tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-72695301656888428522024-02-18T19:45:03.004-08:00A.J. in South AfricaA blog to chronicle my Peace Corps experience and keep in touch with family and friends. The opinions expressed are my own and do not reflect those of the Peace Corps or the U.S. Government.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06815640368028996818noreply@blogger.comBlogger35125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7269530165688842852.post-16937218099964193482009-08-21T06:20:00.000-07:002009-08-21T06:22:18.625-07:00And so it ends, and keeps going...I am now an RPCV (Returned Peace Corps Volunteer). One week ago, I boarded a plane and left South Africa. When I arrived in the U.S., it was the first time I had set foot in a developed country since July 2007. The last week has been jam packed with America but South Africa still runs through my veins. I have barely finished unpacking and I am packing again. Tomorrow I’ll begin yet another adventure as I move to Boston and start work on a PhD in Applied Physics. <br /><br />Two weeks before I left my village, I threw a party to say thank you to all the people I’d befriended and worked with over the past two years. It ended up morphing into my farewell party. I slaughtered a sheep (with my leatherman), much food was cooked (thanks to the teachers and other PCVs that came), and speeches were made. All I had done was set a date and buy the sheep. In the end it came out better than anything I could have planned myself. Sometimes, it’s better to let the village do its thing. <br /><br />After the party I was left with two weeks to finish the individual good byes. Having so much time made it much easier and allowed me to gradually fade away rather than suddenly disappearing. I spent less time at the schools, pushed others to do things themselves, and let go of ownership of my past projects. I am quite satisfied with the library and hope it will continue to flourish and expand. My other projects also closed or transitioned well but the results may be less tangible. <br /><br />With the extra time freed from my projects, I took time for myself and for the people that were closest to me. I had meals with my priests, gave gifts to various people, cleaned up my room, did a final bike tune-up, and put together a box and binder for the next volunteer that will come to my site. I also took some time to wander. One day, I wandered among the thorn bushes, picking out the yellow flowers between the claws and then I went to lay them on the grave of Mma Thati. One day, I packed lunch and wandered up into the hills until I could see over all of Heuningvlei. I found a perch in a tree and ate naartjies, journaled, and just sat with my thoughts.<br /><br />When the morning came to leave, I sipped rooibos tea on the porch with my host mother as the sun rose. Fr. Tarimo came and we loaded my bags for the trip to Vryburg. Our goodbyes were filled more with smiles than with tears. Then we took off down the dusty road for the last time. On the way, we passed at least three random dancing people – standing by the side of the road or in front of their house, busting out some fine moves. Another volunteer pointed out that, African’s aren’t necessarily genetically born to be better dancers but they dance because no one ever tells them they can’t. When baby Kitso hears some tunes and starts shaking his stuff, we may laugh, but we are also clapping and cheering him on. Sometimes people will get out of their chair and dance with him. Fr. Tarimo rightly pointed out that I wouldn’t be seeing so many random dancers in America because they’d be taken to see some kind of psychologist. <br /><br />In Vryburg, we met up with Kelee, the lovely former PCV that is now married in South Africa. I said my good-byes to Father and soon was joined by many other PCVs. That night, we cooked a nice meal, watched movies, and just chatted for hours. More good-byes came the next day as I got ready to bus up to Pretoria.<br /><br />The last week in Pretoria went quite smoothly. I passed all my medical exams, finished all my paperwork, and had some productive exit interviews. I got some new clothes, saw the G.I. Joe movie, and ate at some of my favorite restaurants in the area. I got to spend some time with volunteers from all the training groups. It’s nice to look back over time and see the differences and improvements that have been made since my group arrived. <br /><br />When Friday night came, I ran around the airport, buying a South Africa soccer shirt, flag, candies, and biltong (which I consumed on the spot), and made my final SA calls. The flight itself was quite nice, Boeing 777 with a sweet entertainment system. I think Emirates’ system is slightly nicer but it was still pretty nice. I watched; Body of Lies, Star Trek, He’s Just Not That Into You, and Gran Torino. And yes, I enjoyed every one of them and am not ashamed. <br /><br />We arrived in Atlanta about 30 minutes early, which was fortunate because I was detained at immigration for about 45 minutes and questioned about what I had been doing for the last two years. My passport and immigration documents had been taken away in a mysterious red folder and I was led to a locked room. Inside I found an interesting assortment of people. There were a disproportionate number of people like me – young men of color, but there was also a family, an older woman, and a few middle aged white dudes. We weren’t told anything except to wait until our name was called. It was not too bad though and I was quite impressed with the CBP officers, who I felt were quite professional and considerate. The only annoying thing was one of those middle aged white guys, who was quite exasperated and kept complaining. Welcome to my America, buddy. <br /><br />Soon enough, I was on my way. I got to make a detour in customs because I had said yes to “has been in contact with livestock”. I could not in good faith say no to that while my jacket was still stained with the blood of the sheep I had slaughtered… But that too was quite painless and I got through with all of my luggage. <br /><br />Two flights and several hours later, I finally met up with my family. The last week has been chock full of American-ness; big hamburgers, rare steaks, chicken fingers, real milkshakes, and more. I also learned to fire a shotgun and went clay pigeon shooting with my dad and his friend. Yesterday, we went hiking up near the Finger Lakes. <br /><br />I’m slowly beginning to settle into this new place that my parents live in. I still get occasional flashbacks of South Africa and have so far had two vivid dreams of myself back in SA. I’ve been able to chat with many old friends though and start catching up with all the changes of the past two years. Overall though, I think I’m doing pretty well.<br /><br /> Looking back over the two years, I feel quite satisfied. The losses and challenges have been significant; deaths of loved ones at home and in the village, burying three students, witnessing corporal punishment and other unethical practices, the end of a serious relationship after more than two years together, dealing with racism on an unprecedented level, random but sometimes disconcerting medical issues, and at times being overwhelmed by the bureaucratic machinery of the South African government, the Department of Education, and the Peace Corps. But all of this honed my skills, tempered my pride, and gave me new perspectives that I hope I will carry with me. And I’ve also had amazing successes and incredible gains; becoming a part of so many new families, getting in touch with the land and farming life, successfully creating a library that people actually value and use, bringing smiles to kids faces during youth camps, seeing kids click as they understood a new math concept, teaching people to use computers, traveling and hiking in beautiful new places, and learning a foreign language well. <br /><br />Somehow, I made it through the two years without ever being a direct victim of crime in any form. As a guy, I also did not have anything near the level of harassment the female volunteers dealt with either. For my comrades that went through all of this, I really salute and respect you. <br /><br /> If I could go back two years ago and make the choice, it would still be the same. Will I ever do it again? I truly hope so. From the relationships I had with other volunteers, I saw that the experience can vary so much. I think serving again either as a married volunteer with my spouse or as a retiree would be great. <br /><br />But for now, I’ve got 5-6 years to get myself some higher education (and live a little, when they let me out for air). It’s been a joy to keep this blog for the last two years and I thank all you readers. At some point, I hope to return to South Africa and when I do, perhaps I’ll add an entry or two here. But until that day, this is the end. <br /><br />Ke a leboga. A go na molato. Salang ka kagiso.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06815640368028996818noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7269530165688842852.post-68126947769343608952009-08-04T12:19:00.000-07:002009-08-04T12:24:19.286-07:00Many Good-byesThis is probably going to be the penultimate installment on this blog. I’ll post one last time once I’m back in the U.S. bringing everything full circle. But for now, I’m very much in South Africa.<br /><br />The last few months have been intense and full of activity. Mostly though, it’s been full of good-byes. Here is a sampling of some of the things that come to mind.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">Peace Corps Plus</span><br /><br />In June, I saw two friends take the plunge and choose a life that is sure to be interesting. One took the Peace Corps plunge, extending for a third year as a PCV in China. Another took the marital plunge, choosing a life far from her American family and full of goats and cows. She jokingly says she’s signed up for “Peace Corps for life.” To these two young women who have been close friends and counselors over the past two years, I am very thankful and wish them all the best in their futures. <br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">Journey to the East</span><br /><br />In June, I left the African continent for the first time since I set foot on it in 2007. I went to India where I met with my family. Though I’ve been to India several times before, my experience this time was quite different after living abroad for two years. Things seemed to make more sense and I found myself connecting with people much easier. Also, I realized I’ve picked up some good skills for communicating with people that speak broken, heavily accented English. I filled up on food and reconnected with relatives that I hadn’t seen in many years. But the main reason to go to India was to say farewell. After a year, I was finally able to pay my last respects to my grandfather. The end of the trip was filled with more goodbyes as I parted with my grandmothers and other relatives, knowing it may be the last time we meet. <br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">Closing out<br /></span><br />Back in South Africa, the last weeks have been a whirlwind. Two weekends ago, I had my farewell party in the village. I bought and slaughtered a sheep. Friends and co-workers gathered and cooked up a feast. The day of the event, some teachers hastily put together a program. In the end it came out more beautifully than I could have planned. Members of my schools, the library, the community, and my host family all spoke. I made a speech thanking them all as well. Twice I stumbled and had to collect myself; once while talking about the ways in which I’d grown and once while expressing my respect for my departed host grandmother. So much has happened in two years. I leave satisfied that I’ve done my best, been thoroughly tested, and seen myself for what I really am. I truly hope the relationships I’ve built here will survive the distance and time that we will spend apart. In the end the only thing that really matters is our humanness, our Ubuntu. Thank you South Africa, for bringing me to my knees, for crushing my pride, for bringing me face to face with the darkness inside me, for giving me the space to pick myself up and prove to myself and those I have grown to love that I can still succeed and do some good. Thank you to all who supported me, near and far. You helped me to never lose faith in myself during the worst times. In turn, I was able to believe in people here and help them believe in themselves. And finally thank you to all of you that have followed my blog. It’s been nice to hear from some of you and know that I’m not writing into a vacuum. I’m glad I’ve been able to share my experiences here and hopefully give a little perspective into life in rural South Africa and one facet of the Peace Corps experience.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06815640368028996818noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7269530165688842852.post-424767868781430462009-06-19T12:45:00.000-07:002009-06-19T12:51:28.437-07:00If Sisyphus could JuggleIn exactly 8 weeks and one hour, I’ll be on a plane, taking off for America. Now, 3 of those weeks will be spent in India with my family and 1 of those weeks will be spent in Pretoria taking care of all my exit interviews, check-ups, etc. So a grand total of 4 weeks left in my village. I’ve already begun the process of wrapping things up and trying to make sure I can leave my counterparts with as smooth a transition as possible once I’m gone. Here’s the round-up:<br /><span style="font-weight:bold;"><br />Maths Class</span><br /><br />I finished up my last lesson last week and mid-year exams are well underway. On Monday, my kids will write the last maths paper. Then on Wednesday, I’ve promised them a Math Party to celebrate finishing exams and surviving my teaching. Those that have earned enough points for behavior and their work will be able to purchase goodies and I plan on taking lots of pictures. As I closed up teaching, I had a few moments I wanted to share.<br /><br /><span style="font-style:italic;">Six months can’t undo 11 years.</span> It seems obvious but it’s a hard pill to swallow. I think about half my kids have a fighting chance of passing mathematics at the end of the year. It’s up from about ¼ that I believed could pass at the end of the first quarter but it’s still disappointing. After drilling, Mad Minutes, handbooks, all sorts of tricks and explanations, most of the kids still struggle with mental math and handling fractions. However, some of them can take the derivative of polynomials now. Go figure. <br /> <span style="font-style:italic;"><br />Carrots and sticks really DO work (figurative sticks).</span> The point system in my class rewards good work and behavior. It also punishes lateness and disrespect. Last quarter, two of my kids ended the quarter with negative points. One was a real troubled case. Malebogo (name changed) was obviously a bright kid. I would glance at her notes as I walked around the class and saw her picking up things others did not. Frustratingly, she refused to apply herself: never turning in homework, refusing to participate in class discussions or group work. I said very little to her the whole quarter and at the end handed her report with her negative point tally. Her forehead wrinkled in anger. We had a small class party and I told them that their points carried over to the next quarter. Those with negative points though could have their debt forgiven for good faith efforts to turn their work around. Honestly, I didn’t believe it would amount to much. Come the new quarter, Malebogo was on fire to rack up points: Answering questions, pushing her group forward, and perhaps most shockingly doing her homework (at least some of the time). Passing her on a path in school, I stopped her to say I’d noticed her efforts and thanking her for it. She looked at me awkwardly waiting for me to dismiss her and went on her way. Awkwardness really is my way of life here. Later I learned that other teachers were still struggling with Malebogo and pulling teeth to get her to do anything. Though this was bad news, I couldn’t help but feel a little good inside. How many of them had come up with a fair and consistent discipline system and also given her positive feedback? I’d done something that worked, that the teachers with their certification and years of experience still failed to do. A few of them noticed. I can only hope that some of them will actually adopt some of these practices themselves. <br /><span style="font-style:italic;"><br />Despite frustrations, tardiness, and incomplete work, some of the kids really gave it their all, no matter how it looked to me. </span> This came to light when I was walking home with one of my boys, let’s call him Tebogo for his privacies sake. Tebogo has struggled a lot in the class. With a big smile on his face, he struck up a conversation with me in English.<br /><br />“Unfortunately KB, you can never forget South Africa!”<br />Tebogo’s English is patchy at best, so I quickly figured out that the “Un” was unintentional.<br />“No, Tebogo, I will never forget South Africa or all of you.”<br />“And unfortunately, I can never forget you!”<br />“Unfortunately not,” I replied grinning.<br />“I will always remember, I had a teacher that came from America and we called him KB. And he taught us maths.”<br /><br />I have a collection of conversations and events from the past year that I store away in my head to pull out on the really terrible days. As Tebogo grinned from ear to ear, I returned his smile and carefully tucked away his words in my head.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">Computer Classes</span><br /><br />In my three primary schools, I’ve been training six individuals once a week on computers. We’ve gone from, “This is a monitor and this is a mouse,” to “Make sure the printer port is configured properly and the driver is correctly installed.” This past week, I gave my six students their final exams. The exam included a theory section with questions ranging from “Label the mouse in the picture” to “Give six things to try or to check if a printer is not working.” There was a practical that included installing hardware, running virus scans, and such. There was also a section in Microsoft Office to create various files. Lastly, there was a typing exam. The test took an average of 3 hours to complete. All but one student passed (50% was the cut off). At two of my schools, I can say there was somebody that could do basic troubleshooting on their own. At the third, at least one person had a few ideas on where to start. At my high school, I’d already trained a few people to do most of the tasks. <br /><br />On the topic of computers, I recently started a crusade to make my high school Window’s Free. The library is already Ubuntu based. With about 20 old Windows 2000 machines that were either virus ridden or unused, I decided to start a revolution. Unfortunately, these old machines only had 64Mb of RAM, no CD-ROM drive and a BIOS too old to boot off a USB. After some tooling around, I found a solution using both Damn Small Linux, it’s boot floppy, Puppy Linux, and it’s boot floppy, I have come up with a way to get into the old machines, back up the old documents, repartition and then finally install Puppy Linux and configure it with all the school printers. Using a SWAP partition helps relieve the low RAM and voila, new usable computers. So far, I’ve got 5 machines up and running Puppy and plan to get the rest next week. I see this as one of the most sustainable solutions to computing out here as no matter how much I’ve tried to teach the schools about anti-virus programs, scanning USB sticks, and updating, every Windows computer in my village, save my laptop, has a virus. <br /><span style="font-weight:bold;"><br />Literacy and Numeracy</span><br /><br />I haven’t done much this quarter with the Primary School teachers on these fronts, but I feel like some of my earlier projects are still living on. There are at least two teachers using Numeracy methods I taught them in their classrooms and two schools seem to be using the English songs I taught them as kids are always singing to me in the village in English. This was probably one of my weakest areas and I hope that any other volunteers that get to my site will be able to boost this area.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">School Management</span><br /><br />After a lot of time and work, two of my four schools are still implementing some of the Development Plans we created. There are simple changes (like weekly staff meetings at my high school) that are small but still significant changes in the culture. Bureaucracy will always continue to be an enigmatic and unmovable beast against which I can only make incremental improvements. It’s an open question to me whether the amount of time and energy I spent on this front would have been more useful in other areas. <br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">Library</span><br /><br />Pictures!<br /><table style="width:194px;"><tr><td align="center" style="height:194px;background:url(http://picasaweb.google.com/s/c/transparent_album_background.gif) no-repeat left"><a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/aj.kumar/ReadChildrenRead?feat=embedwebsite"><img src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/_yxmNfvg4eU4/SjvY0Ryz0mE/AAAAAAAADfM/z5h--1xdmeI/s160-c/ReadChildrenRead.jpg" width="160" height="160" style="margin:1px 0 0 4px;"></a></td></tr><tr><td style="text-align:center;font-family:arial,sans-serif;font-size:11px"><a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/aj.kumar/ReadChildrenRead?feat=embedwebsite" style="color:#4D4D4D;font-weight:bold;text-decoration:none;">Read Children Read!</a></td></tr></table><br /><br />The children’s corner has been completed and opened. We completed an introductory workshop at one Primary School that brought 180 kids to the library. Now over 100 of them are registered users. High school students regularly study in the library. Books are slowly starting to be checked out. But we are far from over. In the pipeline we have introductions for a second Primary School, a program to include the Adult Basic Educational Training students, and more. The library committee itself had started to flag and I made some impassioned pleas/guilt trips that seem to have paid off. Reinvigorated, members are chipping in again and taking ownership of different aspects of the library. I’m nagging the school on one side and the government on the other to get either of them to create a full time position to hire some of my library staff. Before I leave, I hope to see the committee apply for book donations on their own and also use some of the funds we’ve raised to make their own purchases. The possibilities and extensions are endless and I could literally work forever on this project. But then last week, a couple of little fourth grade girls came to me at the library desk and asked, “Where are the math books?” As the girls sat at the tables excitedly reading out loud from their math books, I took a mental snap shot and tucked it away. I can move on.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">And the rock rolls down the hill again...</span><br /><br />Despite all the advances and changes of the past years, it can still seem tragically pointless. This evening, I found myself again sitting at the memorial service for a student. This one had been struck by a car at night. She had been at a tavern and ran out into the road. She was 15. The last girl that died had hung herself after finding out she was pregnant. Teenage promiscuity and pregnancy along with alcohol abuse seem like they claim all the kids that HIV/AIDS doesn’t get. True, there are those that escape and make it somewhere in life. But no matter how many life skills camps, pep talks, and guidance you can give, people make their own choices and unfortunately, with the only alternatives being boring or hard, irresponsible use of sex and alcohol get chosen a lot. And then there is the other stuff. Sick stuff. Teaching beating or hurting students. Adults taking advantage of children sexually. On these fronts I’ve had a few precious victories but many more humiliating defeats. Outside of the village, violence dominates so much of South Africa. Terrible things have happened or almost happened to friends of mine and realizing your own impotence to protect those you care about is a big slap to the ego. <br /><span style="font-weight:bold;"><br />Pick Up Sticks</span><br /><br />It’s cliché to talk about the ups and downs of Peace Corps but they are intense. The journey is also uniquely personal. There have been days when I’ve literally woken up in tears, defeated by the sheer reality around me, then ended the day seeing a child light up with a love of reading knowing that it will be rare that I’ll ever feel such satisfaction. I’ve seen myself at my best and at my worst. My views on life, death, religion, good, evil, progress, development, and culture have profoundly changed. And now I find myself filled with trepidation and excitement as I prepare to leave behind this life and jump into the next one. On one side I am writing up manuals for my counterparts and planning how to say good-bye. On the other side, I’m reading scientific articles sent from my graduate advisor (yes, I already have an advisor) and trying to remember how to meet Americans in a socially acceptable way (not “Whoa! You sound like an American! Are you from America?”). I feel like a juggler that is cycling out torches for knives, except that I also have to make sure the bloke that is catching my torches can really juggle... or maybe I can leave that to the next volunteer at my site…Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06815640368028996818noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7269530165688842852.post-65204986920727357342009-04-18T07:57:00.000-07:002009-04-18T08:25:33.035-07:00A map with no compassThe last quarter has been a whirlwind just as surely as my last few months here will be.<span style=""> </span>Sometimes I move forward, full of purpose and seeing real progress. Sometimes, the impossible happens, bringing life where there was hopelessness. Sometimes, the seeming calm of village life is violently ruptured. And just as quickly as the chaos comes, it is gone.<span style=""> </span>We can try to chart some kind of course through it all but really, we have no idea where we are really going because it’s so hard to figure out where we point. <p style="font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal">Lots of work, a little progress</p> <p class="MsoNormal">The library is moving forward. As always the pace is slow but the movement is forward.<span style=""> </span>Thanks to my cousin, Navina’s fundraising, we now have a children’s corner.<span style=""> </span>We are still in the process of completing it, but it’s already seeing a little bit of use.<span style=""> </span>Additionally, the library itself is slowly finding use among the students.<span style=""> </span>Every day, there are close to a dozen kids playing chess and checkers afterschool.<span style=""> </span>A few are studying and one or two people even occasionally borrow a book.<span style=""> </span>Once I get my feet this quarter, I’m planning a last big push to get people registered and educated on how and why to use the library.<span style=""> </span>Administratively, we are in limbo, waiting for the end of the month when the provincial government will make its budget. We’re hoping for a slice to bring a professional librarian to Tsoe and to hire one or two local library assistants, creating jobs and increasing the community buy in.<span style=""> </span>For now fingers are crossed. No matter what happens though, I’m fairly confident that the library will move on without me, in some form.</p><br /><table style="width: 194px;"><tbody><tr><td style="background: transparent url(http://picasaweb.google.com/s/c/transparent_album_background.gif) no-repeat scroll left center; height: 194px; -moz-background-clip: -moz-initial; -moz-background-origin: -moz-initial; -moz-background-inline-policy: -moz-initial;" align="center"><a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/aj.kumar/JanuaryToApril2009?authkey=Gv1sRgCMXEvf3H3qHQ3gE&feat=embedwebsite"><img src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/_yxmNfvg4eU4/SenbWBrM8dE/AAAAAAAADdU/ds2fBIlRsIg/s160-c/JanuaryToApril2009.jpg" style="margin: 1px 0pt 0pt 4px;" width="160" height="160" /></a></td></tr><tr><td style="text-align: center; font-family: arial,sans-serif; font-size: 11px;"><a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/aj.kumar/JanuaryToApril2009?authkey=Gv1sRgCMXEvf3H3qHQ3gE&feat=embedwebsite" style="color: rgb(77, 77, 77); font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none;">January to April 2009</a></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><p style="font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal">Adding Up</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Last quarter I began my first real experiment with teaching. I’ve substituted a bit, taught in camp settings, and team taught lessons over last year.<span style=""> </span>But starting in January, I took on a class of my own: Grade 12 Mathematics.<span style=""> </span>It’s a small class of 17 students (9 boys and 8 girls).<span style=""> </span>The content we are supposed to cover includes; inverses, transformational geometry, and the basics of calculus.<span style=""> </span>This is a tall order when the majority of kids are shaky when it comes to adding fractions.<span style=""> </span>1+1/2 is more likely to get the answer of 2/2 than the correct answer of 3/2.<span style=""> </span>Additionally, most of the kids are unused to the idea of expectations.<span style=""> </span>Homework is a theoretical concept. Studying is looking at the pages in a book that may or may not be related to the content to be tested.<span style=""> </span>Perhaps most challenging though is the language barrier.<span style=""> </span>Although the majority can express themselves in English, advanced concepts and the precise language required for mathematics is rarely grasped.<span style=""> </span>Terms like “at most” need several minutes to dissect.<span style=""> </span>And my Setswana is nowhere near advanced enough to do it on my own.<span style=""> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal">Stepping into the classroom in January, I came with an armload of ideas and less than a pocketful of experience.<span style=""> </span>At the end of the quarter, I have learned a lot of things that don’t work.<span style=""> </span>I’ve had a few precious though tenuous successes. I’ve gained a huge amount of respect and admiration for teachers and the time it takes to be an effective teacher.<span style=""> </span>My class meets every day, first thing in the morning. I have 35-70 minutes with the kids.<span style=""> </span>In the afternoons, we agreed to have afternoon classes on Mondays and Wednesdays.<span style=""> </span>These generally go between 1-2 hours.<span style=""> </span>Due to the dictates of the national Department of Education, there are only a fixed set of assessments that can contribute to a learner’s overall record for progression.<span style=""> </span>To make sure that my “informal” assessments are taken seriously, I instituted a point system.<span style=""> </span>Kids gain points for performing on homework, good attendance, and participation. They lose points for disrespect or tardiness.<span style=""> </span>At the end of each quarter they can spend their points to purchase prizes or bank them for 10% interest for the next quarter.<span style=""> </span>I think the full impact of the points was only made clear at the end of the quarter when the kids were able to reap the benefits (or watch others). Hopefully that means things will be better this quarter.<span style=""> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal">At the end of last quarter, only 2 kids passed the final exam.<span style=""> </span>12 of the 17 passed the class for the quarter based on the overall assessment though.<span style=""> </span>Despite this disappointment, I did note an increase in performance on homework.<span style=""> </span>Still, the lack of study skills and simple math errors are crippling.<span style=""> </span>So this quarter, I’ve introduced Mad Minutes to beef up arithmetic. I’m also designing and implementing “Advanced Mad Minutes” to drill the kids in basic algebra, trig, logs, exponents, and calculus.<span style=""> </span>We’ll see how it goes. June brings a big external examination that will be a good indicator of our chances on the all important final Matriculation exam.<span style=""> </span>Overall, teaching has been a wonderful experience.<span style=""> </span>I can see some of the kids rising to my expectations and pushing themselves.<span style=""> </span>Apart from a few holdouts, I think I’ve won their respect and trust.<span style=""> </span>They’ve taught me a lot as well and the experience has bolstered my credentials with the teaching staff.<span style=""> </span>My next big task is to make sure my replacement teacher will adopt the things that I’ve proven to work and ensure that my lessons and activities can benefit not only this class, but classes to come.<span style=""> </span></p> <p style="font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiALWAEg_SnL1fYxS3OJKH00LqTuVJ7nFZNTth9yVEXmSZjTbbQ840j33fFXnwqqv-IDw1Pek70ycgJ-1P1R-W1sDgrXSo8HaoJ8h5SiPZ9XlvzrnZ8ZeNACVlkivEm8RDFoIOMWZi6QKMN/s640/IMG_8755.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 640px; height: 480px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiALWAEg_SnL1fYxS3OJKH00LqTuVJ7nFZNTth9yVEXmSZjTbbQ840j33fFXnwqqv-IDw1Pek70ycgJ-1P1R-W1sDgrXSo8HaoJ8h5SiPZ9XlvzrnZ8ZeNACVlkivEm8RDFoIOMWZi6QKMN/s640/IMG_8755.JPG" alt="" border="0" /></a></p><p style="font-weight: bold; text-align: center;" class="MsoNormal">Some of my kids celebrating their prizes at the end of last quarter<br /></p><p style="font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal">Just add water</p> <p class="MsoNormal">I live in a province that is classed as “coastal” despite the fact that I’m about as far from an ocean as anyone can be in South Africa.<span style=""> </span>We’ve got plenty of rocks and sand, but very little water.<span style=""> </span>This past school break, I decided to spend some time with this ocean thing.<span style=""> </span>But first, I headed north to see a dear friend, her fiancé, and their many livestock.<span style=""> </span>Kelee, formerly one of my closest PCVs, is now living up in Bray and farming with her husband to be, Philip.<span style=""> </span>Along with other friends, we all spent the weekend together, eating lots of meat, catching up, and learning lots about farming/ranching.<span style=""> </span>The highlight was probably the day that I spent helping (mostly watching) Philip brand cattle.<span style=""> </span>After a few fun filled days, I headed south with PCV friends, Art and Adam.<span style=""> </span>The journey itself was an adventure but the destination was a wonder of its own.<span style=""> </span>We spent the week on the garden route. First exploring the lagoon city of Knysna, then hiking the knee bending Harkerville Coastal Trail, relaxing in Plettenburg Bay, and finally bumming in Nature’s Valley.<span style=""> </span>I’ve always been a mountain boy but the week convinced me that the ocean ain’t too shabby.<span style=""> </span>I could write volumes (and have in my journal) about the whole thing, but will leave it to some of the pictures to describe.</p><p class="MsoNormal"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDdG3pBTUKsopizbXp-SRSRk104gUrHbAqlBhsHeEtgYMj7FqL1VZN6w1hAhVQHt-xMMTsXaBIbyZXyL_O8P1A0CvGrwxUsz0tNumVJP5_roL3zyKpDRWGoQ7NZj0mDsM15p5lJjYKn6Wa/s640/DSC03498.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 640px; height: 480px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDdG3pBTUKsopizbXp-SRSRk104gUrHbAqlBhsHeEtgYMj7FqL1VZN6w1hAhVQHt-xMMTsXaBIbyZXyL_O8P1A0CvGrwxUsz0tNumVJP5_roL3zyKpDRWGoQ7NZj0mDsM15p5lJjYKn6Wa/s640/DSC03498.JPG" alt="" border="0" /></a></p><p style="text-align: center;" class="MsoNormal">Navigating some narrow ledges</p><p style="text-align: center;" class="MsoNormal"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTSM09HxceKM5d9QBVm16L-FR8tZMQQe8snmGCd4QkzYk9FG69JM0bFh5NUScylVQZI52mdQ0RN8Yptb27hrYtdkoTcyNAT9EW0iOEh7i2m6pMaVaewOGFQvsZr3fWs2IQM_e-U01OFDhF/s640/IMG_8980.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 640px; height: 480px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTSM09HxceKM5d9QBVm16L-FR8tZMQQe8snmGCd4QkzYk9FG69JM0bFh5NUScylVQZI52mdQ0RN8Yptb27hrYtdkoTcyNAT9EW0iOEh7i2m6pMaVaewOGFQvsZr3fWs2IQM_e-U01OFDhF/s640/IMG_8980.JPG" alt="" border="0" /></a></p><p style="text-align: center;" class="MsoNormal">Joel across the Scree</p><p style="text-align: center;" class="MsoNormal"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjg7GuRiu7CS79NE7nq4hDjTLgZRC2t8pXyV7Fe9cr8bFtuXaOFjTqKz-oesW1KhunQbp3FdbMWq3-xWABYoEvhD0WqzkeGOzqmGqJBY_kcuti73Q7HXA6R0up7qatI80bvAilbg09wwM0k/s720/IMG_8858.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 720px; height: 405px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjg7GuRiu7CS79NE7nq4hDjTLgZRC2t8pXyV7Fe9cr8bFtuXaOFjTqKz-oesW1KhunQbp3FdbMWq3-xWABYoEvhD0WqzkeGOzqmGqJBY_kcuti73Q7HXA6R0up7qatI80bvAilbg09wwM0k/s720/IMG_8858.JPG" alt="" border="0" /></a></p><p style="text-align: center;" class="MsoNormal">Adam and the ocean spray</p><p style="text-align: center;" class="MsoNormal"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgS8ibzXIsg5bJVycPfdS7XE8thW5tlL4I9edKftrEGAdMIBPQZ7srLqSoaMtc1EaIFLg3z9c-6q1hAgevtBnxw5ws7hbJXd6IvK1aUZoxjoH5uCgeMOE6tmSK44M_l5gTn8LnCYvw2c1Pe/s640/IMG_3169.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 640px; height: 480px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgS8ibzXIsg5bJVycPfdS7XE8thW5tlL4I9edKftrEGAdMIBPQZ7srLqSoaMtc1EaIFLg3z9c-6q1hAgevtBnxw5ws7hbJXd6IvK1aUZoxjoH5uCgeMOE6tmSK44M_l5gTn8LnCYvw2c1Pe/s640/IMG_3169.JPG" alt="" border="0" /></a></p><p style="text-align: center;" class="MsoNormal">Boys on the Beach<br /><span style=""> </span></p> <p style="font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal">Zimbabwe Breathes Again</p> <p class="MsoNormal">After my post on Zimbabwe, I thought I should make a follow up. My teacher from Zimbabwe went back home over the holidays.<span style=""> </span>When he came back, he was beaming at the improvements since the unity government finally broke it’s deadlock. There is food in stores again. Kids are going to school.<span style=""> </span>Electricity didn’t go out for all the days he was there.<span style=""> </span>There is still a long way to go to recovery. The Zim dollar is virtually non-existent as a currency anymore. Dissidents are still languishing in prison. But things are moving forward.<span style=""> </span>Hopefully all the progress will continue and the election in 2 years will permanently instill these changes in that country.<span style=""> </span></p> <p style="font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal">Loso le Botshelo mo Aforika Borwa (Life and Death in South Africa)</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Death has almost become second nature out here so why am I writing about it again?<span style=""> </span>Sometimes, even out here, death comes in such a startling form, that it rocks your reality.<span style=""> </span>Two days ago, a girl from the high school went out to a tree in a field some ways behind the school and hung herself.<span style=""> </span>No one saw it coming. No one seems to understand why.<span style=""> </span>There is a certain desperation to life out here, and perhaps more so in other parts of Africa.<span style=""> </span>But for some reason, people generally still choose to live.<span style=""> </span>On Thursday evening, I was in a daze, unsure what to do. I was not extremely close to the girl, but I knew her more than most of the kids in the village. Her closest friends had been in my camps and her father is a friend of mine.<span style=""> </span>The one thing I was sure of was that I was not going to join the dozens of people rushing to go see a body dangling from a tree.<span style=""> </span>I would not dishonor her family by gawking at this tragedy.<span style=""> </span>Finally, I decided, the best thing for me to do was to think ahead a bit and figure out how the school was going to cope with this event.<span style=""> </span>I talked to a close friend and got some advice and got some sleep. </p> <p class="MsoNormal">The next morning, I woke before the crack of dawn, readied myself mentally, and arrived at school early.<span style=""> </span>Some students were already gathered silently at the gate. Others seemed oblivious, coming into the library to play chess and checkers.<span style=""> </span>An announcement would have to be made. We don’t have the luxury of counselors or social workers so I planned to rally the Life Orientation teachers and create some kind of support system for the kids affected.<span style=""> </span>As minutes passed and the assembly siren rang, few teachers had arrived.<span style=""> </span>Finally, some trickled in.<span style=""> </span>For the most part, they were dazed, having gotten no sleep in the night.<span style=""> </span>I had expected the kids to look to me for comfort and leadership, but I had not expected the teachers, some over twice my age, to look to me for guidance.<span style=""> </span>The principal was out of town and it soon was apparent that nothing was planned to deal with the crisis.<span style=""> </span>I called a staff briefing to try to rally the teachers that were there.<span style=""> </span>We had to be strong for the students.<span style=""> </span>We had to be on standby to provide comfort and help for those struggling with grief. We’d need to make an official announcement at the assembly to stifle the rumors already beginning to circulate. There was a mute and half-hearted agreement as we headed to the assembly and brought together all the students. We began as usual with a hymn.<span style=""> </span>No sooner had we started than two students carried a girl out, wailing in grief.<span style=""> </span>Soon two others collapsed in the middle of the assembly.<span style=""> </span>Then five more began wailing. The damn burst.<span style=""> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal">Students dispersed in all directions. The skeleton staff could do nothing to contain the chaos.<span style=""> </span>A handful of dedicated teachers collected the most affected students into the library.<span style=""> </span>Mr. Sepeng, my reliable ally, helped to move students into some of their classrooms and went from class to class to try and talk with students and lead some prayers.<span style=""> </span>I assembled my class.<span style=""> </span>What do you say to a group of teenagers that have just experienced the loss of a close friend?<span style=""> </span>Some were already in tears. Others were bantering about unrelated nonsense. Others were just quiet.<span style=""> </span>Everyone copes in different ways.<span style=""> </span>I greeted the class and quickly it became clear I was not going to be talking about any new maths concepts.<span style=""> </span>I said what I could in mixed Setswana and English, to reassure the kids that I was available for them and that I understood the grief they were feeling but that we needed to deal with our grief rather than just bury it so that we could heal and move on.<span style=""> </span>By the time I was finished, there was a somber atmosphere pervading the room. Kids that had been bantering were fighting back tears.<span style=""> </span>We sat in silence together for what seemed like ages.<span style=""> </span>One student led the group in a prayer in memory of the girl.<span style=""> </span>And then a student outside called my name, I was urgently needed at the library.<span style=""> </span>I excused myself and quickly descended to the library. When I entered, I felt like I had entered a casualty ward.<span style=""> </span>The air was full of moaning, wailing, and screaming.<span style=""> </span>A handful of female teachers and one mother were moving back and forth, carrying water to students, fanning kids that had fainted, restraining kids that were violently writhing on the ground and screaming in hysteria.<span style=""> </span>The wounds weren’t to the flesh but to the soul. </p> <p class="MsoNormal">It’s hard to recall all that happened in the next moments.<span style=""> </span>At times I was on the phone, pleading with the clinic to send someone to help (they refused), recruiting my priest friends to come over and help; then I was holding a collapsed student, trying to revive her; then I was at a table comforting other kids in their grief; then I was angrily chasing away gawkers that came to watch the spectacle; then I was imploring the remainder of the school management to do something.<span style=""> </span>At one point, kids from my class came in.<span style=""> </span>I was on my knees, supporting one weeping girl under my right arm. I looked up and saw one of the girls from my class with glassy eyes. I gestured to her to come over and she kneeled beside me.<span style=""> </span>As I put my other arm around me she also erupted in tears.<span style=""> </span>Other students came in and fought back tears to help me move the girls to chairs and comfort them as I moved to another student passed out.<span style=""> </span>As I sat fanning one girl on the ground, one of my most dedicated library students came over and took over, freeing me up to move to others.<span style=""> </span>Fr. Amandus came over with his bakkie (truck).<span style=""> </span>A father from the village also came out with his bakkie.<span style=""> </span>We moved the cases that we couldn’t handle onto the backs of the trucks and sent them off to the clinic.<span style=""> </span>The school administrators closed the school at 9am. By nine-thirty we had gotten the worst cases to the clinic and the rest had been taken by friends to their homes.<span style=""> </span>Utterly exhausted, the half dozen teachers who had braved the chaos and myself sat zombie like in the library trying to get a grasp on what had just happened.<span style=""> </span>Soon though, we heard shouts coming from the road, within seconds I was out the door.<span style=""> </span>I saw a large group of student off at the street swarming and I took off sprinting.<span style=""> </span>Mr. Sepeng was quickly behind me.<span style=""> </span>Two students had got into a fight. By the time we got there, others had pulled them apart. We escorted them back to the deputy principal’s office.<span style=""> </span>The fight was over some names they had been calling each other.<span style=""> </span>The random senselessness of the last 24 hours seemed like it would not stop.<span style=""> </span>Finally, it was just the stalwarts of the staff left. I moved between the two groups of teachers left as they talked trying to make sense of what had all happened.<span style=""> </span>Most of them had seen the body last night as the tree was not far from the teacher’s quarters.<span style=""> </span>One told me it was the first time she had seen a dead body.<span style=""> </span>Funerals? Sure, she’d been to plenty but the dead person was more of an idea, hidden in a casket.<span style=""> </span>Teachers were asking themselves if they could have picked out anything out of the ordinary in the week and no one could.<span style=""> </span>As we talked, slowly, the tension in my muscles began to release.<span style=""> </span>By eleven, we finished closing up and decided to take the rest of the day off.<span style=""> </span>Had it really only been just three hours?<span style=""> </span>The hysteria itself amounted to perhaps less than an hour but it seemed like a full day.<span style=""> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal">I went to the mission and had lunch with Fr. Amandus. We chatted over fried goat meat and mashed potatoes, voicing all the thoughts in our head and trying to get back to a sense of normalcy.<span style=""> </span>Finally, I returned home in the afternoon. Kids were playing outside, music was blasting from the tavern as usual.<span style=""> </span>Goats and donkeys wandered around in their usual quest for food. Life continues.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">People always talk about how young PCVs grow up during their service. This was something completely different. I’ve never witnessed anything like that. I’ve never had to think so quickly on my feet with such a sense of urgency.<span style=""> </span>I came out intact but surely will face more challenges next week as we try to return the school to some kind of normal state.<span style=""> </span>Through school and Peace Corps channels, myself and the management team have sent a collective SOS to the Department of Social Services and hopefully when Monday comes, we’ll have professional help, not only to help the students, but the teachers as well.<span style=""> </span></p>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06815640368028996818noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7269530165688842852.post-23862145722054278082009-03-20T13:32:00.000-07:002009-03-20T13:44:27.559-07:00The biggest and latest post<span style="font-style: italic;">Pictures for these posts can be found in my albums at picasaweb.google.com/aj.kumar<br /><br /></span><br /><a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/aj.kumar/KilimanjaroAndTanzanianFun"><span style="font-style: italic;">http://picasaweb.google.com/aj.kumar/KilimanjaroAndTanzanianFun</span></a><br /><br /><a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/aj.kumar/RockClimbing"><span style="font-style: italic;">http://picasaweb.google.com/aj.kumar/RockClimbing</span></a><br /><br /><a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/aj.kumar/NickSVisit"><span style="font-style: italic;">http://picasaweb.google.com/aj.kumar/NickSVisit</span></a><br /><br /><a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/aj.kumar/TsoeYouthLifeskillsCamp2009"><span style="font-style: italic;">http://picasaweb.google.com/aj.kumar/TsoeYouthLifeskillsCamp2009</span></a><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">DECEMBER</span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">A little Elevation</span><br /><br />In December, I travelled to Tanzania with my fellow PCVs and friends, Adam S. and Rebekah H. I had two goals, to climb Mt. Kilimanjaro and to see the home of my close friends, the Tanzanian priests of Tsoe. Both tasks ended up being more difficult than I’d imagined for various reasons and at various points, it seemed like neither might be accomplished. For a while it seemed like we might never even make it to Tanzania. In the end, I succeeded in one and came tantalizingly close to the second. Leading me to believe I will at some point return to Tanzania, to finish my business and explore more of that enchanting country. After Kilimanjaro, I was climbing again, but this time was rock climbing in South Africa with four friends, Ben and Susie BarrWilson, Ronda, and Craig. We had great food, conversations, and climbs for the week of Christmas before parting ways to return to our sites. Physically, mentally, and spiritually, the two trips ended up being just what I needed to rejuvenate myself for the new year ahead.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;">Schedule, what schedule?</span><br /><br />After months of training and preparation, I was ready to go. Adam, Rebekah, and I met up in Pretoria after school closed for the holidays and we traveled down to the airport to board our flight. We wander the airport looking for the Air Tanzania counter and are told it won’t open for another hour or so. So we patiently stand around and wait for one person to finally come to the desk and tell us that all Air Tanzania flights have been cancelled and he can’t help us. Furious, we storm off to the Air Tanzania office. While haggling with the people there to get some service, I get a chance to check my email to see that they had emailed us late yesterday that we had been rebooked on Air Kenya on a flight that would leave in 20 minutes… I ran downstairs to the check in area again and went to the Air Kenya desk. They had been delayed but we might make it if we went now now, so I called Adam and Rebekah, who grabbed all our bags and booked it downstairs. We stood in line for about half an hour before finding out that the flight had been overbooked because of all the overflow from Air Tanzania so we would have to fly out tomorrow.<br /><br />Thanks to Rebekah, we were able to land free meals and some hotel rooms. I called our climbing guides and rescheduled. The next day, we got to the airport very very early, only to find that our connecting flight might not leave until the following day. So I again called our guides and tried to work out the logistics so that they would pick us up from the airport and we’d go directly to the mountain. As we board our first flight we are handed our next boarding pass, leaving the same day. Confused we ask what is going on. Apparently so many people needed to get there that night, that Precision Air had added another night flight. So before we took off, I again called our guides to signal the last change of plans. We arrived in Moshi at around 10pm at night. As we drove to the hotel, the plains were illuminated by the moonlight. A white crown shined in the distance high above us; the snows of Kilimanjaro. I felt a smile creep over my face.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;">The Mountain</span><br /><br />We spent 6 days on the mountain; entering through Machame Gate and leaving through Mweka Gate. We went with a great local travel guide group: AfriGalaxy Tours. Due to regulations, everyone must hire guides and porters. This is great for the local economy but makes you feel odd as a climber if you have any self-respect. Still, you take it for what it’s worth and I ended up really enjoying the company of our guides and had some really great conversations with our head guide, Alex.<br /><br />Several groups were going up the route at the same time as us. There was one other American, Ryan, a marine, who quickly became friends with us. I had some great chats with him and we did a small day hike around Shire Plateau after one of our shorter days.<br /><br />Each day, we’d wake up, have tea and breakfast, pack our bags, fill our water, and hit the road. After a few hours we’d stop for lunch somewhere and then continue to our camp. At the camp, there’d be hot tea, popcorn, and nuts waiting for us. We’d have a few hours to relax and then have dinner with a briefing for the next day. We’d pass the time chatting, playing Scrabble, and writing. Each day took us to new climate zones and breathtaking views. The hiking itself was not difficult at all. A little bit of rock scrambling but nothing strenuous. On the third day, we climbed higher to over 15,000 ft. Higher than I’d ever been. I finally started to feel the altitude in the form of a headache. I had been feeling good before which had me confident that the slow pace was working. On quick ascents in California, I’ve felt the headache start anywhere between 12-13,000 ft. After some sleep, my headache was gone though and I felt good about the rest of the ascent. The day before the summit attempt we climb to about 16,500 ft. My head was pounding and I took some Ibuprofen. After a few hours, the headache was gone. We rested up and went to sleep early, ready to begin the final ascent at midnight.<br /><br />As we awoke, I felt fine. I could definitely feel some altitude but thought I could make it up the next 3,000 ft. We set off in the moonlight going very slow. One foot in front of the other. It was cold. Very cold. My camel back started to freeze up. I started to slow down. My head was not doing what I wanted it to do. Each step was becoming an ordeal of concentration. Rebekah and Adam went ahead with two guides and I went slower with Alex. After a little while longer, things became worse. The headache even started to come back and it hadn’t even been four hours since my last Ibuprofen. I talked to Alex and decided that it would be unwise to continue further. From previous experience, I knew that the next phases would be extreme disorientation, hallucination, and possibly worse. I was not going to put a fellow climber, Alex, in the position of having to take care of my bad choices. While I still had some clarity of mind, I needed to make the right choice we began to descend. Alex estimates we were at roughly 18,000 ft and would have taken about 3 more hours to summit at our pace. As we descended, my disorientation set in more strongly. At one point though, pride got the better of me. I stopped, turned around, and told Alex I could handle it and wanted to finish it. Fortunately, while I had still been cognizant, I had told him clearly that I needed to go down so he held me to that and convinced me that going back up was not the right decision. He was right as my earlier self had been right. The headache got worse. I stumbled a bit and at some points Alex had to hold my arm to steady me as we descended at a rapid pace. By 5am, we were back at camp. I collapsed into my tent, downed some water and got a few hours of sleep. At 7am I awoke feeling completely better. Physically, I was fit. Mentally, I was experienced. My body just didn’t have the disposition to handle high altitude at that pace. It’s a hard pill to swallow but that’s life. Perhaps thousands of climbers less experienced and less fit than me, have made it to the top of Kilimanjaro. I’ve had many lessons in humility over the last two years. I think I could have made it if I’d had a day or two to acclimate more.<br /><br />I had tea with Alex and we chatted. He said I’d shown maturity and wisdom in calling my limits and thanked me for not pushing further. He’s had to carry down climbers that passed out in the past and did not enjoy that much. After tea, I walked around the high camp, snapped some photos, and reflected on the climb. By 9am, Adam and Rebekah rolled in, exhausted. They’d made it to the top and now were sore, tired, and hungry. They slept for a few hours. In the meantime, our friend Ryan stopped by to chat on his way down. At noon, we all had lunch and headed down to 10,000ft to Mweka camp. The next day we packed out and it was done.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;">The People</span><br /><br />Once back at the hotel, we passed out. I got up around noon and called one of my priest friends, Fr. Amandus. Both were back in Tanzania at the time. We arranged to meet at the hotel and it was wonderful to greet them in their own country. We were scheduled to fly back with Fr. Amandus in two days but we soon found all was not well. Air Tanzania was grounded indefinitely. We made some calls to discover we no longer had flights home and we had not been rescheduled. Apparently other carriers were refusing to take continue to clean up Air Tanzania’s mess. My guess is that Air Tanz wasn’t honoring any of their payments so no one wanted to lose more money. Unfortunately, that meant that we all lost money. Fortunately, the Fr.s were there and could direct us around Moshi and interpret for us when needed. With their help we were able to make a plan. All flights out of Moshi were booked until Christmas. Since I needed to be in SA for my rock climbing trip on the 21st, I was eager for other solutions. We finally came up with a plan. We got bus tickets to Nairobi to leave on the 20th and we booked a flight out of Nairobi early on the 21st. I’d arrive and catch a shuttle bus out to the town where I’d be rock climbing. In the meantime, we had some time to kill but no money to spare. Again, the Fathers came to the rescue. They got us free accommodations and meals at a convent in Moshi, with a gorgeous view of the mountain. We also got invited to meet their whole extended family.<br /><br />I had gotten a bit of a cold after coming off the mountain and was feeling slightly feverish. I spent the day debating what to do. Adam and Rebekah had opted out of traveling anymore and just wanted to rest at the convent. I had given my word to the priests that I’d see their homes though and I knew it would be a long time before I’d get such an opportunity again. So I decided to go with it. The next day, Fr. Amandus and his brother picked me up and we drove 80km to the villages around Rombo. I met many families, ate lots of food (various types of bananas, and various parts of chickens, goats, and cows). I picked up a few Swahili phrases as well as a few Chagga phrases (Kilimanjaro is Chagga for “Our mountain”). My final destination was the home of Fr. Tarimo. Fr. Tarimo had returned to South Africa but had insisted I honor him by staying at his home. So Fr. Amandus dropped me off, I ate yet again, and spent the night with a bunch of people I’d never met, who spoke almost no English, but who were so warm and friendly that none of that mattered. I took a bath by kerosene lamp with water they’d warmed over the fire for me. I entertained the family with my digital camera. Late at night, one of Fr. Tarimo’s sister’s arrived. She is a nurse in Moshi and speaks good English, so she was able to interpret for me the rest of the night. Finally, I got to bed and slept like a baby. The next day, Fr. Tarimo’s other sister showed me around their compound. The village is on the foot of Kilimanjaro and that whole area is one of the most beautiful places I’ve ever been. After tea and bread, we parted ways and I was picked up again by Fr. Amandus’ brother. We returned to Moshi and to the convent. After a night there, we headed out early in the morning on the bus headed to Nairobi. The bus ride itself was enough to convince me that I needed to return to Africa and explore East Africa more, as we passed serene savannah, Maasai herdsmen, and incredible mountains. We got to the airport by 2pm and our flight left the next morning at 7am. We couldn’t check in until 5am the next morning. So, we busted out our sleeping bags and slept in front of the check in counter. Traveling in Africa makes traveling anywhere seem easy. But soon enough, it was all over and we were back in SA. I got a move on to catch my shuttle and within a few hours, was in the quiet town of Waterval Boven.<br /><br />During my time in Tanzania, I had reflected quite a bit about my life in South Africa. When we first arrived, I’d thought to myself: “This could have been my life.” Indeed, I’d really love to go out and spend significant time doing some work in a village like Rombo. However, while I was out there, even in the midst of all the beauty, I had a feeling deep inside of me that I was in the place I needed to be in South Africa. My service in SA has challenged me in so many ways unique to that country. I would have grown anywhere I’d been placed but I feel South Africa provides its own special challenges and opportunities that perhaps could not have been better prescribed for me. It made my arrival back in South Africa feel more like coming home.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;">The Rocks</span><br /><br />Back in South Africa, I spent a the week over Christmas having a great time climbing in Waterval Boven. After two days of guided climbs, we shored up our skills, and I refreshed my lead climbing knowledge. On Chistmas we rented out our own gear and spent that day and the next two climbing on our own. We played in rivers, had an adventurous day hike, and a magical Christmas (thanks to Susie and Ronda). I remembered why I loved rock climbing so much. Not only is the sport such an incredible mix of mental and physical complexity, the people that do it are so interesting. I could write tons more but will leave it at this for now. By the end of our week, we were sore, but happy. I was able to climb a 5.9 but struggled on a 5.10a/b which means I’ve understandably lost ground since I was climbing in college. I hope once I’m stateside, I’ll get back at it more regularly and push past my previous limits. It was refreshing though and was a great way to follow the Kilimanjaro adventure.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">JANUARY</span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">(Stanford + Phi Psi + Peace Corps)^2 = ?</span><br /><br />After the new year began, I received a visit from a good friend. Nick Chan was my HPAC at Stanford (kind of like an RA) and also a brother in my Fraternity, Phi Kappa Psi. After graduating, he did AmeriCorps, City Year, and then Peace Corps. I remember writing one of his rec letters for Peace Corps and had him return the favor when I was applying. He has been serving in Ecuador and has extended for a third year as a Peace Corps Volunteer Coordinator. When he came over, he told me, he wanted to see Peace Corps SA, so that’s what we did. After a few days in Pretoria and a day at the office, we headed to the taxi rank and began the long haul out to my site.<br /><br />At my site, we ended up helping with the funeral arrangements for my host grandmother (more about that later). Nick got quite the cultural experience with all the people, prayers, and slaughtering going on. On our first day at my place, Nick and I ended up cooking lunch for all the visitors at the house.<br /><br />We also made a trip out to some neighboring volunteers sites and saw one of my shopping towns. After that, we got to take a day with Fr. Tarimo to go on safari at the Molopo Nature Reserve, north of my site. We saw giraffes, wildebeest, gemsbok, and hartebeest. We also saw several tortoises and tried to keep one as a pet, but he got away… After the safari, we went out to a lodge near the Botswana border to get some drinks. Strangely, the only person running the lodge that day was a middle aged woman that only spoke French. “Wait, I know French!” was my first thought, but no, I don’t actually. Although I could understand her fairly well, when I opened my mouth, out came “FreTswana”. It was kind of embarrassing but in the end we communicated somehow and got some drinks.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Tsoe Youth Lifeskills Challenge 2009</span><br /><br />While Nick was here, I took advantage of his Youth Development Skills, to put on another youth camp. We had sessions in the morning for young kids and in the afternoon for youth for three days. We used the library as the springboard as well as the sports grounds. We did reading, sports, chess, library skills and life skills. Overall, it went very well with over 70 kids total coming out. A nearby volunteer, Erin, also came out to help out. Strangely our afternoon sessions contained only teenage girls which would have made the whole HIV/AIDS sex talk a bit awkward had it been just me and Nick. Erin came to the rescue though and did a fantastic job spreading the message to the girls about how to take care of themselves.<br />Soon though, it was time to go back to the airport and bid Nick adieu. We took off early on Saturday and spent the night in Pretoria. The next day, I headed back to site as he headed out to the airport. It was great to share the my Peace Corps experience with someone that “gets it” if that makes any sense. I feel the two years we’ve spent have brought us closer together in some ways than we were even in college. I look forward to connecting with other RPCVs once I get back to the states because of that kind of understanding and comraderie.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Desert Flowers Again</span><br /><br />When September arrived this past year, I looked out to the sky anxiously each day, anticipating the rains. When I first got to site, the rains quickly followed and they preceded a burst of color and life in the arid veld. September passed as dry as August and slightly warmer. October brought little relief as well. Finally, in November the rains arrived but not the deluges of 2007 that filled the salt pan. As a result, the land remained fairly parched, hungrily drinking in the little water the sky saw fit to spit upon it. By the end of December, the earth had finally had its fill and released the little yellow flowers I’d been waiting for. Some butterflies have appeared but not the vast clouds that appeared with the last blossoming.<br /><br />Whereas the last rains had been bounteous and followed by an immodest burst of greenery and life, the rains of this summer have been niggardly and the plants and animals have had to scratch out what little life they could and stretch it out as long as possible. Strikingly, the one similarity between these two seasons of blossoming I’ve witnessed here is that they have been accompanied by death. Yet the difference in the lives preceding those deaths runs parallel to the markedly different manner of the two seasons unfolding.<br /><br />Last year, I wrote about the death of a student. At 20 years old, she died of TB, which means she most probably had AIDS and TB was the opportunistic infection that ended her life. She had been born under Apartheid but grown up under the blossoming of democracy and relative plenty. The opportunities available to her were vastly greater than those afforded her grandmothers but her life was spent quickly, probably with exuberance, but quickly. As I wrote at the time, it was a life barely lived like the little butterflies that appear with the flowers only to disappear.<br /><br />On January 7th, 2009, Selwana Edith Mabihi, known variously as Mma Thathi (Mother of Thathi), the Old Woman, Nkoko (Grandma), my South African Grandmother, passed away early in the morning. A few hours later, I received a phone call. I had been sitting in a taxi with my friend Nick, about to travel to my training village to show him different parts of SA and introduce him to other volunteers as we would wind back to my village. After the phone call, we got out of the taxi to Rustenburg and switched to the one to Vryburg. The taxi rank marshall’s at first were blustering and confused (it is kind of a cardinal sin to leave a taxi once you have chosen it). I just said “Mma wa me o tlhokafetse. Ke tshwanetsa go boela gae.” And they dropped all protest. If there is one thing the communities here understand, it’s death. About ten hours later, I arrived home, even beating my host mother who had been in Rustenburg at the time for the holidays. I’ve written a bit about the actual funeral preparations and ceremonies leading up to the funeral above. The real story here is Mma Thathi herself.<br /><br />At over 70 years old when she passed away, Mma Thathi had lived through the darkest days of Apartheid. She had recounted to me about the hardships of working as a domestic servant, about the police driving through the village just to find people to beat, about how the past was a time of evil. She had lost many children to various causes and only had one surviving child, a daughter. Her husband too had passed away, leaving a matriarchal family amidst a still largely patriarchal society. And Mma Thathi was definitely the matriarch in a bounteous rather than gregarious way. She took me in as her own son and there was unique bond I felt with her that I will truly miss.<br /><br />For my first few months in the village, I struggled with my host aunt Mpho, who speaks very fast and is a bit strong headed about doing things her way. One day, fed up, I confessed to Mma Thathi that I was just not getting through to Mpho. She nodded and with a slight chuckle said something to the effect of, “Eh, that Mpho, sometimes she just makes noise.” Mma Thathi did not speak much English but she knew some and was always kind and helpful in teaching me Setswana, gently correcting my mistakes and teaching me new things all the time. She taught me about the rains, about the culture, and about the family. When an old man came to the house and asked me to sell him some things she saved me from explaining that I wasn’t a shop keeper. “Ga se morekisa! Ke Kabelo wa rona, ngwanaaka.” “That’s no shopkeeper! That’s our Kabelo, my child.” Cultural boundaries did not bind us nor did any other boundaries. If I had a question that might be awkward to ask about the village or culture, I knew she’d give me a straight forward answer. Heck, once it got hot, we used to joke with each other about how we would just want to get naked.<br /><br />Above all, she was an incredibly warm and positive person. She suffered from a chronic cough that would take her in fits, sometimes lasting several minutes. She claimed she had had it since she was a girl but I think it had something to do with the asbestos mines that used to be around here. She had severe arthritis that at times confined her to a foam mattress because it was too painful for her to move. With some help from my parents, we’d been able to find some meds that helped the arthritis so when I saw her in December and early January, she kept talking about how much better she felt and was moving around a lot more. Remarkably though, her face most often wore a smile. Not an artificial smile coaxed out to appear sociable, but a genuine smile, greeting me each day I came home, greeting the world around her.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">FEBRUARY and now</span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Kicking into High Gear<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">-Crikey, there’s not much time left, I need to do everything now now…-</span></span><br /><br />And now, I’m in over my head. I am at the point where I’m turning down opportunities and projects that first year volunteers would kill for simply because I do not have the time or capacity to do any more. I am teaching 12th grade mathematics, setting the library on its own feet, working on remedial mathematics and literacy intervention at a primary school, training staff members to use computers at all four of my schools, tying up all the work I’ve done on language, diversity, and for Peace Corps training, and trying to find time to stay healthy and happy. I've gotten to visit a few of my friends sites, play with monkeys, break up bloody fist fights, dialog with the provincial government, start setting up a children's corner in the library, spend two weeks training incoming volunteers on language, diversity, and volunteer life, put together a beginners Setswana manual, and begin reflecting on my overall service. It's been a wild few months.<br /><br />I’m sorry these posts have been so long in coming. There is so much more that’s happened since then but I don’t have the time to chronicle them now. I will try to write more posts when I get a breather but can’t promise timely updates from now on. I may be resorting more to quick updates to my email list. If you are not on it, and would like to be, let me know. Otherwise, I hope all is well from wherever you are reading this. I am living and loving this experience. I’ve been humbled and crushed in more ways than I imagined but I’ve discovered so much more about what is important to me and who I really am. Now I want to give my all to my community and this country, to make at least a little ripple in this vast sea.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06815640368028996818noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7269530165688842852.post-40875016864701883882009-01-27T11:08:00.000-08:002009-01-27T11:28:46.742-08:00TestifyI am still working on a series of blog posts to catch up on many happenings over the past two months including Mt. Kilimanjaro, rock climbing, my friend’s visit here to South Africa, and many other events of significance. However, after a conversation today I decided I needed to give broader voice to some issues. So here’s some food for thought while I continue to work on the leviathan of a post that is to come.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">Supply and Demand</span><br /><br />As the schools reopened, I found myself faced with a difficult choice. The high school had lost 3 teachers to transfers. We would be bringing in one teacher from Zimbabwe that had come over last year part time and make him a full teacher. That left us two short and most notably short of a maths teacher. I knew there was no one of the rest of the staff qualified to teach upper level maths and so I threw my hat in the ring. I’m now the grade 12 maths teacher, teaching a morning class every day and doing two afterschool review/boot camp maths sessions to try and get the kids up to scratch. It was a tough choice to make as I increasingly have less time before the end of my service and my other projects like the library are still going to require substantial work before I can trust them to hold up with my absence. On the other hand, not trying to teach would almost certainly leave 17 kids to failing their final exam and vastly decreasing their chances of further education or employment. So for now, I’m doing the best I can to be a teacher but I’m was hoping to find a more sustainable solution to the lack as I can’t teach here indefinitely. So I was thinking, Zimbabwe has LOTS of maths teachers available. Why couldn’t we bring one over? Today I had a chat with our new teacher from Zimbabwe and this is what I learned. (For his own privacy and also out of safety concerns for his family, he shall be referred to as Mr. Nomugabe.)<br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">Let’s back up</span><br /><br />Before I get into detail, here is a quick summary for those of you not up to date on the current events in Zimbabwe. So here’s a quick, politically incorrect, summary. Long ago, Zimbabwe was part of Rhodesia and run/oppressed by white people. These white people set up lots of farms in this bountiful land, making it the breadbasket of Africa. In the 1980’s a revolutionary force led by Robert Mugabe overthrew the government and brought Zimbabwe to independence. He was the pride of all of Africa and Zimbabwe was a haven for anti-Apartheid activists. He set up a titular democracy that conveniently always brought him back to power. He also set up a vast secret police force that has been highly effective in rooting out any coup attempts over the past three decades. Blaming all Zimbabwe’s troubles on the Imperialists, Mugabe seized all the land of the white farmers and effectively forced them out. A combination of a lack of skills transfer and a workforce ravaged by AIDS, led to tremendous drops in agricultural productivity. As things went down, the government freaked out and imposed all sorts of terrible economic policies leading to some of the most outrageous hyperinflation the world has ever seen. Economic collapse has ruined the internal market, making petrol, bread, and basic goods nearly impossible to get (only really possible on the black market, bought in foreign currency). Bakeries are forced to stay open by the government and waste electricity as light glares off their empty shelves. The breadbasket of Africa can no longer feed itself. The treasury said that there were not enough items on the shelves to get an appropriate index to measure inflation. That was several months ago. Inflation is estimated at over 10,000,000%. On the news, images of people picking through the garbage for food zoom in on 10 Million ZIm Dollar notes being passed over by people in search for a bite. Children fill cups of water from puddles. Not surprisingly, cholera has broken out in epidemic proportions. Millions of Zimbabweans have fled across the border to South Africa. Of them, hundreds have been killed and thousands intimidated in xenophobic violence. I could go on…and I will for a little while.<br /><span style="font-weight:bold;"><br />20,000,000,000,000 Problems</span><br /><br />Given the trouble up north, South Africa seems like the land of milk and honey to many Zimbabweans even despite the threats of violence. Mr. Nomugabe, has come out deep to the Kalahari Desert to teach where few South African teachers would ever choose to be. I asked him if he knew of any maths teachers in need of work. Lots, he replied. Many with 15+ years of working experience. Why don’t they come over? Well, they don’t have passports and to get one right now in Zimbabwe costs about 670 USD. Once you have the passport, you need a visa to enter South Africa, which has just been raised from about 200 USD to 600 USD. Then, you need a work permit, which is another 600 USD. Add in the bribes and other expenses you might have to pay, that’s about 2,000 USD just to get into South Africa to work. A US Dollar is roughly 10 trillion Zim Dollars (several zeroes may be added to that each day from now). So that’s 20 quadrillion Zim Dollars. Teachers are being paid the equivalent of 30 US CENTS a month. Yes. In a year, they pull in about 3.60 USD. That’s a trained professional. It costs more to get to the bank than all the money they have in the bank is worth, so most teachers are now working as hawkers on the street. So while students around southern Africa sit without qualified maths teachers, if any maths teachers at all, some of the best trained and most competent teachers in the region are selling bananas. <br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">Do Something World</span><br /><br />Somethings gotta give. I know some at home that will sit comfortably in their armchairs will paw-paw that if Zimbabweans don’t like Mugabe, they should get rid of him. They’ve tried by ballot and been killed for it. They’ve tried by force and been killed for it. Mugabe holds the guns and his sycophantic circle is lustily guarding what they have from anyone that would try to topple them from within. It doesn’t take much to hold a cholera-ridden, half starved, dirt poor people down. In this era of global connectivity, we as a world need to take action. As Botswana’s brave president and Odinga of Kenya have suggested, perhaps we need to use force to tear Mugabe’s strangle hold over the nation. Unfortunately the power broker in the region is South Africa and it has yet to take a strong stance. The U.S. and Europe tried to bring out a targeted set of sanctions to restrict the Mugabe regime and isolate them, weakening their power. It was blocked in the UN Security Council by South Africa, but more importantly by China and Russia who exercised their veto power. I know the developed world has a lot on its plate right now with their economic crises and all but whatever plight we are in is not as dire as what Zimbabwe is facing right now. As long as the oppressive Mugabe regime is in power, other governments need to reduce rather than increase the barriers of entry for Zimbabwean professionals so their skills can be used effectively and they can use the money they earn to feed their families hungry mouths at home. That’s not charity, that’s just good economical sense. South Africa faces a huge shortage of medical and educational professionals. In my training village I met a Zimbabwean man. A former medical technician, he is now scratching out a living by making mops. What a waste. <br /><br />Mugabe is old but simply waiting for him to die is an irresponsible position to take. Besides supporting governments to stand up against the Mugabe regime, what can we do? Find respectable aid agencies working to try and bring relief to the many suffering Zimbabweans and do what you can to help. Unfortunately, the number is not so big as Mugabe has tried to stifle their activities. I admit that besides this, there is not a lot we can do but I think’s it’s necessary every once in a while to remind people of the silent tragedies that get dropped from the news once it gets too boring. I’m mostly just frustrated that South Africa is shooting itself in the foot by not making it easier for Zimbabweans to help themselves out by filling long vacant slots in the professional workforce.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06815640368028996818noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7269530165688842852.post-49391894688618853472008-12-31T03:57:00.000-08:002008-12-31T04:21:27.654-08:00A Tale of Three ThanksgivingsIt’s New Year’s Eve and I’m writing about Thanksgiving… I guess I’m a little behind the time. I resolve to catch up though as best I can. November was a good month overall and it was capped off by three memorable Thanksgiving celebrations. Funny how spending time outside of the US has multiplied the American holidays I celebrate.<br /><span style="font-weight:bold;"><br />Part I – The Foreigners and the Natives</span><br /><table style="width:194px;"><tr><td align="center" style="height:194px;background:url(http://picasaweb.google.com/f/img/transparent_album_background.gif) no-repeat left"><a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/aj.kumar/ThanksgivingsAndMore?feat=embedwebsite"><img src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/_yxmNfvg4eU4/SVsR6OcBW_E/AAAAAAAAC-8/H3skYRLi6YU/s160-c/ThanksgivingsAndMore.jpg" width="160" height="160" style="margin:1px 0 0 4px;"></a></td></tr><tr><td style="text-align:center;font-family:arial,sans-serif;font-size:11px"><a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/aj.kumar/ThanksgivingsAndMore?feat=embedwebsite" style="color:#4D4D4D;font-weight:bold;text-decoration:none;">Thanksgivings and More</a></td></tr></table><br /><br />The weekend before Thanksgiving, I joined several friends to hang out with Kelee, her boyfriend Philip, and their South African friends out on a farm. The band of Americans was bringing Thanksgiving to the South Africans. Kelee had gone all out, even getting some costumes… Traveling out to the farm was an adventure in itself but the real fun was once we got there late Friday. We had a big braii with delicious lamb from Kelee and Philip’s farm. On Saturday morning, we began cooking. I was in charge of the turkeys (we had two young turkeys) and I made some stuffing from scratch. <br /><br /><table style="width:auto;"><tr><td><a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/lh/photo/QrvT6ezc3FINxlNdBn7e4w?feat=embedwebsite"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh15tXvaU2Tf4GxWkg6H6Jqrlmhe18FWtsyJdlbhKAOslFwWaizq0_hxSpeN0dYOKLDIc8JKboI0xfWv4XcrB8vw7YUDaGz638XsoYKjsUXGMSqnPPHc3IOKTEp_EzpU4J-mIZ3td7xzVXf/s288/_MG_7930.JPG" /></a></td></tr><tr><td style="font-family:arial,sans-serif; font-size:11px; text-align:right">From <a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/aj.kumar/ThanksgivingsAndMore?feat=embedwebsite">Thanksgivings and More</a></td></tr></table><br /><br />After a few hours and lots of melted butter, I think the turkeys came out pretty well. We also had candied yams, mashed potatoes, green bean casserole, salad, iced tea, and apple, pumpkin, and pecan pies made from scratch. <br />Needless to say we were all very full after the big meal. After a little digestion though, it was time to continue the Thanksgiving tradition with some good old American football. We taught our South African friends the basic rules and then played a while using their rugby ball. Rugby balls aren’t meant to be thrown overhand. After a while, we switched things up and the South African’s taught us how to play touch rugby. It’s a ton of fun and moves a lot faster than football. The hardest things is remembering to stay behind the ball since it is a foul to pass the ball forward. After the game we relaxed a bit and watched real rugby on TV as the South African National Team (Springboks) crushed the English. Watching rugby with true fans allowed me to finally understand the intricacies of the game. Now I know the difference between a scrum and a ruck. The weekend was a blast and I really enjoyed getting to know Kelee’s friends. I returned back to site for the week and soon was preparing for my next feast.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">Part II – Giving Thanks</span><br /><br /><table style="width:auto;"><tr><td><a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/lh/photo/QRVh56vSNN7njrOMjKtcRA?feat=embedwebsite"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihbs7lUgLHiGXPwu6yKZu0JFmh6fU3Sjx7C_XBPgJRv8D10q1vc_CE9LqSRdAiWNWD0Y2ayeFlPcWBPVpP85nPeRQyCl8fPTPWIeaSMocVWTiwyoKcFU6RbQFaxlJj7VYcgCukwnGDcLIE/s288/_MG_7956.JPG" /></a></td></tr><tr><td style="font-family:arial,sans-serif; font-size:11px; text-align:right">From <a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/aj.kumar/ThanksgivingsAndMore?feat=embedwebsite">Thanksgivings and More</a></td></tr></table><br /><br />As the quarter was drawing to a close, I wanted to organize a celebration for the library committee to thank them for all the hard work they’ve done. With all their help we are just a few steps away from opening to general circulation. The only big steps remaining are to create our full library policy, to finish with the student library cards, and to streamline the registration system. The library itself is set up and organized and the librarians seem to know the basics of how to get what they want. <br /><br /><table style="width:auto;"><tr><td><a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/lh/photo/zAX6hOLvEAoMnymGcWw8gQ?feat=embedwebsite"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgd79oMcYufjal1FmeSiowZj2OY9S4scZUOXBzMxb06Xw2D5tXbkNtJg-lomGvop7dMhNleMGfLWl-eXZfED1dNTUUaH0KNbMDXh6z8S7fhnd44KgI6O8X9UZrJkjzB8onjB4K7KYD204dE/s288/_MG_7989.JPG" /></a></td></tr><tr><td style="font-family:arial,sans-serif; font-size:11px; text-align:right">From <a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/aj.kumar/ThanksgivingsAndMore?feat=embedwebsite">Thanksgivings and More</a></td></tr></table><br /><br />Based on the exam schedule and teacher’s availability to help, the library party was set for November 27th. I thought it was fitting to be giving thanks to my volunteers on Thanksgiving. The teachers on the committee got food and cooked up a yummy meal of dumpy (a big dumpling bread) and beef stew. I made certificates and we got prizes for our student and community volunteers. We had a few speeches and then watched some movies as we ate. <br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">Part III – American style</span><br /><br />Finally, the weekend after the real Thanksgiving brought my last big feast. I traveled to some nearby volunteers who had organized a big meal at a lodge in their village. We played football, ate more turkey and pumpkin pie, and then sang karaoke into the night. <br /><br /><table style="width:auto;"><tr><td><a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/lh/photo/f6O2ZCd9KE4YZStlw3JTFg?feat=embedwebsite"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEge4rGQ-VZhQMQ9UJahnaOU0Vx2Okv9PgG2ZQldvQSnUWLffVnFYy873yaDGnexeK32S6rNytslUpSm5EMXWDM2511A0igRxjLHmbT4OWVkXCUKj11PIJsLySPybiYAuoA101poJGXwT6aq/s288/_MG_8000.JPG" /></a></td></tr><tr><td style="font-family:arial,sans-serif; font-size:11px; text-align:right">From <a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/aj.kumar/ThanksgivingsAndMore?feat=embedwebsite">Thanksgivings and More</a></td></tr></table><br /><br />The next day I traveled back to site and scrambled to finish everything I had planned before school let out for the year. I had to leave early to go to a training session for Peace Corps in preparation for the next intake of new volunteers. Then I was off to other adventures, whose details shall follow…<br /><br />Here are some more pictures of things I'm thankful for:<br /><br /><table style="width:auto;"><tr><td><a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/lh/photo/fcnqQqpE4BNjTAVyL6mziQ?feat=embedwebsite"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4iC_3JiPJt_2RPMycye9US6Az96Jl7P5xd7V7qTV5lm7LL2CGUVXO8HtPie-EhGTzIpwdhK7z0965xXM_UKnn41CcMsc___z5s3nUeL7TJXlQGGXqS_6JI8WsVt3yxSZy3HkcWk9kPgNd/s288/_MG_8018.JPG" /></a></td></tr><tr><td style="font-family:arial,sans-serif; font-size:11px; text-align:right">From <a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/aj.kumar/ThanksgivingsAndMore?feat=embedwebsite">Thanksgivings and More</a></td></tr></table><br /><br /><table style="width:auto;"><tr><td><a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/lh/photo/Xcvkh7yhx9LswDoW-sx4tw?feat=embedwebsite"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuYshVdBAMtWslOThQJ6YN3LyaV1i9KWBkG5JPHG34TJLFrMrGg2qQ9MV5TVA1UScZZ7tkUbWY4PjmsbqVXJeVchcwb58rbpX0Jjw1Vktbbkvism36ozbwfZwg_wOAhiU_b-RUs0Fz1Iga/s288/_MG_6265.JPG" /></a></td></tr><tr><td style="font-family:arial,sans-serif; font-size:11px; text-align:right">From <a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/aj.kumar/ThanksgivingsAndMore?feat=embedwebsite">Thanksgivings and More</a></td></tr></table><br /><br /><table style="width:auto;"><tr><td><a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/lh/photo/ZXjpHz8YYCH3ochFUyj6zA?feat=embedwebsite"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihyE-87_A2svi2BX4L6rQnxuWS2D3AMAb2K_e8273i1E65O7BBB0ZoH1q4BLm4hh9OYXz1si7wEFxZzCTTnhdO_V709PEAxRCCrqvIKcbrpgY-FM1BQ6gHRWM64fsxZGL7s3pLE-pj9Nxu/s288/_MG_6275.JPG" /></a></td></tr><tr><td style="font-family:arial,sans-serif; font-size:11px; text-align:right">From <a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/aj.kumar/ThanksgivingsAndMore?feat=embedwebsite">Thanksgivings and More</a></td></tr></table>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06815640368028996818noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7269530165688842852.post-29975930906190762532008-11-16T10:48:00.000-08:002008-11-16T11:12:57.192-08:00Bring the RainIn American or perhaps all of western culture, rainy days seem to bear an image of bleakness and despondency. Rain-checks stand in for unfulfilled obligation. Sports fans curse the rain and the dreaded delay of game that follows. Sunshine gets all the glory with smiley faced suns. Find me a smiley faced raincloud. Sure, a rainmaker is someone that brings great fortune. But seriously, even the Grumpy Care Bear had a raincloud belly. <br /><br />Perhaps it is because we are used to running water and impeccably watered lawns even in the deserts of Nevada. Perhaps it’s because such a small percentage of Americans still depend on the land for their living. Whatever it is, living out here in the semi-desert in amongst a population that depends first on agriculture and second on government pensions for survival, I’ve come to despise sunny days and love the rain clouds. The stultifying heat probably also biases my opinion… Sunny days may be nice for the right now but too many and you’re dead. Rain brings renewal. Rain brings hope and nourishment for the future. To be fair, too much rain and you’re also dead. But even a flood can be renewing in a sense (see Noah or Gilgamesh). <br /><br />When I was struggling, my friend Kelee wrote to me with some words of encouragement. She had faced even more difficult situations than I had and during those times her boyfriend had told her to think of the veld grass. Out on the open veld, you see these stubborn tufts of grass trying to survive heat and goats every day. During the long dry winter, the blades become crisp and turn a light yellow. They seem so weak and dead on the outside, easily crushed by whatever passes their way. But deep down, their roots stay strong. The life of the grass has retreated inwards to the core during those hard times, holding on with stubbornness to the dry earth, fed only by the expectation and hope that sometime in the future, the rains will come again. And when those rains do come, the grass drinks its fill of the sweetest ambrosia the heavens have to offer. <br /><span style="font-weight:bold;"><br />Sprinkles of Expectation (I’ll never be a meteorologist)</span><br /><br />Last year, the day after I arrived at site, a huge storm came and opened up over us. The next day the entire salt pan was filled with water. That was towards the end of September. This year, we passed through October with few clouds ever passing the sky. Two weeks ago, I saw the clouds gathering. In the distance, lightning bolts lighted the sky. Soon, the winds picked up. As I inhaled the crisp air, I felt lighter in anticipation. I stood out on my stoop far past sunset waiting for the rain and only begrudgingly went in to sleep. Finally, I heard a few drops of rain begin to fall on my roof but within 5 minutes, it was over. What a tease. No one likes a tease. Or as my friend Erin’s host father puts it. “This is not a rain. It is a baby. It just spits and makes noise.” The next day, I got up and went to work as usual. The rain would come eventually, and until then, one just needs to keep oneself ready to receive it. <br /><br />Three thousand two hundred books and counting; the library is almost ready. Posters and signs are being made. At least one person on the library committee besides me knows how to do every task apart from myself. Things are looking good. But there have been troubles. The student in charge of library cards gave up the job, adding 500 more tasks to my list. Some of the volunteers have stopped coming as exams started (it’s not because they are studying that much though…). But the big hit was the news that my main principal is transferring at the end of this year and thus goes the guaranteed support and backing of the school and its budget. Furthermore, I’ve begun to hear rumors that my library chair, one of the teachers I’ve worked most closely with, may be leaving next year too. Strangely, I don’t feel too phased. I just need to recalibrate. I’ve still got several months left and will find a new foundation while I in the meantime hold things up. In the end, even if the library fails and the changes I wished to bring to the village don’t come when I want them too, I’ve seen enough here to realize some change will come, on its own time, as a result of what I’ve done. The best I can do in the meantime is to prepare the grounds to best receive it when it does arrive.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">Enter the Deluge (Make hay while the sun shines…dance like a fool when the rain falls)</span><br /><br />On the Tuesday before last, I tried in vain to sleep at night. Every few hours, I’d wake up, turn over, and check the latest returns on nytimes.com on my phone. By 8am my time, it had happened. Barack Obama had won the election. Not only had America elected someone that wasn’t white but they had elected someone who was unabashedly intellectual. Even though our country had entered dark times, the future is still full of possibility. After years in a drought, I believe America has finally chosen a leader (and I count the drought longer than 8 years because though I think Clinton did a good job, I wouldn’t follow him to the gates of hell and back…) I know for many American’s the election was a moving moment. My teachers congratulated me since they had been aware of whom I was supporting. One sent me a text “Obama is the man”. During the day, as I walked between schools and home, I caught myself unconsciously smiling for the first time in many months. At certain points in the day, as I watched the news or heard people talking about America, I was seriously choking up. It’s not that I think Obama is the savior. He’s got a tall order to fill and there is no way he can do it all. I believe he can do a lot though. What I think had me so emotionally welled up though was something that can’t be taken away no matter what happens during the next administration; the fact that American’s rejected the smear campaigns and attacks. The fact that even Montana was close had me dumbfounded. For me, the heaven’s had opened up and were raining down renewal upon me and my country. For a little while, it was easy to look past all my own problems and believe in my own future. It was pouring down and for a little while, I rejoiced, knowing that all of us as American’s would need to soon put our heads down and get to work to make sure every drop fulfilled its potential for life bringing renewal, just as the farmers know rains bring work, but welcome work. <br />Over that weekend, I went on a bike ride to a few villages over, riding over the salt pan. I knew soon the real rains would come and traversing the flat would mean fording the lake. Sure enough, that night the clouds were gathering again. The lighting was all around. Surely this would not be another dry light show. Soon, the rain was beating down; so loud on my metal roof that I couldn’t hear my thoughts, but I knew they were happy thoughts. <br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">Scattered showers</span><br /><br />The past week has been interesting. As I grapple with what I should try to force through while my principal is still around, I am also returning to some of the management work I did early on as schools should now be evaluating to what degree we’ve fulfilled the action plans we created at the beginning of the year. In the library, with my volunteers starting to drop off and internal politics from outside the committee conspiring to turn my partners against each other, I’ve been digging in and preparing for a fight. The heat was on and no relief was in site. Then while I was walking back from the post office two days ago, a little girl walked up to me on the street. “KB, Nkopelela!” “KB, Sing to me!” I had spent most mornings last quarters singing English songs with the primary school kids but had started phasing it out as I tried to hand it off to teachers and got myself caught up in the library again. I stopped in the middle of the street and we sang a few songs before she was satisfied and I continued on my way with a smile on my face. Yesterday, I went to the library to do some work. A group of kids was out front as usual, playing on the weatherproof housed computers out there. As I unlocked the door, I looked over my shoulder at a couple of kids standing behind me expectantly. We hadn’t really officially opened yet but I asked them, “A lo batla go bala?” “Do you want to read?” And they nodded their heads excitedly. I showed them to the Children’s Fiction section and picked out a few short books for them. Soon 6 little boys were sitting and reading intently. Three of them stayed over half an hour, reading different short stories. Whatever fight I need to put up for this library, it’s worth it. <br /><br />In the burning summer heat, the downpours bring life, but even a little unexpected shower can be life saving.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06815640368028996818noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7269530165688842852.post-21398428117250305032008-09-13T13:49:00.000-07:002008-09-13T13:57:03.438-07:00Setshwaro ke Dinja tse Pedi, Ga se Thata<i>(That which is caught by two dogs cannot give them much difficulty. – Setswana Proverb)</i><br /><br />The last month or so, I’ve been involved in a lot of slow paced, hard slogging work. Unlike the flash-in-the-pan events like Youth Day and my camps, this work is high risk as it has involved a huge commitment of time, thought, and energy giving it the potential for incredible success or terrifying failure… Hopefully in a few months I’ll be writing a big triumphant story. For now though, there are no big magnificent events to post, but there are some encouraging signs that I wanted to share. There are some attitudes and actions that beat us down every day in our work here, but when I see behavior change, when I see people breaking the stultifying norm and taking control of their lives, I know why I am here. I am here to applaud them, tell them they are not crazy, and help give them the strength and knowledge to go on forging their own paths. As they say; the whole is greater than the sum of the parts, united we stand, or, in Setswana, Setshwaro ke dinja tse pede, ga se thata. <br /><br /><b>A committee…that meets?</b><br /><br />In my previous posts, I mentioned the Books for Peace Project, started by my colleague Rose. Firstly, a huge thank you again to all of you that donated to the project and helped 30 libraries each get a huge jump start. Secondly, a huge thanks to Rose, Books for Africa, and the others that made the project a reality. As the time for the books to arrive came closer, I had a huddle with some of my key teachers and we decided to form a library committee. We set our first meeting date and invited any staff that was interested. In the end, only 6 of my 21 teachers attended that first meeting. The library chair himself did not come. Still, with a little prodding and encouragement, those of us that showed up used the lack of interest and leadership to rally ourselves. We made an action plan to recruit community members and students into the committee, we solidified our finances, and we set a second meeting for right before the books would arrive. <br /><br />In the two weeks that followed, we recruited 2 students and 3 community members to the committee. I played some backdoor politics and convinced the chair that he was over-worked and over-committed. Then I gave him a face-saving way to step down from his position so that I could get a more driven teacher in his place. For our second meeting, we had over 90% attendance at the time of the meeting and opened about 10 minutes later. What? T.I.A.? Yes, on time and in Africa. For my American readership, this may not seem that big of a deal, but my PCV buddies, you feel me here. The principal attended the meeting too. We came up with several plans of action, including the creation of student and library cards, a volunteer timetable and training schedule, and solidified our leadership. The students and community members actually spoke up to voice their opinions rather than sitting in deference to the teachers (yes, really). Our next meeting was set for when the books arrived. <br />I left the next day and spent a week in meetings and sorting books in Pretoria before returning to my school to see what had been done. When I arrived, I found that the students had continued on with the work of cataloging old books that I had started. I had trained them for maybe 2 days and they had spent the week labeling 300 books and cataloging 30 more books on the Linux based computer system I had set up. Our principal showed his commitment to us by getting us a laminating machine and color printer to make some snazzy library and student cards. On top of that, one of our community volunteers, an old man that only completed standard 8 (grade 10), was coming every day and would excitedly talk about books he found and check them out to read. <br /><br />When it came time for our next meeting, again we had high attendance and began within minutes of our scheduled start time. The two guys I’d recruited from the students had recruited two girls to help, balancing out our student librarians. We committed to a schedule to start working and set the end of September as our deadline to get the library up and running. Other teachers at the school were continually confused by finding out we were meeting. There are dozens of committees on paper in the school, but they don’t actually meet or do anything… Some complained because we were actually making decisions. Fortunately the principal is so thrilled by the idea of a committee actually accomplishing something that he has given us all the support we need. <br /><br /><b>Knocking on</b><br /><br />In South Africa, when you are going to “close shop” or leave work at the end of the day, you “knock off.” (e.g. “Where are you going?” “I’m knocking off now.” “Now? It’s only 1pm…” “It’s month end. Ke chaile! Sharp!” “Sharp…”). One of the big challenges of the education system here is that a plethora of students (and educators and administrators) that are intent on skipping classes (or dodging classes, or bunking classes). <br /><br />Once again, my library team proved to buck the trend. (Part of it is perhaps because I recruited the teachers that consistently worked late every day and showed up early each morning…) My student and community volunteers have been coming almost every day and working from school out until 5 or 6pm. Last Friday, one of them was chatting with me as we started work. “You know KB, I am seeing we have a lot of work left to do. And really, we must get this work done soon so that we can use the books. I think we must push harder.” “Ok…what do you have in mind?” “Let’s work on Saturdays.” “Ok, what time?” “8am.” Sure enough, the next day, that learner showed up at 8am and together we worked until 4pm. The next weekend all four students committed to coming even though I wouldn’t be there due to a prior commitment. This Friday as I was preparing to “knock off” at 5pm, another student refused. “Let us at least go to half past five. Bring over another box of books, no two boxes.” We locked up at close to 6pm. With kids and community members this committed, I am optimistic that we actually will open this library in a few weeks. <br /><br /><b>Fasten your Seatbelts</b><br /><br />On Monday, I received terrible news. Two of my teachers had been driving back to the village and had lost control of their car. It rolled 4 times and landed in the veld. The car was totaled. They were both in the hospital being checked on. These were two of my hand-picked library teachers, including the new chair of the committee. My heart sank. Fortunately, they sustained no major injuries and were back at school after a few days of rest. How? They were wearing their seatbelts. South Africa, like most developing countries I’ve been in, has a reluctance to buckle up. Indeed, even drunk driving isn’t really looked down upon in the cases I’ve seen. But thankfully, my teachers had done what was unfashionable and uncomfortable and actually used their seatbelts. As a result, they may have saved their lives. <br />Remove the stumbling blocks<br /><br />My friend, Adam Bohach (see blogs on my side-bar), recently wrote a post about spoken and unspoken appreciation (and several other very inspiring posts). Basically, the work of development workers is often unsung. We go into our service prepared to pat ourselves on the back because we don’t ask or expect anyone else to. Sometimes though, people surprise you. <br /><br />After knocking off from the library at near 6pm on Friday, one of my teachers and I were walking back to the teachers quarters. We were chatting about how impressed we were with the students. Caught up in my excitement, I wasn’t paying attention to where I was stepping and stumbled on a rock. My teacher grabbed me then rushed off in front of me tossing rocks out of the way. “Hey, what are these rocks doing here! They are trying to knock down our KB! KB, you can’t let yourself get knocked down, you are too important to us.” It was a playful and somewhat trivial act in a place that is literally covered in rocks (where there aren’t sand pits or thorn bushes) but I think the real meaning he was conveying was more figurative. <br /><br />The work we do sometimes can be hard to see as meaningful. We see many projects fail, so many people who go on ignoring anything we try to do to help, children being beaten, insurmountable bureaucracy, corruption, risky behavior, and needless deaths. But we also see some people who say no to all of that: people that catch a glimpse of a little light and run after it with all their strength. These people give meaning to my work. No one can be helped without helping themselves first. Rather than trying to force people to stand up, I think our real job is to find those people pushing hard against all the odds holding them down and offer them all we can. And then, if ever we find ourselves knocked down, we don’t have to look far to find a helping hand.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06815640368028996818noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7269530165688842852.post-50713178407820925182008-08-27T14:01:00.000-07:002008-08-27T14:07:47.425-07:00The Lekgoa and the Lekwerekwere“Lekgoa! Lekgoa!” the children scream as they run behind me. Well, I guess it’s not surprising; it’s what you expect as the only white person in the village. Every Peace Corps Volunteer is told to expect it. Wait a second… <br /><br />I’m not white. <br /><br />There is no mob of little people trailing me in adoration. There is no verbal labeling of “Whitey”. But there is another type of labeling.<br /><br />My white colleagues may at first find me in an enviable position. As an American of South Asian decent, I fit rather well into my Tswana village. There are roughly half a dozen Bangladeshi and Pakistani shop owners (in addition to the Somali and the Chinese couple). When I showed up in the village, I wasn’t a rock star. People assumed I had come to sell biscuits and cooldrink (pop…or soda…or coke…whatever). Granted, it’s been almost a year now so people have mostly figured out that’s not my shtick. In a couple of months, if all goes well, when villagers see children reading books under trees and condoms flowing freely from the taverns, they’ll shake their heads and say, “Oh, that KB…” But it’s taken a lot to get to this point. Upon entering my village, I quickly realized, I needed to make an effort to go out and introduce myself to people. If I showed up at a community event or was just walking around the village, I did not attract the attention, questions, and introductions that my fairer skinned friends received a few villages away. I didn’t mind. The challenge added to the impetus to bulk up on language and social networking skills. <br /><br />The biggest challenge of not being a “Lekgoa” PCV is knowing when to pre-empt a random stranger by somehow declaring, “Wait! I’m not Makwerekwere! I’m an American volunteer.” Ma-what? While Lekgoa is used to reference to any White, non-South African or English South African, Makwerekwere is used to reference migrant workers and illegal immigrants. Makwerekwere is mostly used in reference to other African’s but can extend to the East and South Asians who work all over the country and are often perceived as “stealing” jobs. Examining each word etymologically is an interesting exercise. I’ve heard two different tales of the origins of Lekgoa. <br /><br />Lekgoa – “lay-k’ho-a” – n. – a European or white American, “whitey” <br /><br />The first, perhaps more fanciful origin, is that the word is a combination of the Tswana/Sotho words “lewatle” and “go kqwa”. These word’s mean “ocean” and “to spit”, respectively. Hence “Lekgoa” would be “The spit of the ocean” because the first white people to arrive in South Africa were more or less spat up from the ocean. Lovely [1]. The second, and perhaps more credible explanation is that the word finds its roots in the verb “go kgoa” which means “to be rude or have no manners”. Adding “le-“ is a common way to nounify a verb in Setswana [2]. (Now, I have friends that complain that the “le-/ma-“ noun class is an object class used to describe things like brooms, spoons, and bad people like thieves. Honestly, though, “lekgarebe” and “lekgau” are in the same class and mean “girlfriend” and “boyfriend” respectively, so no more complaining on that count.)<br /><br />Lekwerekwere – “lay-kway-ray-kway-ray” – n. – non-southern African African’s, illegal immigrants, the equivalent of “spick” in American English. <br /> <br />This also has many fanciful candidates for an origin story, but the most credible one I’ve found comes from Lesotho. The Sotho equivalent is “lekoerekoere” and it’s origin is pretty much the same as the origin of the word “barbarian”. When Sotho speaking southern African’s encountered other Africans, it sounded like they were speaking gibberish saying “kwere-kwere-kwere” so there you have it, they are the “makwerekwere”. <br /><br />So on the face of it, “Lekgoa” seems like a greater slur than “Lekwerekwere” but the subtext of South Africa flips that on its head. <br /><br />When the xenophobic attacks broke out, people at home became frantic because PCVs are also foreigners and might be targeted. But there are two classes of foreigners in South Africa; the Lekgoa and the Lekwerekwere. Xenophobia is mostly targeted at the latter. “Makwerekwere” was originally restricted to other Africans, but unfortunately, I feel like the term has become a bit more derogatory in South Africa and signifies a sentiment against any “foreigner” that is seen to be taking jobs. I was told that I shouldn’t worry about the attacks because it was aimed at other Africans. Then I watched the news and saw a Bangladeshi guy almost in tears talking about how a mob came and destroyed everything he had worked years to create. In the background, some cops were standing around outside of his shop, laughing. My Bangladeshi shop owner friends started locking up earlier each night. <br /><br />So really, even if I was white, I wouldn’t mind being called “Lekgoa” every day. At least it means, people know I’m a foreigner and not an Afrikaaner. Not that there is anything wrong with being Afrikaaner. It would just lead to a lot of other unspoken assumptions that could be problematic. Instead, whenever I travel to a city or a new taxi rank, I ask myself, who is calling me “Makwerekwere” in their head and what can I do to change their mind. I have never heard someone call me “Makwerekwere” to my face and if I did, I would probably be better off showing them my heels; whether that meant kicking them in the face or running away, would probably depend on how many of them there were. (On the plus side, I do get called “my friend” which is the generic village term for any South Asian shopowner. The less nice term for South Asians is “coolie” or “macoolie” in Tswana) <br /><br />Riding a khumbi is always a unique experience. Cramming a minimum of 14 people, a driver, a few babies, luggage, groceries, and perhaps two, three, or ten more people into a minibus van has a tendency to bring out the best and worst in people. A week ago, two of my teachers were shopping in town and loading up a taxi to take their things back to the village. Now, these teachers, like most of my teachers, are not Batswana (Tswana people). They come from Gauteng, Limpopo, Eastern Cape, KZN, Mpumalanga, etc. They serve a village educating kids while their own kids are thousands of kilometers away. Some of them have been doing it for up to 13 years. I have a huge respect for them because I know I couldn’t do this for much more than two years. So, two of these teachers were at the taxi loading up and leaving some bags on their seats to save their spots. <br /><br />A woman came buy, looked angrily at the seats and demanded, “Why are those bags on the seat?” <br />Mme S replied, “We are loading our things. That is where my friend Mme M is going to sit.” <br />The woman grunted in disapproval, removed the bags, and sat down. Mme M confronted her about it to which the woman replied, <br /><br />“You teachers think you are so special but you’re just Makwerekwere who came here on the back of some trucks. You should just go back to where you came from.”<br />“Excuse me, we are teaching your children.”<br />“You’re just here because you can’t get a job in your home. We aren’t stupid. Why do we need you to teach our children?”<br />“So where are your teachers then?”<br /><br />In the end both my teachers made it back to the village but they were both fuming. It made me wonder what people might be thinking about me on the khumbi, or anywhere really.<br /><br />But being “Lekwerekwere” isn’t always a bad thing. When a group is stereotyped and clumped together, people that previously had no connection tend to unite and watch each other’s backs. On a taxi, a South Asian will always give me a knowing nod. Non-South African African’s will approach me in the taxi rank to ask for help or directions, sometimes choosing to talk to me over South Africans. Once, a village shop owner that I’d never met before sat next to me on a taxi. After saying hello we sat in silence for one and a half hours until we came to a gas station. While the tank filled, he got out and came back with two Powerades and handed me one. Again, I got the knowing nod. I like that nod. <br /><br />Most recently, I was standing by the side of the road waiting for a taxi to take me back to my village. There were a few Tswana people waiting as well as a guy that I’m going to guess was Somali. I greeted everyone as usual and we stood around for a long time. Finally a taxi came but had only two spots open. A woman with a small child got in as well as the Somali guy. Once I saw the taxi was full, I turned around to go sit down. When I didn’t hear the engine start, I turned around to see the Somali guy gesturing for me to come back. He said I had arrived before him so shouldn’t wait and he squeezed over to give me room to cram in. There were other people who had arrived earlier too but he knew I was a strange person in a strange land, just like him, and lent a hand with a knowing nod. <br /><br />I used to be a bit annoyed that I didn’t have the “Pied Piper Effect”. I used to be relieved to not constantly be harangued by people yelling “Lekgoa”. Being a white volunteer brings challenges and benefits. Being a minority volunteer brings challenges and benefits. They just are different challenges and benefits. In the end you just have to be aware of it, be mindful of it, and give a little nod. <br /><br />(1) This first explanation comes from my Pre-Service Training language instructor, in incredible Gordan. <br />(2) http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lekgoa<br />(3) http://www.languagehat.com/archives/003131.php<br />(4) http://sotho.blogsome.com/2004/01/12/6/Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06815640368028996818noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7269530165688842852.post-71909766099357954132008-08-01T23:41:00.000-07:002008-08-02T00:31:13.721-07:00Turning the Page<span style="font-style: italic;">Disclaimer:</span> The month of July was somewhat tumultuous for me on a personal level. Now at last, I feel enough at peace to write again. However, I’ve also debated at level of detail which I wish to write about my own private life in a domain as public as this blog. I understand that part of the point of a blog is to share one’s private life and indeed that is what I’ve been doing, but there are some things that I don’t think are right to put out so openly. The most I will say is this: the past month has made me more deeply aware of the beauty of life and the sorrow of death; the comfort of love and the pain of separation. Those of you who are my friends reading this will probably find out more detail about this past month from me at some point through a more private means of communication. Nevertheless, the private struggle of the last month has helped me focus more clearly on my public work as a volunteer. So, I apologize if this post seems to be high on philosophy and low on storyline but I want to share the upshot of the last month.<br /><br />It’s now been over a year since I arrived in South Africa (September 21 will mark 1 year as an official Peace Corps Volunteer). I’ve been going through many transitions all at once. The main project that consumes my time at the moment is my library and literacy campaign. I’ve also found myself reading and writing a lot more recently. The cold winter is slowly warming to spring. Some changes are welcome, some are dreaded, but all seem to become more manageable when taken in the context of a bigger picture. Every change, no matter the size, is the turning of a page. Though the good ones may seem small and insignificant, they help move us forward bit by bit. Though the bad ones seem insurmountable, they too will be buried behind chapters with time.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">The Family Book</span><br /><br /><table style="width: 194px;"><tbody><tr align="center"><td style="background: transparent url(http://picasaweb.google.com/f/img/transparent_album_background.gif) no-repeat scroll left center; height: 194px; -moz-background-clip: -moz-initial; -moz-background-origin: -moz-initial; -moz-background-inline-policy: -moz-initial;"><a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/aj.kumar/JulyHoliday"><img src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/aj.kumar/SJNyYdSPhGE/AAAAAAAAB90/UsoSKryMf8E/s160-c/JulyHoliday.jpg" style="margin: 1px 0pt 0pt 4px; width: 200px; height: 200px;" /></a></td></tr><tr><td style="text-align: center; font-family: arial,sans-serif; font-size: 11px;"><a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/aj.kumar/JulyHoliday" style="color: rgb(77, 77, 77); font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none;">July Holiday</a></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><br />My family and Kana came to visit for two weeks. We went to Zambia to see Victoria Falls and then traveled back to South Africa to see Kruger, my village, and a few other places along the way. It was an incredible time, though bittersweet at points.<br />When everyone arrived, we spent a day to allow them to get over jetlag and just hang out. We got dinner with a bunch of my volunteer friends in Pretoria one night. The next day we went to a mall and my parents insisted on getting me a new pair of shoes since the ones I was wearing had holes in them and had had their soles glued back on twice. We also saw Kung-Fu Panda, which was great (my second time seeing it…). Then we packed up and got on a plane to head to Victoria Falls.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/aj.kumar/SJQFf4ojXNI/AAAAAAAACA8/rT-AOwY0dGU/IMG_5991.JPG?imgmax=512"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px;" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/aj.kumar/SJQFf4ojXNI/AAAAAAAACA8/rT-AOwY0dGU/IMG_5991.JPG?imgmax=512" alt="" border="0" /></a>Rainbows in the mist<br /></div><br />Victoria Falls was incredible and the place we stayed, the Royal Livingstone, was something out of a fairy tale. It’s basically the epitome of luxury within my life’s experience so far, and probably will remain so for quite a while. At check in, they walk you into a spacious lounge, seat you on a couch, give you fresh juice and a hand massage, while taking your particulars. You then get on a golf cart and are driven to your room/cottage, equipped with its own butler. Outside, giraffes and zebras are roaming around on the banks of the Zambezi River, in which hippos wallow. You can see the mist rising from the falls, which are only a 10 minute walk away. The meals are exquisite and the staff, incredibly warm. When you return to your room after dinner, you find the bed turned down for you, covered in rose petals, bathrobes and slippers laid out nicely, and soothing light classical music playing. After a year of battling cock-roaches, baking under a corrugated iron roof, and subsisting on pap and peanut butter, it was almost too much to completely soak in. The falls themselves were magnificent, with a spray that would leave you doused just walking by it. It was quite different than Niagara Falls, with its sheer breadth enough to leave you in awe. With Victoria Falls, it was hard to take in the whole falls at once. It is more reticent to disclose its full splendor. There is also a surprising lack of guardrails at hazardous locations. One evening we went on a sunset cruise up the Zambezi River. It was very relaxing and we got a chance to see some more hippos and elephants from our boat.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/aj.kumar/SJNy3sN4zxI/AAAAAAAAB7k/srGRr8HyVac/IMG_0451.jpg?imgmax=512"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px;" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/aj.kumar/SJNy3sN4zxI/AAAAAAAAB7k/srGRr8HyVac/IMG_0451.jpg?imgmax=512" alt="" border="0" /></a>It's a baby!<br /></div><br />Soon though, the lazy days came to an end and we headed back to South Africa. We drove a little north of Pretoria and spent the night. The next day we headed to Magoebaskloof on our way to Kruger. Magoesbaskloof is a beautiful area, full of mountains and waterfalls. We did a short hike from our hotel to a waterfall and spent time just hanging out. The next day we headed into Kruger to Gomo Gomo Game Lodge. It is in the Timbavati Private Game Reserve which is part of the Greater Kruger, but technically not part of the national park. Every day at 5:30am we’d get a wake-up call. By 6:30am we were in our Land Rover with our ranger and tracker looking for wildlife. We’d come back at 10 and have breakfast before going for a nature walk where we’d learn about tracks, droppings, and flora. At 2pm we’d have lunch and then 3:30pm mount back up for an afternoon game drive. We’d be back by 7:30 and have dinner and be in bed by 9ish. During the night, we couldn’t go outside our rooms because there are no fences. One night, some lions walked through our camp. I don’t remember all the animals we saw but there were a lot. We saw all the big five: lion, leopard, elephant, water buffalo, and rhino. We also saw giraffes, zebras, hippos, crocodiles, a multitude of different antelope, eagles, cranes, chameleons, mongoose, bushbabies, baboons, monkeys, and more. I’ll let the pictures speak for themselves.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/aj.kumar/SJN0WZih14I/AAAAAAAAB8k/wvy0cBbNwsA/IMG_0479.jpg?imgmax=512"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px;" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/aj.kumar/SJN0WZih14I/AAAAAAAAB8k/wvy0cBbNwsA/IMG_0479.jpg?imgmax=512" alt="" border="0" /></a>Grr<br /><br /></div><br />After Kruger, we drove up through the Blyde River Canyon and I got to share some of my favorite spots of South Africa with my family. We stayed in Graskop and I haggled with some street vendors to get two drums. One huge ornamental one that got sent home, and one djembe for me to play here. It was the last full day of the trip with Kana. The next day we drove to the airport and sent her off back to Japan. From there we continued on our way out west. The next day we went to Vryburg and got to do some major shopping for me. I still have tons of food I’m trying to finish. We then made our way up to Tsoe where I shared the people and places I’ve grown to love with my family. We even had time to make a small jaunt down to Perth to see Art. After a few days though, they had to head back and I had to prepare for getting back to work.<br />It was wonderful to spend time with my family and Kana, and to share my life here with them. At the same time, I realized that the life I return to a year from now will have little resemblance to the one I left last year. The care and affection for the important people in my life will remain, but the details, the locations, and the terms of all relationships changes with time.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Pages of a Troubled Past</span><br /><br />Before, during, and after the vacation, I was busy trying to put together the 3rd PCSA Cultural Panel for the Pre-Service Training of SA18. The Diversity Committee started this panel, which brings together speakers from different racial backgrounds to share their life experiences with the trainees and give them a better understanding of the often complex racial subtext on which our service takes place. Unfortunately I was unable to lock down a white speaker and logistics ended up being a nightmare, but it was well worth it to get to befriend three amazing South Africans and help them share their stories with the trainees. While changing names to preserve privacy, I’d like to share some of the highlights that these speakers shared with me.<br /><br />Mma Mabatho was raised in the townships but spent her adult life in a rural community. She was the last child of her parents and her father, who had so wanted a son, decided to raise her as one. He taught her that she was responsible fully to herself and should never let anyone, man or woman make her think she was less than them. When she got beat up by a boy in school, her father didn’t get angry; he gave her boxing lessons so that next time, she walloped the punk. Living out in rural South Africa, she defied traditions, wearing pants and driving trucks while she was pregnant. Still, she forged her image as a leader, developing her community and pushing education. She is a testament to the individual that doesn’t just fight against the restrictions of society, but transcends them in a way that makes them seem non-existent to an onlooker. In a world still dominated by males and tainted with chauvinism, her and her father are archetypes of a bright future.<br /><br />Yvonne is a young colored woman from KZN. When going through high school, she approached her principal saying she wanted to go to tertiary school. He looked at her in disbelief and tried to convince her to just get a job like everyone else. After struggling for a year in a university for which her high school had not prepared her, she begrudgingly took his advice, working five years before deciding, to hell with them all, she was going to educate herself. She went back to school, studying by day, working by night, and finished her bachelors. She took some time off from education to be a mother and get a job but is ready to go back for further education now. She is an incredibly driven woman, very well read, and well spoken. She eloquently lays out the great contradictions of the colored identity. Kept at arms distance by the white government, they now find themselves kept at arms distance by the black government because they were seen as trying to be white when it was fashionable and now trying to be black. It was hard to fit them into the Apartheid system because they were the evidence that Apartheid didn’t really work. It was illegal for whites and blacks to have sex but somehow these colored babies kept popping up. Yvonne was raised in a household where her parents rejected the label colored saying, we’re all black and we’re all in this together. She is passionate about developing the human potential of South Africa, even taking in kids from bad home situations and helping to raise and educate them.<br /><br />Mr. Chandra was born in the late ‘40s and lived through the lifetime of Apartheid. Growing up in a small hut in an Indian township in Durban, he’d read by candlelight until his eyes hurt, seeing education as his only way out of the system. When he got his first bicycle, he was so excited he biked 5km to the beach for the first time. He didn’t have much time to enjoy the view of the Indian Ocean as a crowd of white boys gathered and started stoning him for daring to wander onto a white beach. Later, Mr. Chandra became a teacher and worked his way up the education system. One day for lunch, he and some colleagues went out for lunch at the SA equivalent of Wendy’s, called Wimpy’s. As they sat down at the counter, the manager approached them and said, “You can’t stay here. If you want to get food, go order at the pigeon hole outside. If you sit here, no one will come in here.” Indignant they all left eventually. In 1996, after the fall of Apartheid, Mr. Chandra went back to the same Wimpy’s and sat down. The very same manager was still there and came, this time with a smile on his face and ready to serve. Mr. Chandra asked if the manager remembered him, which he did not. He reminded him of the incident and the manager looked mortified and begged his forgiveness for participation in the system. What struck me was that Mr. Chandra did not harbor ill feelings towards those people that slighted him, he realized that they were also manipulated by the system and so could not be fully blamed. Now, Mr. Chandra is the principal of a school in an Afrikaans town that is now integrated. He is known and respected by all people there and is the go-to man if anyone has any problem with anything. Chatting after the panel he was saying how speaking about these things was interesting to him because he usually didn’t talk about the past. So much is buried inside that stirring it up can make one uncomfortable. Yet, he said, it was necessary to confront and make peace with the past if we are to turn the page and begin writing a future.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Books for a Brighter Future</span><br /><br />Back in my village, I’ve been busy at work preparing for 1000 books to arrive at my school. I apologize to all those who generously donated that I have not yet sent out the thank you letters I should have sent out long ago. The books will be arriving in two weeks. In the meantime I’ve been busy preparing for their arrival. Our library committee is revving up. We’ve recruited to student librarians and I’ve got about 6 teachers behind me. We’ve begun cleaning out the shelves and sorting through the books we currently have. I’ve set up Koha Integrated Library Software on a computer (www.koha.org) and been setting it up to catalog all our books so we can register library members and run circulation with the computer. This past week, I went to the tribal meeting to speak about the library and recruit community volunteers to be librarians. Before the meeting began, I met two young villagers on the Youth Council. They both are bright young people who want to build up more skills but don’t have a job. They both signed up to help and then helped me during the meeting to explain exactly what a library is and how it can be useful to the village. When I got up to speak, I gave my presentation in seTswana. After a few sentences, an old cantankerous man stood up, ignored the chairperson and began railing about how he couldn’t understand what I was saying and that I should have brought an interpreter. To my immense relief, villagers all around started yelling at him saying to shut up and sit down because they could hear me just fine. Deflated, he sat down and I continued after the crowd said they understood me perfectly and wanted me to continue. At the end of the presentation, I sat down and the crowd applauded. A couple of people asked me questions about what kinds of books they could find and what they could do. One of my newly recruited assistants stood up and added some further information.<br /><br />The next day, my friend George, another old villager, came to me and said he was so sorry that other man had harassed me and that they all understood me perfectly and appreciated what I was doing. Then on Friday as I was sorting through old books and writing up instructions, an older man came to the library and asked to see me. He was interested in finding some books on agriculture, particularly about pigs. Since the library is not nearly set up yet, I guided him through the piles and hastily created a circulation log and explained the lending rules. He was very excited to see borrow the books and also wanted to sign up to help with the organization of the library. In a village where reading just isn’t done, seeing an older man excited to have some books in his hands fills me with confidence as I prepare myself for some grueling weeks of cataloging and book sorting. Of course, it will be a long and tiring journey to making a library that is not only functional but also utilized but page by page, we are going to get there.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Keeping the Narrative Alive</span><br /><br />I’ve been thinking deeply about what the meaning of change is and what is the point of struggling and suffering. My own, comparatively petty, struggles aside, I look around me every day: seeing teenagers that can’t write their own names, seeing girls having babies in middle school so they can get a government check, seeing an endless line of funerals, seeing the few kids that have dreams find them strangled in a bureaucracy that doesn’t care about anything except its own politics. I ask myself, what can I possibly offer them? Society has already written their story for them. Am I making it worse to even try to give them a glimpse of something better if they may never escape this poverty? No. The thought itself is dangerously akin to the patronizing talk that built up Apartheid and the Bantu Education system in the first place. I am not here imposing “development” on anyone. I am here to help people realize they have choices. If they are willing to make some tough choices, they can take their lives in their own hands and reclaim their future. The choice is still theirs as it always has been. I am here to help them realize that they still have a choice and help them find all the information they need to make the choice they want to make. My thoughts go back to a prayer I remember from my childhood, “Lord, give me the courage to change what should be changed, the grace to accept what cannot be changed, and the wisdom to know the difference.” Theistic beliefs aside, striving for such courage, grace, and wisdom is key to any type of development work, whether it be civil development or personal development. When thinking of the dire situation some of my kids here are faced with, I think of Michael K from Coetzee’s book “The Life and Times of Michael K.” Whatever struggles we face, if at the end we can feel free and in control of our life. The end of that book, after so much despair and suffering, is to me, one of the most uplifting passages I’ve ever read. So this quote probably won’t make sense if you haven’t read the book and if you haven’t you may not want to read this, as it is the end of the book but I feel it is fitting to end on a final page:<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">“And if the old man climbed out of the cart and stretched himself (things were gathering pace now) and looked at where the pump had been that the soldiers had blown up so that nothing should be left standing, and complained, saying, 'What are we going to do about water?,' he, Michael K, would produce a teaspoon from his pocket, a teaspoon and a long roll of string. He would clear the rubble from the mouth of the shaft, he would bend the handle of the teaspoon in a loop and tie the string to it, he would lower it down the shaft deep into the earth, and when he brought it up, there would be water in the bowl of the spoon; and in that way, he would say, one can live.” – Closing of “The Life and Times of Michael K” by J.M. Coetzee<br /><br /></span><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/aj.kumar/SJQFq9r5ulI/AAAAAAAACBU/TgPzrmN6LMY/IMG_6013.JPG?imgmax=640"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px;" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/aj.kumar/SJQFq9r5ulI/AAAAAAAACBU/TgPzrmN6LMY/IMG_6013.JPG?imgmax=640" alt="" border="0" /></a><br />Sunset over the Zambezi<br /></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06815640368028996818noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7269530165688842852.post-26476573875860830102008-06-21T09:27:00.000-07:002008-06-21T09:55:03.425-07:00Learning the Tswana Way<table style="width:194px;"><tr><td align="center" style="height:194px;background:url(http://picasaweb.google.com/f/img/transparent_album_background.gif) no-repeat left"><a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/aj.kumar/TsoeYouthDay2008"><img src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/aj.kumar/SFbRIPwbLUE/AAAAAAAAB6c/HGQO31Owu20/s160-c/TsoeYouthDay2008.jpg" width="160" height="160" style="margin:1px 0 0 4px;"></a></td></tr><tr><td style="text-align:center;font-family:arial,sans-serif;font-size:11px"><a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/aj.kumar/TsoeYouthDay2008" style="color:#4D4D4D;font-weight:bold;text-decoration:none;">Tsoe Youth Day 2008</a></td></tr></table><br /><br />It was 10am on the 16<sup>th</sup> of June.<span style=""> </span>The 150 person tent was mostly set up and I was working with some kids to get the sound system working.<span style=""> </span>The Beauty Pageant coordinators were arguing that we set up the tent in the wrong place and had to move it.<span style=""> </span>About 50 kids were running wildly about the school.<span style=""> </span>The “Fun Walk” and games that were supposed to keep them busy from 8-10am had failed to occur due to one teacher’s ineptitude at organizing.<span style=""> </span>About 10 village elders, women and men, were sitting outside the tent looking around curiously.<span style=""> </span>We were supposed to have started the program by now.<span style=""> </span>We were supposed to have a whole lot more people here if we expected to actually raise any money for the library with this event.<span style=""> </span>We were supposed to have figured out all this stuff a long time ago.<span style=""> </span>Looking at the chaos about me, I was ready to throw in the towel. I wanted to tell my teachers, “Look, this isn’t going to work, let’s call it off now and save ourselves the embarrassment.” A white pick-up pulled into the school and my good friend Fr. Tarimo stepped out.<span style=""> </span>He’s a big jolly priest, originally from Tanzania, who arrived in the village about a year before me.<span style=""> </span>He had asked to come out to bless the beginning of the event and lead the youth in a prayer.<span style=""> </span>I was standing dejectedly in the almost empty tent trying to help explain to the Beauty Pageant organizers why we could not move the tent at this point.<span style=""> </span>Fr. Tarimo walked up with his customary grin, greeting everyone and making jokes with the other teacher organizers.<span style=""> </span>Finally, he came to me.<span style=""> </span>“Father, I don’t know what to do.<span style=""> </span>I guess we’ll start as soon as the tent is over.<span style=""> </span>But no one is here and this is a mess.”<span style=""> </span>He looked around and put his hands up dismissively, “Don’t worry Kabelo, this is how the Tswana people work.<span style=""> </span>They will come, I’m sure of it.<span style=""> </span>I’ve sat in an empty church many times wondering, where are these Christians.<span style=""> </span>They will come, just on their own time.”<span style=""> </span>I knew Father had a busy schedule that day so I told him it may be awhile and he could get going. He said he would return later to see if he could enter into the program then.<span style=""> </span>With that he gave me a firm handshake and drove off again in his pick-up.<span style=""> </span>I seriously wondered if anyone would be around when he returned… <p style="font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal">This wasn’t really my idea in the first place…</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Youth Day is a commemoration of the June 16, 1976 student uprising in Soweto. The children were protesting the government’s policy of teaching everyone Afrikaans.<span style=""> </span>Schools were burned, teachers were chased out of classrooms, marches were held, students were beaten, and children were killed.<span style=""> </span>Every year since independence in 1994, South Africa has used June 16 to honor those youth that died in the struggle for freedom and to celebrate the youth of today.<span style=""> </span>In cities, big events are held. In my village, there had been events the first few years, but nothing for a long time.<span style=""> </span>My friend and neighboring volunteer, Art, had been talking about doing some kind of event in his village, Perth, as early as February.<span style=""> </span>I was game to go down and help him out on the day.<span style=""> </span>Then in early May, I ran into a policeman friend, who suggested we try to organize a joint event with the school and the police.<span style=""> </span>Seeing someone in my village take initiative, I soon got caught up in the excitement and was busy making plans to hold a celebration in my village.<span style=""> </span>I had a meeting with my high school staff and had about a third of them on board.<span style=""> </span>I made a draft program and passed around a sign-up sheet for events. Teachers signed up to lead and coordinate a Field Day/Games, a Speech Contest, Traditional Dance performances, Choir performances, a Beauty Pageant, food, and publicity.<span style=""> </span>The program was in large part inspired by a Valentine’s Day event that my buddy, Adam Bohach, held in his village.<span style=""> </span>Unfortunately, an incident in a neighboring village took the police away for several weeks, making their involvement non-existent.<span style=""> </span>I knew that if this was going to work, I was going to need help from the teachers and community.<span style=""> </span>I was going to be spending 10 days in Pretoria for a string of meetings and workshops.<span style=""> </span>When I returned there would only be one week before the event.<span style=""> </span>I packed my bags and hoped for the best.</p> <p style="font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal">It would be “in tents”</p> <p class="MsoNormal">When I returned, I found that development for the event had been uneven. Some teachers had really gotten into the role and were doing a great job recruiting student participants. Others thought they were doing splendidly simply because they had thought about what they wanted to do rather than actually doing anything.<span style=""> </span>I met with the main organizers and tried to get them all on the same page. I then went about doing publicity and soliciting donations from local shops and businesses since this had been neglected.<span style=""> </span>I sent invites to all the parents, put up shops in stores, talked with the Kgosi (chief), and flyered the shops.<span style=""> </span>Unfortunately, I got food poisoning which knocked me out for two days, limiting the publicity I could do. Fortunately, a couple of teachers picked up the torch and went to town to get the most of the food, supplies, and prizes we’d need. </p> <p class="MsoNormal">The keystone though was supposed to be the tent.<span style=""> </span>Big tents are set up for most major village gatherings. Unfortunately, the majority of those tend to be funerals or tombstone unveilings but they are also used at weddings.<span style=""> </span>If you see a big tent in a village, it usually means, there are lots of people there and maybe you should go too.<span style=""> </span>I figured, if we had a big tent, people would come.<span style=""> </span>Problem is, tents can be expensive so I needed to convince someone to “borrow me” a tent free of charge. With one of my teachers who is from the village, I set out to talk to one enterprising villager who runs a tent rental company.<span style=""> </span>He works as a policeman in Vryburg so getting in touch was a bit tough. Finally, we phoned him and tried to plead our case.<span style=""> </span>In the end he generously agreed to give us a tent for free provided only teachers set it up (worried about children getting injured) and that the school took responsibility to pay in the event of damage.<span style=""> </span>I agreed to the terms and got him to throw in a microphone too.<span style=""> </span>The plan was to pick up the tent at 8am (as the games began at the school) so that we could have it all set up by 10am for the main event to begin. </p> <p style="font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal">A little help from my friends</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style=""> </span>Feeling a little overwhelmed by the amount of things that had to come together.<span style=""> </span>I sent out an invitation to other PCVs to come out and help with the event. <span style=""> </span>In the end my friend, Megan Clapp (i.e. the talking zebra) answered my call and came out during the weekend. <span style=""> </span>We spent the weekend checking in with teachers, making programs, making raffle tickets, and figuring out how exactly things were supposed to work out for Monday.<span style=""> </span>When Monday morning came, Megan went to the school a little before 8am to help out with the games and set up.<span style=""> </span>I went with my teacher Mr. Mphatwe to pick up the tent and sound system.<span style=""> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal">I had been under the impression that it would be very easy to get the tent and take it to the school.<span style=""> </span>I had asked Mr. Mphatwe where the tent was to make sure we didn’t have to drive half an hour to get it. “It’s not far, it’s just around here,” he had said waving his hand in the air.<span style=""> </span>We drove to about 4 different houses all around the village, asking where the tent was, where the key was, where the guy that was supposed to help us was, etc.<span style=""> </span>Finally we drove out up over some hills to one end of my village and met some guys that worked with the tents. We loaded up and headed back, picking up the sound system and microphone along the way.<span style=""> </span>By the time we arrived at the school, it was 9am.<span style=""> </span>Apart from a few teachers coordinating the beauty pageant Megan, and a dozen kids, no one was there.<span style=""> </span><span style=""> </span>I tried not to think about it and worked with my teachers to get the tent set up.</p> <p style="font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal">Keeping the Faith</p> <p class="MsoNormal">By the time 10am rolled around, when the program was supposed to begin, things were not looking good.<span style=""> </span>With a little encouragement from my friend, the priest though, I resolved to see the event through and braced myself to deal with minimal attendance and a big negative balance for the library.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Mr. Mphatwe and one of the pageant coordinators, Mme Kekana, finally came up with a compromise for the pageant and went about slightly modifying the set up.<span style=""> </span>I recruited students to help set up chairs. By 10:30am, Mr. Sepeng, my right hand man and the MC of the day came to me. “KB, you know there are some people who have a bad attitude and want to see this fail.<span style=""> </span>We cannot let them be satisfied. We must begin the program now and deal with things.” With that he went to assemble the color guard for the flag raising and I herded all the wandering people out to the flag pole.<span style=""> </span>Mr. Sepeng and another teacher led the flag raising and singing of the national anthem.<span style=""> </span>Unfortunately, the kids raising the flag somehow managed to get it tangled up.<span style=""> </span>I couldn’t help but see it as a bad omen.<span style=""><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/aj.kumar/SF0rZCGEc6I/AAAAAAAAB2Q/ICicHXmBXbs/IMG_5770.JPG?imgmax=512"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px;" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/aj.kumar/SF0rZCGEc6I/AAAAAAAAB2Q/ICicHXmBXbs/IMG_5770.JPG?imgmax=512" alt="" border="0" /></a></p> <p class="MsoNormal">After a short opening speech, everyone raced back to the tent to try and get in without paying. I chased them out as quickly as possible and set up the entry line.<span style=""> </span>One guy walked in visibly drunk, carrying a liter bottle of hard cider.<span style=""> </span>This is going to be great… I thought about ejecting him but soon found myself overwhelmed. <span style=""> </span>I had thought there was almost no one, but the Father was correct.<span style=""> </span>People had begun to come by 11am as I finished getting the early birds seated.<span style=""> </span>Other teachers took over the entrance and I looked out over the village to see people kilometers away making their way towards the school. The drizzle became a downpour and people were coming in for the whole first half.<span style=""> </span>Mr. Sepeng dealt commendably with the amorphous program, creatively inserting events that had been prepared without my knowledge and removing events that failed to materialize.<span style=""><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/aj.kumar/SF0vPVGR7HI/AAAAAAAAB5c/70UjnuLGnNs/IMG_5909.JPG?imgmax=512"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px;" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/aj.kumar/SF0vPVGR7HI/AAAAAAAAB5c/70UjnuLGnNs/IMG_5909.JPG?imgmax=512" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><span style=""></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style=""></span>I began selling raffle tickets late but still made enough money to cover the costs of the prizes as well as the prizes from the failed field day.<span style=""> </span>Everywhere I looked, my teachers were busy taking initiative, making decisions, and helping out (I know my fellow PCVs are as stunned by that statement as I am).<span style=""> </span>We ran a lot later than expected and we had to cancel the scheduled movie.<span style=""> </span>The Beauty Pageant was wonderfully organized but took a ridiculously long time. However, in the end, we had probably over 500 people attending (close to 600 if you include participants and teachers).<span style=""> </span>We raised a few hundred Rand for the library and for the Grade 12 farewell function. Though only 1/3 of my teachers had shown initial interest in the event, a full ¾ played major roles in the day. Best of all, the kids seemed to have a great time and most people involved felt successful though exhausted.<span style=""> </span>When I returned home, my host sister, Kego, who goes to college in Cape Town, congratulated me on successful event.<span style=""> </span>She said, it was something big for the village, getting parents involved in their kids, and even took people out of the taverns. She cited the guy that had walked in with the hard cider and I laughed thinking back on my previous disappointment at seeing him there.<span style=""><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/aj.kumar/SF0uSGBUyII/AAAAAAAAB4s/MO8rcbzvXOY/IMG_5848.JPG?imgmax=512"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px;" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/aj.kumar/SF0uSGBUyII/AAAAAAAAB4s/MO8rcbzvXOY/IMG_5848.JPG?imgmax=512" alt="" border="0" /></a></p> <p class="MsoNormal">Though I am still just beginning to understand it, the Tswana way of life has its own measures of success and its own way of looking at things.<span style=""> </span>People, especially my teachers, surprised me, and made me feel a little ashamed for doubting them.<span style=""> </span>The village came together around their youth and gave me faith that together we can make a difference in their lives.</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06815640368028996818noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7269530165688842852.post-47611012291439090062008-05-25T06:22:00.001-07:002008-05-25T06:24:46.599-07:00Motho ke Motho ka BathoI am because you are (in seTswana).<span style=""> </span>This statement, known best in its abbreviated Zulu form as, Ubuntu, is a common refrain you hear throughout South Africa. It’s a source of pride and an answer to many puzzling questions for many people here.<span style=""> </span>Why wasn’t there a massacre of the white’s once black’s came to power? Ubuntu.<span style=""> </span>Why is it so important to greet everyone you see? Ubuntu. Why do people welcome you into their home and offer you tea when you just stop by to chat on the road? Ubuntu.<span style=""> </span>Yet, through some of the recent news coming out of this country, you may wonder, where is Ubuntu?<span style=""> </span>How can mobs rape, kill, burn, and rob others simply because they have come from another country in search of hope and opportunity?<span style=""> </span> <p style="font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal">A Little Context</p> <p class="MsoNormal">First off: I am safe in my village and things out here are calm.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">In case you have not heard the news coming out of South Africa, here is a brief summary.<span style=""> </span>Last week, violence erupted in townships around Johannesburg targeting foreign Africans in South Africa (both illegal and legal migrants).<span style=""> </span>Mobs raged through shanty towns burning buildings and people, beating, looting, and killing.<span style=""> </span>In response to these attacks a few groups of migrants organized gangs to protect themselves or exact revenge and soon the violence spread to areas all over Gauteng and to other urban areas in the country.<span style=""> </span>The violence has been mostly one way though with the poor migrants getting the worse end.<span style=""> </span>South Africa is home to millions of migrants (literally about 3 million Zimbabweans who have fled their ruined country), they come from all over Africa, Bangladesh, Pakistan, and China looking for opportunity and working hard to make a living and support family back home.<span style=""> </span>Many blame these foreigners for the increased crime and for the high unemployment rates (both can be pretty much have no real quantitative support, but alas, word of mouth trumps reality). <span style=""> </span>Now the army has been deployed, the police are out in force, but the violence still continues.<span style=""> </span>The unions have even pledged to get involved on the ground to protect the migrants. The whole thing is a thorough embarrassment for the ANC, many of whose leaders found shelter in neighboring African countries during the apartheid regime.<span style=""> </span></p> <p style="font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal">Still a Rainbow Nation</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Even as xenophobic attacks continue to rock the urban areas, demonstrations were held in many cities today against the violence.<span style=""> </span>As I watched the news today I was struck by the scenes of the protestors: white, black, brown, and every shade in between.<span style=""> </span>Though the violence is present mainly in cities, xenophobia is pretty widespread, especially in poor areas (rural villages and townships).<span style=""> </span>No matter what the American pundits may say, whenever a government fails to deliver, those that economically suffer do get bitter.<span style=""> </span>And when they get bitter, socially entrenched positions, good or bad, often help them lay blame, whether its race, religion, gun rights, or what-not.<span style=""> </span>Out here, it is nationality.<span style=""> </span>Nigerians are drug dealers. Mozambicans are thieves.<span style=""> </span>Zimbabweans are stealing jobs.<span style=""> </span>Bangladeshis and Pakistanis are scrooges. And perhaps most ironically, Chinese are xenophobic.<span style=""> </span>Despite these prejudices though, for the most part all these people coexist with South Africans. In my village, the Chinese shop owner couple just had a baby and my host aunt and her daughter went to see the baby.<span style=""> </span>Some of the South Asian shop owners have girlfriends in the village.<span style=""> </span>The Tanzanian priests get visits from other South Africans on the weekends.<span style=""> </span>I feel welcomed and accepted by the vast majority of people.<span style=""> </span>As I walk or bike anywhere, I’ll always hear several people call out, “KB!” my seTswana nickname.<span style=""> </span>This in a village about half the size of the town I grew up in in South Dakota and a lot more isolated and rural.<span style=""> </span>It’s certainly not perfect, and the lack of trust for outsiders can be stifling at times.<span style=""> </span>Nevertheless, the good parts are impressive. Still, what is it that feeds those prejudices and fans the flames until they explode?</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-weight: bold;">E Pluribus Unum</span><span style=""><span style="font-weight: bold;"> </span> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal">What is it that leads people to say they won’t vote for Obama because he is black, or for Hilary because she is a woman? What is it that leads to fences being built from places as different as Texas and Israel? Xenophobia and prejudice of all shades is not confined to South Africa.<span style=""> </span>But neither, on the other hand, is Ubuntu.<span style=""> </span>It is a choice that lies before us all, continually presenting itself to us throughout our life.<span style=""> </span>When I think back on the warmth I was shown as a child growing up in South Dakota, I smile.<span style=""> </span>Despite those who judged me without knowing me, there were those who respected me and trusted me even though I was non-white and non-Christian.<span style=""> </span>They saw me learning about their culture, their religion, their lives and they were curious about mine.<span style=""> </span>E pluribus unum, out of many, one: it is stamped on every coin in the US.<span style=""> </span>It is a testament to the fact that our nation was founded out of the peoples of many different countries, indeed different continents.<span style=""> </span>It is a reminder of the 13 different colonies that united to create their own freedom and dignity by recognizing that of each other. And if you read it one way, it sounds a lot like Ubuntu.<span style=""> </span>One exists because of many.<span style=""> </span>In seTswana: Motho ke motho ka batho. One is a person through people.<span style=""> </span></p> <p style="font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal">One Love, One Choice</p> <p class="MsoNormal">I have a good friend in Belize with whom I sometimes am lucky enough to catch online. After sharing our struggles and successes, he often closes the conversation with a simple expression: One love.<span style=""> </span>It is a love of people that I’d like to believe is more universal and more fundamental than the xenophobia and prejudice that make the headlines.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Over ten months ago, I got off a bus with over 90 other Americans, from all walks of life who had left loved ones and certainty behind for two years.<span style=""> </span>We were greeted by over a dozen South Africans, who had left their homes for two months to share their language and culture with us in preparation for our service.<span style=""> </span>Ubuntu certainly is not dead, neither in the U.S. nor in South Africa.<span style=""> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal">Rather than become cynical about Ubuntu, I think it’s important, especially for us as PCVs, to realize that the concept is not uniquely South African.<span style=""> </span>Ubuntu is about more than just South African pride, it’s about human dignity.<span style=""> </span>It’s not something inherent in each human; it’s a choice - a choice to recognize and honor the humanity of another.<span style=""> </span>So in this time of outrage and shame, rather than fault South Africa, the failure of Ubuntu, or even demonize the people perpetrating the terror, let us challenge ourselves to recognize the dignity in all humans despite all our faults.<span style=""> </span>Hopefully this recognition will help those blinded by prejudice to see their own self worth and thereby realize that of others.<span style=""> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06815640368028996818noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7269530165688842852.post-64522654117554295942008-05-13T12:39:00.001-07:002008-05-13T12:42:47.619-07:00Tongue TiedOne of the things I place a lot of importance on as a Peace Corps volunteer is the ability to speak the local language.<span style=""> </span>Despite what some may think, I am far from fluent in seTswana despite having been here for almost a year.<span style=""> </span>Still, I’m probably one of the volunteers most comfortable speaking seTswana in my group though there are a number of my buddies who have surpassed me in written seTswana at this point.<span style=""> </span>Recently, my efforts at ongoing language learning have diminished as my old tutor got busy with studies and I got busy with work.<span style=""> </span>I also was starting to feel that though I’m no native speaker, I had enough seTswana under my belt and the ability to learn the rest by myself for whatever I would need to do my service.<span style=""> </span>I had in fact shifted gears to try and develop language learning material to help incoming volunteers in their first encounters with the language.<span style=""> </span>However, after the events of today, I’ve realized I’ll probably never have all the seTswana I need to be the best volunteer, but I damn well won’t stop trying now. I’ll still be working on language learning material for beginners, but I’m going to try a new tutor and try to get my tongue churning out new tenses, vocab, and constructs every week. <p class="MsoNormal">The reason for this sudden rekindling of the fire inside me was an event that was kind of like being hit in the face by a pile of bricks. </p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-weight: bold;">The Pitso (literally, the calling, but means a village meeting called by the chief)</span> </p> <p class="MsoNormal">Every once in a while there is a big tribal meeting in the village.<span style=""> </span>The chief, village councilor, elders, and tons of villagers attend to discuss community issues. <span style=""> </span>After meeting with my chief last week, I’d decided to go full steam ahead with the HIV/AIDS awareness campaign termed HELP (HIV Education & Life-skills Project).<span style=""> </span>Yeah, you can’t be in Peace Corps without loads of acronyms.<span style=""> </span>I met with the clinic and got their backing as well.<span style=""> </span>We agreed to meet with the village and lay out our plan to get feedback and suggestions.<span style=""> </span>I worked to prepare a short speech in seTswana as best I could, getting a few words translated by my teachers.<span style=""> </span>I tried to make it short and to the point but perhaps I cut out a bit too much.<span style=""> </span>The day of the meeting, the clinic sent a nurse to come help out.<span style=""> </span>I’d never met her before but she was my saving grace.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">I arrived at ten to 10am when the meeting was supposed to start. The chief arrived at about 10am and the nurse arrived around 10:10am.<span style=""> </span>Everyone else arrived over the next hour. We began at a little after 11am.<span style=""> </span>As is typical, there was a hymn sung and a prayer.<span style=""> </span>The nurse and I were introduced and asked to say our bit.<span style=""> </span>I got up, made my little speech.<span style=""> </span>I motivated the fact that we have some problems here in our little village but that we can help change things together.<span style=""> </span>I told them our plans for teaching life skills in the school to empower youth to make smart choices. I talked about our HIV testing drives we hope to start. I talked about our partnership with the clinic to do health education with the community and to distribute condoms to the shops and to the taverns.<span style=""> </span>I talked about how we hope to train Home Based Care workers, ministers, and anyone else interested in how to implement a life skills training program for youth.<span style=""> </span>Though I had my written speech in front of me, I was speaking comfortably, flying through the tough words and even putting in hand gestures and making eye contact.<span style=""> </span>Then I asked if there were any questions. I looked out at blank faces and my heart sunk. Did I pronounce things that terribly?<span style=""> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal">I introduced the nurse and sat back to try and digest.<span style=""> </span>She gave a talk touching on the issues I’d mentioned.<span style=""> </span>She talked about HIV and how people should use gloves or at least a plastic bag when helping anyone that is bleeding. She talked about TB. She mentioned how the clinic has free testing for both and if you have them you can get meds from the government for free.<span style=""> </span>She also talked about teenage pregnancy saying how we need to talk to our girls more openly. She said we tell the girls not to play with boys but then they just go and have sex with them so we need to start talking about sex and condoms.<span style=""> </span>Then she asked if there were any questions. Maybe it’s a cultural thing or maybe it took time to digest, but there were hands up immediately and I soon found out they heard me loud and clear.<span style=""> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal">The first question was some technical question about TB that the nurse handled.<span style=""> </span>Then one woman asked a question about what exactly we were going to put in the taverns and shops. When we said condoms, it was like opening pandora’s box.<span style=""> </span>I’d said mesomelana in the speech which is the seTswana word for condom but sometimes English-Tswana is better and when we said di-condomos the room came to life. Soon there was a raging debate going on. On one side were mainly elders and other old men, with several old women nodding approvingly. On the other side were me, the nurse, a few brave younger villagers, and thankfully, the chief.<span style=""> </span>When passions were ignited and the rapid fire seTswana started flying around the room I was struck with the realization of how much more I needed to learn seTswana if I wanted to make a case on any important issue and really convince people. I was very fortunate to have the nurse there answering questions for me.<span style=""> </span>I was uplifted when a woman and a man both stepped up at certain points to wholeheartedly endorse our plans and make an impassioned defense of our position.<span style=""> </span>I was relieved when the chief weighed in and did his best to cool heads and find common ground.<span style=""> </span>But through all of it, I was frustrated that I could not do more myself. Without any of those people, I would have been completely lost.<span style=""> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal">Here are some choice bits from the debate including my inner English monologue:</p> <p style="font-style: italic;" class="MsoNormal">Old man: “This is teaching our children to have sex!”</p> <p style="font-style: italic;" class="MsoNormal">What I said in my head: “When did anyone ever need to be taught how to have sex?<span style=""> </span>This is teaching them to make smart choices, realize the consequences of sex, and if they choose to still engage in it, to do so with as much protection as possible.”</p> <p style="font-style: italic;" class="MsoNormal">What my defenders said (or at least what I think because they too spoke in rapid Setswana): “We are still telling the kids not to have sex. We are just saying, for those who will do it anyways, at least use a condom. We can’t tell them that unless condoms are available.”</p> <p style="font-style: italic;" class="MsoNormal">Old man: “The condoms are being thrown in the street and small children are playing with them!”</p> <p style="font-style: italic;" class="MsoNormal">What I said in my head: “Obviously, this means that we need MORE not less sex education so that 1) people who use condoms think of smart ways to dispose of them and 2) so that kids know what the difference between a condom and a balloon is.”</p> <p style="font-style: italic;" class="MsoNormal">What my buddies said: “That’s why we are talking to you now. You need to go spread this information amongst the community. After using a condom, wrap it in toilet paper and throw it down the toilet. If you don’t have a toilet, dig a small hole and bury it.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal">There was a lot more debate but those are the only things I really caught.<span style=""> </span>The chief made a really good speech that, as far as I can tell, was about how we can’t ignore the reality of this disease and we need to talk about it openly. He talked about how it is here and partly comes from the migrant workers and then just spreads as people sleep around.<span style=""> </span>We can’t stop people having sex, but we can educate them to make smart choices and give them condoms if they still choose to have sex.<span style=""> </span>At least I kind of think that’s what he said based on previous conversations I’ve had with him and the bits of the speech I caught.<span style=""> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal">We didn’t really end with any kind of consensus.<span style=""> </span>The old men seemed to always want to have the last word.<span style=""> </span>I realized even though the chief is the chief, he’s a young chief, so the old guys don’t necessarily fall in line.<span style=""> </span>Age carries huge weight here, which is the main reason I’ve kept my beard and will probably grow it back after you all visit.<span style=""> </span>There is support though and it seems to exist among the younger crowd.<span style=""> </span>Honestly, that’s the crowd I’m after because they are the ones that earn money, move around, and do the real work in the village.<span style=""> </span>I’m not going to change some of the minds that are stuck in their ways although I don’t think all the elders are against me.<span style=""> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal">After the kgosi and the councilor wrapped things up, me and the nurse were excused to get back to work.<span style=""> </span>As we walked outside one of the more cynical of the old men, who I think smelled a little drunk, came out to talk to us. He was going on about how it’s silly to tell people to wear gloves when the take care of people that are bleeding because what if he’s walking down the road and someone is hurt.<span style=""> </span>The nurse pointed out that there are tons of plastic bags lying around that would work.<span style=""> </span>Finally, I reached into my bag and pulled out the latex gloves I always carry around.<span style=""> </span>It’s as simple as putting a plastic bag in your pocket with your phone every day.<span style=""> </span>Unconvinced he went on to talk about how he never has and never will use a condom (personally, I find it hard to believe this guy is still having sex at his age…but you never know…) The nurse was getting a bit agitated at this point and was like, well, you are going to die then, good bye.<span style=""> </span>Finally though, he addressed me directly asking if I was a doctor. I said no, I am a volunteer from America.<span style=""> </span>Then he went off asking, do you know where AIDS comes from?<span style=""> </span>It comes from America! At this point, I almost went off on the guy but the sister cut in saying, no, AIDS comes from blood, so wear gloves and use a condom (you dumb old bugger).<span style=""> </span>With that she excused us and we walked away.<span style=""> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal">I guess I’d heard all the stereotypes and myths and misunderstandings before but not all at once. This is also the first time I’ve been involved in such a big (the room was literally overflowing, probably over 100 people) and public discussion about HIV/AIDS in my village.<span style=""> </span>It certainly won’t be the last.<span style=""> </span>I’m just glad I’d taken the chief’s advice to bring someone from the clinic with me.<span style=""> </span>If it had been just me, it would have gone terribly. As it stands I think it was mixed. It was sad to see how deeply entrenched the old guard is and disheartening to face their disapproval. <span style=""> </span>It was great to see the dialogue happening. It was even better to see some people really passionate and informed about working on this cause.<span style=""> </span>On the balance though, I think we things did go well though because at least I’ve got the chief on my side.<span style=""> </span><o:p><br /></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">So even though 80% of the conversation went over my head, some old women were giggling uncomfortably like school girls, and I’ll probably be known as “condom man” in the village from now on, at least we got people talking about HIV/AIDS and condoms in a public setting.<span style=""> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">Life is full of successes and failures.<span style=""> </span>To make them worthwhile one needs to capitalize on the successes and learn from the failures.<span style=""> </span>The conversation has been opened up in my village.<span style=""> </span>For my part I need to go back to seTswana boot camp so that my voice can be heard in that dialogue.</p>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06815640368028996818noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7269530165688842852.post-71703578772011433432008-05-11T11:43:00.000-07:002008-05-11T12:23:05.384-07:00Ke a Leboga Bomma!So since today is Mother's Day, I'd like to dedicate this entry to Mothers (Bomma). In particular to some mothers that I really respect.<br /><br />To South African Mothers: The amount of things these women have gone through is phenomenal. From growing up in Apartheid and raising children in the face of unfaithful husbands (not all, mind you, but many) and HIV/AIDS. In particular, my host mother, Mma Tati (Mother of Tati, mother's become known by the name of their firstborn...) never got past a standard 2 (grade 4) education. Her husband died early, but she pushed on building up her farm, working for white families as a domestic worker, building a nice house, and sending her only daughter through college. Thanks to her, her family is among the better off in the village. Though she's probably well over 70 and has a nasty cough (probably caused by asbestos), she's still active, going out in the yard to clear away weeds even in the ridiculously hot summer sun here. The unfortunate problem of teen pregnancy out here though leads to a lot more mothers than are probably ready for the status so the current generation of mothers is serving double duty taking care of their daughters babies. So to all the mothers of South Africa, you are the backbone of this country and we working here appreciate all you have done to bring this country to where it is. To all those contemplating becoming mothers here...be sure you know the responsibility you are about to assume. Those are some big shoes to fill.<br /><br />To Mothers serving in Peace Corps: You guys rock. You've done your share of work over in the U.S. and most of you are now retired. Rather than sitting back and resting on your laurels, you suit up and get ready for an adventure. Now that you are here, you women have adopted all us college grad yearling's and helped us learn to roll with the punches, take life in strides, and see the bigger picture. Whether you have kids back in the U.S. or not, you are all my Mama's now.<br /><br />To Mothers of Peace Corps Volunteers: Not only did you succeed in raising idealistic kids with the gumption to actually go out and do something in the world, but you also had the strength to let us go out on this adventure. Thanks for all the life's lessons you taught us. They are serving us well now.<br /><br />To my mother: Whatever it is I have become and have accomplished, it's due to my parents and the way they have raised me. Mom, I've always had an open ear through all life's ups and downs. You're not only a mother, but you're a friend. You let me leave the nest earlier than you'd bargained for out of respect for me and my best interests. Every step of the way, you've respected me as an individual and the choices I've made, realizing we have to make our own mistakes so that we can truly know our successes. For all that you've sacrificed and given for me and for all I know you will do for me in the future despite whatever protests I may make, thank you.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06815640368028996818noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7269530165688842852.post-83894763090578446332008-05-02T05:01:00.000-07:002008-05-02T05:03:56.647-07:00The ABCs<p class="MsoNormal">Right now, I’m doing the preliminary work for two fairly big projects that I have a lot of high hopes for.<span style=""> </span>The first is a library/literacy project that I’m hoping will help kids develop a love of reading and learning. The second is a project using ideas I got from our recent Life Skills Training to help raise awareness of HIV/AIDS.<span style=""> </span>Both deal with the very difficult task of behavior change.<span style=""> </span>However, I’m hoping with a multi-pronged approach and a little help from my friends I’ll be able to break some ground in developing healthier lifestyles that include a love for reading.<span style=""> </span></p> <p style="font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal">C is for cookie!</p> <p class="MsoNormal">I grew up as a Sesame Street kid and from a young age, I’ve loved books and reading.<span style=""> </span>A lot of this was thanks to my parents reading to me from as early as I can remember and also from taking part in library reading programs during the summers of my elementary school days.<span style=""> </span>Out here in the village, it’s hard to find books.<span style=""> </span>Reading is not something a lot of people do in their free time.<span style=""> </span>However, I don’t think it’s out of lack of desire.<span style=""> </span>People here, and especially kids, are often very bored.<span style=""> </span>Africa may lack many things but one thing it is not short of is time. And with so much time, kids could potentially read a lot.<span style=""> </span>Since I find myself with a lot of time now that I’m here in Africa, I sometimes read story books to my little 6 year old host sister (thanks Mom and Anita for sending kids books!).<span style=""> </span>Even though she doesn’t understand English, she is always excited when I pull out a book now. The first time I read “Peter Rabbit” to her, we finished and she immediately said, “Bala gapa!” which means “Read again!”<span style=""> </span>A lot of my buddies from Grade 12 also talk to me about wanting to read more books. I’ve leant a few some of mine.<span style=""> </span>But really, we have a beautiful library room at my high school. It just lacks books…<span style=""> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal">As I’ve mentioned in a few earlier posts, my school was among the 31 selected to receive 1,100 books from Books for Africa as part of the Books for Peace Library Project orchestrated by PCV Rose Zulliger.<span style=""> </span>Right now, we are undergoing fund raising efforts both locally and back at home in the states to ship all the books over to South Africa. <span style=""> </span>We need to raise a total of $5000 at home for 35,000 books. Our schools together are raising about $6000 for shipping.<span style=""> </span>On the home front we are about halfway there.<span style=""> </span>We just need a little over $2,500 more to meet our goal. The way Peace Corps fundraising works is that we don’t receive any of the money until all of it has been raised so we are really trying to push to get that last $2,500 before the middle of May.<span style=""> </span>That way we can start the books moving so hopefully they will get here, get sorted, get delivered, and be on our book-shelves by sometime in September.<span style=""> </span>So, once again, I’m asking for help.<span style=""> </span>Every little bit counts, every dollar you give brings over 7 books so I appreciate whatever you can give.<span style=""> </span>You can donate at:</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><a href="https://www.peacecorps.gov/index.cfm?shell=resources.donors.contribute.projDetail&projdesc=674-045">https://www.peacecorps.gov/index.cfm?shell=resources.donors.contribute.projDetail&projdesc=674-045</a></p> <p class="MsoNormal">Once you donate, shoot me an email with your mailing address. I’d like to send a little token of appreciation for all who contribute.<span style=""> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal">Getting the books here is only the first step in this campaign.<span style=""> </span>Some of my teachers and I have already started brainstorming different programs we can do with the library to encourage its use. We also want to get other teachers to start using it more and assign research projects using the library.<span style=""> </span>Currently we have teacher librarians, but if local fundraising efforts go well, I’d really like to get a community member involved as a permanent librarian who can really focus on making sure everything is in order and used well.<span style=""> </span>I’ve already talked to the village priests and my local NGO buddy and they are all excited and want to help out. Hopefully we can come up with some community awareness events to build up excitement and knowledge about the library before the books arrive so that once they do, we’ll have some volunteers to help us organize and arrange them all.<span style=""> </span>If the books arrive in September then I’ll have a whole year to work with people involved to make sure things go smoothly, the community takes ownership, and we come up with strategies to keep building on our collection and reach out to the community.<span style=""> </span>Of course the devil is in the details, but for now excitement is there.</p> <p style="font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal">Abstain, Be faithful, and C?</p> <p class="MsoNormal">The other big project I’m trying to get rolling has to do with combating HIV/AIDS.<span style=""> </span>Together with the Life Orientation teachers in my high school, I’m trying to start an awareness and testing campaign in my community.<span style=""> </span>The local clinic is about 8km from where the high school and most of the community lives.<span style=""> </span>With just one nurse, outreach during the week is not really possible since if she left, the clinic would have to be closed.<span style=""> </span>Moreover, people in the village often fear getting tested because though tests are supposed to be confidential, there is fear of gossiping.<span style=""> </span>To try and get around this, I’m trying to find outside groups that could come once a quarter and set up a voluntary testing station at the school.<span style=""> </span>This would hopefully be open to the whole community and hopefully get people into the mindset of not just getting tested, but getting tested regularly.<span style=""> </span>To bolster this effort, the Life Orientation teachers and I will be working throughout the school year to add basic life skills activities into the classroom to help foster a more open and honest dialog about HIV.<span style=""> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal">One place I’ve realized I need to start is with the C word.<span style=""> </span>Yes, it’s tricky as an educator to talk about sex with kids. By law, we are not supposed to talk about condoms with kids under 14 (even though some kids are sexually active before then…).<span style=""> </span>However, even with older kids, some teachers prefer to say C stands for “Change your attitude” rather than “Condomize.”<span style=""> </span>If teachers are even afraid to talk about condoms, how are kids expected to even know how to use them properly? Because let’s be honest, we aren’t going to stop the kids from having sex.<span style=""> </span>Maybe, with open honest discussion, we’ll convince a few to stop, but in a village where the main forms of entertainment are soccer, drinking, throwing rocks at goats, and sex.<span style=""> </span>Sex wins out as the cheapest, easiest, and most fun.<span style=""> </span>Hopefully with the library, after school clubs, and weekly movies, we can give kids other ways to have fun but until all those are rolling, we need to at least give kids knowledge on how to have safer sex.<span style=""> </span>Inspired by stories from some SA15 volunteers, I’ve got ideas about how to help bridge this gap in knowledge.<span style=""> </span>Hopefully I can get my teachers on board too.<span style=""> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal">Lastly, still in an extremely nascent phase, is another front I am hoping to potentially open in the battle against HIV in the village.<span style=""> </span>After talking with my NGO buddy, Seatlasaone, I realized we could use the school holiday camps we’ve been doing in a more sustainable way by utilizing the kids that have finished high school but are just sitting around because they haven’t got jobs.<span style=""> </span>Using the PC Life Skills manual, we are going to try to recruit and train a group of these youth to lead camps for kids during school breaks when they are generally most bored. Hopefully this will help ensure camps continue after I leave and also will empower those unemployed youth with some valuable and marketable skills.<span style=""> </span>This though, is still little more than a brainstorming session and in the next few weeks hopefully will become something more solid.<span style=""> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal">The task is incredibly daunting no matter how we approach it, but we have to face it.<span style=""> </span>Fortunately I’ve found sharing ideas with friends and other volunteers is one of the best ways to stay motivated and think of new things so, if you have any ideas, thoughts, or suggestions on ways to help tackle the issue of HIV/AIDS, send them my way.<span style=""> </span></p>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06815640368028996818noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7269530165688842852.post-65303893829667616122008-04-13T07:31:00.001-07:002008-04-13T07:55:19.386-07:00Long Walks, Physics, and RocksThe last two weeks have been a whirlwind.<span style=""> </span>After school closed, I found myself teaching supplemental physics and math for some learners up until the day I left for Mpumalanga to partake in the Long Tom Marathon. After that, I headed north to the Blyde River Canyon for some backpacking before heading back to site to put on a one week science camp.<span style=""> </span>There’s a lot to talk about so this could get pretty long, but I promise many pretty pictures to those who read. Click on the albums to link to the actual albums at picasaweb. <p style="font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal">Please sir, teach us more</p> <p class="MsoNormal">I spent most of the last week of the school quarter sick with some strange virus.<span style=""> </span>I was finally able to get out of bed on the last day of school, which was a half day and so I went to work trying to take care of everything I’d had planned for the week.<span style=""> </span>I was rushing back and forth between offices and classrooms when I turned a corner and found myself surrounded by about a dozen grade 12 learners.<span style=""> </span>They asked me if I could help teach some physics and math classes over the break.<span style=""> </span>Sure, I said, we’ll start on Monday.<span style=""> </span>We must meet twice a day, and you must prepare some homework for us to practice, they demanded.<span style=""> </span>Why not?<span style=""> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal">So for those of you who have had any experience teaching high school kids, this may seem like a tall tail so let me put this into context.<span style=""> </span>In my village, there are roughly 100 kids in grade 1.<span style=""> </span>My high school is fed by the primary schools and those in villages surrounding us for a 50-70 km radius. So all in all,<span style=""> </span>wild approximation puts the number of kids entering grade 1 that would feed my school at maybe 250-350 kids.<span style=""> </span>By grade 10, there are only about 110 of those kids left in school.<span style=""> </span>By grade 12, that number falls to about 37.<span style=""> </span>Of those, only about 40% pass the final matriculation exam each year.<span style=""> </span>So basically, those grade 12 kids are the 1-2% of kids who care enough about school and their future to have stuck it out this far and they want to make all that time worth it by actually passing their exam.<span style=""> </span>This explains why some of them are willing to do school work over the holidays.<span style=""> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal">We took our time and got back down to the basics.<span style=""> </span>We worked on algebra fundamentals, fractions, and long division in math and basics of motion in one and two dimensions in physics.<span style=""> </span>Then I was off to Sabie for the race.</p> <p style="font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal">Long Tom</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Sabie is a beautiful area in the northern end of the Drakensberg range.<span style=""> </span>It is covered by the largest man made forest in the world, all pine used for lumber and paper.<span style=""> </span>Long Tom had two categories for the race, the half marathon (21.1 km) and the ultra marathon (56 km).<span style=""> </span>The half started at the top of the Mauchberg mountain and went downhill about 1000m to Lydenburg.<span style=""> </span>The ultra started in Sabie went up 1000 m to the top and then down 1000 m to Lydenburg.<span style=""> </span>It’s kind of ridiculous.<span style=""> </span>What’s more ridiculous is that two Peace Corps Volunteers ran the ultra and completed it.<span style=""> </span>Ellen of SA 15 completed it in about 6 hours.<span style=""> </span>And Adam B. of SA 16 finished in 4 hours 2 minutes, clinching 11<sup>th</sup> place overall and a silver medal.<span style=""> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal">I hung back and walked with a number of other volunteers, cheering on runners as they passed us.<span style=""> </span>My knee was acting up a bit but we still kept a decent pace.<span style=""> </span>That night, all the volunteers gathered and had a braii (bbq) and the SA 16 band, performed (with me on the bucket/trash can/cooking pot drums).<span style=""> </span>Two of the PCVs parents were in Sabie visiting as well as a few volunteers kids. It was a lot of fun to meet them all and get a better picture of the people we’d come to know over the past 9 months (and apparently parents like to read all our blogs too…).<span style=""> </span>We did an great job at fundraising for KLM.<span style=""> </span>I was the second highest fundraiser overall bringing in about $1,100 thanks to your support and I also had the second highest number of overall donors with 16 donors.<span style=""> </span>As a group, we shattered all records as volunteers and raised a total of over $20,000.<span style=""> </span>Together we’ve made a huge impact in the lives of children through the KLM foundation.<span style=""> </span>Thank you.</p> <p style="font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal">Blyde River Canyon</p> <p class="MsoNormal">After the race, Kristy, Art, Adam, and I headed north to Graskop, on the southern end of Blyde River Canyon.<span style=""> </span>Blyde is the third biggest and the greenest canyon in the world. Biggest is the Grand Canyon and second is the Fish River Canyon in Namibia (so I just need to take a week up in Namibia to have all three…). We stayed at the Valley View Backpackers which was great.<span style=""> </span>We also learned that lots of people speak Sotho out there so we were able to communicate since Setswana is pretty close to Sesotho.<span style=""> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal">After a day of rest, we went on a driving tour to see many of the sites.<span style=""> </span>There were lots of waterfalls named after European cities for some reason…</p><p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p> <table style="width: 194px;"><tbody><tr align="left"><td style="background: transparent url(http://picasaweb.google.com/f/img/transparent_album_background.gif) no-repeat scroll left center; height: 194px; -moz-background-clip: -moz-initial; -moz-background-origin: -moz-initial; -moz-background-inline-policy: -moz-initial;"><a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/aj.kumar/BlydeRiverCanyon"><img src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/aj.kumar/SAHX8ni6OVE/AAAAAAAABsQ/QqvIEcyql6Q/s160-c/BlydeRiverCanyon.jpg" style="margin: 1px 0pt 0pt 4px;" height="160" width="160" /></a></td></tr><tr><td style="text-align: center; font-family: arial,sans-serif; font-size: 11px;"><a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/aj.kumar/BlydeRiverCanyon" style="color: rgb(77, 77, 77); font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none;">Blyde River Canyon</a></td></tr></tbody></table> <p class="MsoNormal">We went to the Bourke’s Luck Potholes where the Treur (sad) and Blyde (happy) rivers meet.<span style=""> </span>Their confluence creates whirlpools which drill holes in the rock leading to some beautiful shapes.<span style=""> </span>Bourke was lucky and found gold there. <span style=""> </span>We threw a few coins in for luck since this was where our trail would end for our backpacking trip.<span style=""> </span>Then we drove out to God’s Window to see the escarpment open up over the lowveld but apparently God was being shy and closed the window.<span style=""> </span>(We went a total of three times over three different days, and all times were foggy).<span style=""> </span>Afterwards, we headed to the trailhead and started our hike to the first hut.</p><p class="MsoNormal"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/aj.kumar/SAHcNni6OhI/AAAAAAAABc8/KJO9duHOaGA/_MG_5052.JPG?imgmax=512"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px;" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/aj.kumar/SAHcNni6OhI/AAAAAAAABc8/KJO9duHOaGA/_MG_5052.JPG?imgmax=512" alt="" border="0" /></a></p><p style="text-align: center;" class="MsoNormal">the potholes<br /></p><p class="MsoNormal"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/aj.kumar/SAHef3i6OpI/AAAAAAAABeA/DDMbTFiBcf4/_MG_5086.JPG?imgmax=512"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px;" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/aj.kumar/SAHef3i6OpI/AAAAAAAABeA/DDMbTFiBcf4/_MG_5086.JPG?imgmax=512" alt="" border="0" /></a></p><p style="text-align: center;" class="MsoNormal">the rondavals<br /><span style=""> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal">The Blyde River Canyon trail has two huts along the trail.<span style=""> </span>They are equipped with toilets, bunks with mattresses, fire pits and wood.<span style=""> </span>Quite plush.<span style=""> </span>We had a good meal after cooling off in a nearby waterfall and went to sleep.<span style=""> </span>The next day I was the first up, I stepped out of the hut and wiped the sleep from my eyes. I saw some logs on the ground.<span style=""> </span>I thought to myself, Adam and Kristy must have made some picture or something before going to sleep.<span style=""> </span>As my eyes focused though I realized they were letters spelling out “DIE”.<span style=""> </span>At first I was a little confused and then it dawned on me.<span style=""> </span>It was April 1.<span style=""> </span>Adam, must have been pulling a stunt.<span style=""> </span>So I decided to take it to the next level.<span style=""> </span>I climbed onto the roof, dropping my cap and leatherman by the door and started making noise.<span style=""> </span>Adam came out and saw my stuff on the ground.<span style=""> </span>As he looked around confused, I reached down and pulled his hat off.<span style=""> </span>He then accused me of writing out the message with the logs. I reasoned that it couldn’t have been me since I was the first one in that night and the logs were wet, suggesting they had been out overnight.<span style=""> </span>He put on like it wasn’t him and for a while had me thinking it was Kristy.<span style=""> </span>The next night though he came clean.</p><p class="MsoNormal"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/aj.kumar/SAHt6Xi6PWI/AAAAAAAABj0/cqLuHkaiSj4/101_3082.JPG?imgmax=512"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px;" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/aj.kumar/SAHt6Xi6PWI/AAAAAAAABj0/cqLuHkaiSj4/101_3082.JPG?imgmax=512" alt="" border="0" /></a></p><p style="text-align: center;" class="MsoNormal">april fools!<br /></p><p class="MsoNormal"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/aj.kumar/SAHv2Hi6PbI/AAAAAAAABkc/8mEQp0Hbh38/101_3119.JPG?imgmax=512"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px;" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/aj.kumar/SAHv2Hi6PbI/AAAAAAAABkc/8mEQp0Hbh38/101_3119.JPG?imgmax=512" alt="" border="0" /></a></p><p style="text-align: center;" class="MsoNormal">finding the trail<br /><span style=""> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal">The hike was pretty good.<span style=""> </span>Not too strenuous, which was perfect after the Long Tom.<span style=""> </span>It was kind of bizarre though because sometimes we would be within earshot of the road and we kept running across parts of the vast tree farms.<span style=""> </span>We saw some dear and antelope and lots of baboons but wildlife was pretty scarce.<span style=""> </span>The second camp was nestled among a bunch of rocks and we ended up spending the afternoon bouldering around.<span style=""> </span>We were pretty wet since it had rained all morning and while trying to dry out our clothes on the fire, I burned my socks <span style="font-family:Wingdings;"><span style="">L</span></span> but I had a spare pair.<span style=""> </span>After we finished the hike up at the potholes, Marianne, who runs Valley View Backpackers, picked us up at Bourke’s Luck Potholes and we went back to her place. She made a tall stack of Dutch pancakes which were incredibly delicious.<span style=""> </span>The next day we went to Sabie and then the next day started making our way back to site.<span style=""> </span></p> <p style="font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal">Tricked into Learning</p> <table style="width: 194px;"><tbody><tr><td style="background: transparent url(http://picasaweb.google.com/f/img/transparent_album_background.gif) no-repeat scroll left center; height: 194px; -moz-background-clip: -moz-initial; -moz-background-origin: -moz-initial; -moz-background-inline-policy: -moz-initial;" align="center"><a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/aj.kumar/TsoeScienceCamp2008"><img src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/aj.kumar/SAESE-8W23E/AAAAAAAABsY/2sKJ9aw_wwg/s160-c/TsoeScienceCamp2008.jpg" style="margin: 1px 0pt 0pt 4px;" height="160" width="160" /></a></td></tr><tr><td style="text-align: center; font-family: arial,sans-serif; font-size: 11px;"><a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/aj.kumar/TsoeScienceCamp2008" style="color: rgb(77, 77, 77); font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none;">Tsoe Science Camp 2008</a></td></tr></tbody></table><p class="MsoNormal">Adam came back to Tsoe with me so that we could do a one week Science and Sports Camp.<span style=""> </span>Our goal was to use hands on, explorative methods to teach basic science concepts and also teach some sports to entertain the kids over the school break.<span style=""> </span>Learning some lessons from my last camp, I split the day into two sessions, mornings for ages 7-14 and afternoons for 15+. We had roughly 30 younger kids each day. We made volcanoes and dinosaurs from home made play dough. We went rock hunting and talked about the rock cycle.<span style=""> </span>We played with springs and talked a little about waves. We made ant farms and talked a little about insects and the requirements for life. <span style=""> </span>We played kickball and four square.<span style=""> </span>All in all it went pretty well although I don't think I could be a primary school teacher.<span style=""> </span>Those kids can be tough to handle sometimes.</p><p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p> <p class="MsoNormal">For the high school kids, we did a chemistry exploration called mystery powders.<span style=""> </span>We gave the kids 5 mystery powders and gave them 6 tests to do to try and figure out what they were.<span style=""> </span>We then gave them some mixtures and they had to use their tests to determine which of the 5 were in the mixture.<span style=""> </span>We gave the kids notebooks for their work and taught them how to write a simple lab write up.<span style=""> </span>Almost every group was able to figure out the mixtures.<span style=""> </span>The second day we did ecology with them. We went outside and tried to do some observations, using our lab books to record all observations.<span style=""> </span>We tried to discuss some basic adaptations to try to get the kids to think about why things are the way they are.<span style=""> </span>We had mixed results there.<span style=""> </span>I was impressed though at the knowledge the kids had about some of the plants. They knew which things were used in traditional medicines and what bugs and things were dangerous for livestock.<span style=""> </span>At least I learned a lot.<span style=""> </span>The next two days we did a physics exploration on the nature of waves.<span style=""> </span>We had four stations for the kids to explore.<span style=""> </span>One station was a ripple tank with two Huygen’s sources and various barriers.<span style=""> </span>One station was a slinky spring that they were to calculate the velocity of waves in through observation and through theory based on tension and density.<span style=""> </span>Another station was to use a candle and paper to find the focal length of a lens and to see the inverted image.<span style=""> </span>The last station was to use an assortment of glass shapes to see which made a rainbow and what the others did to images and then to use mirrors to reflect a light around the room.<span style=""> </span>Overall we had pretty good results.<span style=""> </span>The last day we had a test and most kids did well with our high scorer getting 90% correct.<span style=""> </span>For sports we played kickball and basketball and the last day we had a 4 vs. 4 tournament.</p><p class="MsoNormal"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/aj.kumar/SAEXae8W3JI/AAAAAAAABaI/NP9Eit0R89M/_MG_5190.JPG?imgmax=512"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px;" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/aj.kumar/SAEXae8W3JI/AAAAAAAABaI/NP9Eit0R89M/_MG_5190.JPG?imgmax=512" alt="" border="0" /></a></p><p style="text-align: center;" class="MsoNormal">rock hunters<br /><span style=""> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal">By the end of the week, both Adam and I were exhausted but I think we can say it was a huge success.<span style=""> </span>They kids learned, had fun, and got to use resources that were sitting around gathering dust.<span style=""> </span>Maybe one or two will actually see science as something fun and interactive rather than a boring class that is all paper and work.<span style=""> One kid, Thato, told me, "I think you've done something good here. The kids thought they were playing but they were actually learning."</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/aj.kumar/SAEWZe8W3FI/AAAAAAAABZo/zlDMaSfXkkk/101_3248.JPG?imgmax=512"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px;" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/aj.kumar/SAEWZe8W3FI/AAAAAAAABZo/zlDMaSfXkkk/101_3248.JPG?imgmax=512" alt="" border="0" /></a></p><p style="text-align: center;" class="MsoNormal">testing ideas<br /></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">School re-opens tomorrow and I’ve already got a lot of things to do.<span style=""> </span>Our computer lab is full of new computers, a computerized writing board, and a digital projector.<span style=""> </span>We just need to get clearance from the group that donated it to start using it.<span style=""> </span>My school was selected to receive 1,100 books through the Peace Library Project.<span style=""> </span>Now I have to raise money through my school and at home to pay for shipping.<span style=""> </span>(There’ll be a post just on this soon but if you can’t wait, you can go donate now at: <a href="https://www.peacecorps.gov/index.cfm?shell=resources.donors.contribute.projDetail&projdesc=674-045" target="_blank">https://www.peacecorps.gov<wbr>/index.cfm?shell=resources<wbr>.donors.contribute.projDetail<wbr>&projdesc=674-045</a> ).<span style=""> </span>I’ve got 4 school improvement plans to finish and start implementing and I’ve got committee meetings and trainings to go to.<span style=""> </span>I’m going to try to continue doing extra math and science classes for grade twelve. I’m trying to start up a pen pal exchange with some students here and at home.<span style=""> </span>And I’m trying to work with a few teachers that have asked for help in a few areas.<span style=""> </span>We’ll see how the juggling act will go.<span style=""> </span><span style=""> </span></p>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06815640368028996818noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7269530165688842852.post-67266133981523458142008-03-16T06:32:00.000-07:002008-03-16T07:28:20.998-07:00Education by the Mile, Education by the BookThis is an expansion on an email that I've written to some people. I've been working on several things over the last week but I wanted to use this post to draw attention to some things other volunteers have done that I'm trying to help out with. <br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Education by the Mile</span><br /><br />In my experiences working with the schools, the amount of structural changes to improve a school seem overwhelming. It may take a generation of more before things truly improve to a level where all kids can really get quality education in rural regions. Faced with this, I believe one of the biggest ways to make a difference now, in addition to the long haul work, is to provide opportunities for the kids that really show potential so they can become the leaders of the next generation. Fortunately, some previous South Africa PCVs (now RPCVs) set up a program to do just that. It's called the KLM (Kgwale le Mollo) Foundation and it selects students with high potential in rural areas to join a prestigious private school, paying for tuition, living expenses, and a small stipend. To help fund this project, the PCVs set up a partnership with the Long Tom Marathon in Mpumalanga. On March 29, about 80 PCVs along with others from SA will be gathering to take part in the race (an ultra marathon, a half marathon, and a half marathon walk). Each PCV has been raising money for KLM. I'm taking part in the half marathon walk and am very excited. I began raising money a few weeks ago and things are going very well. I would like to thank the people who have already made a contribution. I've been especially pleased to see that the majority of my donors so far are my Brothers of Phi Kappa Psi, showing true dedication to our call to service. <br /><br />Please take a look at the KLM Foundations: <a href="http://www.klm-foundation.org/"><span class="a">www.klm-foundation.org/</span></a><br /><br />If you think this is a worthy cause, please donate whatever you can ($5 or $10 adds up fast). Fill in my name (A.J. Kumar) in the section to say who you are contributing in support of. With your help, we can be the top fund raising group this year!<br /><br />Alternatively...<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Education by the Book</span><br /><br />One of my peers working in the NGO sector, Rose Zulliger, has put together an amazing project.<br /> In partnership with Books for Africa, she is going to select 30 schools to each receive 1,100 books. It's always surprising to me to realize how few books there are in the rural communities and how little reading goes on. There's a lot of time to sit around and do nothing so with a little incentive and introduction, I feel like reading could really take off in such an area. My high school has a beautiful library with very few books. We've applied to Rose's program and if we are selected, we hope to use the books to build momentum behind a literacy program. Whether we get the books or not though, I am hoping to look to more sources for books and really push reading. <br /><br />The books are provided free by Books for Africa. Once in country, Rose and other PCVs will sort through them all, deliver them to schools, and work to ensure they are utilized. The one missing ingredient is getting the books from America to South Africa. To pay for shipping, each school selected will have to raise R1500 (about $200) to contribute to the cause (also making them more accountable for the books since they are investing in them). For the rest of the money, Rose has set up a Peace Corps Private Partnership Proposal. Basically, this is a way to get donations from home to cover the rest of the costs. The site is not up yet, but will hopefully be soon. When it is, I'll be posting it. So if you feel this is a project that really strikes a chord with you, or if you just want to donate to BOTH causes, stay tuned. <br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">My Education<br /><br /></span>Lastly, I want to reflect a bit on my own education over the last few weeks which also relates to another PCVs project. A fellow Education Volunteer, Saadiqa, works with a leadership camp group. She has put togehter a girls empowerment camp for rural students called Power Girls. I've spent the last several weeks working with my high school to select girls and help them apply for the program. Along the way, I've realized a lot about how interconnected problems really are. <br /><br />After a lot of prodding and explaining, I got two of my teachers to work with me to finish the nomination forms. Based on leadership criterions, we selected 5 girls from our school. However, when it came to academic achievement, none of them met the 60% average cut off. Worse, NONE of the girls in that grade met the cut off. We decided to proceed anyways. As we worked with the girls, I soon discovered one is actually older than me. She was born in 1984 but she is in grade 9. My teachers insisted that she is a leader and that she now takes classes seriously. The next big surprise came when one of the girls said her father did not want her to do the program. This is an all expense paid, leadership development program. I could not see why he'd object. Then we talked to him and found out, the girl has a toddler at home. He had tried to warn her not to fool around but she did anyway and had a baby. As a result, he has told her, as long as she has a child at home, she will never sleep outside of the house. So going away for a week is out of the question. We decided to let her complete the application just to get practice at writing a CV and essays but we cannot allow her to apply because of her fathers stance. After reading her essays, I realized that she probably understands most of all the girls how important it is to be serious, and take a leadership role in the community, and she has learned a lot from her experience. Unfortunately, it seems she'll never get the chance to be forgiven her mistakes.<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;"></span><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Education is the key to breaking the cycle of poverty. As we PCVs work at the grass roots to help increase the quality of education, I want to thank all those who provide the financial support to allow us to do projects. For me, each of these three projects signifies a greater truth about the Peace Corps. Though scattered across a country in sometimes remote regions, we are part of joint venture, seeking to make a difference in this country. Working together, we can make great strides. </span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06815640368028996818noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7269530165688842852.post-37939287659782357602008-03-08T11:47:00.000-08:002008-03-08T11:50:58.318-08:00The Good, the Bad, and the Pragmatic<p class="MsoNormal">As I traveled home from a day of shopping in town, crammed in the back row of a khumbi with my groceries stacked on top of me and the elbows of my neighbors in my face, I began to ponder some of the things that I am passionate about; rock climbing, chess, experimental physics, and development work. <span style=""> </span>Now, my dabbling in these four areas has been amateur at best to date, although I hope to further my abilities in all three. Yet, in the way that I’ve experienced them, I’ve found a recurring theme.<span style=""> </span>The fields rely on not necessarily being “good” or “bad” but on being pragmatic.<span style=""> </span>One often has to deal with non-ideal situations.<span style=""> </span>Indeed, sometimes it is the complications and difficulty that draws one to them.<span style=""> </span>But, solutions are possible to find, though the implementation may be beyond ones capabilities. In the end, one must use ingenuity, skill, and strength of will to find a path through the difficulties, often turning obstacles into new avenues for advance.</p> <p style="font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal">Sending It</p> <p class="MsoNormal">I preface this by admitting I am no real rock jock.<span style=""> </span>I haven’t climbed since graduating last June.<span style=""> </span>However, I love climbing and feel a rush when I can “send” a route or boulder problem that has stumped me.<span style=""> </span>Rock climbing is in essence an act of defiance.<span style=""> </span>In our language we have sayings like “hitting a wall” and “between a rock and a hard place” that describe places you really would rather not be and that offer no real way forward. In rock climbing, you deliberately hit a wall, inching yourself up between rocks and hard places to overcome what at first seemed unassailable. The fact that a route is not easy is what makes it attractive. Being able to overcome a bad section is a real demonstration of skill. On the other hand, one cannot risk being foolhardy.<span style=""> </span>There is no good and safe environment of climbing in which carelessness can be allowed.<span style=""> </span>Sure, there are climbers who solo, but they do so risking their life.<span style=""> </span>Rock climbing intelligently requires pragmatism.<span style=""> </span>Redundant safety measures are a must as well as a cool head to judge each move and one’s own ability.<span style=""> </span>Inspecting a route, one could say, well, for that part, I’d rock on from that hold, do a toe hook, and then mantle to that bomber hold.<span style=""> </span>Once on the route, you must pay attention to every bit of your body and balance as you attempt to pull of what you saw in your head.<span style=""> </span>Every piece of rock has potential for use.<span style=""> </span>I’ve often been completely stuck on a route and then asked an experienced friend for advice.<span style=""> </span>The answer generally involves viewing the environment in a different way, using what looks like an obstacle as a tool (“use that overhang to do a head jam?”).<span style=""> </span>It does not help to think of a route as doable, or undoable, but rather, they are just routes and must be viewed rationally without judgment.</p> <p style="font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal">The Gambit</p> <p class="MsoNormal">In chess, there are definitely good and bad moves, but often there are many moves that are possible, each with their own advantage and disadvantage.<span style=""> </span>There are lots of strategies and memorized openings, but in the end, each game evolves uniquely.<span style=""> </span>Letting emotions or psychology cloud your judgment often results in a loss.<span style=""> </span>One must remain rational and pragmatic above all.<span style=""> </span>A good example of this is the gambit.<span style=""> </span>A gambit is a sequence of moves, usually an opening, in which a piece is deliberately lost.<span style=""> </span>Sometimes a gambit is a set up to force an opponent into a sequence in which they will lose a piece of greater value than was sacrificed or into a check mate. Sometimes, it’s tossing a pawn away to change the tempo or gain a stronger position.<span style=""> </span>Some might think losing material for position is questionable. It is often neither good nor bad, simply a pragmatic attempt to find a way forward through innumerable possibilities.<span style=""> </span></p> <p style="font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal">A Leatherman and Duct Tape</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Many people have written about the elegance of physics, about beauty, simplicity, and symmetry.<span style=""> </span>But any experimentalist knows that although the phenomenon that is to be studies may indeed be all these things, the process of study often is not.<span style=""> </span>This is not to say experiments are always ugly.<span style=""> </span>Many rely on magnificent feats of engineering and design.<span style=""> </span>However, few things work as planned in life and in a physics experiment, when things don’t work, the willingness to get down and dirty to make things work is a must.<span style=""> </span>I remember when I first joined the Manoharan Lab in Stanford as an undergraduate, seeing MOTA, the atomic force microscope that the group had spent years building and for which a separate room was added underground on its own foundation, I was struck by the incredible engineering and custom parts fitted together as well as the pieces of aluminum foil, wrapped around numerous parts, and the rucksacks full of lead shot sitting on the spring loaded table.<span style=""> </span>As I progressed through my undergraduate career in physics I soon learned the necessity of such “think outside of the box” methods.<span style=""> </span>As I worked on a team to measure the dependence of the resonant frequency of quartz oscillators in liquid helium versus temperature, I always had to grin when walking up to our bench.<span style=""> </span>This set up, which was able to do measurements at temperatures of 1.47 K (-271.68⁰ C), relied in part on two by fours and duct tape.<span style=""> </span>Professor Moler, who taught the lab class, commented that a true experimental physicist always has two things; a Leatherman and duct tape.<span style=""> </span><span style=""> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal">As I worked on my honors thesis I realized that there is not necessarily a “right way” to do things.<span style=""> </span>You have to juggle the money and tools you have in innovative ways.<span style=""> </span>I had created a device to manipulate magnetic micro- (and potentially nano-) spheres.<span style=""> </span>After spending many months on simulations, designs, electronics, machining, electroplating, decarburizing, and what not, I needed to figure out a way to see and record the beads if I wanted to take any actual data.<span style=""> </span>Now though the lab was equipped to see and manipulate atoms, it was not particularly suited for the micrometer range. The best we had was an optical microscope that could distinguish features down to about 6 microns.<span style=""> </span>However, unlike biophysics labs I’d seen, we didn’t have a fancy camera attached to a scope.<span style=""> </span>Time was short and negotiating to use a different lab’s equipment did not seem practical so I took a hint from MOTA.<span style=""> </span>Using a Webcam and rubber bands, I was able to make a digital microscope good enough for the purposes of my experiment. Later, Professor Osheroff, who read my thesis to judge it for a department prize, commented on how it was nice to see some real blood and guts experimental physics.<span style=""> </span>The method was not good; it was not bad; it just worked.</p> <p style="font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal">Change We Can Deliver*</p> <p class="MsoNormal">This week I completed the final installment of my workshop series on Improving School Improvement to all of my schools. The workshop has probably been one of my most frustrating projects to date, but in the end, it seems like it may have been worth it.<span style=""> </span>It did not go well.<span style=""> </span>None of the 6 total sessions (3 primary school, 3 high school) started on time.<span style=""> </span>All but one had to be rescheduled from its original time.<span style=""> </span>No one ever did their homework.<span style=""> </span>The final School Improvement Plans are not done. However, it did not go badly.<span style=""> </span>The workshop was completed by all four of my schools.<span style=""> </span>All schools demonstrated a greater understanding of their needs and ways to make changes.<span style=""> </span>Feedback was largely positive.<span style=""> </span>All schools have begun and some almost completed a well thought out School Improvement Plan.<span style=""> </span>To get here though required an abundance of patience and pragmatism.<span style=""> </span>I had to adjust expectations and material to meet the realities of my situation.<span style=""> </span>I had to make use of knowledge of each schools strengths and weaknesses as an institution and as a staff.<span style=""> </span>I had to calm myself down after experiencing great anger and frustration.<span style=""> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal">In many ways, I think all of Peace Corps is like this. We deal with non-ideal situations but have to see challenges not as problems but as opportunities.<span style=""> </span>Like experimental physics, we have to juggle limited funds, resources, and time to find creative ways to help our communities find beauty in life.<span style=""> </span>Like a gambit, some of us have chosen to not make a head-on attack against corporal punishment, sacrificing a value, in order to put us in a position that we can make change in a school without alienating the staff. Like rock climbing, when confronted with a wall, we chalk up our hands and push ourselves to new heights.<span style=""> </span></p> <p style="font-style: italic;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:78%;">*This is in no way an attack on Senator Obama. In fact, I personally think he is the candidate that will deliver. These comments are my own and do not reflect those of the U.S. government, the Peace Corps, yadda yadda yadda…</span></p> <p style="font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal">A Glass of Water</p> <p class="MsoNormal">There is a saying in the Peace Corps that goes like this.<span style=""> </span>A pessimist says,<span style=""> </span>“The glass is half empty.”<span style=""> </span>An optimist says, “The glass as half full.”<span style=""> </span>A Peace Corps Volunteer says, “Hey, I can take a bath in that!” Blind optimism leads to unrealistic expectations.<span style=""> </span>Pessimism leads to missed opportunities.<span style=""> </span>We must keep a level head, look at our environment, and find new and creative uses for everything.</p>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06815640368028996818noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7269530165688842852.post-42031343048701122992008-03-01T04:14:00.000-08:002008-03-01T04:23:26.422-08:00Vision and Mission<p class="MsoNormal">My previous post may have made it evident that I am in the midst of some soul searching, trying to pin point what it really is that I am doing here in South Africa.<span style=""> </span>In my desire to try many things all at once, I’ve encountered a great deal of frustration as one thing after another gets in the way of my plans.<span style=""> </span>An illustrative and ironic example is the current gridlock over computer instruction.<span style=""> </span>A few weeks ago, my high school received forty brand new computers and a new server.<span style=""> </span>They were received while I was away for training.<span style=""> </span>The twenty old computers were removed from the room that just barely fit them and the forty new ones were crammed in so tight that you cannot lay the keyboards all out because they will be on top of one another.<span style=""> </span>Now we are waiting for an inspection from the agency that has provided these computers and are told we cannot move them because that is the room the agency chose as their computer center room (7 years ago when they donated the first 20 computers).<span style=""> </span>Even after the inspection, there is no physical way we can use all forty computers so the result is that 20-40 of the schools 60 computers will probably just collect more dust.<span style=""> </span>I’ve started pushing, and will soon start shoving and elbowing, to use one of the three large empty halls as the new center for the 40 computers and return the old twenty to the old center.<span style=""> </span>Teachers can then use the old computers for class prep and record keeping while the forty new ones can be used for classes and class research (all have Encarta installed on them).<span style=""> </span>This is going to require convincing the donating agency to allow us to make a new computer center room, finding the money and labor to burglar proof and wire up one of the halls, and then move and setup the new computers again, return all the old computers to the old room. Then I can return to my original roadblocks of finding class time, finishing adapting and creating instruction material, dealing with constant electricity uncertainty, getting internet, and developing an Information and Computer Technology Policy for the school.<span style=""> </span>But hey, I’ve got about 19 months left to get that done.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Faced with these frustrations (and I know my fellow volunteers face similar if not more daunting tasks at their sites), I feel a sense of kinship with those members of my schools staff that really care and want to provide quality education, but find themselves buried under piles of bureaucracy and pulled in many directions by the Department of Education, Teachers Unions, the village, and their own personal lives. Sometimes I think it pays to step back, take a deep breath, and answer the big picture questions again: Why are we here? What are we doing? Where are we going?</p> <p class="MsoNormal">This past week, I worked with my schools in the second part of my workshop series on School Improvement. Our tasks were to re-evaluate the schools Vision and Mission Statements and then to use our previous analysis to come up with a prioritized school improvements list.<span style=""> </span>There are many ways to define Vision and Mission but I focused mainly on the questions they answer. A Vision statement answers the questions: Where are we going?<span style=""> </span>What is our ideal position in the future? A Mission statement is a bit less pie in the sky, answering the questions: Why are we here? What are we doing? Both should be succinct and clear and created with support from major stakeholders.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Here is a sampling of the fruits of my workshop and my own introspection.</p> <p style="font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal">Old Visions (verbatim…not my spelling/grammar errors)</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-style: italic;">Tsoe Primary School:</span> To further the interest, well being and education of all learners.</p> <p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpFirst" style="margin-left: 0.75in; text-indent: -0.25in;"><!--[if !supportLists]--><span style=""><span style="">-<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; font-size: 7pt; line-height: normal; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal;"> </span></span></span><!--[endif]-->Upgrading of school premises</p> <p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: 0.75in; text-indent: -0.25in;"><!--[if !supportLists]--><span style=""><span style="">-<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; font-size: 7pt; line-height: normal; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal;"> </span></span></span><!--[endif]-->Improve the financial status of the school</p> <p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: 0.75in; text-indent: -0.25in;"><!--[if !supportLists]--><span style=""><span style="">-<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; font-size: 7pt; line-height: normal; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal;"> </span></span></span><!--[endif]-->Creating a conductive and safe learning environment for our learners</p> <p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: 0.75in; text-indent: -0.25in;"><!--[if !supportLists]--><span style=""><span style="">-<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; font-size: 7pt; line-height: normal; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal;"> </span></span></span><!--[endif]-->To promote excellence in school</p> <p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: 0in;"><span style="font-style: italic;">Ba-Ga-Lotlhare High School:</span> To produce an Education Process which will yield a responsible, high quality, relevant and independent individuals, capable of participating fully in the society four years from 2005.<span style=""> </span></p> <p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: 0in; font-weight: bold;">New Vision</p> <p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: 0in;"><span style="font-style: italic;">Tsoe Primary School: </span>To produce learners that are productive to the entire country.</p> <p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: 0in;"><span style="font-style: italic;">Ba-Ga-Lotlhare High School: </span>To develop learners into accountable South African citizens who will achieve excellence in global society through their initiative and creative thinking.</p> <p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: 0in; font-weight: bold;">Old Mission</p> <p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: 0in;"><span style="font-style: italic;">Tsoe Primary School: </span>To commit ourselves to maintain high quality standard of education for our learners.</p> <p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: 0.75in; text-indent: -0.25in;"><!--[if !supportLists]--><span style=""><span style="">-<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; font-size: 7pt; line-height: normal; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal;"> </span></span></span><!--[endif]-->To promote the culture of learning and teaching</p> <p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: 0.75in; text-indent: -0.25in;"><!--[if !supportLists]--><span style=""><span style="">-<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; font-size: 7pt; line-height: normal; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal;"> </span></span></span><!--[endif]-->To promote and foster sound relationships among stakeholders</p> <p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: 0.75in; text-indent: -0.25in;"><!--[if !supportLists]--><span style=""><span style="">-<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; font-size: 7pt; line-height: normal; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal;"> </span></span></span><!--[endif]-->To elect an effective and accountable governing body in our school</p> <p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: 0in;"><span style="font-style: italic;">Ba-Ga-Lotlhare High School:</span> To improve and develop skills, talents, guidance and capabilities of school stakeholders which will establish all democratic structures and also produce people who can deal with different challenges and situations inside and outside our country (R.S.A)</p> <p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: 0in; font-weight: bold;">New Mission</p> <p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpLast" style="margin-left: 0in;"><span style="font-style: italic;">Tsoe Primary School: </span>To provide quality education by involving all stakeholders in order to produce learners who will be responsible and independent thinkers.<span style=""> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-style: italic;"> Ba-Ga-Lotlhare High School: </span>To provide all learners with quality education, and to motivate and develop them in totality through the involvement of all stakeholders.</p> <p style="font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal">The difference</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Besides the obvious changes in structure, both old and new may come off as nice idealistic statements. The biggest difference though is that the new statements were created by almost all the teachers and management together and so now I have something to hold up to them and say, “This is what <i style="">we</i> committed ourselves too and I am going to hold you to it.” And I hope that that will be at least marginally more productive than using something the teachers have never seen or heard before.</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p style="font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal">My personal goals</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-style: italic;">Vision: </span>To have schools effectively and autonomously setting goals and monitoring and evaluating progress towards those goals,<span style=""> </span>to lay the foundations for a culture of accountability and high expectations amongst both students and school staff, and to have youth leaders that foster and encourage constructive activities.</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-style: italic;">Mission:</span><span style=""><span style="font-style: italic;"> </span> </span>To work directly with school staff and students to empower them to realize their goals by providing them with ideas and advice, helping them secure resources, and training them with new skills to enhance their work, while at the same time keeping an open ear and eye to community needs so that opportunities for larger community development can be spotted and supported.</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">Last week, I found myself heaping my outrage on various groups outside my control: the computer donation company, the government, text book writers (who’s rewriting history now and incapable of doing science and math?). <span style=""> </span>They were impossible challenges that made me feel powerless, useless. Thinking and reflecting on the big picture has helped me breathe out and realize that even though there is a lot outside of my control, there is still a lot I can do as long as I am positive and creative.<span style=""> </span>Getting those things done while I’m here is my real challenge.</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06815640368028996818noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7269530165688842852.post-38200608414973790892008-02-24T06:20:00.001-08:002008-02-24T06:26:51.640-08:00What's my job again?<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><o:p></o:p>Since January, I’ve found myself in a new phase of my volunteer life.<span style=""> </span>After our initial training, our first three months at site provided us with many tasks and assignments geared towards integrating us into our communities and brainstorming future project ideas.<span style=""> </span>It gave us structure where there would be none and overall was pretty successful in my eyes.<span style=""> </span>Now, however, I’ve reached the stage where there is no real simple objective besides the big overarching themes of helping develop our schools, our youth, and our community. In the quest to fill the void and do something meaningful, I’m trying to do a lot of things in the hopes that at least some will gain traction. We had a week long training where all the Education volunteers in my group met up and we shared lots of ideas.<span style=""> </span>We got a few good resources too and I’ve been trying to put them to use.<span style=""> </span>So here’s the rundown of what I’m trying and hopefully a few will be what I’ll end up doing for a large part of my time here.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; font-weight: bold; text-align: center;">Teacher<o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style=""> </span>This month has been Athletics month (read Track and Field).<span style=""> </span>There was a big local meet at Art’s village, Perth and at first I was planning on going to help out because it seemed like all my schools were closing for the day even though only a fraction of students participate in the sports.<span style=""> </span>However, Tsoe Primary proved an exception.<span style=""> </span>The principal Mme Elesang was going to stay at school with a couple of teachers and hold down the fort.<span style=""> </span>She felt that school must go on and even with few teachers, at least the kids could do reading and English practice.<span style=""> </span>I was so happy to see a school making education a priority that I told her I’d come help out with classes for the day since most of the teachers were going with the kids to the sports event.<span style=""> </span>I wasn’t sure where she’d stick me or what I’d be teaching so I unfortunately couldn’t really make a lesson plan.<span style=""> </span>Instead I grabbed the Mad Minute books we received at IST and showed up to get instructions from the principal.<span style=""> </span>When I showed up, I was set to watch, not really teach grade 6.<span style=""> </span>The principal grabbed a stack of English short stories and had me sit in the class as one kid after another would come stand at the front of the room and read a page.<span style=""> </span>Now, these pages weren’t in any particular order and I soon got the impression that this was an exercise they often did, and the kids with the best English would get up and read the one or two pages they knew well and sit down.<span style=""> </span>I decided this was better than no school but just barely.<span style=""> </span>So I tried to change things up.<span style=""> </span>I had the kids pick one story to read and tried to get them to do popcorn reading.<span style=""> </span>The popcorn reading worked but they still wanted to stand at the front of the class.<span style=""> </span>After every page or two, I tried to ask questions about the story somehow trying to get kids to pay attention and actually get interested.<span style=""> </span>Some kids really got it and were eager to answer, most however, stared blankly.<span style=""> </span>Now, I was trying to teach mostly in Setswana with some English.<span style=""> </span>The problem is, I find myself switching to English when something gets too complicated or beyond my Setswana vocabulary, which is far past where most of the kids’ English comprehension stops.<span style=""> </span>Then the final straw was reached when one kid came up and I realized he didn’t have the same book as the other kids that had been reading.<span style=""> </span>Soon I discovered that almost half the books that had been handed out were different.<span style=""> </span>At this point, I aborted the reading plan my principal had set me on and decided to just fly by the seat of my pants.<span style=""><br /></span> First, I needed to do something about the lack of energy so thinking of Kelee’s singing for English practice, I got all the kids up and taught them to sing and do the Hokey Pokey.<span style=""> </span>The kids loved it.<span style=""> </span>They wanted to do it over and over but I put a stop to that.<span style=""> </span>There is too much of a good thing. And there is definitely too much of the Hokey Pokey.<span style=""> </span>With almost no prepared resources, I was unsure how else to teach literacy.<span style=""> </span>I opted for a class game of hangman.<span style=""> </span>It worked well, and I noticed the kids playing it during their break later.<span style=""> </span>During break, I had time to actually prepare something.<span style=""> </span>I decided to switch to numeracy and made copies of some Mad Minute game sheets.<span style=""> </span>Back with the kids, I used the first game sheet as practice, to get the kids used to the concept.<span style=""> </span>At first they were confused.<span style=""> </span>They are so used to writing on their notebooks with rulers to underline everything that the concept of writing on a worksheet as fast as you could legibly write was a foreign concept.<span style=""> </span>By the time we finished the first sheet though, they pretty much all understood.<span style=""> </span>When I called time, most kids complied but some kept trying to fill out answers.<span style=""> </span>After stern warnings, most complied, but one kid continued to ignore me.<span style=""> </span>Even with me standing over his desk and the kids all telling him to stop, he kept going.<span style=""> </span>In my experience here, two things that bother me about schools are the tolerance for cheating and late work.<span style=""> </span>I ask the teachers why they don’t just make harsh penalties, like 0’s for copying and docking points for late work but they tell me, oh the kids won’t respond. Or the parents will be angry.<span style=""> </span>Then they say the kids perform poorly on standardized tests because they are stupid.<span style=""> </span>I’m still trying to convince them otherwise.<span style=""> </span>When kids have expectations set in a safe and encouraging environment, they will at least try to meet them. If no expectations are set, why bother?<span style=""> </span>I wanted to make it clear that my class was different than what kids were used too.<span style=""> </span>When the kid continued to work after time was called, I took his paper and ripped it up. Maybe it was a little harsh, but I still think it was the necessary solution.<span style=""> </span>When I gave the second game sheet, the kids all understood what to do, and though a few tried to get one or two more answers as I was collecting the sheets, no one refused to turn over their paper when I came around.<span style=""><br /> </span>After that, I showed them the trick of multiplying by nine and using your hands.<span style=""> </span>They went crazy for it but there was not really anywhere to go with it because I wasn’t about to explain to them the fact that it worked due to our using base 10… Instead, since the day was almost done, we went outside and set the chairs in a circle to do a few games of Around the World with math facts.<span style=""> </span>The day ended and I went home exhausted.<span style=""> </span>I don’t think I’ll offer to do that again unless I have time to plan my classes out.<span style=""> </span>Still, it was a good experience and gave me some good ideas about things to talk with my teachers about.<span style=""> </span><span style=""> <br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; font-weight: bold; text-align: center;">After school coach</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"> <o:p></o:p><span style=""></span>I proposed to have a chess club based on the success of my summer camp. My high school agreed and one of the teachers I have gotten to know agreed to run it with me.<span style=""> </span>Unfortunately, due to my traveling and workshops described later, we have yet to begin. I’m hoping to begin this coming week but we’ll see.<span style=""> </span>I have been working on translating some more worksheets into Setswana on my own but have trouble without someone helping me out for a few words.<span style=""> <br /></span> In addition to chess, I am hoping to start teaching basketball and also to help grade 12 with math and science. For the classes, I’m planning on going back to some fundamentals, like associative, commutative, and distributive properties, in math, and basics of vectors and forces in science.<span style=""> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; font-weight: bold; text-align: center;">Workshop Facilitator</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style=""> </span>I’ve begun my first workshop series at the school.<span style=""> </span>It’s about School Improvement.<span style=""> </span>Basically, we start with a session to do a basic school evaluation then have a session to do needs prioritizing and goal setting, and then use the last session to assign responsibilities and develop plans for improvement.<span style=""> </span>I’m doing the workshop once for my high school and once for all my primary schools together.<span style=""> </span>I’ve completed the first segment. It was so-so.<span style=""> </span>Almost all my staffs came and we started just a little late.<span style=""> </span>That is a big positive based on what I’ve heard from some other volunteers.<span style=""> </span>I had a hard time engaging the teachers to participate. A large part was probably due to my own structuring of the workshop so I’ve changed the next two to be more group work oriented.<span style=""> </span>I’m also going to try to use more Setswana in the workshop.<span style=""> </span>I know my teachers all know English, but it’s so much easier to take in an argument and discussion when it’s in your mother tongue.<span style=""> </span>So I need to step outside my comfort zone to reach theirs.<span style=""> </span>We’ll see how it goes.<span style=""> </span>The second segment is scheduled for Monday and Tuesday unless they get postponed again… </p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; font-weight: bold; text-align: center;">Tutor</p><div style="text-align: center;"> </div> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style=""> </span>I’ve informally started tutoring several kids in math and physics.<span style=""> </span>They come up to me during breaks and after school, sometimes during class… and ask for help. I’m trying to be careful not to feed them answers and to force them to come up with solutions. It takes a lot more time and one or two kids has gotten frustrated and walked away when I say, “Tell me your thoughts first/ Mpollele ka go nagana ga gago pele.” Maybe the Setswana is wrong.<span style=""> </span>But most of the kids stick through it and struggle to find the answer for themselves.<span style=""> </span>And when it finally clicks and they think of an answer to one of my questions, it makes my day to see them light up and smile.<span style=""> </span>Unfortunately, I still struggle to see how to get the teachers to realistically implement such a student centered approach when teaching a class of over 40 kids with only 35 minutes.<span style=""> </span>At least for now, a handful of kids can be helped.<br /><span style=""> </span>I’ve also been doing some informal tutoring for my teachers. My friend, Mr. Ntuli, in particular has been my most curious and excited student.<span style=""> </span>He is a Maths/Maths Literacy teacher and we’ve been working on all sorts of topics.<span style=""> </span>At first, I was a little taken aback by some of his questions, given his position as a teacher, until he explained, “KB, you mustn’t get mad at me.<span style=""> </span>I’m supposed to teach these things in high school and no one ever taught me these in school.”<span style=""> </span>Fittingly enough, the things he asks the most help with are things like data analysis and interpretation, tools of critical thinking that were considered too dangerous to teach anyone non-white under the previous regime.<span style=""> </span>Ntuli is a bright guy though and he picks up what I teach him and applies it, and most importantly, always asks when he doesn’t understand.<span style=""> </span>I’ve started working with him to do some Mad Minutes in his math classes to solidify basic facts and hope to eventually work more with him on teaching methods for math.<span style=""> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">Local Computer Geek</span><o:p> </o:p><span style=""></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style=""> </span>This is the job I’ve been in the longest at site.<span style=""> </span>Dealing with an increasingly large number of computers (my H.S. just received 40 brand spanking new computers) in a community that is computer illiterate and technologically fairly unconnected presents a lot of challenges.<span style=""> </span>I’m now pretty effective at virus management and have an arsenal of tools to deal with an infected computer, including some fun Linux toys that I’m still mastering.<span style=""> </span>I’ve also had to figure out ways to deal with super slow/old computers and how to get around their limitations.<span style=""> </span>Kids like to come share music with me so and keep asking when I’ll start classes at the school (as soon as we negotiate the final connections of the computers).<span style=""> </span>Speaking of those new computers, how’s this for bureaucratic hell: My H.S. has 20 old computers on a server in a burglar proofed room with lots of lines put in for electricity.<span style=""> </span>That room is crowded with 20 computers. Now the group that brought in those computers and the new 40, has shoved ALL 40 new computers in the same room. You literally cannot lay out all the keyboards.<span style=""> </span>The school has plans to convert another room to use the old 20 computers in. I said, back up, if we are going to wire up a new room, why not take a big hall that is unused, stick the 40 new computers comfortably in there and leave the old room for the 20 computers. My principal said, he’d love to but the group that donated the computers has designated this one room as their room and will not budge. So they’d rather have 40 computers sit unusable until they become outdated rather than put in a few wires and burglar bars. <span style=""> </span>They are supposed to be coming in sometime in the next week to inspect the new computers. I’ve told my principal to let me know as soon as they arrive so we can talk some sense into them.<span style=""> </span>Again, we’ll see…<br /><span style=""> </span>I’m also a co-admin for the volunteer web forum, PCV Central.<span style=""> </span>I’ve been trying to promote its use amongst volunteers and come up with ways to make it more useful.<span style=""> </span>It’s provided a great way for me to keep in contact with a lot of volunteers in country and share information and tools.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; font-weight: bold; text-align: center;">Mentor</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style=""> </span>At our In-Service Training (IST), we elected members to our volunteer committees. There is the Volunteer Advisory Council, or VAC which deals with general issues, and is the volunteers voice to the administration.<span style=""> </span>There is also the Diversity Committee, which deals mainly with training and helping volunteers understand and embrace their own diversity so as to become better representatives of America abroad and better support for each other.<span style=""> </span>Then there is the Volunteer Support Network (VSN) that helps provide a trained listener for every volunteer to help us get through tough times and also help volunteers know what to expect and provide tools for dealing with stress.<span style=""> </span>Now VSN and Diversity were combined when we had the election and then subsequently re-split.<span style=""> </span>I got elected so now I’m on both.<span style=""> </span>I’ve lobbied that both should still work largely together and thus have meetings on the same weekends. This way we can avoid redundancy in training and resources and also cut back on travel time for those of us that are on both committees.<span style=""> <br /></span> To be honest, my primary interest was in Diversity Committee but I realized that my interest in Diversity stemmed from my desire to see us as a volunteer community use our understanding of diversity to better support each other. As such, I saw the merger as not a necessarily bad thing but just a lot of work for one group.<span style=""> </span>Now though, we can spread the work load between two groups and can coordinate.<span style=""><br /></span> In addition to my new role to help as a mentor for volunteers, I’ve tried unsuccessfully to mentor some of my high school buddies.<span style=""> </span>One of my buddies that I used to go to the morakeng to shepherd with, failed grade 10.<span style=""> </span>He decided to drop out of school rather than re-enroll. One of his friends and I tried unsuccessfully to convince him to come back, saying I’d help him out with his subjects.<span style=""> </span>He said he was too tired.<span style=""> </span>He was supposed to come by this weekend to visit but hasn’t showed up.<span style=""> </span>He is a good kid and even tried to study extra, using my Setswana/English books to study English last year.<span style=""> </span>Unfortunately, he’s chosen the route of too many kids in the village.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">Diversity facilitator</span><o:p style="font-weight: bold;"> </o:p><span style=""></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style=""> </span>As part of the Diversity Committee, I’ve already gone into action, last weekend going to help out at SA 17’s training.<span style=""> </span>SA 17 is the newest group of South Africa volunteers.<span style=""> </span>I was part of a panel of volunteers in “The Fishbowl” where we talk about our background in the states and about how our background has influenced our service in country.<span style=""> </span>I talked about being Indian and non-Christian, as well as giving a word of support to any trainees in a long distance relationship. We also had speakers talking about being married, feminist, agnostic, gay, and elderly.<span style=""> </span>Overall, it went well.<span style=""> </span>Hopefully we can continue to improve on it for coming groups.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; font-weight: bold; text-align: center;">Barber<o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style=""> </span>On a more personal note, I’ve been perfecting my hair cutting skills.<span style=""> </span>I’m hoping that by the time I get back, I won’t need to pay for a haircut ever again. I still have a ways to go to get quite that respectable by myself.<span style=""> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; font-weight: bold; text-align: center;">Writer</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style=""></span> Last, but not least, I’m making an effort to get back into my writing (blog, emails, journal, and letters) to make sure to keep track and reflect on all these things.<span style=""> </span>If you ever have any constructive criticism or comments on any of my blog posts, please leave a comment or shoot me an email.<span style=""> </span>I’m trying to keep some of those creative fuzzy skills alive before I return to many years of straight physics.<span style=""> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">It’s strange that with all these things, it seems like I should be busy all the time, yet I often find myself sitting staring at my schedule, struggling to fill in things to do for the day.<span style=""> </span>I definitely need to get the ball rolling on projects in my schools and community more and hopefully will be able to do so in the next two weeks.<span style=""> </span>In a way, writing it all out gives me a clearer picture of what I am doing and what I should be doing.<span style=""> </span>Hopefully it’s given you a little insight into some things I’m trying to do.<span style=""> </span></p>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06815640368028996818noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7269530165688842852.post-51577219350652258832008-01-08T02:10:00.000-08:002008-01-08T02:18:18.307-08:00Of mountains, mermaids, and more<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">In an effort to actually post this before it is too old, I’m going to forego the usual style and just expand on things I wrote in an email to some of you already.<span style=""> </span>Apologies for the lack of creativity. I’ll try to get back on the ball soon.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">Pictures on picasaweb.google.com/aj.kumar<o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">The last few weeks were a whirlwind.<span style=""> </span>Travel restriction ended and so we got our first chance to explore this country unhindered by job duties.<span style=""> </span>I can already tell, there is not going to be enough time in the two years here to explore it all thoroughly (and still get some work done at site).<span style=""> </span>I’m struck by the immense diversity and the sometimes disheartening disparities.<span style=""> </span>Somehow both Phepane and Pretoria exist in the same country.<span style=""> </span>Whites and to a lesser extent rich blacks, Indians, and coloured people (South African terminology), can live a privileged life in almost complete ignorance of what their country is outside of Joburg, Durban, and Cape Town.<span style=""> </span>Poor rural blacks can go their whole life without knowing anything outside their village and without realizing there is anything outside of South Africa. But of course generalizations exist to be turned on their heads.<span style=""> </span>Chatting with a few people in my training village of Motswedi, we debated the growing influence of China in Africa, mining rights, and how skills transfer was a more effective means of development than monetary aid.<span style=""> </span>I had a wonderful experience chatting with an old English South African for two evenings on the mountain on topics ranging from how to tackle the challenges of AIDS and how to work within the village mentality to effect change in education. I met a Norwegian that had been a volunteer in SA a few years ago and had conversations that challenged many assumptions I held about education and development as well.<span style=""> </span><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">While Tera and I were closing out my camp in Tsoe, Stacy and Phil went down to Kimberly to rent a car and get a tent.<span style=""> </span>Stacy had been kind of sick the day before but recovered just in time for Phil to get sick.<span style=""> </span>The stayed at her place for the night and then made a trip to the clinic before coming to meet us out in Tsoe.<span style=""> </span>We had planned on hiking out across the flat to camp out but Phil was in no shape to hike anywhere so we just had a lazy day and pitched the tent outside my house, where we were serenaded throughout the night by house music coming from some kid’s yard.<span style=""> </span>The next day we headed out, dropped off Tera in Vryburg with the other girls to go straight to Pretoria and the rest of us proceeded to Motswedi, our training village.<span style=""> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">Motswedi was absolutely gorgeous. When we had arrived for training, it was after a year long drought but now after heavy rains, the hills were blooming with everything; peaches, figs, mangoes, and amarula.<span style=""> </span>Everyone was excited to see us. I chatted with my Ntate for a long time about my site, about what’s been happening in Motswedi, and about honey.<span style=""> </span>The next day, I visited more people and Art came over for a little bit.<span style=""> </span>While he was there, the son of Lucas Mangope came by and we had a chat about South Africa and development.<span style=""> </span>We drew comparisons and contrasts to other African nations and discussed how China and India had succeeded in finding a fast track to development and foreign investment.<span style=""> </span>Later, Phil came by and we played boggle with my visiting host sister who is in med school and discussed the medical system here.<span style=""> </span>You go to med school for 7 years after finishing high school and they are going to try to compress it to 5 she said.<span style=""> </span>A bit different to the way things go in the US. The next day, we said goodbye to our families again and packed into the car with Carmen joining us and sang Christmas carols on the way to Pretoria.<o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">For Christmas, I was in Pretoria at a backpackers with about 15 other volunteers. We had a nice dinner provided as compliments from the owners.<span style=""> </span>We talked a lot, catching up over the last three months.<span style=""> </span>Then we rented our second car and began our real adventure in the mountains. We named the original red car Madi (blood) and the new white car Masi (milk).<span style=""> </span>Our faithful drivers took us down long roads in these and got us all back safely, and for that, we thank them all greatly.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">The Drakensbergs are an absolutely gorgeous range.<span style=""> </span>The mountains are green and contrasts jagged spikes with rolling tops.<span style=""> </span>It’s almost tropical hiking in the summer and I was covered in sweat in the first 10 minutes of hiking. We crossed over many streams and creeks too.<span style=""> </span>We made camp at a place called Keith Bush Camp and met two groups of English South Africans.<span style=""> </span>We also spotted several Berg Adders which made us antsy about stepping on more snakes.<span style=""> </span>The next day, we went for the peak. It was extremely cloudy and the clouds descended on us as we ascended.<span style=""> </span>Soon, we had to walk within 10 meters of each other so that we could see everyone.<span style=""> </span>It also made it hard to gauge how steep and how much exposure there was to certain bits.<span style=""> </span>But we carried on conservatively.<span style=""> </span>The last big climb was up a boulder wash that reminded me of some ascents in California. It brought us out onto a beautiful mountain plateau at about 3000 meters high.<span style=""> </span>There was a big river flowing over it.<span style=""> </span>Apparently, Basotho herdsmen used to bring their cattle here to graze.<span style=""> </span>We couldn’t see well so we picked out the nearest of several peaks and climbed it.<span style=""> </span>We had meant to ascend Champagne Castle which is 3377 m but I think we ended up on top of a subpeak of about 3318 m.<span style=""> </span>It was still quite beautiful and I think we may have accidentally walked into Lesotho since the peak straddles the border.<span style=""> </span>We ate summit chocolate, took some pictures and headed back down to descend the gorge.<span style=""> </span>As we started coming down the gorge, the clouds began to part.<span style=""> </span>Rounding one corner, I saw a crag standing out with the valley in the background, and as the clouds cleared a bit more, I made out a stag standing on a ledge staring out at us from a distance. It was one of the most beautiful sites I’ve seen when hiking. I tried to take pictures but don’t think they capture the immensity of the scene unless they are blown up to be about 100 times bigger.<span style=""> </span>As we descended, I think I injured my left knee and it gave me some trouble. I wrapped it the next day and got it checked out in Pretoria. It’s almost all better now.<span style=""> </span>Back at the camp, I had some good conversations with an old man in one of the other groups. He has been a lifelong mountain climber and also a teacher in KwaZulu-Natal.<span style=""> </span>He was also surprisingly understanding of black South Africans for a white guy.<o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">The next day we descended completely and reunited with the rest of our party. With ten people total, the group could be unwieldy at times but it was nice to have a different crowd of people you could go to if you felt suffocated.<span style=""> </span>We had a nice meal and then prepared for our adventure to St. Lucia the next day. We drove out over KwaZulu-Natal (KZN) which is a beautiful state.<span style=""> </span>Villages dot the rolling hills which are freshened by the sea breeze rolling in from the Indian Ocean. The hills slowly give way to endless fields of sugar cane before finally succumbing to the sea.<span style=""> </span>We went to Blythesdale Beach near Stanger and played in the water. I was shocked by the amount of Indians there. It seemed like half the beach was black and the other half brown.<span style=""> </span>I’m sure the whites have a nice beach somewhere else… It was a little strange to not be noticeable.<span style=""> </span>Even though my village is semi used to Indian guys because of the shops, I’m still a minority there and a topic of curiosity.<span style=""> </span>The riptide was something fierce so we didn’t really swim.<span style=""> </span>Stacy and I decided we should make a sand turtle and so we did while Phil dug a barrier to protect it from waves.<span style=""> </span>Afterwards we wanted to bury someone and since no one volunteered, I ended up covered in sand and turned into a mermaid…. It seemed like a good idea at the time.<span style=""> </span>After that we washed up and continued north along the coast to St. Lucia. St. Lucia was a bit of a change.<span style=""> </span>A tourist haven where the only non-whites you saw were pretty much those serving the food, it had all the trappings of a coastal American tourist trap.<span style=""> </span>We had dinner and coffee and then loaded up onto a monster jeep to go for our night safari to find sea turtles. Our guide was a graduate student from the Wits (Witswatersrand University – one of the best in the nation) who studies the turtles. He vaguely resembled Ralph Fiennes.<span style=""> </span>It was a fun ride. On the way into the park, we saw many types of bok, zebra, and even a white rhino with her baby.<span style=""> </span>It was huge and had a matching horn.<span style=""> </span>We finally reached the beach and drove along for 20 km on the coast looking for turtles.<span style=""> </span>We tried to keep ourselves awake in the back by playing tour guide since we couldn’t hear the real one.<span style=""> </span>The sea mist rolled over us while the moon reflected moodily off the waves as. </p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">Alas, we saw no turtles but only the tracks of one. They looked almost like tractor tracks.<span style=""> </span>The most exciting part of the night was when our tourguide ran off into the night after a more commercial tourguide who was trying to lure turtles out of the water with a spotlight to please his crowd. As our more environmentally minded guide had explained, the turtles will be attracted to the lights but will often come out, get scared, and race back to the sea, dumping their eggs.<span style=""> </span>He came back after exchanging some harsh words with the other guide and puffed on his cigarette, which he had been comically careful to keep while he had run off.<span style=""> </span><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">After returning to St. Lucia, we slept in our cars for a few hours before beginning the drive back. We picked up lots of groceries and cooked a huge New Years Eve feast.<span style=""> </span>We made voers (sausage) and steak on the grill (or braii) as well as corn (mealie).<span style=""> </span>Others made tortillas, guacamole, salsa, noodles, vegetable stir fry, sticky rice, and butternut squash.<span style=""> </span>It was quite delicious.<span style=""> </span>I spent the night talking to some older volunteers and locals until midnight when we toasted the New Years and retired to our tents.<span style=""> </span>As I got to my tent, I noticed the fireworks being set off at the local golf course.<span style=""> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">The next day, some of us went on a day hike in another park a little south.<span style=""> </span>We had hoped to see some San Rock Paintings but the main cave they are in was closed for the holiday.<span style=""> </span>Instead we played on rocks and in a stream before heading back to the cars. As we got to the cars we saw a family of baboons.<span style=""> </span>The male was busy showing off by climbing and peeing on cars. He did a little dance and rolled around on them too. It was pretty hilarious, since it wasn’t our cars.<span style=""> </span></p> <br /><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%; font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif";">The next day we started the drive home, going to Pretoria to drop off our cars.<span style=""> </span>We went out for dinner and to a pub there and I came back early to get some sleep. There we met a girl from Wellesley on a Watson Fellowship to study anthropology around the world and a Norwegian teaching student, who had been a volunteer with a European organization 2 years ago.<span style=""> </span>He was heading to Namibia the next day, so me and another volunteer, Phil, got a ride with him. Unfortunately we hit a pothole and got two flats. We waited in the bush for a few hours until the rental agency brought him a fresh car and we continued on our way.<span style=""> </span>Since we couldn’t make it as far, I made some calls, and arranged lodging with a fellow volunteer, Arlean who graciously gave us dinner too.<span style=""> </span>The next day we drove to my shopping town Kuruman and I caught the taxi back to my site.<span style=""> </span>It was quite an adventure and it was lots of fun but it’s good to be home, despite the sweltering heat.</span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06815640368028996818noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7269530165688842852.post-57216464964708735912007-12-16T22:00:00.000-08:002007-12-16T22:43:32.158-08:00Bridges of Accomplishment, Flooded Roads of InsightThe last two weeks have seen the start of my first project as a volunteer; my Tsoe Youth Lifestyle Challenge summer camp. It’s also marked a time of increased collaboration between me and my fellow volunteers as well as with some of the people I’ve begun working with in my village. It’s been a time of celebration of both new connections and old relationships.<br /><br /><b>Bridges made out of straw(s) ain’t that bad</b><br /><br /><a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/aj.kumar/TsoeYouthLifestyleSummerCamp/photo#5144810534044468018"><img src="http://lh3.google.com/aj.kumar/R2YJ7B5ogzI/AAAAAAAABGE/9_s4WxyLN74/s400/IMG_4636.JPG" /></a><br /><br />After Kelee helped me jumpstart my camp two weeks ago, I’ve kept a consistent crowd of roughly 30 kids, half teenagers, half younger. On Friday of the first week, we did our first Creative Problem Solving session. Inspired by years of Odyssey of the Mind and Destination Imagination, I figured I’d see what the kids here could do with limited resources, a well defined problem, and a little creativity. I started off with teams of kids each given 25 plastic drinking straws, a roll of scotch tape (called sole tape here) and 45 minutes to build a bridge to span 30 cm and hold a Frisbee which would be weighted with small rocks. Below are all the first designs. Apart from one team that went for a solid line, most teams focused solely on spanning the distance with little though to structural integrity. The best bridge held only 8 rocks and failed due to poor balance. <br /><br /><a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/aj.kumar/TsoeYouthLifestyleSummerCamp/photo#5144810156087345954"><img src="http://lh3.google.com/aj.kumar/R2YJlB5ogyI/AAAAAAAABF8/6WVvbAsOWpE/s400/IMG_4630.JPG" /></a><br /><br />I then gave a brief lecture on physical principals of balance and support in structures followed by a discussion on personal support and balance. I had the kids fill out diagrams to figure out who supports them and who they support. I got a warm fuzzy when a couple of kids wrote down my name in their diagrams. Then, I let the kids try the bridge building again. All of them came up with much sturdier designs, using the tips I gave them in different ways. To my great surprise, none of them copied each other, which is one of the biggest problems at school. The winning design held an impressive 23 stones. <br /><br /><a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/aj.kumar/TsoeYouthLifestyleSummerCamp/photo#5144812136067269490"><img src="http://lh4.google.com/aj.kumar/R2YLYR5og3I/AAAAAAAABGk/us5aVxdihsY/s400/IMG_4642.JPG" /></a><br /><br /><a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/aj.kumar/TsoeYouthLifestyleSummerCamp/photo#5144812711592887186"><img src="http://lh6.google.com/aj.kumar/R2YL5x5og5I/AAAAAAAABG0/1J4MXc5ZLYM/s400/IMG_4653.JPG" /></a><br /><br /><b>The Art of Frisbee</b><br /><br />On Monday, we had sports day for the first time since kids showed up this Monday. We had 30 again and taught them how to play volleyball. Art came in from Perth to help out. Since we could only do about 12 kids at a time for volleyball, Art busted out the Frisbee and entertained the rest of the kids while Seatlasaone drilled them in volleyball. <br /><br /><a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/aj.kumar/TsoeYouthLifestyleSummerCamp/photo#5144808438100427490"><img src="http://lh3.google.com/aj.kumar/R2YIBB5oguI/AAAAAAAABFY/1puiWpEm6_8/s400/IMG_4683.JPG" /></a><br /><br /><a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/aj.kumar/TsoeYouthLifestyleSummerCamp/photo#5144807162495140530"><img src="http://lh6.google.com/aj.kumar/R2YG2x5ogrI/AAAAAAAABFA/cJldQYGlZ9w/s400/IMG_4675.JPG" /></a><br /><br />People had said if I really wanted to get kids, I should play soccer since that’s what they always play. However, I reasoned the only reason they always play soccer is not just because they like it, but also because it’s all they know, so why not try something new? The kids loved both volleyball and Frisbee, staying almost an hour after the camp officially ended for the day to play. We also had a lesson on communications led by Seatlasaone. To start it off, I broke the kids into two groups and played telephone with each. The original message was “Ke tla nwa bojalwa fa koko e sena go tlhoga meno” which means ‘I will drink beer when chicken grow teeth’ like ‘…when pigs fly’. Here are the messages that came out the other end: “Ke a go nwa bojalwa fa ke sena go tlhapa meno” = I am to drink beer when I have begun to brush my teeth, and, “Ga o na boja lo ngwana gago one na jang” = (roughly?) You don’t have grass your baby your one has how?. Both illustrated the point greatly, that direct and clear communication are crucial.<br /><br /><b>Following my own advice</b><br /><br />Just as Seatlasaone, Art, and I had taught the kids about communication on Monday, we forgot to practice it ourselves. I had been teaching the second chess lesson and struggling. New kids had showed up since last Wednesday so I was trying to catch them up while not boring the other kids. At the break, I asked Seatlasaone to help me by explaining points I made so that kids would hear two ways of explaining the same thing and hopefully understand it. At first he was like, it’s no point because they aren’t all going to get it to which Art and I went off on him for putting down the kids. Then he said that translating sentence for sentence would miss the point. Finally we got him to understand that what we wanted was for him to hear me explain a concept and then rephrase it in full. This he agreed too but the argument highlighted our own failures to communicate well. I think I assume that just because Seatlasaone speaks good English, he will understand what I say, but in many ways he’s like us in Setswana. We can put together words and understand what words people have said, but it’s easy to take everything literally which often misses the point. He was doing the same thing and it took us a while to figure it out. In the end, all was clear and we did our best together to try to teach some more chess. I tied the lesson in with basic study skills, taking notes, and doing homework. I then gave them all chess HW which over half of them actually did and turned in on Friday.<br /><br /><a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/aj.kumar/TsoeYouthLifestyleSummerCamp/photo#5144800045734330738"><img src="http://lh5.google.com/aj.kumar/R2YAYh5ogXI/AAAAAAAABCc/T_frfUwHMHA/s400/IMG_4689.JPG" /></a><br /><br /><b>Clearing the path to reality</b><br /><br />On Thursday, two other volunteers, John and Christina Campbell, joined us to help with the camp. On Friday we had our second Creative Problem Solving session. The challenge this week was an Egg Drop competition. Seatlasaone and I had accumulated a wealth of junk to give the kids to use to assemble a device to protect an egg from a two story drop onto pavement. We had 10 teams that came up with all kinds of designs. My favorite was a team where they used the string to weave a net to encase the egg and then suspended it in the center of a box. <br /><br /><a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/aj.kumar/TsoeYouthLifestyleSummerCamp/photo#5144802571175100946"><img src="http://lh5.google.com/aj.kumar/R2YCrh5oghI/AAAAAAAABDw/8GCWVuQZa5c/s400/IMG_4728.JPG" /></a><br /><br />Nine out of ten passed the drop test and the kids really got into it. <br /><br /><a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/aj.kumar/TsoeYouthLifestyleSummerCamp/photo#5144803516067906114"><img src="http://lh5.google.com/aj.kumar/R2YDih5ogkI/AAAAAAAABEI/JjlxJpKHbII/s400/IMG_4739.JPG" /></a><br /><br /><a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/aj.kumar/TsoeYouthLifestyleSummerCamp/photo#5144804040053916242"><img src="http://lh3.google.com/aj.kumar/R2YEBB5oglI/AAAAAAAABEQ/L-NSNfmpQ5Y/s400/IMG_4741.JPG" /></a><br /><br />Tying into the protection and safety theme, we split the kids into older and younger groups for a health discussion. Seatlasaone, Art, and Christine worked with the younger kids to go over basic hygiene while John and I tackled AIDS with the older kids. First let me give some background. AIDS has devastated the villages. When adults go off to work in the cities and mines, they come back with AIDS, killing off their partners and leaving a sea of orphans. Although I’ve noticed before that my village has a young population in their mid to late twenties, there are very few people in their 30s and 40s compared to the number of old people and kids. But AIDS is slowly killin off the 20 somethings too. The girl that died of TB whose funeral I attended might have had AIDS and TB happened to be the Opportunistic Infection (OI) that finished her off. Two weekends ago, a 19 year old boy died of “illness”. My friend Fr. Tarimo said he buried three young people in the last two weeks, all related to AIDS. This Sunday when I went to mass at some small villages with Fr. Amandus, one congregation was made almost entirely of children. “Almost all orphans,” Fr. Amandus said. The kids get a lot of info on AIDS at school so most could shout out answers and some seemed just bored until I asked the question, “So is there AIDS here in Tsoe?” “No! well maybe, we don’t know” was the response I got. So I then wrote up 40% on the board and explained to them that their age range (15-35) was 40% HIV positive in the village according to our local clinic. This caused a visible shock. These kids hear so much about AIDS from class and from TV but why should they care about it if they don’t believe it is a part of their lives? The denial reaches its most sophisticated form among adults and worst of all politicians. Kids though are the real target. In a few years, large numbers of the skeptics will be dead anyways. Kids have not all made up their minds to shut out reality. Whether they believed me or not remains to be seen, but it was my first hack at the glacier of incompetence, ignorance, and insolence that surrounds AIDS in this country. It will definitely not be my last. <br /><br /><b>Peace Corps Partners</b><br /><br />Though making connections with the people of the village can be difficult, I’ve increasingly found rewarding relationships and partners in the village and in the Peace Corps community. This week, Art, John, and Christine, provided good company and lots of help. Fr. Tarimo and Fr. Amandus are always cheerful and encouraging. After living here for 1 and 5 years, respectively, they also offer some insight on trying to work in the villages as a foreigner. Seatlasaone has been invaluable as a partner for the camp. If he were not around, I would have had to settle with a more activity oriented, less life lesson based program. My key principle, Mothelesi, has also been incredibly supportive of all my ideas and actually put money where his mouth is. In addition, the handful of high school guys that I’ve gotten to know have been willing to help me out with work, learning Setswana, and just been there to hang out. I’ve lucked out in many ways in terms of getting both a beautiful site and wonderful people to work with.<br /><br /><b>A letter from Omaha</b><br /><br />In addition to the connections I’ve been making here in South Africa, I’ve also been making new ones back home in America. World Wise Schools is a program that matches up Peace Corps volunteers with classes back in the US. I want to give a shout out to the class I’ve been paired with, Mr. Kent Day’s 8th grade class at Beveridge Middle School in Omaha, NE. This past week, I received a mailing from them with lots of letters, some examples of American currency, and magazines about Nebraska which I’m excited to share with the school kids and teachers here. And since, some of you from the school may be reading this now, Thank You! <br /><br /><b>The “Road” to Phepane</b><br /> <br />“Now let us take this good road to the village.” As the Father said this, we turned off the main dirt road onto a road which had been worn down by tire tracks leaving two strips of sand cutting across the bush. We were joining the Father for mass at some of the small villages north of my village that he serves. As we bumped along the road and brushed against the bushes, we soon found ourselves in a deluge of rain. It lasted for the whole day, lightening up for a few brief respites. The first two villages were a bit smaller than Perth, the village Art is from, but still had shops, electricity, and general amenities. Then we went to the last village. The road became nothing more than sand and with the heavy rains, the path was often flooded. This is why SUVs and trucks exist. When we finally reached Phepane, we found a ghost of a village. Houses were spread out, sometimes over a kilometer apart. The tiny clinic had closed a few years back. Police refuse to come out this far. There are no khumbis so people have to walk 15-20 km to the next village if they want to go anywhere. Even the school has now closed down. Almost all the houses are mud huts. The only thing the village has is a tavern run out of someone’s house. They have a fridge that runs on propane to keep drinks cold. In some ways it was the kind of village I’d thought I’d be living in when I signed up for Peace Corps in Africa. On the other hand it was still a shock to realize how some people were just being left out of the South African future that had been promised with the end of Apartheid. The fact that two outsiders, let alone American’s, had come to visit their village prompted applause. <br /><br />The past few weeks have shown me how a little effort, creativity, and initiative to reach out, is all it takes to bridge gaps of understanding, culture, and knowledge. It has also showed me that far vaster voids exist and spanning such chasms will be a great challenge.<br /><br /><i>More pictures can be seen in my web albums at picasaweb.google.com/aj.kumar</i>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06815640368028996818noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7269530165688842852.post-39204993293272497902007-12-05T12:57:00.000-08:002007-12-05T13:02:45.343-08:00Getting down to businessSo it’s been a while since my last post and there’s a lot to talk about. I’ve been pretty busy here which is why this has been so long in coming. Since there is so much to write, I don’t think I’ll be able to make any overarching theme like the last few posts so forgive me.<br /><br /><b>Thanksgiving!</b><br /><br />So, for the first three months at site, we are on “Travel Restriction” which means we shouldn’t be leaving site for over a day unless it’s an emergency or your collaborating with another volunteer on a project. Traveling to town to shop for groceries of course is ok but since I’m 100 miles away from town, I only go in once a month. But, on Thanksgiving week, we were allowed to spend time at our neighboring volunteers’ sites to see their schools, brainstorm, and celebrate Thanksgiving with one of our families. So I got to travel to see Kelee and Art at the two sites closest to me and they came out to mine for Thanksgiving. It was great to see some different villages and realize how even in our rural setting there is so much diversity. And perhaps even better was seeing the things that Kelee and Art have been doing at schools. I was able to equip them with tools for their computers but Kelee helped show me how to teach English with songs in the Primary School and Art showed me how to make more effective use of school projectors using his experience as a middle school teacher in the states. Spending the week together was also great to get to know them all better. In addition to the experience of meeting so many people from another country, I think one of the other benefits of the Peace Corps is meeting other volunteers. We’re so diverse yet all very driven and can learn a lot from each other. We arrived at my site on the day before Thanksgiving. The weekend before, I had driven around with my host mom and some friends, in search of turkeys for sale (yes, though scarce, there are turkey’s in my village in South Africa, don’t ask me how…) I learned that turkeys die a lot. We went to four houses before finding one whose flock hadn’t been decimated by disease or eaten by dogs. We made a deal to collect the turkey and pay for it when I returned. When we came, we got the turkey for R150 (about $20-25) and drove it back home with its wings and feet tied. Then came the exciting part: I got to slaughter my first animal. The boys held it down and insisted I use my knife (my Leatherman) even though I’d wanted to use a hatchet. It’s surprisingly hard to cut through the neck and my local friends were laughing as I tried. Finally it was done and the turkey was dead. We then poured boiling water over the body and plucked it. Art was the master plucker and Kelee then helped clean by removing the quills that were stuck. Finally me and one of my local friends cut it open and removed all the fun stuff inside. We washed it off and stuck it in the fridge for the next day. <br /><br />We spent the morning hanging out and got to cooking around noon. Art and I attempted to cook our first turkey. We had no foil so we basted it often and used a lot of margarine. We added salt and garlic too. For the stuffing, we mixed bread with onions, all the spare parts (heart, liver, kidneys, and gizzard), mango achaar, and a little cumin and coriander. It was all really good. Meanwhile, Kelee worked with my host aunt/sister (Mpho) to make bread and she made some really good custard and dumpling pudding. We made garlic mashed potatoes and a little vegetable stew as a side and of course a pot of bogobe. We invited the fathers from the mission and some of the local guys that helped get the turkey. We had a wonderful meal and I tried as best I could to explain the meaning of Thanksgiving in mixed English/seTswana. Afterward I had turkey sandwiches for days. My tummy was happier than it’s ever been here. <br /><br />The link below goes to pics. WARNING: there is blood, and dead turkey.<br /><br /><table style="width:194px;"><tr><td align="center" style="height:194px;background:url(http://picasaweb.google.com/f/img/transparent_album_background.gif) no-repeat left"><a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/aj.kumar/ThanksgivingInTheNorthernNorthernCape"><img src="http://lh6.google.com/aj.kumar/R0Zme_8BPUE/AAAAAAAAA-U/NrNvZ8B0LAU/s160-c/ThanksgivingInTheNorthernNorthernCape.jpg" width="160" height="160" style="margin:1px 0 0 4px;"></a></td></tr><tr><td style="text-align:center;font-family:arial,sans-serif;font-size:11px"><a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/aj.kumar/ThanksgivingInTheNorthernNorthernCape" style="color:#4D4D4D;font-weight:bold;text-decoration:none;">Thanksgivi<wbr></wbr>ng in the northern Northern Cape</a></td></tr></table><br /><br /><b>A Welcome Reprieve</b><br /><br />The last week of school, Tsoe P.S. took their grade 6 to Molopo Nature Reserve near Botswana for their farewell. And they invited me. We had a braii (BBQ) and I ate so much meat, my tummy smiled. We then piled into the trucks and drove out to see animals. We saw 3-4 types of deer (including springbok “tshepe” and something known as “tolo” – it’s in the Lion King though). We also saw zebras and wildebeest close up. And two giraffes crossed the road just in front of us. <br /><br />Click on the pic below to link to this album with animals:<br /><table style="width:194px;"><tr><td align="center" style="height:194px;background:url(http://picasaweb.google.com/f/img/transparent_album_background.gif) no-repeat left"><a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/aj.kumar/MolopoNatureReserveTsoe6thGradeFarewell"><img src="http://lh3.google.com/aj.kumar/R1cJv4kBgoE/AAAAAAAABBY/fgvJpDUSLQI/s160-c/MolopoNatureReserveTsoe6thGradeFarewell.jpg" width="160" height="160" style="margin:1px 0 0 4px;"></a></td></tr><tr><td style="text-align:center;font-family:arial,sans-serif;font-size:11px"><a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/aj.kumar/MolopoNatureReserveTsoe6thGradeFarewell" style="color:#4D4D4D;font-weight:bold;text-decoration:none;">Molopo Nature Reserve/ Tsoe 6th grade farewell</a></td></tr></table><br /><br /><b>Head first</b><br /><br />After, Art and Kelee returned to their sites, I dove into preparing for my first real project at site. I’m doing a summer camp for the kids to teach sports, chess, and creativity competitions as a mechanism to have discussions on life skills and HIV. My high school has been super supportive in terms of money and resources and I also have benefited strongly from working with a local who runs an NGO called the Rural Youth Development Organization. I tried to get the word out during the last week at schools but attendance was poor and teachers were busy finishing paperwork. I posted signs in all the shops in town and had the priests and other churches I knew announce the program on Sundays. I made 10 chess sets from cardboard and paper by hand and then finally the first day came. I waited with my counterpart, Seatlasaone, starting at 1pm (when the camp was scheduled to start). We waited and waited, then waited some more. We spent a lot of time talking, trying to assess what we had done wrong and what we could do to fix it both for the future and for the current camp. Then finally at 3:30pm, one girl showed up. We talked for a little while and asked her to bring her friends all next time. We then left a little before 4pm and gave up for the day. Apparently 3 boys showed up a little after 4pm but the camp is scheduled to go from 1-5pm. The next day, Kelee arrived to help out. We met up with one of my friends, Thabiso, and walked the village, chatting up any kids we saw and spreading the news. Then we waited the next day. As soon as we arrived, before 1pm, there were two kids. By 1:30 we had 10. Once we got rolling, there were 22 who came. We focused the day on chess with a brief discussion on planning ahead and we started and ended the day with some sports. The kids seemed to enjoy it and I was overjoyed. Hopefully they’ll all come back on Friday and we’ll keep this momentum going. One of the best things too is that this is potentially a sustainable project. Seatlasaone will be here after I leave. Also, Thabiso, is already proving to be a great helper in explaining things and maybe someday will be able to help lead the camp. Life goes up and down as always but you’ve just gotta live the way they do out here: Ga go na molato (no worries).Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06815640368028996818noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7269530165688842852.post-66148156735439465952007-11-11T04:13:00.000-08:002007-11-11T04:37:50.672-08:00Desert Flowers<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://lh3.google.com/aj.kumar/Rzb1hSWDSTI/AAAAAAAAA04/F3p6oKm8TvA/IMG_4413.JPG?imgmax=512"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px;" src="http://lh3.google.com/aj.kumar/Rzb1hSWDSTI/AAAAAAAAA04/F3p6oKm8TvA/IMG_4413.JPG?imgmax=512" alt="" border="0" /></a> <p class="MsoNormal"><br />The rains come suddenly and with intensity here.<span style=""> </span>The salt pan fills with water to make a shallow lake. The greening that follows comes as swiftly as the rains that caused it.<span style=""> </span>The once brown landscape has a glow of life highlighted by the yellow flowers that spring to life.<span style=""> </span>White butterflies swirl around me as I walk to school, but even now, the salt pan has already dried.<span style=""> </span>Once the rains stop, the flowers and greens shall soon fade too.<span style=""> </span>The fleeting presence of such beauty is a reminder of how fragile everything is out here.<span style=""> </span>Ideas, dreams, health, and even life come and go with just as much intensity and brevity as the desert flowers.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://lh4.google.com/aj.kumar/Rzb1AiWDSRI/AAAAAAAAA0o/tmlOu5ZDFzU/IMG_4407.JPG?imgmax=512"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px;" src="http://lh4.google.com/aj.kumar/Rzb1AiWDSRI/AAAAAAAAA0o/tmlOu5ZDFzU/IMG_4407.JPG?imgmax=512" alt="" border="0" /></a><span style=""> </span></p> <p style="font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal">Sickness and Health</p> <p class="MsoNormal">On Wednesday, despite a mild headache, I decided to bike to Maphalwane P.S.<span style=""> </span>in the middle of the day.<span style=""> </span>This turned out to be a very bad idea.<span style=""> </span>By the time I got home at around 2pm, I was burning up and my head was pounding.<span style=""> </span>For the next two days, I medicated myself with Tylenol and oral rehydration while my host family checked in on my and brought me food.<span style=""> </span>By Friday morning I was finally better though weak and fatigued.<span style=""> </span>The rapidity with which the fever struck shocked me.<span style=""> </span>I think the bike ride contributed to the intensity which made me fear I had heat stroke. I’ll be sure to avoid that kind of exertion in the summer heat again.<span style=""> </span>It was a sobering experience to be sure.<span style=""> </span>It makes the distance set in when I realized that I had to get up out of bed to check my temperature myself because my parents, Kana, and friends were thousands of miles away and my host family doesn’t understand medicine enough to know what exactly to do.<span style=""> </span>However, my host family and local friends were very helpful.<span style=""> </span>The high school boys I’ve befriended and my host sisters would check in on me every few hours, bringing me food or going on errands for me to get some Sprite or biscuits.<span style=""> </span></p> <p style="font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal">Dreams and a Disconnect</p> <p class="MsoNormal">I spent part of the past week getting to know some of the people in the neighborhood I live in.<span style=""> </span>I prepared an interview in Setswana and then tried to hold the whole conversation in Setswana and it worked out alright.<span style=""> </span>Part of my questioning was meant to discover what kinds of project there is community interest in.<span style=""> </span>Though I have not yet finished interviewing a large enough group to have a clear picture, it seems that people are very interested in starting income generating projects and a community garden.<span style=""> </span>In one sense, this is wonderful to see interest here. However, it is also saddening because it underlines the lack of awareness within the community itself about what is already available.<span style=""> </span>Through the efforts of the local NGO, Rural Youth Development Organization, there already is one income generating project, a honey making project.<span style=""> </span>However, it is struggling because of lack of community participation. Also through RYDO, there is a garden already but again it is virtually unknown.<span style=""> </span>There is a gap between what people want and what people know that causes a lot of waste. This is evident in the schools as well.<span style=""> </span>Many grade 12 learners have approached me to ask how they should go about applying for bursaries (scholarships).<span style=""> </span>I ask them if they have applied to college yet, and they say they haven’t because they don’t know if they’ll have money to afford college.<span style=""> </span>What they don’t realize, is that they must already be accepted into college to apply for a bursary.<span style=""> </span>Something I will have to work on is figuring out how to improve communication so that the dreams of the youth and the community don’t sit around only to shrivel up in the desert.<span style=""> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-weight: bold;">A Life Barely Lived</span><br /></p> <p class="MsoNormal">This past Tuesday, one of the girls in grade ten at the high school passed away after struggling with TB.<span style=""> </span>Although AIDS is a huge problem in South Africa it gets a disproportionate amount of media attention in the West compared to TB which is just as real a killer here.<span style=""> </span>The local clinic in my village estimates that roughly 30% of the population has TB.<span style=""> </span>I’m not sure how accurate that is but it’s probably a decent ballpark figure. <span style=""> </span>This Saturday, I joined a group of my teachers to go to the funeral at 5:30am in the morning.<span style=""> </span>The funeral took place in Mokhubung, which is one of the villages of Tsoe about 8 km south of the school.<span style=""> </span>We arrived at the house of the parents at 6am.<span style=""> </span>The traditional funeral tent was up in front of the house and inside, a group of six women stood surrounding the casket, lit candles in hand.<span style=""> </span>An all night vigil is done before the burial.<span style=""> </span>After some time, other women go to take the place of those around the casket.<span style=""> </span><span style=""> </span>By now, a large crowd has already gathered and is seated around the women. The crowd has spilled out of the tent and we stand in the back row until more chairs are brought.<span style=""> </span>Prayers are said and hymns are sung.<span style=""> </span>A few people make speeches but I only understand a little. After an hour, the crowd parts and the casket is moved into the back of a pick-up.<span style=""> </span>Then the crowd processes down to the cemetery. Mokhubung is in the hills around the salt flats and as we process down, I am struck by the beauty of the scene sweeping my eyes out over the procession along the red brown road, over the green hills, across the white salt pan and finally resting on the wide blue sky.<span style=""> </span>Finally, the procession arrives at the small plot.<span style=""> </span>There are only 3 other graves on the small flat piece of earth.<span style=""> </span>We gather round and the casket is placed.<span style=""> </span>Prayers are said and holy water is used to bless the ground and casket.<span style=""> </span>As they begin to lower it into the ground, several women, and notably one young man walk off a short distance and begin to cry.<span style=""> </span>The grief is palpable as others move off to console those that have left.<span style=""> </span>Once lowered, the men all line up and we take turns shoveling earth until the grave has been filled.<span style=""> </span>Then more hymns are sung and prayers said before two of the oldest men in the gathering say some words, thanking the guests for coming and adding some light words to bring some cheer.<span style=""> </span>We then walk back up to the home and wash our hands in the communal basin (a sign that our hands are clean and played no role in the death of the departed).<span style=""> </span>Then we eat the traditional funeral fare.<span style=""> </span>There is a choice of samp or rice to eat with a tomato based sauce, shredded beef (tshotle?), cabbage, and a cup of juice.<span style=""> </span>After eating, people slowly begin to disperse and get back to their daily life.<span style=""> </span>Though this is the first funeral I’ve attended at my site, there seems to be one almost every weekend even in my small village.<span style=""> </span>When I’ve talked to teachers and other adults about their weekly schedule, many have said Friday’s are for helping with funeral preparations and Saturdays for helping with the funeral.<span style=""> </span></p> <br /><p class="MsoNormal">After I returned home, my host mother was gone to another funeral.<span style=""> </span>The next day my host grandmother is away at another funeral.<span style=""> </span>The constant procession of death reminds me how much I have to be thankful for and how little there is that can be taken for granted.<span style=""> </span>The beauty of the village and its warm people is set against the despair of disease, alcoholism, and apathy.<span style=""> </span>The sea of yellow flowers cannot hide the summer sun and the withering heat that it brings.<span style=""> </span>Yet, the flowers do not seem to mind, springing from the sandy ground and living boldly if only for a month or too, spreading their petals open, almost defiantly, to the burning sun. So I must get to work, taking the fragile ideas and projects that exist in the minds of me and my counterparts, and expose them to the burning realities of South African rural life. Maybe, just maybe, one or two will actually take root.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://lh6.google.com/aj.kumar/Rzb1TCWDSSI/AAAAAAAAA0w/L8gP85w8rqM/IMG_4410.JPG?imgmax=512"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px;" src="http://lh6.google.com/aj.kumar/Rzb1TCWDSSI/AAAAAAAAA0w/L8gP85w8rqM/IMG_4410.JPG?imgmax=512" alt="" border="0" /></a></p><p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06815640368028996818noreply@blogger.com1