One of the things that can be the most rewarding as well as the most challenging so far has been learning the cultural differences. Below I’ve tried to give a smattering of examples and vignettes to illustrate some of the most interesting things so far. Keep in mind that I’ve mostly been exposed to village life in rural Tswana areas in the Northwest Province and Northern Cape. Things are very different in the cities although something pervade all ethnic groups (like greetings and Ubuntu) and some things probably could generalize further. Also, I think some of this may be repetitive but I wanted to put it all down in this category.
Ubunto/Botho:
Ubuntu is actually a Zulu word but everyone uses it. I think Botho is the Tswana word. It’s hard to really encapsulate it. It is short for “I am because you are,” which really means ‘my being is established by your being’ (kind of existentialist…) or, ‘we are all in this together.’ It is the reason South Africans often give if you ask them, why didn’t you run wild once the government changed and take revenge on the whites? TRC makes a whole lot more sense with Ubuntu in mind. It is more than just a philosophy though; it is a way of life. My first week at school, I was with about three or four teachers holding down the fort during the “recovery plan” which was school held over spring break to make sure learners caught up on material missed during the teacher strikes in June. I live fairly close and planned to go back home to get some food for lunch, but two of the teachers brought out a plate of food for me when the lunch break started. We shared magwenyas (fat cakes which is basically fried balls of dough) and soup. The next day, they invited me to their home and made chicken and bogobe for me. The next day, I was out visiting other schools during lunch and when I returned, they insisted I go eat and served me mogodu (cow intestines), chicken feet, and chicken heads with bogobe (I actually liked it a lot). When I tried to give them money for the food, they refused saying, when you eat, you cannot take out your food in front of others and just eat. You must share. When a guest comes, you must make the best food by the demands of culture. It is a wonderful idea but it also is tough as an American with my strong individualist urges. When I use my modest Peace Corps stipend to buy food and snacks, I feel like I can’t munch down during break without splitting it with anyone around but I sometimes just want the things I bought for myself. Whether it’s being greedy or hungry, I don’t know…. I left my Nalgene on the table once and as kids walked by, once in a while, one would stop and ask to have some water. I’m happy to share water (it’s just the peanut butter and biscuits that I hoard…). Of course, just as Christian charity isn’t necessarily practiced wholeheartedly by all Christians, Ubuntu has its limits. It’s not really socialism (interestingly, the South African Communist Party has its roots mostly in the Jewish community).
Greetings/Go dumisa:
In America, I’ve noticed that back home in South Dakota, especially in the small towns, it’s normal to walk around and wave, say hello, and smile at everyone you pass, even strangers. However, if you don’t do this, few people think twice about it. Out here, greetings are extremely important. If you don’t greet someone, especially an elder, you are considered rude and the person may think you think they are worthless. Greeting is a way of acknowledging the humanness of another. It’s one more way that Ubuntu pervades everyday life. And you don’t just stop at the greeting, you continue to ask about ones day, one’s family, and introduce yourself if you are new. You also, often shake hands and sometimes keep shaking or holding hands through the whole thing (and sometimes for a long time after). When I was introduced to my host father for the first time in training, he took my hand and held it all the way on the walk back home. Just as in India, it’s very common for guys to hold hands. And, it’s not just saying “hello”, the real meaning goes deeper. Here’s an example in Setswana:
Dumela mma! (Good day ma’am: literally – Agree mother)
Dumela rra (same but father this time)
Le kae? (How are you (and your family and ancestors)? : literally – Where are you (plural))
Re teng, le kae? (I’m fine and you?: literally – We are here/we exist, and where are you (plural)
Re teng.
Ke a leboga (I am thankful)
Le nna, ke a leboga (And me as well, I am thankful)
In Zulu, the greeting is: “Sanibonani” which literally means “We see you (plural)” but really means, I acknowledge your presence and that of your family and the ancestors who came before you and I respect you for them.
Of course, with the younger crowd, things aren’t so formal but greetings are still important as acknowledgement. Often, they are derived from “tsotsi taal” or gangster talk that is the mesh of all South Africa’s languages that emerged from the townships. Common greetings are:
“Eta eta” – no good translation for this yet
“Wa reng” “Ga ke re sepe” – “what are you saying?” “I’m saying nothing” = What up? Not much.
“Hola skoko” – hola (from Spanish…) tough guy/strong man/the best guy on a soccer team
“Sharp sharp” – a catchall phrase that is like “cool”, “I’m fine”, “It’s all good”
Gender roles:
Gender roles are changing, but changes are slowest to reach the rural areas. Women generally do the cleaning, cooking, child rearing, everything… and men get money from working (theoretically…) Because of the migrant worker system created by segregation and then Apartheid, families send someone to work in the city and send back money to support the home. This means men are gone to the city or unemployed and probably alcoholics in the village. I’ve insisted on helping with cooking and washing dishes which has helped actually gain respect and trust within my host families. Sometimes though, even women help keep the gender roles in line. During training, while doing my own laundry, both males and females that passed by laughed or asked why I was doing the washing and not hiring some woman to do it. However, one of the Zimbabwean men next door (who is well educated as a technician but now selling mops because of the economic crisis in his home) said that real men should know how to wash their clothes. Today, after the high school graduation/ matric farewell function, I went to help the women and girls with the washing. One of the male students I had befriended saw me though and joined in so not everyone holds to the lines.
A go na molato:
It means no worries, for the rest of your days. Really, nothing is a problem, it all can work out somehow… Plans are just guidelines and if you are too set on sticking to plans you’ll cause yourself a lot of problems. This demands a lot of patience. My last attempt to get to town to buy a bike resulted in a delay of 5 hours in departure, a multitude of tasks to do with my ride once we arrived in town, and the result being the bike store was closed and I didn’t get home and get to sleep until almost midnight. But I’ll be going back again to make another attempt soon. It’s all good. It also has a positive side too. Sometimes things just work out. At the end of site visit, Kelee, Art, and I befriended a priest who not only gave us a ride to Vryburg (saving us R65), but also made arrangements for us to stay. It meant leaving a day before planned but hey, we got nice beds and a shower at the mission house. So really, it all evens out.
Perceptions of outsiders:
Like most cultures/countries, there is a bit of xenophobia here. Just as Americans make jokes about Canadians and often stereotype Mexicans, South Africans (as an economic powerhouse on the continent that attracts millions of immigrants both legal and illegal) do the same. Americans are rich. Bangladeshis are shopkeepers and are stingy. Indians know how to rewire stolen cell phones and fix all your electrical problems. People from Mozambique know how to jack cars. Nigerians are all drug dealers. Of course like all stereotypes, they have some tiny toe in reality. Funny story: While at Pick ‘N’ Pay, a supermarket, I was approached by a Nigerian guy that was awfully friendly. I was getting a bit freaked out because I wasn’t sure what he was up to until he asked if I had any friends that liked to hang out and “smoke the weed” (also called dagga here). He quickly lost interest in me though after that though when I said I didn’t. I guess the frazzled hair and beard look gave him the wrong idea.
That’s it for culture for now…there’s a whole lot more and I’m sure I’ll also experience a whole lot more in the years to come but that should give some good background for now.
Updates – I’m liking my schools and have been making friends with and getting to know my teachers better. I’ve been interviewing teachers and next week will be observing them (I double booked some so I’ll need to do some creative reshuffling, a go na molato…) I’m already coming up with ideas for projects and hopefully one will take off. Some ideas so far: computer literacy classes for teachers, students, and community; social dance class to go introduce swing, waltz, and get to learn traditional Tswana dances; scouting club; workshops on general teaching and curriculum ideas; HIV/AIDS awareness campaign working with local care givers and clinic; some kind of carnival or races on the salt flats once the water dries up.
Today was the graduation ceremony for the grade 12s. Next week they will be writing their matriculation exam (think SATs on steroids, in a second language). As the American PCV, I was asked yesterday to be the key note speaker. With little time to prepare I threw something together and got help with the Setswana part of it, nothing comparable to the swearing in speech which took two people and over a week to put together. The ceremony itself was nice, lots of speeches, some certificates handed out (that I helped make a few hours earlier) and a nice meal. It began and ended with prayer (again, religion is huge here) and began about 3 hours late (again, a go na molato). Afterwards the kids got to have the room and play music and dance. I guess it’s the equivalent to prom for a poor rural school. The city schools and boarding schools have graduations and matric dances almost identical to ours in America.
That’s it for now. Storm clouds are building and the wind is picking up so “Pula a e tla gape.”
1 comment:
This is impressive in the sense that we just missed each other. I was in Lesotho three weeks ago!
O phela joang?
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