Ganda Ganda-Let It Rip!!

6 Nov. 2006

Well, today was one of the most exiting of my Peace Corps experience and maybe one of the most gratifying of my life. Late this afternoon, the Mountain High tractor rolled down the road from its ancient burial site and charged into action on the beautiful farmland in front of our home. The driver cautiously watched every inch forward and religiously turned to clean the weeds and debris off the blades. The Zulus call the tractor the Ganda Ganda and all I could think of was Granda Granda. Brendon and I have been struggling for three weeks to plow up the one acre plot with a shovel and fork but have only a few pitiful squares to show for our efforts. Today our plan was to weed our small plot with tomatoes, beans, parsley, lettuce and delicious herbs (basil,thyme and parsley) and plant the mealy (corn) plants in the larger square. We have been given lots of advice about farming this beautiful soil which is endowed with loads of rain (plus the dramatic thunder and lightning shows here at the top of the mountain with a chaser of mist and rain) and the perfect mix of clay and sand. Our pharmacist had promised mealy for any dirt we could turn up. Low and behold a team of local men worked on the tractor and brought it to life. We started this garden project as a way of providing food and entertainment for ourselves with a small hope that it would catch on. Now comes the hard problem of what to plant, how to encourage work, how to get a governing body for the garden that will make the decisions and distribute the food. There are plenty of takers for food in the area; besides the obvious patients, employees and residents in the small village 1000ft below the hospital there are the 60 boys boarding at the high school that cook their own food and are cared for by one adult. I give them credit as they are always well dressed and appear well nourished. I don’t know how they do it without a fast food restaurant or grocery store nearby. So this has been a tentative step forward. We are testing the waters with foods that are enjoyed by the locals but have only seem limited steps that they want to jump in and make this food factory happen. They have been handicapped with the grief and subsequent mourning from the many AIDS funerals we have experienced lately among local residents and employees and are probably unsure as to our motivations.
Ironically we watched a recent video about Mountain High in the 80’s where the facility raised animals, manufactured candles, grew their own food, ran the schools, clinics and hospitals. Today the site has lost some of its self-sufficiency but is on the way back with a visionary African leader who wants to take advantage of the bountiful resources.
The last week was more productive in terms of our efforts to provide meaningful activity for the patients and contribute to the management of the hospital. Although, the patchwork quilts were a limited success as they are not part of the Zulu culture and some women complained that cutting the small squares was too time-consuming (although that was the point and this is an artistic creative endeavor) we have been sewing booties out of fleece fabric. The nights (and some days) are very cold here at Mountain High and the patients are looking for warm apparel. Thus the booties were an instant hit. We started off with fleece in a beautiful butterfly pattern where I cut sock shapes out of a cardboard pattern and examined the patient’s feet to estimate the size. The day was warm when we started so I moved the women out to the beautiful garden to sew. Lo and behold a Man showed up who said he wanted to make the booties. I was thrilled and gave him some booties to sew. I was concerned when he did not tie a knot in the thread and he indignantly responded that he was a professional couture tailor from Durban and he certainly knew how to finish and start seams. He graciously forgave my ignorance and by today he was cutting out red fleece booties for all the men that could sew as well as adorable tall green fleece hats for his buddies who have very short hair and are chilly from the cold weather and the draughty wards. By nightfall the men and women were fighting over the spools of thread. The men were claiming that they deserved at least one of the spools and the women were hoarding the thread because of the old rule of possession. I was so happy to see some activity in the hospital and some joy in everyone’s life.
Friday was cooking day so this week we made Crazy Chocolate Cake, another blast from the 50’s. Unfortunately, crazy does not translate in Zulu (it means truly mad) but I asked the women patients to each have a joke in Zulu to make each other laugh. The only real laughs I heard was when I tried to Toy Toy (picture the Rockettes with an edge) to a South African liberation song Shosolooza and they all joined in. Soon even the patient who does not have the eyes to sew joined the group who were all singing and dancing and enjoying the day. Everyone loved the moist delicious cake which requires no mixing bowl, eggs, butter or milk but disappears in an instant after baking. Blest be those frugal cooks from the 50’s who passed on the recipes to Peace Corps volunteers who pass on a little American culture, whether it is a good idea or not. Next week maybe I will try Pizza, but better still would be to get the women to describe one of their recipes or practices from their culture. We are all still learning from each other! Brendon on the other hand has been given the task of a major programming job where he will use his skills from his aerospace job. Peace Corps has many manifestations which is great for us old timers where the past can also assist the present. All is not perfect in Paradise however, as we learned this week that new credit cards in the US that replaced expired credit cards had been maxed out and South African Airlines does not do business like US airlines. Apartheid has taken its toll on business, efficiency and trust that is required in an electronic society. Plus the small business matters in rural South Africa are intensely complicated without access to reliable phones, fax, post or internet.
Missing you all as I hit all the many fabric stores in Vryheid and try to figure out how to make this sustainable! (Thanks to our neighbor in Palos Verdes (Mrs. G) who provided the seed money for the fabric and hose to water the bounteous garden.)