door were still lit. I used my cell phone banking to buy a code for 50 rand of electricity, walked outside, opened my Eskom box and punched in the code. At the very last number of the dozen or so numbers I heard a metallic clink and all the lights in my house lit up at once. That’s convenience.