I just had my first official vacation since beginning my PC odyssey. I went with four friends to St. Lucia's Estuary and Kosi Bay for a week and had my first Indian Ocean experience. St. Lucia's is a World Heritage Site, and its estuary hosts hippopatami, which I saw in abundance, and crocodiles, which I saw only one of thanks to the windy August weather. In addition, we went to both the St. Lucia's beach (more hippos!) and the Cape Vidal beach (so, so windy). We should have been able to see whales on the Cape Vidal beach, but I think that the wind kept them offshore. To get to the Cape Vidal beach, we had to drive through a game park, where South African wildlife roamed freely. The highlight were the rhinos, my first SA encounter with one of the big five.
After St. Lucia's we headed north to Kosi Bay, a very non-developed, non-touristy area. The signs to our backpackers (Thobeka, which is a great place and one I recommend heartily to anyone doing this route) had been stolen, so we had to drive a few kilometers down a dirt road without much idea of which turns we should take, causing some amount of worry that we had made a horrible mistake in choosing this site to visit. However, when at last we arrived (convinced it must be late because it was so dark even though it was only about 6), we got a warm welcome at the beautiful backpackers and a host of activities to be arranged. The first day there we were driven along a gorgeous route to an estuary where we punted across the Blackwater Lake and got to see some amazing raffia palm trees. That afternoon we went snorkeling in Kosi Bay--another windy but beautiful beach. The next day we were taken into Moz for the day and had some amazing seafood while overlooking a breathtaking view of lush green hills and sandy roads, which fortunately involved another incredible scenic drive through the open air over rolling untarred roads.
Finally we drove down along the coast of KZN to return the car to Durban, from which I took a bus to Pretoria and then a taxi home. The drive was stunning, and every hour or so the scenery would change. Limpopo is beautiful in a harsh way, but KZN is intensely green and lush even in winter. Dotted by tree farms and sugar cane fields, even staying in the car the whole time, the journey was magnificent. Durban itself yielded little interesting on this trip, as my hours there were too short and I was burdened by my luggage, but I spent the afternoon with a fellow traveler returning to Limpopo overlooking the beach and the evening waiting at the bus station. I arrived back last night, exhausted and dirty but fully convinced that I have had a wonderful vacation and ready to plan my next.
Pictures will be up on Picasa soon, and when other people post theirs, I will direct you to their collections as well.
Monday, August 25, 2008
American Diversity
Sorry for the long absence. I have been traveling for the last two weeks, first to Pre-Service Training for SA 18 (ie, the group of Peace Corps Volunteers who arrived last month) to help run a diversity workshop and sit in on the Tsonga classes, then to Pretoria for a Diversity Committee meeting, and then for a wonderful trip down to St. Lucia's Estuary and Kosi Bay. I have lots to tell, and promise to make up for my few weeks' silence over the next few days.
I forget if I mentioned that I am now on PCSA's Diversity Committee, a group dedicated to negotiating and supporting the diverse experiences of Peace Corps Volunteers in South Africa. Doesn't that sound nice? In practice, it means aiding with Peace Corps trainings, currently pre-service training and in-service training (which I underwent a month and a half ago). We conduct workshops and panels, the number usually determined by the amount of time that PC is able to set aside for us. For SA 18's PST, we conducted a South African Diversity Panel, where South Africans of different ethnic backgrounds spoke about their experiences, primarily under apartheid, and an American Diversity workshop, which is what I was present for.
The South African panel held while I was a trainee was a really special experience. As a PCV, it is easy to identify only with the black South African experience in impoverished, rural villages. This is an important part of the country's history and culture, but it is not the whole picture of the country's vibrant and complicated legacy. There are four main ethnic groups in South Africa: black (encompassing all different African ethnic groups), colored (mixed black and white), Indian (a legacy of migrant labor in the 19th century; Mahatma Gandhi is an important SA historical figure), and white (further subdivided into the historically unharmonious English and Afrikaans populations). Under apartheid and to a lesser extent under current social conventions, these four groups were strictly separated and divided into a rough caste system. Hearing from people who had lived under the different strictures of the different groupings was an important part of understanding the divides that still permeate South Africa.
The American Diversity workshop held for SA 18 encompassed three activities, each designed to make the trainees more aware of the different experiences among their group, and how they can help each other to be supportive allies in negotiating the never-easy experience of being a PCV. The first activity we held was intended to spark discussions amongst the trainees about how the privileges they had in the US varied amongst different members of their group, and how in turn those privileges changed and varied upon arrival in South Africa. The second activity was Common Ground, a fun activity that emphasizes the similarities as well as differences amongst the trainees. Finally we did an ally-building activity that used gender roles as its model, which was intended to make male volunteers better conscious of how they can be supportive of and sensitive to the unique challgenges that the female volunteers in the group will face as volunteers; the model can also be cross-applied to other social dichotomies.
PCVs are often spoken to as if they are all young, white, single women. This is because over 65% are female, over 80% white and young, and correspondingly few are married couples. Still, to do so is counterproductive to the strengthening of ties between PCVs, and between PCVs and PC staff. Heightening awareness of the fact that not all PCVs are the same PCV is essential to a supportive and inclusive environment--and certainly, these demographics will never change if those volunteers who are not in keeping with the stereotypical PCV feel excluded.
I hope that the activity gave the trainees something to think about, though overall it was not quite as well organized as we would have like for a number of reasons that we should be able to better handle with SA 19. Helping out with Tsonga was a lot less stressful, and I was glad both to see Cordelia, who was my language trainer, and to meet the group that may potentially be stationed in the Giyani area.
On Saturday was the quarterly Diversity Committee meeting, which was productive but probably fairly boring for all of you. One thing we discussed was the creation of a diversity blog for PCSA, as a forum to discuss the multitude of experiences PCVs have in this country, varying based both on their backgrounds and the variations in the communities they are placed in. We are still sorting out the preliminaries, including getting approval from PC, but I will let you know when/if the blog goes up.
I forget if I mentioned that I am now on PCSA's Diversity Committee, a group dedicated to negotiating and supporting the diverse experiences of Peace Corps Volunteers in South Africa. Doesn't that sound nice? In practice, it means aiding with Peace Corps trainings, currently pre-service training and in-service training (which I underwent a month and a half ago). We conduct workshops and panels, the number usually determined by the amount of time that PC is able to set aside for us. For SA 18's PST, we conducted a South African Diversity Panel, where South Africans of different ethnic backgrounds spoke about their experiences, primarily under apartheid, and an American Diversity workshop, which is what I was present for.
The South African panel held while I was a trainee was a really special experience. As a PCV, it is easy to identify only with the black South African experience in impoverished, rural villages. This is an important part of the country's history and culture, but it is not the whole picture of the country's vibrant and complicated legacy. There are four main ethnic groups in South Africa: black (encompassing all different African ethnic groups), colored (mixed black and white), Indian (a legacy of migrant labor in the 19th century; Mahatma Gandhi is an important SA historical figure), and white (further subdivided into the historically unharmonious English and Afrikaans populations). Under apartheid and to a lesser extent under current social conventions, these four groups were strictly separated and divided into a rough caste system. Hearing from people who had lived under the different strictures of the different groupings was an important part of understanding the divides that still permeate South Africa.
The American Diversity workshop held for SA 18 encompassed three activities, each designed to make the trainees more aware of the different experiences among their group, and how they can help each other to be supportive allies in negotiating the never-easy experience of being a PCV. The first activity we held was intended to spark discussions amongst the trainees about how the privileges they had in the US varied amongst different members of their group, and how in turn those privileges changed and varied upon arrival in South Africa. The second activity was Common Ground, a fun activity that emphasizes the similarities as well as differences amongst the trainees. Finally we did an ally-building activity that used gender roles as its model, which was intended to make male volunteers better conscious of how they can be supportive of and sensitive to the unique challgenges that the female volunteers in the group will face as volunteers; the model can also be cross-applied to other social dichotomies.
PCVs are often spoken to as if they are all young, white, single women. This is because over 65% are female, over 80% white and young, and correspondingly few are married couples. Still, to do so is counterproductive to the strengthening of ties between PCVs, and between PCVs and PC staff. Heightening awareness of the fact that not all PCVs are the same PCV is essential to a supportive and inclusive environment--and certainly, these demographics will never change if those volunteers who are not in keeping with the stereotypical PCV feel excluded.
I hope that the activity gave the trainees something to think about, though overall it was not quite as well organized as we would have like for a number of reasons that we should be able to better handle with SA 19. Helping out with Tsonga was a lot less stressful, and I was glad both to see Cordelia, who was my language trainer, and to meet the group that may potentially be stationed in the Giyani area.
On Saturday was the quarterly Diversity Committee meeting, which was productive but probably fairly boring for all of you. One thing we discussed was the creation of a diversity blog for PCSA, as a forum to discuss the multitude of experiences PCVs have in this country, varying based both on their backgrounds and the variations in the communities they are placed in. We are still sorting out the preliminaries, including getting approval from PC, but I will let you know when/if the blog goes up.
Wednesday, August 6, 2008
Taxis
I think I often vaguely allude to the taxis, but have never fully explained how they work. Taxis are a pretty awesome phenomenon, and I am given to understand that they work on a similar pattern (though hardly identical) throughout much of Africa.
The taxis are the equivalent of public transportation and are the standard way for people to get from the village to town. The system uses vans that are supposed to seat fifteen, though in practice can seat many more—though South Africa tends to be stricter than many other countries about enforcing the fifteen people rule. Since people often take enormous suitcases, their groceries for the next month, boxes of bread or snacks to sell in the village tuck shops, or other sundry items, even with only fifteen official passengers (not including the children sitting in laps or strapped to their mothers’ backs), the taxis can sometimes be a little to crowded for comfort, especially on a hot day.
Guidebooks call the taxis “minibus taxis” to distinguish them from the private taxis you can get in large towns or the cities (not in Giyani, however). The private taxis I have taken have been frankly horrible: expensive, slow, and prone to getting lost. The public taxi drivers, on the other hand, know exactly where everything is, can juggle change while swerving to avoid both potholes and other cars, and operate their route with supreme efficiency. They drive along one route like a bus, picking up passengers who hail them and letting off passengers when they yell out. At a particular point in the journey, everyone will hand forward their fare, one row at a time, and some combination of the driver and other passengers will make change. Unlike a bus, however, the taxis will wait at the ranks—both in town and in the villages—until they have a full load to go, so they keep to no regular schedule. My commute takes anywhere from forty minutes to two hours, doorstep to doorstep.
The taxis are used pretty much exclusively by black South Africans; other than Peace Corps volunteers, I have only seen one white person on a taxi in my six months in the country. White South Africans express shock when you tell them that you take the taxis, since they tend to believe them to be unsafe. Indeed, my presence on the taxi—as in most places I go in Giyani—tends to cause comment. However, the taxis (despite the occasional unpleasant incident) are incredibly safe, and one of the things I love most about South Africa.
On the taxi, you are part of a community. There is an enormous amount of trust and assumption that the rules will be followed when everyone passes their fare up front to the driver, and if you get shorted on change or the driver misses your stop, the other passengers on the taxi will stand up for you and make sure that you’re taken care of. If somebody harasses me, the kokwanas on the taxi scare them off.
On the taxi from town to work, I rarely see people I know and often have the frustrations and triumphs of first interactions, and I expect that I will continue to feel like a newcomer on these taxis for months to come. On the taxi from my village to town, on the other hand, I am an old hand; all the drivers know me, passengers greet me by name, and the queue marshal at the rank never fails to usher me directly on to the correct taxi when he thinks I am heading towards to with too much hesitation. I don’t even need to call out when I want to get off, since the drivers already know where to slow down, and if they forget, the other passengers remind them.
The taxis are the equivalent of public transportation and are the standard way for people to get from the village to town. The system uses vans that are supposed to seat fifteen, though in practice can seat many more—though South Africa tends to be stricter than many other countries about enforcing the fifteen people rule. Since people often take enormous suitcases, their groceries for the next month, boxes of bread or snacks to sell in the village tuck shops, or other sundry items, even with only fifteen official passengers (not including the children sitting in laps or strapped to their mothers’ backs), the taxis can sometimes be a little to crowded for comfort, especially on a hot day.
Guidebooks call the taxis “minibus taxis” to distinguish them from the private taxis you can get in large towns or the cities (not in Giyani, however). The private taxis I have taken have been frankly horrible: expensive, slow, and prone to getting lost. The public taxi drivers, on the other hand, know exactly where everything is, can juggle change while swerving to avoid both potholes and other cars, and operate their route with supreme efficiency. They drive along one route like a bus, picking up passengers who hail them and letting off passengers when they yell out. At a particular point in the journey, everyone will hand forward their fare, one row at a time, and some combination of the driver and other passengers will make change. Unlike a bus, however, the taxis will wait at the ranks—both in town and in the villages—until they have a full load to go, so they keep to no regular schedule. My commute takes anywhere from forty minutes to two hours, doorstep to doorstep.
The taxis are used pretty much exclusively by black South Africans; other than Peace Corps volunteers, I have only seen one white person on a taxi in my six months in the country. White South Africans express shock when you tell them that you take the taxis, since they tend to believe them to be unsafe. Indeed, my presence on the taxi—as in most places I go in Giyani—tends to cause comment. However, the taxis (despite the occasional unpleasant incident) are incredibly safe, and one of the things I love most about South Africa.
On the taxi, you are part of a community. There is an enormous amount of trust and assumption that the rules will be followed when everyone passes their fare up front to the driver, and if you get shorted on change or the driver misses your stop, the other passengers on the taxi will stand up for you and make sure that you’re taken care of. If somebody harasses me, the kokwanas on the taxi scare them off.
On the taxi from town to work, I rarely see people I know and often have the frustrations and triumphs of first interactions, and I expect that I will continue to feel like a newcomer on these taxis for months to come. On the taxi from my village to town, on the other hand, I am an old hand; all the drivers know me, passengers greet me by name, and the queue marshal at the rank never fails to usher me directly on to the correct taxi when he thinks I am heading towards to with too much hesitation. I don’t even need to call out when I want to get off, since the drivers already know where to slow down, and if they forget, the other passengers remind them.
Thursday, July 31, 2008
Annoyed
The plans to visit drop-in centres to talk about the training programme and curriculum ideas have been canceled. Actually, they have been moved back a week. This is unfortunate because when we made these plans two weeks ago, I planned my non-Khanimamba schedule accordingly and commited to help run the diversity workshop at pre-service training for the next group of PCVs that week. So, I have nothing to do this coming week. The week after I will shlep to training via Pretoria, back to site for two days to cram as many DIC visits in as possible, then back to Pretoria for Diversity Committee training (assuming that's still happening, which is always a crapshoot).
So. That's that. I guess I will spend next week doing village things, which I haven't gotten to do a lot of since IST.
On the upside, I am going to Venda this weekend to visit another volunteer and verify whether all my guidebooks are justified in gushing about how "mystical" and "mysterious" the region is. It is supposed to be very lush, though Lonely Planet really could have used an editor who had read some Edward Said for that section. Hmm...I should probably go charge my camera battery...
So. That's that. I guess I will spend next week doing village things, which I haven't gotten to do a lot of since IST.
On the upside, I am going to Venda this weekend to visit another volunteer and verify whether all my guidebooks are justified in gushing about how "mystical" and "mysterious" the region is. It is supposed to be very lush, though Lonely Planet really could have used an editor who had read some Edward Said for that section. Hmm...I should probably go charge my camera battery...
Monday, July 28, 2008
What I Have Been Doing
I haven't been updating much this past week because I've been busy doing boring things. A week ago I finally got to have a good, long conversation with my supervisor about what I'll be doing, and we've decided that I'm going to organize a training program for the people who work at DICs (drop-in centres). Since then, I've been doing some research and writing some grants, and this will more or less continue through this week. Next week I'm supposed to go visit a bunch more of the drop-in centres.
Today when I got home I watched my kokwana cook pap. Pap is the staple food in South Africa, and is sometimes called maize porridge (pap is the Afrikaans word for it). It's incredibly dense and incredibly bland, and you use it to scoop up sauce, meat, or whatever. I mainly cook for myself so I don't eat it very much, but I have acquired a taste for it and figured out the best ways to eat it when in social situations where it's unavoidable. There is definitely good pap and bad pap, but even bad pap improves if you mash each bite in your hand for a while before eating eat.
I've only watched pap being cooked a handful of times, so I still find it mildly fascinating to watch. You start by putting a blend of the maize flour and water into boiling water, stir it for a while, let it thicken, add some more, stir, let it thicken, add more flour, beat it in repeatedly (this is the hard part!), add more diluted flour, beat it more...and eventually you have pap.
For my part, I am eating curry right now. With rice.
Sunday, July 20, 2008
Goats!
The goat who was a baby when I first arrived is now an adolescent, and like an adolescent, is scruffy, awkward, has balls to big for his body, and likes to cause trouble. The two toddler girls in our family were getting ready to have their morning tea, but the younger one managed somehow to disappear for a moment right before it was served and reappeared with grey dust all over her hands and face, looking extremely bewildered. Her tea and bread were placed on the mat next o her sister's, but while her sister dug in she was taken off the be cleaned. Well, of course, the adolescent goat thought this was too good to resist and came up with every intention of enjoying the tea in the girl's lieu. The usual "Sa!" and "Tch!"'s didn't seem to have much effect, so eventually my sister had to go get my kokwana's walking stick from against the wall and chase the poor goat all the way back to the kraal before he gave up on turning back towards the tea.
Later that day, we let the goats out of the yard for their afternoon of wandering around the village to forage for food. They're supposed to do this on the roads and in the vacant fields. However, one of our neighbors had left their gate ajar. The goats sussed this out with surprisingly little delay, and made a mad dash around the corner for their yard, which grows temptingly green grass (remember, it's winter here—most of the grass is pretty yellow right now). All of our dozen or so goats were standing in that yard milling around. We had to send somebody to go chase them out before they completely tore up the grass.
Thursday, July 17, 2008
Day Three of My Coughing Marathon
I have been cooped up for the last two days, going on three, with a disgusting hacking cough. Seriously, every time I cough I sound like the bile monster. Yesterday my family tried to get me to go to the clinic, but being me, I opted for suffering instead. Actually, it's not that bad, it's just a bit annoying and makes me unfit to be around other people.
Fortunately I bought 7kg of oranges on Monday, so I have enough vitamin C to see me through the week. It's the end of orange season, though, so the oranges are not as heavenly as the last enormous bag I bought, so I've been making orange juice. It's sticky and a lot of effort, but it's a good way to stay hydrated when our water is off--which it was for the last four days. It came back on this morning. I celebrated with a hot bath and now I am drinking almost-hot water with lemon juice, possibly the most pathetic drink known to humankind but it seems to be helping more than tea. Hopefully tomorrow I will feel well enough to do laundry.
If anyone would like to send me entertaining e-mails, consider this a pathetic plea for them. I can only spend so much of the day reading the enormous quantities of books I got from the Peace Corps library in Pretoria and doing crossword puzzles (I think I have lost my crossword skills. This is highly disappointing. Maybe the focus on them this week will revive my mastery).
Coming soon: a goat update, with pictures.
Fortunately I bought 7kg of oranges on Monday, so I have enough vitamin C to see me through the week. It's the end of orange season, though, so the oranges are not as heavenly as the last enormous bag I bought, so I've been making orange juice. It's sticky and a lot of effort, but it's a good way to stay hydrated when our water is off--which it was for the last four days. It came back on this morning. I celebrated with a hot bath and now I am drinking almost-hot water with lemon juice, possibly the most pathetic drink known to humankind but it seems to be helping more than tea. Hopefully tomorrow I will feel well enough to do laundry.
If anyone would like to send me entertaining e-mails, consider this a pathetic plea for them. I can only spend so much of the day reading the enormous quantities of books I got from the Peace Corps library in Pretoria and doing crossword puzzles (I think I have lost my crossword skills. This is highly disappointing. Maybe the focus on them this week will revive my mastery).
Coming soon: a goat update, with pictures.
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