This week brought us full circle as we traveled to a remote village in the Northwest province to assist the Peace Corps training program for the 90 new recruits (including four over 70 years of age) that landed in South Africa on 24 July. The journey back to the village took three days- a trip down the mountain by taxi, an 8 hour greyhound bus ride to Pretoria, and a four ride in a Peace Corps van to the training site. Although our original training village was in Mpumalanga and this year’s center is in the Northwest Province, the villages share similar topography and the same problems-poverty, lack of water, dirt roads, no infrastructure, and remote location. Perfect for Americans who want to learn how to get along in rural South Africa.
The villages in the Northwest had some dissimilar features as several donkey carts with two donkeys pulling the cart chariot-style were noted hauling water. The kraals (small ranches) had fences made of thick tree stumps rather than the thin sticks in the south. Some of the fences were layered with heavy thorn bushes for added protection.
The new Peace Corps Trainees were a serious group of volunteers who voiced intelligent opinions and seemed committed to the task ahead, whatever that might be. They had the same concerns that we had a year ago-Can the language classes be mastered? Can one live on the Peace Corps stipend? What about loneliness and the isolation? How does an American cope with all of the changes and inputs from the Peace Corps trainers? What about Food-Do Peace Corps volunteers really live on Pap and porridge? By the end of our stay, 6 of the new recruits had decided that Peace Corps was not for them and were on their way home. The decision was very hard for them as they worried about facing their friends and family but the prospect of spending two years living with new faces, customs and separation from the familiar was overwhelming.
I am not sure that I could have handled Peace Corps without my husband and my faith in God. The job is 24-7 and requires diplomacy, tact, kindness, and discretion all of those waking hours. The new recruits include 11 married couples- having a spouse may be the best thing that they brought to their Peace Corps experience. I admire the young singles who can decipher how to get from A to B, handle unwanted attention, fit in with their host family with little privacy or down time, and perform in an excellent capacity at their work site. Older persons (the Peace Corps now refers to us seniors as OPs (old people) are given a measure of respect in the local communities. Of course being an older man is even more advantageous, but being seen as a Gogo (grandmother) carries some weight.
We tried to encourage the new recruits and allay their fears. The adventure, travel opportunities and sense of fulfillment more than compensate for the uncertainties, discomforts, and sacrifices. However, even after one year living as a rural citizen, I continue to misunderstand the culture, customs and rythmns of life. Just before we left for Pretoria, I took a walk after dinner down the dirt road leading away from the Hospital. Smoke and fire raged across the fields from the controlled burn conducted on the neighboring farmer’s grazing land. (When we arrived at the Hospital last year we were amazed to see Burn Schedules and Maps for the KZN province). After one year we have learned that controlled burning of grazing land is part of the agricultural plan to increase nutrients in the soil and retain water, a scarce resource. The burns ignite the old grasses and within a few weeks new sprouts of grass create fodder for the livestock and reinvigorate the land. By burning the land is made new and the rain water is stored in the ground. Driving across South Africa at night is an amazing sight with tall flames outlining the horizon, stretching out across the land.
After walking about one mile I had to turn back on the dirt road as the grass fire had cranked up now reaching the dirt road with flames 10 feet high next to the road below the telephone wires. The fire started heading toward the indigenous forest in the direction of the Hospital. I was alarmed at the speed of the flames and the fact that no one was around to monitor the course and fury of the fire. I hurried back to the Hospital and contacted the Security Guard about the fire on the dirt road. He seemed unconcerned but contacted a driver to inspect the situation. I asked about calling the fire department but that option does not exist in our remote location. Out of control fires are dealt with by borrowing a water tank truck from the timber mill, 6 miles away. The driver finally arrived and we went down the road to inspect the fire. Boy was I embarrassed when we arrived at the danger point where 30 minutes previously, the flames were leaping back to the hospital and up toward the power line. The area was black char with the indigenous trees untouched from the blaze. (I later learned that the indigenous trees are flame resistant). I apologized to the driver for my concern and he graciously told me not to worry. Such is the reaction from a So. Cal Gal coming from a fire zone in the hills of Palos Verdes. After one year here there is still so much to learn!
Saturday, August 04, 2007
Friday, July 27, 2007
Saturday, July 21, 2007
Zesty Zanzibar
To mark the halfway point in our Peace Corps Service, Brendon and I hustled off to Zanzibar (Spice Island) for some fun in the sun at a beach resort on the Indian Ocean. Travel from South Africa to Tanzania was only 4 hours but the countries seem like world’s apart.
We flew from Johannesburg to Zanzibar via Dar Es Salaam, arriving at night to an airport right out of “Casablanca”, with old lettered signage and a few tired government types to issue visas. Our checked luggage was hauled off the airplane and hand carried unto some flat benches so in minutes we were on our way to our beach hotel, one hour north of the airport. Zanzibar, an island about 40 miles long and 15 miles wide, is a UN World Heritage Site famous for the palaces in its capital of Stone Town, built 150 years ago from the riches of the Sultan’s slave trade. Zanzibar is reportedly one of the safest places in Africa and a winner for travel because of the gorgeous beaches, the warm water and the historical treasures of Stone Town.
The Oman Arabs and British colonial rule have both left their imprints with many of the Victorian-Arabic monumental buildings designed by a British architect (Sinclair) who “went native” and increasing used Arabic themes and appointments in his designs. Since a revolution against the sultans in 1964, the numerous palaces and government edifices have fallen into disrepair but philanthropic groups are beginning to restore the grand old dames. The impressive government buildings and waterfront palaces are jettisoned with tiny alleys, making shopping in the byways interesting, albeit a bit touristy. The island is flat, verdant, and fertile with spices grown on small farms in the interior.
For two weary soles coming from a country where everyone is home at night due to worries about crime, our after dark trip from the airport was a delight watching the locals hang out on the street shopping, gossiping, meeting friends and enjoying the warm air. The streets reminded me of islands in the Caribbean with small stalls and restaurants facing directly onto the road. Piles of fruit, curries, bicycle tires, mealie and household staples were offered to passerbys. The women create a mélange of color and movement in their colorful geometric two piece kanga skirt and veil, which often has a Muslim proverb on the facing.
Zanzibar is situated on the equator and has year round warm temperatures, welcome to folks from winter in South Africa. The resort seemed to be in harmony with the local villagers as they both benefit from the sea and the hotel provides employment for the village. Although the beach resort had an international flavor with water sports, beach lounges, pools and amenities including tea at four attended by a cheerful woman making crepes with chocolate sauce, it shares the beach with the neighboring fishing village. When the tide is out the local woman tend their seaweed crops, which cling to small sticks imbedded in the sand. The men fish from the reef with traps, spears, and line. When the tide comes in all evidence of the seaweed farms disappears under the surf and the hotel residents swim in the warm water. A walk out to the reef at low tide gives great pleasure from tidepools with colorful small fish, starfish, coral, the dhow (handmade boats) sitting still on the sand and perfectly clear water. The seaweed industry is nonpolluting and an added interest to the amazing visual scene of swaying palms, perfect white sand, turquoise water, beautifully dressed Muslim women sitting in the shallow surf harvesting their crops, marine blue skies studded with billowy clouds. In short fashion the white billows turn to black storm clouds and light rain passes over the island.
The resort is international land in one of Africa’s poorest countries. For folks in the Peace Corps, the high prices catch one off guard. The dollar is king and it is ironic that our first job here was to change rand into dollars. A second shock came when the posted price for a cab to historic Stone Town was $60 one way. This is where Peace Corps experience came in handy as a 4 km walk down the road to the local village produced a ride to town for less than one dollar in a Daladala. The Daladala leaves every 10 minutes and is always full. An open air truck is converted to convenient, economical transportation by decorating the sides with wrought iron, adding a canopy with floral designs and horseshoe benches for the passengers. Passengers greet one another and slide together to make room for the trip to town. A young conductor stands at the back on the fender and bangs the truck three times when it is safe for the driver to proceed. Interesting to note that most countries of the world provide cheap, efficient transportation for local residents whether it be jitneys, tuk tuks, combies, or DalaDalas and are available for adventurous tourists to connect with the locals.
No trip to Zanzibar is complete without a tour of the spice farms. The spices grow in the jungle and are harvested for cash crops. Nutmeg is king but annatto, cinnamon, garlic, vanilla, ginger, and cloves thrive in the humid climate. The tour consists of a guide leading one through the forest to a stand of trees, breaking off a fruit, vine, flower or bark and crushing the substance with the question as to what spice was in his hand. One surprise was cinnamon where the bark, root and leaf all have uses and distinctive smells. Prickly annatto flowers were crushed producing a beautiful red powder used for cosmetics and hair dye.
Zanzibar contrasts with South Africa in that there are no industries on this island and the residents are much poorer than SA’s. Prices for food are very high. The village people live in mud and rock huts with thatched roofs. The Country has developed tourism as a quick fix for its poverty but the development has caused deforestation of many areas. . As in most Muslim countries in Africa, the HIV infection rate is lower than the non-Muslim countries but HIV and Malaria are serious health problems. No vaccine is available for malaria although it is one of Africa’s biggest killers. Prevention of malaria requires sleeping under mosquito nets, spraying, prophylactic medicine and insect repellents. All of these measures are available to affluent tourists, but the locals do not have these preventive measures at the ready. Malaria can be eradicated from a country with a will to stop this killer disease- better yet, drug manufacturer’s could develop a vaccine. As it is, Malaria debilitates the working poor and is a frequent killer of the population at large.
Zanzibar is a pleasure for tourists as the local residents are very kind to tourists and the mix of the exotic plus the familiar is welcome. Beaches and cities seem very safe and one quickly stops looking around for unsavory characters who might want your bag or cell phone. A beautiful island getaway!
We flew from Johannesburg to Zanzibar via Dar Es Salaam, arriving at night to an airport right out of “Casablanca”, with old lettered signage and a few tired government types to issue visas. Our checked luggage was hauled off the airplane and hand carried unto some flat benches so in minutes we were on our way to our beach hotel, one hour north of the airport. Zanzibar, an island about 40 miles long and 15 miles wide, is a UN World Heritage Site famous for the palaces in its capital of Stone Town, built 150 years ago from the riches of the Sultan’s slave trade. Zanzibar is reportedly one of the safest places in Africa and a winner for travel because of the gorgeous beaches, the warm water and the historical treasures of Stone Town.
The Oman Arabs and British colonial rule have both left their imprints with many of the Victorian-Arabic monumental buildings designed by a British architect (Sinclair) who “went native” and increasing used Arabic themes and appointments in his designs. Since a revolution against the sultans in 1964, the numerous palaces and government edifices have fallen into disrepair but philanthropic groups are beginning to restore the grand old dames. The impressive government buildings and waterfront palaces are jettisoned with tiny alleys, making shopping in the byways interesting, albeit a bit touristy. The island is flat, verdant, and fertile with spices grown on small farms in the interior.
For two weary soles coming from a country where everyone is home at night due to worries about crime, our after dark trip from the airport was a delight watching the locals hang out on the street shopping, gossiping, meeting friends and enjoying the warm air. The streets reminded me of islands in the Caribbean with small stalls and restaurants facing directly onto the road. Piles of fruit, curries, bicycle tires, mealie and household staples were offered to passerbys. The women create a mélange of color and movement in their colorful geometric two piece kanga skirt and veil, which often has a Muslim proverb on the facing.
Zanzibar is situated on the equator and has year round warm temperatures, welcome to folks from winter in South Africa. The resort seemed to be in harmony with the local villagers as they both benefit from the sea and the hotel provides employment for the village. Although the beach resort had an international flavor with water sports, beach lounges, pools and amenities including tea at four attended by a cheerful woman making crepes with chocolate sauce, it shares the beach with the neighboring fishing village. When the tide is out the local woman tend their seaweed crops, which cling to small sticks imbedded in the sand. The men fish from the reef with traps, spears, and line. When the tide comes in all evidence of the seaweed farms disappears under the surf and the hotel residents swim in the warm water. A walk out to the reef at low tide gives great pleasure from tidepools with colorful small fish, starfish, coral, the dhow (handmade boats) sitting still on the sand and perfectly clear water. The seaweed industry is nonpolluting and an added interest to the amazing visual scene of swaying palms, perfect white sand, turquoise water, beautifully dressed Muslim women sitting in the shallow surf harvesting their crops, marine blue skies studded with billowy clouds. In short fashion the white billows turn to black storm clouds and light rain passes over the island.
The resort is international land in one of Africa’s poorest countries. For folks in the Peace Corps, the high prices catch one off guard. The dollar is king and it is ironic that our first job here was to change rand into dollars. A second shock came when the posted price for a cab to historic Stone Town was $60 one way. This is where Peace Corps experience came in handy as a 4 km walk down the road to the local village produced a ride to town for less than one dollar in a Daladala. The Daladala leaves every 10 minutes and is always full. An open air truck is converted to convenient, economical transportation by decorating the sides with wrought iron, adding a canopy with floral designs and horseshoe benches for the passengers. Passengers greet one another and slide together to make room for the trip to town. A young conductor stands at the back on the fender and bangs the truck three times when it is safe for the driver to proceed. Interesting to note that most countries of the world provide cheap, efficient transportation for local residents whether it be jitneys, tuk tuks, combies, or DalaDalas and are available for adventurous tourists to connect with the locals.
No trip to Zanzibar is complete without a tour of the spice farms. The spices grow in the jungle and are harvested for cash crops. Nutmeg is king but annatto, cinnamon, garlic, vanilla, ginger, and cloves thrive in the humid climate. The tour consists of a guide leading one through the forest to a stand of trees, breaking off a fruit, vine, flower or bark and crushing the substance with the question as to what spice was in his hand. One surprise was cinnamon where the bark, root and leaf all have uses and distinctive smells. Prickly annatto flowers were crushed producing a beautiful red powder used for cosmetics and hair dye.
Zanzibar contrasts with South Africa in that there are no industries on this island and the residents are much poorer than SA’s. Prices for food are very high. The village people live in mud and rock huts with thatched roofs. The Country has developed tourism as a quick fix for its poverty but the development has caused deforestation of many areas. . As in most Muslim countries in Africa, the HIV infection rate is lower than the non-Muslim countries but HIV and Malaria are serious health problems. No vaccine is available for malaria although it is one of Africa’s biggest killers. Prevention of malaria requires sleeping under mosquito nets, spraying, prophylactic medicine and insect repellents. All of these measures are available to affluent tourists, but the locals do not have these preventive measures at the ready. Malaria can be eradicated from a country with a will to stop this killer disease- better yet, drug manufacturer’s could develop a vaccine. As it is, Malaria debilitates the working poor and is a frequent killer of the population at large.
Zanzibar is a pleasure for tourists as the local residents are very kind to tourists and the mix of the exotic plus the familiar is welcome. Beaches and cities seem very safe and one quickly stops looking around for unsavory characters who might want your bag or cell phone. A beautiful island getaway!
Tuesday, July 10, 2007
Halftime!
One year ago on July 10, 2006 we vacated our home of 20 years to join the US Peace Corps as NGO Capacity Builders for AIDS in South Africa. Time has passed quickly with enjoyable experiences but many days are challenging with annoyances, frustrations and inconveniences. At the beginning of the training, we were somewhat incredulous that we could survive two years living in poverty conditions in a complex country. However, after reaching the half way mark and four seasons it looks like we are on our way to finishing our two years of service. Now is a good time to take stock and see what has been accomplished, where we have failed and how we have changed.
During our last days of training we were asked to write down our expectations for our service and then were told to take the paper, put it in a trash can and light a match. So many of us volunteers aspired to “Help the poor”, “Make a Difference”, “Use our Skills” or even in jest “Save the World.” In fact Capacity Building has often been a series of failed attempts at new projects or improved processes/procedures. Sometimes our presence has been a nuisance for the NGO as we do not understand many South African business, employee, or social customs, not to mention the language difficulties. Our style of attacking problems is different than the NGO and our attempts to create Tables with Itemized list of Improvements, Repairs, Purchases and Prioritization have not been embraced.
An attempt to grow food was a failure in spite of countless hours shoveling the hard sod, hoeing, and weeding. Travels and an invasion of goats wiped out all of our efforts. However the hospital manager took notice of the potential for food production and properly plowed the land, amended the soil, hired workers, repaired the fence and planted cabbage and spinach which are growing beautifully. Is a failed gardening attempt Capacity Building? Maybe in a small way
Our attempts at organizing the renovation projects in the hospital with prioritization and work schedules were met with sigh and silence but slowly the improvements have been made, with a different timetable and sequence of events than we envisioned but progress becoming apparent.
The two successful projects at the Hospital, the AIDS Orphans and Vulnerable Children’s camp held last week and the Occupational Therapy Program for patients were not conceivable as activities that might be the work of Capacity Builders or work that we might do. However these two projects (funded by US PEPFAR) have been the most satisfying part of our service, with tangible results. The compelling need for a way of dealing with the psycho-social problems of AIDS orphans and the lack of any activity for confined patients drove the projects to success. Although the seed money for these projects came from the US, the style of the outcome was distinctively African with a rolling, zigzag motion rather than a conscripted detailed Gann diagram.
The OVCs camp was a lesson in the goodwill of the Zulu community and their care for each other. Most of the labor was donated; the counselors committed to 5 days of training before the camp began. This was the first camp for OVCs in our area but the need is great. 51 out of thousands of children were able to attend and benefit from the life skills and empowerment. Our NGO has a history of helping the needy around the world so this job of helping young people find their way in life without parents is not a new story. The NGO does not believe in coddling the children. Rather they are given practical lessons in life, presented with physical challenges they can succeed at, joined with each other through team building, and empowered with the knowledge they are not alone in this task. Many others are in the same situation or even worse circumstances.
So if this sounds dry and like social babble, the camp was NOT! The kids were fun, enthusiastic and bonded with each other in a remarkable way. The older children helped the younger children. Not one child went home with even a bandaid on his finger. No complaints and No Behavior Problems! Hopefully this will be the start of an ongoing support program for the local OVCs. A drop in center with food and adult supervision is sorely needed. One hundred years ago Christian organizations provided schools and hospitals to remote communities in South Africa. Today the need is for care and empowerment for a new generation of children who will grow up without parents due to the AIDS crisis.
So, after one year how has our life changed? We are living a much simpler life and lifestyle. For example:
· We do not have insurance, car repairs or gas bills to pay
· When we travel we do not have to stop the mail, newspapers or worry about the yard
· We do not spend time in traffic jams or commuting. Our home is the back room of the office.
· We have no utility bills to worry about and our trash is burned
· Our trash is limited to two small plastic bags per week. In Palos Verdes we used to fill up three large cans per week plus one recycle container.
· In the last year we have used only 3 rolls of paper towels and one roll of plastic wrap and aluminum foil.
· Our one room flat can be cleaned in one hour. At home it was an all days job with four bedrooms, three baths and numerous knick knacks to dust
· We have one set of sheets for the bed and two towels rather than a linen closet full of sheets, towels and blankets. Guests are on their own
· We seldom work past 4 pm and have time to take beautiful walks through the mountain and forest trails surrounding our new home
· Homeowner jobs are not on the agenda. The only project we tackled was sealing the rotting windows with duct tape for the winter.
· Grocery shopping is a snap as we are limited to what we can carry down the dirt road and very simple cooking on the two burner hot plate
· Medical and dental care. Not an issue as we have not had a sick day since our arrival.
· Entertainment is simple and plentiful as we are plowing through the two boxes of books we shipped from the US
· Although Palos Verdes is a very quiet place to live it cannot compare to our new home with no telephones, television, stereo, UPS trucks or racing cars. (Of course PV does not have the 2am roosters that are the fly in the ointment)
What is the new worry? Many returned Peace Corps Volunteers state the return to the US is a big adjustment. We will see!
During our last days of training we were asked to write down our expectations for our service and then were told to take the paper, put it in a trash can and light a match. So many of us volunteers aspired to “Help the poor”, “Make a Difference”, “Use our Skills” or even in jest “Save the World.” In fact Capacity Building has often been a series of failed attempts at new projects or improved processes/procedures. Sometimes our presence has been a nuisance for the NGO as we do not understand many South African business, employee, or social customs, not to mention the language difficulties. Our style of attacking problems is different than the NGO and our attempts to create Tables with Itemized list of Improvements, Repairs, Purchases and Prioritization have not been embraced.
An attempt to grow food was a failure in spite of countless hours shoveling the hard sod, hoeing, and weeding. Travels and an invasion of goats wiped out all of our efforts. However the hospital manager took notice of the potential for food production and properly plowed the land, amended the soil, hired workers, repaired the fence and planted cabbage and spinach which are growing beautifully. Is a failed gardening attempt Capacity Building? Maybe in a small way
Our attempts at organizing the renovation projects in the hospital with prioritization and work schedules were met with sigh and silence but slowly the improvements have been made, with a different timetable and sequence of events than we envisioned but progress becoming apparent.
The two successful projects at the Hospital, the AIDS Orphans and Vulnerable Children’s camp held last week and the Occupational Therapy Program for patients were not conceivable as activities that might be the work of Capacity Builders or work that we might do. However these two projects (funded by US PEPFAR) have been the most satisfying part of our service, with tangible results. The compelling need for a way of dealing with the psycho-social problems of AIDS orphans and the lack of any activity for confined patients drove the projects to success. Although the seed money for these projects came from the US, the style of the outcome was distinctively African with a rolling, zigzag motion rather than a conscripted detailed Gann diagram.
The OVCs camp was a lesson in the goodwill of the Zulu community and their care for each other. Most of the labor was donated; the counselors committed to 5 days of training before the camp began. This was the first camp for OVCs in our area but the need is great. 51 out of thousands of children were able to attend and benefit from the life skills and empowerment. Our NGO has a history of helping the needy around the world so this job of helping young people find their way in life without parents is not a new story. The NGO does not believe in coddling the children. Rather they are given practical lessons in life, presented with physical challenges they can succeed at, joined with each other through team building, and empowered with the knowledge they are not alone in this task. Many others are in the same situation or even worse circumstances.
So if this sounds dry and like social babble, the camp was NOT! The kids were fun, enthusiastic and bonded with each other in a remarkable way. The older children helped the younger children. Not one child went home with even a bandaid on his finger. No complaints and No Behavior Problems! Hopefully this will be the start of an ongoing support program for the local OVCs. A drop in center with food and adult supervision is sorely needed. One hundred years ago Christian organizations provided schools and hospitals to remote communities in South Africa. Today the need is for care and empowerment for a new generation of children who will grow up without parents due to the AIDS crisis.
So, after one year how has our life changed? We are living a much simpler life and lifestyle. For example:
· We do not have insurance, car repairs or gas bills to pay
· When we travel we do not have to stop the mail, newspapers or worry about the yard
· We do not spend time in traffic jams or commuting. Our home is the back room of the office.
· We have no utility bills to worry about and our trash is burned
· Our trash is limited to two small plastic bags per week. In Palos Verdes we used to fill up three large cans per week plus one recycle container.
· In the last year we have used only 3 rolls of paper towels and one roll of plastic wrap and aluminum foil.
· Our one room flat can be cleaned in one hour. At home it was an all days job with four bedrooms, three baths and numerous knick knacks to dust
· We have one set of sheets for the bed and two towels rather than a linen closet full of sheets, towels and blankets. Guests are on their own
· We seldom work past 4 pm and have time to take beautiful walks through the mountain and forest trails surrounding our new home
· Homeowner jobs are not on the agenda. The only project we tackled was sealing the rotting windows with duct tape for the winter.
· Grocery shopping is a snap as we are limited to what we can carry down the dirt road and very simple cooking on the two burner hot plate
· Medical and dental care. Not an issue as we have not had a sick day since our arrival.
· Entertainment is simple and plentiful as we are plowing through the two boxes of books we shipped from the US
· Although Palos Verdes is a very quiet place to live it cannot compare to our new home with no telephones, television, stereo, UPS trucks or racing cars. (Of course PV does not have the 2am roosters that are the fly in the ointment)
What is the new worry? Many returned Peace Corps Volunteers state the return to the US is a big adjustment. We will see!
Sunday, July 01, 2007
Beached Pleasures
This weekend was an experience in Patience and Flexibility and Serendipity and Joy as the escape to the coast turned sour but the discovery of what is underfoot was explored and embraced. This is an allegory for life as oftentimes the Promised Land is delayed and the manna at arms length is available for the willing and able.
After a week of work at the hospital and facilitating the OVC (Aids orphans and vulnerable children) camp at our doorstep, we were ready for a break plus grocery shopping. Our plan was to catch the only bus out of town to the coast and hole up in Richards Bay for the weekend to get some warmer weather and civilization. After an hour of waiting for the Greyhound we were sorely disappointed to discover that the bus was fully booked and our escape from Vryheid was not going to happen. What to do for the weekend? A look at the local paper to determine the status of the government worker’s, teachers and nurses national strike brought an advertisement to our attention- Mpofini Game Preserve- Lodge 5 km from Vryheid plus lodging and hiking trails. A call to the Preserve landed us a booking (reservation). Transport to this lodge embodied the pleasure and burden of the Peace Corps. No car or private transportation was available but our site is in close proximity to amazing natural wonders. A call to the only local taxi company in our town brought some language and geographical confusion but within 30 minutes a taxi showed and we traveled the short distance to a remarkable and amazing game preserve/lodge. Plus the added benefit is that it met Peace Corps budget restrictions (R420 a night for two including breakfast - $60).
We arrived at this guarded, gated (electrical fences for the 12,000 hectares of private game park) and somewhat isolated game park by taxi to find an amazing collection of game, geology, and terrain. A family has held the property for 80 years but has recently developed it into a game preserve with rhinos, hippos, giraffes, impalas, warthogs, nyalas, and bok. In South Africa one can check into a hotel room at 8 am so we got out of the taxi and walked up through the thatched gate to the reception station. The clerk at the desk welcomed us but stated that there were two problems with the lodge accommodations and preserve- first, if we wanted to hike through the huge preserve we must be careful about the rhino couple as Mrs. R had just had a baby and she was very protective. The second problem was the Bush Wedding scheduled for 11am in the Wild Bush which would entail much of the staff. She also added that the Preserve would provide game drives if desired.
We walked the short distance from the Reception to our chalet, one of four perched on a hilltop high above the huge expanse of crater, rocky hilltops, plain, and acacia/succulent hillsides. This was the sounds of Africa-bird calls, brush and quiet. After leaving our Beach belongings (shorts, swimming attire, t-shirts) in the beautiful African decorated chalet (full bath, bed, deck overlooking the savannah) we traveled down the road to the bottom of the crater. Numerous impala and nyala jumped away in surprise. In the field many game were feeding without regard to our presence. We hiked up the side of the crater finding herds of zebras, which are skittish, shy and will run off together. Wart hogs chomped on the grass and were very fast on their feet as we approached. A trip though the wilds produced many herd of game. A herd of 12 adult and baby giraffes turned up at one road bend. The giraffes defend themselves by become motionless large bush trees that stared at us the intruders. We trudged back through the side roads and came upon the vehicles for the wedding. We did not want to intrude upon the wedding but could not help but take a peak as we spotted the site with a huge termite mound decorated with flowers as the altar, a pathway for the bride strewn with fall leaves, seating for the guests consisting of hay stacks, and the brides young attendants adorned in orange net fairy skirts. A Great Fall Celebration!
What could top this amazing hike through the preserve? At two pm the prospective son-in-law of the owner of the property showed up a jeep to take us to the back reaches of the property to see the newly acquired hippos. Game drive for R180 ($20). He explained his family’s plans to develop the property so that the property could be sustained in a natural and historical way as a place where game and man live in coexistence. (Game preserves are also a way of preserving land ownership). He drove us to the back reaches of the preserve where a family of three hippos live in a deep pond and appear to thrive with no natural enemies. They were enjoying themselves sunning on the bank of the pond and paid the vehicle no notice. Hippos actually kill more humans in Africa each year than lions but this family grouping seemed very benign. Their footprints around the pond were as big as soccer balls- the driver stated that they weigh 2.5 tons.
The high veld (higher ground) on the preserve also presented the corps of marching ostriches as 8 ostriches descended on the jeep in V formation. They danced in front on the jeep with their small heads held high and large bodies rambling along.
On the last part of the drive, the lookout was for Mrs. R and her baby. The driver explained that the rhinos cannot see very well but if they catch sight of an enemy, they can be very aggressive and dangerous. (This park has 3 white rhinos which are much less aggressive than the black rhinos). On the drive back we searched up and down and high and low for the rhino, but she was hiding for the day. Perhaps the wedding in the bush was too much for her.
Back in our chalet we perched on the deck and watched the night unfold. A full moon in the bush with the sounds of Africa providing the entertainment. A question came up-What if we had caught the bus to the promised land of civilization, warmth, shopping malls and first world conveniences. Do we often miss the most exotic and rewarding opportunity for the promise of comfort and entertainment?
The trip back to town today was also scary and challenging to determine if the private taxi would come a short distance and take us back to town. A call produced an almost unintelligible answer but in short order a taxi arrived and drove us to town in time to get Mr. Zulu’s taxi back to Mountain High before the rainstorm hit. (this week has been record cold and snow in SA).
What to think of private game parks and lodges? The land is preserved and the ecosystem is brought into balance (albeit an absence of predators). The animals are free to live in their habitat and appear to prosper. Opponents of the private game preserves stated that they are tax dodges for the landowners or ways of avoiding land distribution. On this weekend we enjoyed the beautiful scenery, the hiking opportunities and the low cost convenient way to enjoy nature so close to our shopping town.
After a week of work at the hospital and facilitating the OVC (Aids orphans and vulnerable children) camp at our doorstep, we were ready for a break plus grocery shopping. Our plan was to catch the only bus out of town to the coast and hole up in Richards Bay for the weekend to get some warmer weather and civilization. After an hour of waiting for the Greyhound we were sorely disappointed to discover that the bus was fully booked and our escape from Vryheid was not going to happen. What to do for the weekend? A look at the local paper to determine the status of the government worker’s, teachers and nurses national strike brought an advertisement to our attention- Mpofini Game Preserve- Lodge 5 km from Vryheid plus lodging and hiking trails. A call to the Preserve landed us a booking (reservation). Transport to this lodge embodied the pleasure and burden of the Peace Corps. No car or private transportation was available but our site is in close proximity to amazing natural wonders. A call to the only local taxi company in our town brought some language and geographical confusion but within 30 minutes a taxi showed and we traveled the short distance to a remarkable and amazing game preserve/lodge. Plus the added benefit is that it met Peace Corps budget restrictions (R420 a night for two including breakfast - $60).
We arrived at this guarded, gated (electrical fences for the 12,000 hectares of private game park) and somewhat isolated game park by taxi to find an amazing collection of game, geology, and terrain. A family has held the property for 80 years but has recently developed it into a game preserve with rhinos, hippos, giraffes, impalas, warthogs, nyalas, and bok. In South Africa one can check into a hotel room at 8 am so we got out of the taxi and walked up through the thatched gate to the reception station. The clerk at the desk welcomed us but stated that there were two problems with the lodge accommodations and preserve- first, if we wanted to hike through the huge preserve we must be careful about the rhino couple as Mrs. R had just had a baby and she was very protective. The second problem was the Bush Wedding scheduled for 11am in the Wild Bush which would entail much of the staff. She also added that the Preserve would provide game drives if desired.
We walked the short distance from the Reception to our chalet, one of four perched on a hilltop high above the huge expanse of crater, rocky hilltops, plain, and acacia/succulent hillsides. This was the sounds of Africa-bird calls, brush and quiet. After leaving our Beach belongings (shorts, swimming attire, t-shirts) in the beautiful African decorated chalet (full bath, bed, deck overlooking the savannah) we traveled down the road to the bottom of the crater. Numerous impala and nyala jumped away in surprise. In the field many game were feeding without regard to our presence. We hiked up the side of the crater finding herds of zebras, which are skittish, shy and will run off together. Wart hogs chomped on the grass and were very fast on their feet as we approached. A trip though the wilds produced many herd of game. A herd of 12 adult and baby giraffes turned up at one road bend. The giraffes defend themselves by become motionless large bush trees that stared at us the intruders. We trudged back through the side roads and came upon the vehicles for the wedding. We did not want to intrude upon the wedding but could not help but take a peak as we spotted the site with a huge termite mound decorated with flowers as the altar, a pathway for the bride strewn with fall leaves, seating for the guests consisting of hay stacks, and the brides young attendants adorned in orange net fairy skirts. A Great Fall Celebration!
What could top this amazing hike through the preserve? At two pm the prospective son-in-law of the owner of the property showed up a jeep to take us to the back reaches of the property to see the newly acquired hippos. Game drive for R180 ($20). He explained his family’s plans to develop the property so that the property could be sustained in a natural and historical way as a place where game and man live in coexistence. (Game preserves are also a way of preserving land ownership). He drove us to the back reaches of the preserve where a family of three hippos live in a deep pond and appear to thrive with no natural enemies. They were enjoying themselves sunning on the bank of the pond and paid the vehicle no notice. Hippos actually kill more humans in Africa each year than lions but this family grouping seemed very benign. Their footprints around the pond were as big as soccer balls- the driver stated that they weigh 2.5 tons.
The high veld (higher ground) on the preserve also presented the corps of marching ostriches as 8 ostriches descended on the jeep in V formation. They danced in front on the jeep with their small heads held high and large bodies rambling along.
On the last part of the drive, the lookout was for Mrs. R and her baby. The driver explained that the rhinos cannot see very well but if they catch sight of an enemy, they can be very aggressive and dangerous. (This park has 3 white rhinos which are much less aggressive than the black rhinos). On the drive back we searched up and down and high and low for the rhino, but she was hiding for the day. Perhaps the wedding in the bush was too much for her.
Back in our chalet we perched on the deck and watched the night unfold. A full moon in the bush with the sounds of Africa providing the entertainment. A question came up-What if we had caught the bus to the promised land of civilization, warmth, shopping malls and first world conveniences. Do we often miss the most exotic and rewarding opportunity for the promise of comfort and entertainment?
The trip back to town today was also scary and challenging to determine if the private taxi would come a short distance and take us back to town. A call produced an almost unintelligible answer but in short order a taxi arrived and drove us to town in time to get Mr. Zulu’s taxi back to Mountain High before the rainstorm hit. (this week has been record cold and snow in SA).
What to think of private game parks and lodges? The land is preserved and the ecosystem is brought into balance (albeit an absence of predators). The animals are free to live in their habitat and appear to prosper. Opponents of the private game preserves stated that they are tax dodges for the landowners or ways of avoiding land distribution. On this weekend we enjoyed the beautiful scenery, the hiking opportunities and the low cost convenient way to enjoy nature so close to our shopping town.
Sunday, June 24, 2007
The Campers Are Coming! The Americans Came!
This week was a flurry of activity and fun as preparations began in earnest for the 50 AIDS orphans and vulnerable children that will arrive at Mountain High this week for “Camp Be a Hero”. The children are coming from 5 local villages for psycho-social support, group bonding and recreation. The camp is free to the children and has been financed by a grant from the US (PEPFAR), community volunteer contributions, and the NGO backing the Hospital. The children will participate in workshops dealing with lifeskills and their social needs in the morning; handcrafts, team building and recreation in the afternoon. One week of support seems like a band-aid approach to the problem of losing one’s parents to AIDS but the intent is to empower the children and follow-up after the camp.
South Africa is home to 500 new AIDS orphans every day. Over 2 million men and women have died of AIDS in South Africa with most being in their prime parenting and working years. This problem will continue to plague the country until a cure or vaccine is found. ARV therapy is starting to become available which would prolong productive life but access to the drugs requires an HIV test. Many adults are in denial and worry about stigma if they are tested so they refuse.
The Ubuntu spirit in Africa (community caring) mandates that the orphans remain in the village with the grandmothers (gogos) or other relatives stepping in to provide care. The unfortunate problem is that in many households only the gogos remain and the children become the head of household with the entire family dependent on the gogo’s pension. AIDS is truly a social problem as well as medical tragedy.
The plan for the camp involves moving the OVCS into the boy’s boarding school dormitory, which has been vacated due to the teacher’s strike. We worried last week about the boys returning to the dorm if the strike was settled, leaving the campers homeless. The news this week is that no settlement is eminent and the students will not return until the new term starts in July. The next problem was constructing recreation and challenge equipment for the campers. Brendon and I had an interesting shopping trip to town to buy poles and ropes for the challenge course with the tall poles attached to the roof of the pickup for the trip back up the mountain. The truck was loaded with soccer balls, nets, crayons, craft supplies, and liters of catsup for games. (Who knows what the camp director has planned)!
After one year of living on the mountain with only Zulus for company, two groups of Americans arrived this week. On Monday the NGO that runs the hospital sent 8 American college students to Mountain High to assist with preparations for the camp and get a whiff of life in a mission hospital. On Monday night the Bonds went to the chapel to meet the American students. My heart welled with emotion as I entered and saw their distinctly American faces. They laughed and joked as we introduced ourselves. “How about them Dodgers?” (I thought to myself) as here were people who could understand my humor and accent. Although they were from the Midwest and I am a Californian, I felt this intense bond and familiarity with the kids. They looked, talked and acted like home and I am homesick for my kids. These kids had a work ethic and volunteer spirit. By the next day they had put together the craft program for the camp and were busy learning Zulu beading. They participated in Tuesday Bingo which was hilarious with a crowd of 40 Zulu patients and American college students. Both groups were keen on winning and the stakes were high. Each group presented a song and joined in bingo silliness.
Ironically, a group of 6 Peace Corps volunteers arrived the next day for a pajama party at the Bond’s. Almost 20 Americans in this obscure corner of the universe-what to think? The PC volunteers stopped by on their way to the game preserves and St. Lucia on the coast. It was fun to exchange stories and hear about their sites and experiences. I compared the two groups of Americans in my mind and realized that the Peace Corps volunteers had changed in the course of a year. The idealism of our first weeks together had mellowed into realism about their impact and discussion of more mundane issues such as how to live and travel on the Peace Corps budget. The warts of NGO’s and government programs become apparent after working inside of them for a year. The loneliness, discomforts, sacrifices and isolations of the posts take their toll on the enthusiasm and altruistic spirit that we knew during our initial training. However, the giddy volunteer spirit has given way to a more mature stance and a commitment to complete the task, whatever that is or might become over the next year. Although I feel an intense bond with the PC volunteers, they did not move my emotions like the college students. Perhaps the college students represented the place where I was at one time or the Americans that I would like to know. Perhaps they stand for what is good about America- the willingness to go 12,000 miles on a plane, jump off and immediately start helping with a positive can do spirit. We offered one girl a chance to use the internet but she declined saying that she could not accept a privilege that her friends could not access.
The 6 Peace Corps volunteers had dinner and spent the night in our flat. It was challenging (and fun) to cook for 8 people (plus 3 local residents who turned out for the party). Guacamole, (made by a PCV) Homemade Pizza, Spaghetti, Salad and Chocolate Chip cookies for desert. (The chocolate chips were a unique find in Durban). Then the shuffle to find floor space for the bodies and breakfast the next morning. Dishes and utensils just barely made the grade. Not the same evening as dinner parties at home but very special and memorable. At 7 am the hospital workers showed up at the office door so all bodies had to be neatly stored away and order returned. It was a great evening and a true pleasure to communicate with people that have had this unique experience.
South Africa is home to 500 new AIDS orphans every day. Over 2 million men and women have died of AIDS in South Africa with most being in their prime parenting and working years. This problem will continue to plague the country until a cure or vaccine is found. ARV therapy is starting to become available which would prolong productive life but access to the drugs requires an HIV test. Many adults are in denial and worry about stigma if they are tested so they refuse.
The Ubuntu spirit in Africa (community caring) mandates that the orphans remain in the village with the grandmothers (gogos) or other relatives stepping in to provide care. The unfortunate problem is that in many households only the gogos remain and the children become the head of household with the entire family dependent on the gogo’s pension. AIDS is truly a social problem as well as medical tragedy.
The plan for the camp involves moving the OVCS into the boy’s boarding school dormitory, which has been vacated due to the teacher’s strike. We worried last week about the boys returning to the dorm if the strike was settled, leaving the campers homeless. The news this week is that no settlement is eminent and the students will not return until the new term starts in July. The next problem was constructing recreation and challenge equipment for the campers. Brendon and I had an interesting shopping trip to town to buy poles and ropes for the challenge course with the tall poles attached to the roof of the pickup for the trip back up the mountain. The truck was loaded with soccer balls, nets, crayons, craft supplies, and liters of catsup for games. (Who knows what the camp director has planned)!
After one year of living on the mountain with only Zulus for company, two groups of Americans arrived this week. On Monday the NGO that runs the hospital sent 8 American college students to Mountain High to assist with preparations for the camp and get a whiff of life in a mission hospital. On Monday night the Bonds went to the chapel to meet the American students. My heart welled with emotion as I entered and saw their distinctly American faces. They laughed and joked as we introduced ourselves. “How about them Dodgers?” (I thought to myself) as here were people who could understand my humor and accent. Although they were from the Midwest and I am a Californian, I felt this intense bond and familiarity with the kids. They looked, talked and acted like home and I am homesick for my kids. These kids had a work ethic and volunteer spirit. By the next day they had put together the craft program for the camp and were busy learning Zulu beading. They participated in Tuesday Bingo which was hilarious with a crowd of 40 Zulu patients and American college students. Both groups were keen on winning and the stakes were high. Each group presented a song and joined in bingo silliness.
Ironically, a group of 6 Peace Corps volunteers arrived the next day for a pajama party at the Bond’s. Almost 20 Americans in this obscure corner of the universe-what to think? The PC volunteers stopped by on their way to the game preserves and St. Lucia on the coast. It was fun to exchange stories and hear about their sites and experiences. I compared the two groups of Americans in my mind and realized that the Peace Corps volunteers had changed in the course of a year. The idealism of our first weeks together had mellowed into realism about their impact and discussion of more mundane issues such as how to live and travel on the Peace Corps budget. The warts of NGO’s and government programs become apparent after working inside of them for a year. The loneliness, discomforts, sacrifices and isolations of the posts take their toll on the enthusiasm and altruistic spirit that we knew during our initial training. However, the giddy volunteer spirit has given way to a more mature stance and a commitment to complete the task, whatever that is or might become over the next year. Although I feel an intense bond with the PC volunteers, they did not move my emotions like the college students. Perhaps the college students represented the place where I was at one time or the Americans that I would like to know. Perhaps they stand for what is good about America- the willingness to go 12,000 miles on a plane, jump off and immediately start helping with a positive can do spirit. We offered one girl a chance to use the internet but she declined saying that she could not accept a privilege that her friends could not access.
The 6 Peace Corps volunteers had dinner and spent the night in our flat. It was challenging (and fun) to cook for 8 people (plus 3 local residents who turned out for the party). Guacamole, (made by a PCV) Homemade Pizza, Spaghetti, Salad and Chocolate Chip cookies for desert. (The chocolate chips were a unique find in Durban). Then the shuffle to find floor space for the bodies and breakfast the next morning. Dishes and utensils just barely made the grade. Not the same evening as dinner parties at home but very special and memorable. At 7 am the hospital workers showed up at the office door so all bodies had to be neatly stored away and order returned. It was a great evening and a true pleasure to communicate with people that have had this unique experience.
Sunday, June 17, 2007
Mountain High Pics
Saturday, June 16, 2007
Saturday in KwaZuluNatal
After a shopping trip to Durban for patient handcraft supplies last weekend and an unexpected trip to Richards’s Bay on Tuesday due to the government worker’s strike, the Bonds were happy to stay at our Mountain High hospital home for the weekend. Today was a beautiful fall day with warm blue skies, the red aloes and coral trees in bloom and the birds abundant and full of song.
Today seemed like a special treat to be able to sleep past our normal 5 am when our taxi driver Mr. Zulu heads out and just enjoy the beauty of this unique natural setting. During Peace Corps training we were told that the usual Sat routine for South Africans is to get up early on Sat. Morning and clean the house from top to bottom with sweeping, dusting, mopping and heavy doses of Handy Andy. (Ironically this was the mandatory program when I was growing up like so many customs in South Africa). We reversed the program and stayed in bed till 9, made delicious filter coffee and toast with Umsoba (berry) jam and headed out to hike the Mountain to Valley road. The hike goes from the hospital, through the grove of cypress trees that line the dirt road to the boy’s boarding school. The boys have all gone home due to the teacher’s strike so the dilapidated buildings were eerily quiet. From the boarding school the dirt road heads straight up through the indigenous forest. Unfortunately the trees closest to the trek have been butchered for firewood by the local citizens without thought for replanting or future generations. At the top of the ridge the road levels with nonnative trees for about a half km until the road opens up with a view to the entire Zulu kingdom – layers of silhouetted rounded hills one after the other with deep canyons, interesting red and grey rock geological formations and tiny, scattered villages on the sides of the hills. From here the trek becomes downwardly very steep and enters into the Valley where my nearest neighbors and coworkers live.
The valley is not exactly a village but a series of very small farms or Kraals as they are called. The kraal contains several mud hut dwellings with at least one rondoval with a thatched roof. The kraal is surrounded by a fence composed of barbed wire and wood branches. Usually there are some stalls for goats or cows made of tree branches. Roofs for the square mud dwellings are made of tin with rocks or tires on top of the tin to protect from lightning. Multi generational families live in the buildings and share cooking, wood and water gathering responsibilities. The houses have no electricity, indoor plumbing, immediate access to water (there are outdoor faucets every 500 ft or so but the supply is unreliable), radio or TV. Clothing is washed by hand outdoors and hung on the barbed wire to dry. Some homes do use car batteries for charging cell phones and energizing boom boxes. A few of the Kraals have mealy (corn) and other crops but the Zulus primarily raise cattle and goats for their existence and the land is very dry and arid. The residents of this village are my neighbors and coworkers. To get to work they don their smart, stylish clothing (which is always ironed and immaculate) and hike up the cement path (shortcut with 20 % grade straight up to the hospital). They venture from a difficult, rough life, with no conveniences, up a steep path to the hospital where they work all day with electricity, running water, telephones, high tech computers and medical equipment. I thought my life was confusing jumping between first and third world on a weekly basis. My coworkers are intelligent and reliable and can speak at least three languages. I respect them for their commitment to Batho Pele (patient’s first) philosophy of the hospital but moreso to their ability to go into the forest with their machete, cut down trees so that they can cook food and stay warm, haul the trees on their heads, keep track of their animals, haul water from distant springs in wheelbarrows when the taps are dry, enjoy endless daily banter and camaraderie with their fellow Zulus and also fufill their first world duties in a hospital subsidized by the government with numerous regulations and data requirements.
The hike through the valley is a rewarding special experience. Someone calls out to us at each Kraal and asks how we are. About halfway through the hike three cars venture down the steep almost inaccessible road. They are hooting (honking) their horns and laughing. The wedding party is arriving. The bride is decked out in white gown and veil with orange bows and streamers decorating the fancy black car. Everyone is glad to greet us and we are glad to see such an amazing parade on this stretch of almost impassable road. What a great sight! Marriages and life continue in this Valley in spite of life’s difficulty and the curse of AIDS.
We spent the afternoon sitting in the warm African sun looking out at the Valley that is our home. The rock formations make a face of a Zulu and are contrasted by the series of hills, acacia trees, aloes, forests and the birds with their choruses. A perfect afternoon in Zululand!
Today seemed like a special treat to be able to sleep past our normal 5 am when our taxi driver Mr. Zulu heads out and just enjoy the beauty of this unique natural setting. During Peace Corps training we were told that the usual Sat routine for South Africans is to get up early on Sat. Morning and clean the house from top to bottom with sweeping, dusting, mopping and heavy doses of Handy Andy. (Ironically this was the mandatory program when I was growing up like so many customs in South Africa). We reversed the program and stayed in bed till 9, made delicious filter coffee and toast with Umsoba (berry) jam and headed out to hike the Mountain to Valley road. The hike goes from the hospital, through the grove of cypress trees that line the dirt road to the boy’s boarding school. The boys have all gone home due to the teacher’s strike so the dilapidated buildings were eerily quiet. From the boarding school the dirt road heads straight up through the indigenous forest. Unfortunately the trees closest to the trek have been butchered for firewood by the local citizens without thought for replanting or future generations. At the top of the ridge the road levels with nonnative trees for about a half km until the road opens up with a view to the entire Zulu kingdom – layers of silhouetted rounded hills one after the other with deep canyons, interesting red and grey rock geological formations and tiny, scattered villages on the sides of the hills. From here the trek becomes downwardly very steep and enters into the Valley where my nearest neighbors and coworkers live.
The valley is not exactly a village but a series of very small farms or Kraals as they are called. The kraal contains several mud hut dwellings with at least one rondoval with a thatched roof. The kraal is surrounded by a fence composed of barbed wire and wood branches. Usually there are some stalls for goats or cows made of tree branches. Roofs for the square mud dwellings are made of tin with rocks or tires on top of the tin to protect from lightning. Multi generational families live in the buildings and share cooking, wood and water gathering responsibilities. The houses have no electricity, indoor plumbing, immediate access to water (there are outdoor faucets every 500 ft or so but the supply is unreliable), radio or TV. Clothing is washed by hand outdoors and hung on the barbed wire to dry. Some homes do use car batteries for charging cell phones and energizing boom boxes. A few of the Kraals have mealy (corn) and other crops but the Zulus primarily raise cattle and goats for their existence and the land is very dry and arid. The residents of this village are my neighbors and coworkers. To get to work they don their smart, stylish clothing (which is always ironed and immaculate) and hike up the cement path (shortcut with 20 % grade straight up to the hospital). They venture from a difficult, rough life, with no conveniences, up a steep path to the hospital where they work all day with electricity, running water, telephones, high tech computers and medical equipment. I thought my life was confusing jumping between first and third world on a weekly basis. My coworkers are intelligent and reliable and can speak at least three languages. I respect them for their commitment to Batho Pele (patient’s first) philosophy of the hospital but moreso to their ability to go into the forest with their machete, cut down trees so that they can cook food and stay warm, haul the trees on their heads, keep track of their animals, haul water from distant springs in wheelbarrows when the taps are dry, enjoy endless daily banter and camaraderie with their fellow Zulus and also fufill their first world duties in a hospital subsidized by the government with numerous regulations and data requirements.
The hike through the valley is a rewarding special experience. Someone calls out to us at each Kraal and asks how we are. About halfway through the hike three cars venture down the steep almost inaccessible road. They are hooting (honking) their horns and laughing. The wedding party is arriving. The bride is decked out in white gown and veil with orange bows and streamers decorating the fancy black car. Everyone is glad to greet us and we are glad to see such an amazing parade on this stretch of almost impassable road. What a great sight! Marriages and life continue in this Valley in spite of life’s difficulty and the curse of AIDS.
We spent the afternoon sitting in the warm African sun looking out at the Valley that is our home. The rock formations make a face of a Zulu and are contrasted by the series of hills, acacia trees, aloes, forests and the birds with their choruses. A perfect afternoon in Zululand!
Wednesday, June 13, 2007
Bingo Fun
Teacher's, government worker's and public hospital employee’s strikes have hit South Africa-Today is the “Big Push” with marches and demonstrations (here called Toyi Toyi) in every city. This is the first nationwide strike since the end of Apartheid 14 years ago. Peace Corps policy requires that volunteers avoid any political demonstration or activism for personal safety and to prevent the appearance of taking sides. So yesterday we took the Greyhound bus to a quiet b and b to sit out the Big Push Day and attempt to recover my dead laptop from the computer service center. (Mountain High Hospital is not affiliated with the same union as the government strikers, however this week the employees came to work in street attire rather than uniforms). We packed in a hurry yesterday, not knowing how long we would be gone from the Hospital we now call home. The patients were unhappy to see us go as the promised “Bingo” game with new prizes had to be postponed until another day. We were able to go to a movie in our hole up town and enjoyed seeing “Amazing Grace”, the story of William Wilberforce, the abolitionist who worked for 25 years to accomplish his goal of eliminating British slave ships. The movie is beautifully produced, a pleasure to watch and a lesson in how spiritual activism and commitment to purpose can change society.
With a combined men and women Jabule group, Bingo was introduced for Tuesday fun a few weeks ago. No patient or staff was familiar with the game but they caught on fast and enjoyed the action. For some time I have been trying to find a social activity that didn’t require complex language skills but would occupy time and entertain the fun- loving men and women. Bingo is played by 5 year olds to 85 year olds and uses numbers rather than words. The 30 patients got excited about the prospect for winning and managed to keep track of the numbers called. The concept of yelling "Bingo" when one had a winning card took a few games, but they heartily uttered the coveted word in their Zulu accents. They looked longingly at the chocolate bars and soaps that I had cadged for prizes. They had laughs and cheers when one of their friends won big. Brendon created the game boards from an internet site and used excel to produce random numbers. (Of course part of the Bingo thrill is the roll out of the balls but patients here have never had this thrill so they were not disappointed by simple read out of numbers). The Peace Corps is ambivalent about bringing laptops and high tech gizmos to third world sites but their usefulness is invaluable and has enriched our volunteer experience/contribution. Better that we could present adult literacy classes or Zulu culture but lacking knowledge or helpers to coordinate this type of enrichment, I am happy to create diversion and fun for a few hours with Bingo.
After a shopping trip last weekend to Durban to obtain Zulu beads, fabric and shoe making supplies the men (and 6 women) showed up on Monday to make sandals from tires. In Durban we located an industrial cobbler supply shop with rubber soles, goat skins, leather, and glue at wholesale prices. Beading supplies were replenished as men and women have been prodigiously making beaded jewelry and trinkets. Best of all was the discovery of a fabric store closeout with many bolts of beautiful fabric for 4 rand (60 cents) a meter. The women love to make skirts and will sew or bead in their beds long after the Jabule group has disbanded for the day.
Sad news, after taking my Compaq computer to the only authorized HP service center in KWA ZuluNatal, it has been officially declared dead, both hard drive and main board. So as they say in South Africa, “Borrow Me your computer” will be the mantra.
With a combined men and women Jabule group, Bingo was introduced for Tuesday fun a few weeks ago. No patient or staff was familiar with the game but they caught on fast and enjoyed the action. For some time I have been trying to find a social activity that didn’t require complex language skills but would occupy time and entertain the fun- loving men and women. Bingo is played by 5 year olds to 85 year olds and uses numbers rather than words. The 30 patients got excited about the prospect for winning and managed to keep track of the numbers called. The concept of yelling "Bingo" when one had a winning card took a few games, but they heartily uttered the coveted word in their Zulu accents. They looked longingly at the chocolate bars and soaps that I had cadged for prizes. They had laughs and cheers when one of their friends won big. Brendon created the game boards from an internet site and used excel to produce random numbers. (Of course part of the Bingo thrill is the roll out of the balls but patients here have never had this thrill so they were not disappointed by simple read out of numbers). The Peace Corps is ambivalent about bringing laptops and high tech gizmos to third world sites but their usefulness is invaluable and has enriched our volunteer experience/contribution. Better that we could present adult literacy classes or Zulu culture but lacking knowledge or helpers to coordinate this type of enrichment, I am happy to create diversion and fun for a few hours with Bingo.
After a shopping trip last weekend to Durban to obtain Zulu beads, fabric and shoe making supplies the men (and 6 women) showed up on Monday to make sandals from tires. In Durban we located an industrial cobbler supply shop with rubber soles, goat skins, leather, and glue at wholesale prices. Beading supplies were replenished as men and women have been prodigiously making beaded jewelry and trinkets. Best of all was the discovery of a fabric store closeout with many bolts of beautiful fabric for 4 rand (60 cents) a meter. The women love to make skirts and will sew or bead in their beds long after the Jabule group has disbanded for the day.
Sad news, after taking my Compaq computer to the only authorized HP service center in KWA ZuluNatal, it has been officially declared dead, both hard drive and main board. So as they say in South Africa, “Borrow Me your computer” will be the mantra.
Saturday, June 02, 2007
Two Weddings and a PC Death
So, what are some of the downsides to Peace Corps service other than the discomforts and communication frustrations? This weekend is cold, grey and miserable as we are huddled in our bed at a B and B in our shopping town. Our thoughts are centered 12,000 miles away in California where our niece is getting married tomorrow and we will not be there. My sisters have been writing and calling with all of the details, plans and excitement about the wedding. I am missing my family and two sons. The obvious sacrifices in the Peace Corps are easy to adjust to but the intimate family parties and events cannot be replaced and weigh heavily at this point in time. Travel to the US for a wedding is nearly impossible as it is a 3 day trip each way and Volunteers are allowed only 2 days off a month. So we are thinking of Debbie and David and their families and wishing them the very best wedding and a wonderful life full of joy and discovery, and happiness.
Ironically, today a driver from the hospital is also getting married, no easy feat in South Africa. He paid the 11 cow dowry (called lobola) and finally is able to tie the knot. The wedding will go on all day but like the wedding in California, there is no transportation to the small village so we cannot attend. (In addition, Saturdays require travel by taxi the 80km to our shopping town for groceries and by the end of the week we are sorely in need of food, a change of scenery from the hospital, and a break from our own cooking.) Lobola may contribute to the AIDs problem in South Africa as it is a hindrance to marriage and causes many men to travel to distant work sites to earn the money for the cows thus creating havoc in relationships.
On Monday the hard drive died on my laptop computer so I am now a PC volunteer without a PC. The boot up was getting slower and slower. Monday brought only the cursor light with a dim blink. Total vegetative state! All of those admonitions about Back Up are now ringing in my ears as I am a computer dependent spouse and have lost a year's worth of photos and docs. Repair of a Compaq hard drive in a remote rural town is no easy task. After many emails, Compaq has directed us to a repair site in Durban, an 8 hour bus trip from our town. Further bad news was that the warranty ran out two months ago so we must navigate the repair and trip to Durban. Might as well make lemonade out of the lemons so next week looks like a trip to Durban with shopping for the patient’s handcraft program and laptop repair. Maybe we will venture into GAME (the South Africa version of Target) to look for the two sewing machines included in the Occupational Therapy grant.
A bright spot on Friday was Vusi’s return, the cobbler guru strikes again. This week he taught the patients how to make sandals out of impala skin and fur. Impala fur is part of the Zulu culture and clothing/shoes are made out of the soft skin which is white, tan and brown. He demonstrated cutting strips of the fur and gluing them to vinyl, then nailing them to the soles made of discarded tires. Old whitewall tires were cut into strips and separated so that an interesting white strip bounded the tire sole. Another style of sandal was made from tire strips covered with white vinyl. Interesting geometric designs were cut into the white vinyl, revealing black underneath. Vusi was a true craftsman and took great pains with his astute skills to make the sandals sturdy and lovely. Next week the patients will give sandal making a try. I worry about accidents from the matte knives but the men (and women) have strong capable hands and know their way around knives as they must venture into the forest and cut wood for their stoves at home.
Ironically, today a driver from the hospital is also getting married, no easy feat in South Africa. He paid the 11 cow dowry (called lobola) and finally is able to tie the knot. The wedding will go on all day but like the wedding in California, there is no transportation to the small village so we cannot attend. (In addition, Saturdays require travel by taxi the 80km to our shopping town for groceries and by the end of the week we are sorely in need of food, a change of scenery from the hospital, and a break from our own cooking.) Lobola may contribute to the AIDs problem in South Africa as it is a hindrance to marriage and causes many men to travel to distant work sites to earn the money for the cows thus creating havoc in relationships.
On Monday the hard drive died on my laptop computer so I am now a PC volunteer without a PC. The boot up was getting slower and slower. Monday brought only the cursor light with a dim blink. Total vegetative state! All of those admonitions about Back Up are now ringing in my ears as I am a computer dependent spouse and have lost a year's worth of photos and docs. Repair of a Compaq hard drive in a remote rural town is no easy task. After many emails, Compaq has directed us to a repair site in Durban, an 8 hour bus trip from our town. Further bad news was that the warranty ran out two months ago so we must navigate the repair and trip to Durban. Might as well make lemonade out of the lemons so next week looks like a trip to Durban with shopping for the patient’s handcraft program and laptop repair. Maybe we will venture into GAME (the South Africa version of Target) to look for the two sewing machines included in the Occupational Therapy grant.
A bright spot on Friday was Vusi’s return, the cobbler guru strikes again. This week he taught the patients how to make sandals out of impala skin and fur. Impala fur is part of the Zulu culture and clothing/shoes are made out of the soft skin which is white, tan and brown. He demonstrated cutting strips of the fur and gluing them to vinyl, then nailing them to the soles made of discarded tires. Old whitewall tires were cut into strips and separated so that an interesting white strip bounded the tire sole. Another style of sandal was made from tire strips covered with white vinyl. Interesting geometric designs were cut into the white vinyl, revealing black underneath. Vusi was a true craftsman and took great pains with his astute skills to make the sandals sturdy and lovely. Next week the patients will give sandal making a try. I worry about accidents from the matte knives but the men (and women) have strong capable hands and know their way around knives as they must venture into the forest and cut wood for their stoves at home.
Sunday, May 27, 2007
Coot Fun
Attention is being paid by the US Peace Corps Director and South Africa County Director to the huge pool of potential volunteers represented by the over 50-year-old baby boomers. Brendon and I often tease each other about what class of late middle aged folks we fit into – Are we coots, codgers, geezers, or just plain Old Farts! Likewise for old ladies we have the old bags, dowagers, old bittys and old bats. Some days all categories may fit the wearer. However, whatever our label, the Old Folks (as we are known in the Peace Corps) have numerous skills and resources that may compensate for the lack of energy and enthusiasm manifested by the young. At the beginning of our Peace Corps service the age difference between the more populous 20 year olds and the over 50 year olds created cliques and some separation but as time has gone one the similarities in our experience and hardships have mollified the age differences.
Last week was truly a Coot experience as we joined a trained Bird Watching guide for a hike through the country side near the Natal Spa. We showed up woefully unprepared without binoculars, Sasol’s Birds of South Africa and notebook for recording the sightings. Simon is a Zulu of short stocky build wearing the South African trekker’s togs of two tone khaki shirt and pants, neatly pressed and creased. He discussed the available trails and the common types of birds found in the area. South Africa is home to over 400 species of birds, with many fabulous coloring and shapes that are new to Americans. We set off on the Red Trail which meandered through an exotic gum tree forest to a ridge of the rolling hills around the spa with sightings of the famous river formed from the spring. Simon led us slowly and quietly, looking up at the trees and listening for calls. “Work Harder, Work Harder, Work Harder” was one bird’s call. The Ha De Da Ibis’s swooped above us with their urgent shrieking. The story is that they are afraid of heights, so when flying scream at an alarming pitch. They are quiet when picking for grubs on the ground and beautiful in their large elegant form and beautiful grey and reddish feathers. The guide spotted a Jackie Hangman on a telephone line with white chest and black back. His name comes from his habit of collecting tasty worms and storing them on the sharp barbs of the barbed wire fences. We spotted several weaver birds nests but alas the beautiful yellow weaver birds have flown NORTH for the winter. A true pleasure in South Africa is watching the flocks of black and white martins as they turn in formation against the sun, making beautiful patterns of black and white triangular forms.
The onslaught of winter creeps into all conversations, blogs and center of thought these days. There is nothing that can be done about the cold (except to turn on the ineffective electric space heaters) and dress warmly. The air is clear and dry. The leaves are beginning to turn color. It feels like Thanksgiving in Los Angeles. The local residents walk around and sit in offices with gloves, hats and scarves even though the temperature is only in the low sixties during the day and down into the 30’s at night. We went for a walk in the forest late Friday afternoon and saw nary a goat, cow or child tending the animals-all had been tucked away for the night. During the summer the trail was a parade of children herding the animals or skinny dipping in the pond on the side of the mountain.
I guess I am finally falling into wifely submission as this weekend I agreed to cut Brendon’s hair, a task he has begged me to do for years. We have been in Africa for almost a year and he has faithfully frequented the corner barber shop to get his Number 2 every 2 weeks. The corner barber shop is literal- Bongi sets up a plastic tarp booth on the corner near the taxi rank of our shopping town, hooks up his clippers to a car battery and Voila he is in business. A great hair cut for 6 rand (90 cents). Brendon has been a little squeamish about head lice, in spite of the pink cleaning solution that Bongi dips his combs in prior to each new client. South Africans are very well groomed and this includes frequent hair cuts. However it is not apparent where actual licensed barber shops are located. The last trip to town Brendon invested in clippers and began goading the wife to try hair cutting. Today was the day! He asked me in a very affirmative voice if I would go outside and try out the clippers. If you are wondering about the results remember the admonition-you get what you pay for!
Our trip back from town was uneventful except for gaining insight into the knowledge that all Zulus possess regarding handcrafts and their culture. While waiting for the taxi to leave town, I showed Mr. Zulu (our driver) a straw frame for a beaded bangle bracelet and asked him if he knew where to get the reeds for make the circular frame. He disappeared for a short time and came back with 8 strands of green field grass that he began to weave into rope. Bend one strand a quarter turn and turn-Repeat until a beautiful 8 strand braid is formed. He passed the piece onto me and I finished out the rope. He then started a more complicated pattern with interwoven strands which was too much of a challenge.
We loaded into the taxi and journeyed the beautiful 80 km drive to the Hospital. Near the end of the trip a small boy ran out onto the road with a bag. Mr. Zulu looked at me as asked if I liked birds (izinyoni). I responded in my best Zulu that I like birds. He handed me the plastic bag. I looked inside not understanding what the package had to do with birds and found beautiful layers of honeycomb (izinyosi). Such are the daily misunderstandings with new language and the kindness of drivers. The delicious honeycomb was passed through the taxi with a small treat for all. My painful experience with the bees was forgiven as I tasted the delicious smoky honey right out of the honeycomb and chewed on the beeswax like it was chewing gum. It became clear why the Hospital staff was consumed with retrieving the honey from the roof of the ward last month and putting themselves in danger. What a treat!
Last week was truly a Coot experience as we joined a trained Bird Watching guide for a hike through the country side near the Natal Spa. We showed up woefully unprepared without binoculars, Sasol’s Birds of South Africa and notebook for recording the sightings. Simon is a Zulu of short stocky build wearing the South African trekker’s togs of two tone khaki shirt and pants, neatly pressed and creased. He discussed the available trails and the common types of birds found in the area. South Africa is home to over 400 species of birds, with many fabulous coloring and shapes that are new to Americans. We set off on the Red Trail which meandered through an exotic gum tree forest to a ridge of the rolling hills around the spa with sightings of the famous river formed from the spring. Simon led us slowly and quietly, looking up at the trees and listening for calls. “Work Harder, Work Harder, Work Harder” was one bird’s call. The Ha De Da Ibis’s swooped above us with their urgent shrieking. The story is that they are afraid of heights, so when flying scream at an alarming pitch. They are quiet when picking for grubs on the ground and beautiful in their large elegant form and beautiful grey and reddish feathers. The guide spotted a Jackie Hangman on a telephone line with white chest and black back. His name comes from his habit of collecting tasty worms and storing them on the sharp barbs of the barbed wire fences. We spotted several weaver birds nests but alas the beautiful yellow weaver birds have flown NORTH for the winter. A true pleasure in South Africa is watching the flocks of black and white martins as they turn in formation against the sun, making beautiful patterns of black and white triangular forms.
The onslaught of winter creeps into all conversations, blogs and center of thought these days. There is nothing that can be done about the cold (except to turn on the ineffective electric space heaters) and dress warmly. The air is clear and dry. The leaves are beginning to turn color. It feels like Thanksgiving in Los Angeles. The local residents walk around and sit in offices with gloves, hats and scarves even though the temperature is only in the low sixties during the day and down into the 30’s at night. We went for a walk in the forest late Friday afternoon and saw nary a goat, cow or child tending the animals-all had been tucked away for the night. During the summer the trail was a parade of children herding the animals or skinny dipping in the pond on the side of the mountain.
I guess I am finally falling into wifely submission as this weekend I agreed to cut Brendon’s hair, a task he has begged me to do for years. We have been in Africa for almost a year and he has faithfully frequented the corner barber shop to get his Number 2 every 2 weeks. The corner barber shop is literal- Bongi sets up a plastic tarp booth on the corner near the taxi rank of our shopping town, hooks up his clippers to a car battery and Voila he is in business. A great hair cut for 6 rand (90 cents). Brendon has been a little squeamish about head lice, in spite of the pink cleaning solution that Bongi dips his combs in prior to each new client. South Africans are very well groomed and this includes frequent hair cuts. However it is not apparent where actual licensed barber shops are located. The last trip to town Brendon invested in clippers and began goading the wife to try hair cutting. Today was the day! He asked me in a very affirmative voice if I would go outside and try out the clippers. If you are wondering about the results remember the admonition-you get what you pay for!
Our trip back from town was uneventful except for gaining insight into the knowledge that all Zulus possess regarding handcrafts and their culture. While waiting for the taxi to leave town, I showed Mr. Zulu (our driver) a straw frame for a beaded bangle bracelet and asked him if he knew where to get the reeds for make the circular frame. He disappeared for a short time and came back with 8 strands of green field grass that he began to weave into rope. Bend one strand a quarter turn and turn-Repeat until a beautiful 8 strand braid is formed. He passed the piece onto me and I finished out the rope. He then started a more complicated pattern with interwoven strands which was too much of a challenge.
We loaded into the taxi and journeyed the beautiful 80 km drive to the Hospital. Near the end of the trip a small boy ran out onto the road with a bag. Mr. Zulu looked at me as asked if I liked birds (izinyoni). I responded in my best Zulu that I like birds. He handed me the plastic bag. I looked inside not understanding what the package had to do with birds and found beautiful layers of honeycomb (izinyosi). Such are the daily misunderstandings with new language and the kindness of drivers. The delicious honeycomb was passed through the taxi with a small treat for all. My painful experience with the bees was forgiven as I tasted the delicious smoky honey right out of the honeycomb and chewed on the beeswax like it was chewing gum. It became clear why the Hospital staff was consumed with retrieving the honey from the roof of the ward last month and putting themselves in danger. What a treat!
Saturday, May 19, 2007
Cobbler School and Fashion Show Pics
Fashion Models making their Grand Entrance into Fashion Show May 2007
Shopping Town of Vryheid from Game Preserve on Vryheid Hill
Fashion Show Models and Their Creations-Hats, scarves and Tshirts
Vusi, Mountain High Cobbler Instructor and Students
Patient Models Holding Their Heads High and Seizing the MomentZulu Fashion Show and Cobbler School
The second Mountain High Fashion Show was a big hit with the men and women patient models Dressed to the Nines with their handsewn creations and beadwork. Fifteen of the women planned a grand entrance and danced in two by two led by the queen of the parade, a woman clad in a bright yellow dress leaning on her cane for support. The audience cheered as they watched the women dance in. The Jabule men and women then gathered in front and began to sing. Individual soloists and dancers did their numbers with high kicks and a stomp for drama. Each solo attempt was more inventive than the one before. The theme was Celebrate the Abundant Life-Love Life! For a couple of hours the patients had energy, excitement and smiles on their faces. Most are in their 20’s and 30’s, a time for enjoying parties and fun rather than confinement to a hospital. Their spirit was bright and entertainment great!
This weekend we are at the Natal Spa, a natural hot spring outside our shopping town of Vryheid. This is a great place to visit for those that enjoy soaking in very warm water (only a slight whiff of sulfur rising from the hottest pools.) The irony is the fact that three mornings this week we had no water for showers. On Monday I injured my back carrying heavy bags of fabric and could not bend over. One hour of soaking in the hot water got the kink out-So be careful what you say about health frauds and spas. A few months ago a codirector of an NGO in Ladysmith told us the history of the spa. Her grandmother was herding sheep and stumbled on a natural pool of the warm water. Shortly afterward, the Afrikaans fenced off the spring and prohibited the Zulus from using entering the water. (The spa has a different story of the discovery of the spring, however).
The Men’s Jabule Group has been going well with a consistent core group showing up every day to make fleece hats, scarves, bags, and T shirts to ward of the chill. However, from the start the men have wanted to learn how to make and repair shoes. A hospital employee and I hitched a ride to Nongoma, the headquarters for the Zulu Kingdom and allegedly a great place to buy supplies for making shoes. Our tip was to find Mr. Bond’s dry goods store which would have soles, leather, impala skins, glue and rope. I introduced myself to Mr. Bond himself, an eighty year old patriarch who owns most of the property in town and teased him about being his niece from America. His store was a journey back in time, with shelves of shoes and clothing behind the counter and metal bars protecting the owner. His store had no cobbler supplies but in front of his shop a man was making sandals from old tires. Just the skill the hospital needed! Vusi was eager to chat (wonderful characteristic of all South Africans) and showed us the tires, soles he cut from the tires, and the white wall strips for straps. He agreed to come to the Hospital and teach his craft.
On Monday morning he called and said he was on his way and asked for directions to the Hospital. He had misunderstood that the Hospital was an hour away by taxi and that the last 4 km was a long walk down the dirt road. Vusi was a good sport and arrived just as he promised. Thirty men (and women) plus staff onlookers gathered in the Chapel to learn the tricks of turning throwaway tires into sturdy shoes. First step was to cut the tire apart and make the forms for the soles. He prepared patterns for the sole and leather top, cut the inner sole, glued and tacked the sandal together. Next week he is coming back to teach vinyl straps, impala and whitewall. A trip to the shopping town produced a source for the tires, which cannot be steel belted and need to be very thin so that they can be easily cut by the patients. The owner of a tire shop had a stash behind the store and offered them for free for the taking. Amazing how a stash of discarded tires can make one feel so good!
Shoes are very important to South Africans and no tuck shop (equivalent of 7-11 on a very small scale) is without shoe polish. The Peace Crops training advised that South Africans look at your shoes first and determine your character by the cleanliness and care of your shoes. Peace Corps volunteers were chided for their dirty sneakers and scuffed sandals. The streets have many shoe repair stalls with instant shoe repair. New heel blanks are put on shoes and cut to fit. Hopefully, the men will learn cobbler skills and find a way of using those skills when then go back to their village. Several of the men are enterprising and planning to make fleece hats or scarves for sale.
This weekend we are at the Natal Spa, a natural hot spring outside our shopping town of Vryheid. This is a great place to visit for those that enjoy soaking in very warm water (only a slight whiff of sulfur rising from the hottest pools.) The irony is the fact that three mornings this week we had no water for showers. On Monday I injured my back carrying heavy bags of fabric and could not bend over. One hour of soaking in the hot water got the kink out-So be careful what you say about health frauds and spas. A few months ago a codirector of an NGO in Ladysmith told us the history of the spa. Her grandmother was herding sheep and stumbled on a natural pool of the warm water. Shortly afterward, the Afrikaans fenced off the spring and prohibited the Zulus from using entering the water. (The spa has a different story of the discovery of the spring, however).
The Men’s Jabule Group has been going well with a consistent core group showing up every day to make fleece hats, scarves, bags, and T shirts to ward of the chill. However, from the start the men have wanted to learn how to make and repair shoes. A hospital employee and I hitched a ride to Nongoma, the headquarters for the Zulu Kingdom and allegedly a great place to buy supplies for making shoes. Our tip was to find Mr. Bond’s dry goods store which would have soles, leather, impala skins, glue and rope. I introduced myself to Mr. Bond himself, an eighty year old patriarch who owns most of the property in town and teased him about being his niece from America. His store was a journey back in time, with shelves of shoes and clothing behind the counter and metal bars protecting the owner. His store had no cobbler supplies but in front of his shop a man was making sandals from old tires. Just the skill the hospital needed! Vusi was eager to chat (wonderful characteristic of all South Africans) and showed us the tires, soles he cut from the tires, and the white wall strips for straps. He agreed to come to the Hospital and teach his craft.
On Monday morning he called and said he was on his way and asked for directions to the Hospital. He had misunderstood that the Hospital was an hour away by taxi and that the last 4 km was a long walk down the dirt road. Vusi was a good sport and arrived just as he promised. Thirty men (and women) plus staff onlookers gathered in the Chapel to learn the tricks of turning throwaway tires into sturdy shoes. First step was to cut the tire apart and make the forms for the soles. He prepared patterns for the sole and leather top, cut the inner sole, glued and tacked the sandal together. Next week he is coming back to teach vinyl straps, impala and whitewall. A trip to the shopping town produced a source for the tires, which cannot be steel belted and need to be very thin so that they can be easily cut by the patients. The owner of a tire shop had a stash behind the store and offered them for free for the taking. Amazing how a stash of discarded tires can make one feel so good!
Shoes are very important to South Africans and no tuck shop (equivalent of 7-11 on a very small scale) is without shoe polish. The Peace Crops training advised that South Africans look at your shoes first and determine your character by the cleanliness and care of your shoes. Peace Corps volunteers were chided for their dirty sneakers and scuffed sandals. The streets have many shoe repair stalls with instant shoe repair. New heel blanks are put on shoes and cut to fit. Hopefully, the men will learn cobbler skills and find a way of using those skills when then go back to their village. Several of the men are enterprising and planning to make fleece hats or scarves for sale.
Saturday, May 12, 2007
Ubabas (Adult Men) and their Creations in the Occupational Therapy Program
The men at Mountain High Hospital have been turning out to sew fleece hats and scarves for the cold nights. Here are some of their creations. Each design is unique and they find ways to make them look smart with tassels, fringe, pompoms and a jaunty slant.Durban Beach
Rickshaw drivers are true artists with unique, over the top decor for their carts
North Beach on a quiet day. Reminded me of Santa Monica Bay. Tuesday, May 08, 2007
Umamas and Ubabas-the Mamas and the Papas
Comming back to work from a 5day break in Durban was a 220v volt. Many administrative tasks needed to be done and the two patient groups- the Mamas and the Papas were hankering for their supplies and group entertainment. The big surprise was that the Mamas (uMamas), in our absence, had put together THREE new quilts for future babies born at Mountain High Hospital. The colors were pink, green and purple prints in amazing combinations of color and style fitting for a Zulu prince or princess. Our Durban shopping expedition produced Zulu beads galore to excite any craft craver and yardage of fleece, knits and prints that were limited only by what could be carried the last 4 km in our packs.
The Ubabas (the men’s group) have started to coalesce. Ten to fifteen men rally round and saunter into the chapel to see what Nonhlanhla (my Zulu name meaning Fortune) has to offer for their needs for warmth or comfort or entertainment. The men are rounded up at 930am and show up looking for fleece to make warm hats, socks, or small bags to hold money or cell phones. (Hospital pajamas do not have pockets for personal items). The men are very careful and meticulous about their sewing. They are interested in creating strong, useful items that will serve them well as patients and their discharge. They are also interested in style. 3 Meters of grey, black and red fleece was cut into hats and scarves for the men. The sewing was careful and the designs truly individual as they personalized each item with fringe, pom poms, a jaunty slant or cuff at the bottom. The hospital grounds are filled with men in their snappy attire. After all of the fleece was gone, they experimented with cell phone bags (Almost every African has a cell phone), larger bags for shaving gear, even larger bags to hold personal possessions, patchwork quilts in Zulu fabric and beading to decorate the bags. The men are stoic when favored materials are used up. (The women show more expression and disappointment). The men’s group starts off with the same format as the women’s- a prayer and a song, except that the young chaplain is available to engage the men. Expectations are high for the promised shoe making program which will start soon. Shoe sizes have been taken. Early scouting trips for materials were disappointing but this week the Zulu kingdom headquarters of Nongoma will be foraged to find the necessary soles and materials.
The Umamas (makotis-wives) are creating beautiful bead and clothing designs. The clothes are hand sewn from fabric remnants from a shop that specializes in South African fabrics. The 20 women gather to see who will pick the number one ticket from the hat each day, after the prayer and song. That makoti (wife) or entombi (young girl) selects what sewing or craft project she would like from the assortment of materials available for the day. Of course now the problem is that he occupational therapy program is very successful, and the limitations of materials and transport to this remote community limit this abundant approach. So the trick now is to design a realistic program for each day of a two month cycle, taking into account the abilities of the patients, to make materials stretch over the next year of the grant. The added job is to try to find a way of teaching new skills to every patient that participates and can then take the skills back to the village to teach other persons or market their new skills. Two sewing machines will be purchased in the next few weeks to teach machine sewing skills to the women.
The Ubabas and Umamas have been so prolific in their creations and industry that it is time again to put on a Fashion Show so on May 18 the Second Mountain High Fashion Show will be held to highlight the creativity of the patients at Mountain High Hospital and Positive Living for All. Please Come and Join the Fun! Promise to publish some great pic.
Last Saturday was a Fashion Show of a different bent. The local hospice put on their annual fashion show fundraiser and our attendance and voyeurism embarked on another view of rural South Africa. The Hospice in town is housed in a residential neighborhood with a beautiful backyard. Each supporting group had their own table. We walked in unawares and found an empty table next to a buffet table laden with spice cakes, scones, quiches, and savory tarts. Soon a foursome of funloving gals joined our table and we exchanged stories of life after the midway point. Some stories were parallel as a grandmother has a granddaughter at UCLA and children in Irvine. Some stories were harder to understand as the women discussed their concerns about crime in the new South Africa. At times the conversation seemed very familiar and comforting, especially when discussing the great sweets (candy to Americans, lekker to Afrikaans). We finally felt a bond with a local group albeit only on the basis of sugar highs from the great South African sweet industry. In other discussion we like we were from the moon with no insight as to local culture, custom, current events or their experiences. However, it was fun to be included in a group and to join the ladies at a local restaurant for a drink after the amazing array of fashions were presented. This is a very smartly turned out country and the designers put their best efforts into creating fabulous gowns with layers of silk, tulle, ruffles and beads. I whispered to one of our table mates that I loved the gowns but wondered where all the great parties were happening where one could wear the elaborate concoctions.
The Ubabas (the men’s group) have started to coalesce. Ten to fifteen men rally round and saunter into the chapel to see what Nonhlanhla (my Zulu name meaning Fortune) has to offer for their needs for warmth or comfort or entertainment. The men are rounded up at 930am and show up looking for fleece to make warm hats, socks, or small bags to hold money or cell phones. (Hospital pajamas do not have pockets for personal items). The men are very careful and meticulous about their sewing. They are interested in creating strong, useful items that will serve them well as patients and their discharge. They are also interested in style. 3 Meters of grey, black and red fleece was cut into hats and scarves for the men. The sewing was careful and the designs truly individual as they personalized each item with fringe, pom poms, a jaunty slant or cuff at the bottom. The hospital grounds are filled with men in their snappy attire. After all of the fleece was gone, they experimented with cell phone bags (Almost every African has a cell phone), larger bags for shaving gear, even larger bags to hold personal possessions, patchwork quilts in Zulu fabric and beading to decorate the bags. The men are stoic when favored materials are used up. (The women show more expression and disappointment). The men’s group starts off with the same format as the women’s- a prayer and a song, except that the young chaplain is available to engage the men. Expectations are high for the promised shoe making program which will start soon. Shoe sizes have been taken. Early scouting trips for materials were disappointing but this week the Zulu kingdom headquarters of Nongoma will be foraged to find the necessary soles and materials.
The Umamas (makotis-wives) are creating beautiful bead and clothing designs. The clothes are hand sewn from fabric remnants from a shop that specializes in South African fabrics. The 20 women gather to see who will pick the number one ticket from the hat each day, after the prayer and song. That makoti (wife) or entombi (young girl) selects what sewing or craft project she would like from the assortment of materials available for the day. Of course now the problem is that he occupational therapy program is very successful, and the limitations of materials and transport to this remote community limit this abundant approach. So the trick now is to design a realistic program for each day of a two month cycle, taking into account the abilities of the patients, to make materials stretch over the next year of the grant. The added job is to try to find a way of teaching new skills to every patient that participates and can then take the skills back to the village to teach other persons or market their new skills. Two sewing machines will be purchased in the next few weeks to teach machine sewing skills to the women.
The Ubabas and Umamas have been so prolific in their creations and industry that it is time again to put on a Fashion Show so on May 18 the Second Mountain High Fashion Show will be held to highlight the creativity of the patients at Mountain High Hospital and Positive Living for All. Please Come and Join the Fun! Promise to publish some great pic.
Last Saturday was a Fashion Show of a different bent. The local hospice put on their annual fashion show fundraiser and our attendance and voyeurism embarked on another view of rural South Africa. The Hospice in town is housed in a residential neighborhood with a beautiful backyard. Each supporting group had their own table. We walked in unawares and found an empty table next to a buffet table laden with spice cakes, scones, quiches, and savory tarts. Soon a foursome of funloving gals joined our table and we exchanged stories of life after the midway point. Some stories were parallel as a grandmother has a granddaughter at UCLA and children in Irvine. Some stories were harder to understand as the women discussed their concerns about crime in the new South Africa. At times the conversation seemed very familiar and comforting, especially when discussing the great sweets (candy to Americans, lekker to Afrikaans). We finally felt a bond with a local group albeit only on the basis of sugar highs from the great South African sweet industry. In other discussion we like we were from the moon with no insight as to local culture, custom, current events or their experiences. However, it was fun to be included in a group and to join the ladies at a local restaurant for a drink after the amazing array of fashions were presented. This is a very smartly turned out country and the designers put their best efforts into creating fabulous gowns with layers of silk, tulle, ruffles and beads. I whispered to one of our table mates that I loved the gowns but wondered where all the great parties were happening where one could wear the elaborate concoctions.
Tuesday, May 01, 2007
Blurrbs from Durbs
Today we listened to the sounds of Heaven at a choral competition in the City Hall in Durban. Community choirs, university choral groups and long established choirs competed for the provincial music title here in the cultural capital of KwaZuluNatal. This is what makes a city – serendipity and cultural events that draw the populace, entertain, and create an exciting, competitive atmosphere. As we walked the City streets, buses of red, cream, crimson, and white satined gowned women and tuxedoed men unloaded in front of the old City Hall (a moldy version of Greek Revival from Belfast, Ireland). Sniffing an event about to begin, we made inquiries and discovered that the provincial Choir Festival Competition was about to start. We jumped at the chance to hear some live music, paid the 20 rand (3 dollars) for tickets and entered the beautiful hall with the massive organ pipes holding center stage. The choir festival reminded me of marching band field shows in the US-the participants playing with their hair, looking around, smoothing their dresses until their choir director walks out on the stage, bows and turns to lead them. Then the amateurs turn into dedicated professionals as the individuals become one and sing from their soul. Their unpretentious faces took on the look of intensity, passion and serious business. The a capella singing and multiple harmonies were gorgeous to country folk looking for city entertainment. A Hadyn cantata piece was followed by a classical African composition with Zulu words. The finale was choir’s choice of their best. One choir selected a Zulu piece with numerous clicks so that not only did the choir have to stay in tune and on time but the clicks all had to occur simultaneously. Half time speech was given by the daughter of Nobel Peace Prize Albert Luthuli, who stated that her father had found the time to lead choirs and that the music represented the best of the new South Africa. I thought about all of the choir teachers at St. Peters by the Sea and public schools who worked so hard to give the gift of music to my children (without thanks) and the pleasure and joy that the experience had given our whole family.
This weekend marked our first trip to Durban and we are having a fine time!! Tales of muggings on the city streets and crowded beaches have kept us at a distance but this 5 day weekend (started with Freedom day on the 27th and ends with Workers Day on the 1st) seemed like the time to explore our closest city and scout out Zulu beading bargains for the patient occupational therapy program at Mountain High Hospital. Durban is not as chic or first world as Cape Town but it has its own charms. The climate is tropical and the gardens are endowed with blooming flowers, ferns, bananas, and palms in the humid atmosphere. The botanical garden is free and loaded with cycads, prehistoric plants that loom like trees. Along the beach, Zulu rickshaw drivers hold their own competitions for the most extravagant outlandish rickshaw décor. The carnival spirit at the beach is a combination of Phuket and Venice Beach with the bay looking like Santa Monica Bay, causing a twinge of homesickness. The flat city center is ringed with hilly, pleasant residential neighborhoods with outdoor cafes, gardens, small b and b’s and beautiful views of the harbor and ocean surf. Lunch beckoned at the “Taco Zulu” the first taste of Mexican food since we left the US 10 months ago. Simple burritos and salsa never tasted so delicious.
Freedom Day, April 27, marks the beginning of the new Democracy in South Africa – in1994 everyone turned out the vote and a new country was born. Today, Sunday, April 29. A minister at a church in Durban discussed his views on the meaning of Freedom in South Africa. He described training monitors in 1994 in anticipation that there could be a blood bath on election day. He also described the expectations of the liberated people- hopes for a matric (high school diploma) , a job and a house. Thirteen years later the new democracy is still trying to meet these expectations as well as more basic needs such as water and electricity for rural areas. The minister described true freedom as casting off the chains of grievances, grudges, and hatred and putting on love for all people.
The real find of the weekend was the Zulu bead emporium with unbelievable prices and selection. Back in our shopping town of Vryheid, we had been told about the wonders of a shop called Everlasting in Durban where every imaginable gift or craft item could be obtained at less than wholesale prices. We trudged along and found the store, which was located across from a hotel advertising a room for R69 a couple and R129 for overnight. The entrance to Everlasting was a two story cement stairwell. At the top of the stairs, a metal detector screened for weapons. From there one is directed to a bank of lockers with detachable keys for bag storage. After roving dozens of aisles in this monolith devoted to toys, hair pieces, party favors, artificial flowers, someone directed me to the bead department. Every color, style, size, shape, of bead was displayed – metallic, pearlized, glass, plastic, pastels, primary colors, and all in bulk quantities. The choices were too many and the journey home with the heavy beads to onerous Should I keep the bag of hot pink 2 mm glass beads for those young girls that love pink? What about the men who are coming at 930am to their own Jabule group and want real Zulu beads in orange, green, purple and black.
The gathering of the men this week was another serendipity event. The last few weeks the women’s Jabule has had an occasional drop-in male patient but on Monday 8 men came to the Hospital Business office and requested fleece to make hats for the cold nights on the mountain. I gathered up the fabric, called the Chaplain to assist and led the now 12 men into the chapel to begin a formalized men’s handcraft group. I cut fleece hats for them and they requested scarves as well. The fleece was depleted fairly quickly but there is always another trip to town to buy what they need. A Hospital employee has promised to teach the males shoe repair and construction so in a few weeks when the Peace Corps grant money has arrived, we will buy soles for each male patient and teach them how to make a simple sandal. Many of the men do not have shoes or socks of any kind.
Shoe repair and cobbler skills are desired by the men. Unemployment is very high so shoes are a luxury for many men. They want to make their own shoes and learn to repair shoes. Several stores in town sell soles and materials to construct simple sandals
Exciting news this week!! First a young woman delivered a baby on Tuesday and the Jabule quilt was given to her for the new baby. On Wed. I announced to the 18 women in the handwork group that we would start a new quilt for the next baby that is born to replace the one given to the young mother. There were a few anxious looks when I handed out 10 fabric squares to each woman and asked her to sew the squares together to make a row for the new quilt. By Thursday most of the women had sewn their 10 squares together and were ready to assemble the whole quilt together.
Brendon got word from the Peace Corps that his grant application for the AIDs orphans and vulnerable children Psycho Social Support Camp has been approved and we will be assisting the Hospital Administrator in running a camp in July as a pilot project. You are all invited to come and help. Blessings are multiplying at Mountain High and opportunities seem to pop up daily
This weekend marked our first trip to Durban and we are having a fine time!! Tales of muggings on the city streets and crowded beaches have kept us at a distance but this 5 day weekend (started with Freedom day on the 27th and ends with Workers Day on the 1st) seemed like the time to explore our closest city and scout out Zulu beading bargains for the patient occupational therapy program at Mountain High Hospital. Durban is not as chic or first world as Cape Town but it has its own charms. The climate is tropical and the gardens are endowed with blooming flowers, ferns, bananas, and palms in the humid atmosphere. The botanical garden is free and loaded with cycads, prehistoric plants that loom like trees. Along the beach, Zulu rickshaw drivers hold their own competitions for the most extravagant outlandish rickshaw décor. The carnival spirit at the beach is a combination of Phuket and Venice Beach with the bay looking like Santa Monica Bay, causing a twinge of homesickness. The flat city center is ringed with hilly, pleasant residential neighborhoods with outdoor cafes, gardens, small b and b’s and beautiful views of the harbor and ocean surf. Lunch beckoned at the “Taco Zulu” the first taste of Mexican food since we left the US 10 months ago. Simple burritos and salsa never tasted so delicious.
Freedom Day, April 27, marks the beginning of the new Democracy in South Africa – in1994 everyone turned out the vote and a new country was born. Today, Sunday, April 29. A minister at a church in Durban discussed his views on the meaning of Freedom in South Africa. He described training monitors in 1994 in anticipation that there could be a blood bath on election day. He also described the expectations of the liberated people- hopes for a matric (high school diploma) , a job and a house. Thirteen years later the new democracy is still trying to meet these expectations as well as more basic needs such as water and electricity for rural areas. The minister described true freedom as casting off the chains of grievances, grudges, and hatred and putting on love for all people.
The real find of the weekend was the Zulu bead emporium with unbelievable prices and selection. Back in our shopping town of Vryheid, we had been told about the wonders of a shop called Everlasting in Durban where every imaginable gift or craft item could be obtained at less than wholesale prices. We trudged along and found the store, which was located across from a hotel advertising a room for R69 a couple and R129 for overnight. The entrance to Everlasting was a two story cement stairwell. At the top of the stairs, a metal detector screened for weapons. From there one is directed to a bank of lockers with detachable keys for bag storage. After roving dozens of aisles in this monolith devoted to toys, hair pieces, party favors, artificial flowers, someone directed me to the bead department. Every color, style, size, shape, of bead was displayed – metallic, pearlized, glass, plastic, pastels, primary colors, and all in bulk quantities. The choices were too many and the journey home with the heavy beads to onerous Should I keep the bag of hot pink 2 mm glass beads for those young girls that love pink? What about the men who are coming at 930am to their own Jabule group and want real Zulu beads in orange, green, purple and black.
The gathering of the men this week was another serendipity event. The last few weeks the women’s Jabule has had an occasional drop-in male patient but on Monday 8 men came to the Hospital Business office and requested fleece to make hats for the cold nights on the mountain. I gathered up the fabric, called the Chaplain to assist and led the now 12 men into the chapel to begin a formalized men’s handcraft group. I cut fleece hats for them and they requested scarves as well. The fleece was depleted fairly quickly but there is always another trip to town to buy what they need. A Hospital employee has promised to teach the males shoe repair and construction so in a few weeks when the Peace Corps grant money has arrived, we will buy soles for each male patient and teach them how to make a simple sandal. Many of the men do not have shoes or socks of any kind.
Shoe repair and cobbler skills are desired by the men. Unemployment is very high so shoes are a luxury for many men. They want to make their own shoes and learn to repair shoes. Several stores in town sell soles and materials to construct simple sandals
Exciting news this week!! First a young woman delivered a baby on Tuesday and the Jabule quilt was given to her for the new baby. On Wed. I announced to the 18 women in the handwork group that we would start a new quilt for the next baby that is born to replace the one given to the young mother. There were a few anxious looks when I handed out 10 fabric squares to each woman and asked her to sew the squares together to make a row for the new quilt. By Thursday most of the women had sewn their 10 squares together and were ready to assemble the whole quilt together.
Brendon got word from the Peace Corps that his grant application for the AIDs orphans and vulnerable children Psycho Social Support Camp has been approved and we will be assisting the Hospital Administrator in running a camp in July as a pilot project. You are all invited to come and help. Blessings are multiplying at Mountain High and opportunities seem to pop up daily
Saturday, April 21, 2007
The Sting and the Honey
Last week I whined about the worry from late income tax payments (Thanks to our son Erik and his law firm, we are saved from a second federal career at Leavenworth, Kansas). This week we hit a more painful sting!
On Wednesday the beautiful female maintenance worker who is an electrician, came to my office and whispered that she wanted to show me something. I followed her out to the wards and she pointed up to the fluorescent light fixture in the glass enclosed hallway. Hundreds of bees were sleeping on the ends of the fixture in cool misty morning. We then walked through the porch corridor and spotted hundreds more bees sleeping on the fixtures making the white metal dark brown in appearance. Discussion of the ramifications brought some concern as to what might occur when the ward warmed up and the bees came to life. Also the source and purpose of the bees foray into the hospital remained a mystery.
I walked back to the Admin Building and someone pointed out an old chimney on the ward with swarms of bees hovering around the abandoned tower. It appeared that the bees had chosen the old chimney as a hive and the hospital as home. Calls to off site administrators provided several means of dealing with the problem. Get a bee keeper (couldn’t happen until the weekend) or flood the chimney with Fumitabs vapor and quickly seal off the hive. The day was spent in locating the Fumitabs and by Thursday we were ready for war with the bees who amazingly had not stung any patients and were pretty good neighbors.
Thursday morning came and the Maintenance Dept was ready for combat. The Maintenance Supervisor came to my flat and I outfitted him with Peace Corps mosquito netting wrapped around a trekking hat. He and a helper took a ladder and climbed up on the tin roof to the chimney. Alas, instead of throwing the Fumitabs into the hive, quickly covering the chimney and getting the heck out, they dawdled. I went out of the office to see what was happening and was astounded to seem them fooling around with the contents of the hive. Within a few seconds I was swarmed by angry bees that had just had home and hearth ripped apart. The bees were trapped by my long hair and starting stinging my scalp, face and hands. I ran back to our flat behind the office and smashed the trapped bees dead against my scalp. I pulled stingers out of my hands and grabbed for cans of DOOM, the local insecticide. The burn began. I twisted my hair into a tight knot against my head and pulled dead bees out of the tresses. This was one time I wished I had followed several Peace Corps Volunteers examples and gone for the shave. I went back into the safety of the office and the youth chaplain looked at me and pulled a stinger out of my eyelid. ( I don’t know if this has anything to do with Biblical admonitions about beams and motes in the eyes but on this day my stinger was removed by a spiritual healer.)
For the life of me I could not understand all the dawdling and fooling around on the tin roof. When I looked out the window the picture became clear. Its all about the HONEY!! The two maintenance employees were pulling the honeycombs out one by one and throwing them onto the tin roof of the wards, releasing all of the angry bees. I started calling to the nurses warning them to close the windows of the hospital and trying to get the patients into the wards. No one moved from their vigils outside next to the chimney. In fact a carnival atmosphere took over the whole hospital. The meek supervisor of the storeroom arrived with a feather duster and started swatting the swarming bees. (he later had to wear sunglasses to hide his swollen face). Several male patients could not be moved as they said they were used to bees. A female registered nurse was cautioned as she neared the fray but stated that Jesus would protect her. The homeless bees swarmed on the roof on the ward as the honeycombs made their way down to the hungry masses. The ladder slipped as the maintenance supervisor climbed back to the ground but he grabbed the fascia and rolled his legs around the ladder. The booty was moved to the yard next to the workshop and the workers and patients gathered to admire the hunters, gatherers, and treasure. They picked off pieces of the forbidden fruit and bit into the hardwon sweet. Smiles and looks of victory were exchanged.
The next day the price of victory became apparent. Many employees (thankfully no patients were stung) were suffering from beestings. The mood of the hospital was very quiet. This experience was a lesson in differing perceptions of danger and the oneness that Zulus share with nature. However, after 3 days my stings are still smarting and my face is swollen. I may not be ready for another lesson in nature’s bounty. I also wonder if the queen is still in the chimney as a few bees are still buzzing around.
On Wednesday the beautiful female maintenance worker who is an electrician, came to my office and whispered that she wanted to show me something. I followed her out to the wards and she pointed up to the fluorescent light fixture in the glass enclosed hallway. Hundreds of bees were sleeping on the ends of the fixture in cool misty morning. We then walked through the porch corridor and spotted hundreds more bees sleeping on the fixtures making the white metal dark brown in appearance. Discussion of the ramifications brought some concern as to what might occur when the ward warmed up and the bees came to life. Also the source and purpose of the bees foray into the hospital remained a mystery.
I walked back to the Admin Building and someone pointed out an old chimney on the ward with swarms of bees hovering around the abandoned tower. It appeared that the bees had chosen the old chimney as a hive and the hospital as home. Calls to off site administrators provided several means of dealing with the problem. Get a bee keeper (couldn’t happen until the weekend) or flood the chimney with Fumitabs vapor and quickly seal off the hive. The day was spent in locating the Fumitabs and by Thursday we were ready for war with the bees who amazingly had not stung any patients and were pretty good neighbors.
Thursday morning came and the Maintenance Dept was ready for combat. The Maintenance Supervisor came to my flat and I outfitted him with Peace Corps mosquito netting wrapped around a trekking hat. He and a helper took a ladder and climbed up on the tin roof to the chimney. Alas, instead of throwing the Fumitabs into the hive, quickly covering the chimney and getting the heck out, they dawdled. I went out of the office to see what was happening and was astounded to seem them fooling around with the contents of the hive. Within a few seconds I was swarmed by angry bees that had just had home and hearth ripped apart. The bees were trapped by my long hair and starting stinging my scalp, face and hands. I ran back to our flat behind the office and smashed the trapped bees dead against my scalp. I pulled stingers out of my hands and grabbed for cans of DOOM, the local insecticide. The burn began. I twisted my hair into a tight knot against my head and pulled dead bees out of the tresses. This was one time I wished I had followed several Peace Corps Volunteers examples and gone for the shave. I went back into the safety of the office and the youth chaplain looked at me and pulled a stinger out of my eyelid. ( I don’t know if this has anything to do with Biblical admonitions about beams and motes in the eyes but on this day my stinger was removed by a spiritual healer.)
For the life of me I could not understand all the dawdling and fooling around on the tin roof. When I looked out the window the picture became clear. Its all about the HONEY!! The two maintenance employees were pulling the honeycombs out one by one and throwing them onto the tin roof of the wards, releasing all of the angry bees. I started calling to the nurses warning them to close the windows of the hospital and trying to get the patients into the wards. No one moved from their vigils outside next to the chimney. In fact a carnival atmosphere took over the whole hospital. The meek supervisor of the storeroom arrived with a feather duster and started swatting the swarming bees. (he later had to wear sunglasses to hide his swollen face). Several male patients could not be moved as they said they were used to bees. A female registered nurse was cautioned as she neared the fray but stated that Jesus would protect her. The homeless bees swarmed on the roof on the ward as the honeycombs made their way down to the hungry masses. The ladder slipped as the maintenance supervisor climbed back to the ground but he grabbed the fascia and rolled his legs around the ladder. The booty was moved to the yard next to the workshop and the workers and patients gathered to admire the hunters, gatherers, and treasure. They picked off pieces of the forbidden fruit and bit into the hardwon sweet. Smiles and looks of victory were exchanged.
The next day the price of victory became apparent. Many employees (thankfully no patients were stung) were suffering from beestings. The mood of the hospital was very quiet. This experience was a lesson in differing perceptions of danger and the oneness that Zulus share with nature. However, after 3 days my stings are still smarting and my face is swollen. I may not be ready for another lesson in nature’s bounty. I also wonder if the queen is still in the chimney as a few bees are still buzzing around.
Sunday, April 15, 2007
Taxing Troubles
Blog 15 april
Today is April 15 and Uncle Sam beckons for that which is due for 2006. Our taxes have not been filed. The Peace Corps lessons on Patience and Flexibility soften our anger, stress and frustration at our inability to accomplish a business task and the lack of control we have over our former lives in the United States.
Control and security are two buzzwords in America and middle class, middle age types take extraordinary measures to insure themselves, organize their finances and personal lives, and assess the risk of every daily activity. Peace Corps volunteers can take personal security measures but they cannot control communication, business in the US and transport.
Last June as we prepared to leave our home in Palos Verdes for two years, we sought advice on how to file our personal income taxes. We went to a CPA and provided data, documents and contact numbers and he agreed to prepare the tax returns for 2006. When January came along we forwarded the tax documents to the accountant and looked forward to getting the return by mail or email. When no return arrived by March, we emailed him and received the reply that he was swamped and would work on the return over the weekend. By last week we started to be concerned. A phone call to his office produced no response and our property manager’s inquiry produced no goods. The return is too complicated for us to do ourselves as our home was turned into a rental. So we sit today in South Africa feeling somewhat anxious, but utterly helpless as to what action can be taken. (Several of our contacts have tried to reassure us with the fact that taxes are not due until the 17th). Even if they arrived tomorrow, we may not have functioning email and the Hospital does not have a fax. Advice for potential Peace Corps volunteers-Try to cut all business ties to the US before you leave home.
So maybe after our tour of duty as Peace Corps volunteers, we will be housed in another Federal facility, Leavenworth. LOL. So all is not perfect in this beautiful country. In fact, most of the frustrations in our version of the Peace Corps are based on dealings with the US- three weeks for air mail to arrive at great cost; poor reception, delay, echo and disconnect from phone calls; no access to fax machines, intermittent email at night and no email in the day; and difficulty paying bills from South Africa. Control is held near and dear to American hearts. This experience in the third world 12,000 miles away has taught more than flexibility-seek peace and serenity in the midst of discord. The problems we have encountered have worked out, although not on our timetable. Fretting about the things one cannot control is not productive and our tasks here are so compelling that business and personal issues in the US fade in their importance. Our concern today is whether we can get a taxi back to the hospital this afternoon, how far we have to walk with our loaded shopping bags, and how to accurately do the payroll tomorrow so that no employee is cheated out of one rand. Dealing with the patients is a reminder of how blessed we are to have good health, confidence, and hope for the future.
The Jabule group is growing in numbers, energy and enthusiasm every day. This week the patients were hand sewing skirts, fleece hats for winter, dresses for their daughters, shopping bags with beading, and Zulu jewelry. A find was a load of old telephone cable on a junk pile which was stripped by the male patients, producing beautifully colored copper wires which will be woven in baskets. Dangly Zulu beaded earrings with the red and white AIDS symbol were made by some of the patients. Five new women joined the group and made head scarves as their first project. We celebrated a great week of Sizabuntu (Community Helping Project) by making No Bake Cookies on Friday, with the nurses translating the ingredients for the patients. We are outgrowing the small TV lounge and the time required to cut out each project and provide materials to each patient increases but the women are good natured. Thankfully, the Peace Corps grant will provide volunteer helpers to assist very soon.
Today is April 15 and Uncle Sam beckons for that which is due for 2006. Our taxes have not been filed. The Peace Corps lessons on Patience and Flexibility soften our anger, stress and frustration at our inability to accomplish a business task and the lack of control we have over our former lives in the United States.
Control and security are two buzzwords in America and middle class, middle age types take extraordinary measures to insure themselves, organize their finances and personal lives, and assess the risk of every daily activity. Peace Corps volunteers can take personal security measures but they cannot control communication, business in the US and transport.
Last June as we prepared to leave our home in Palos Verdes for two years, we sought advice on how to file our personal income taxes. We went to a CPA and provided data, documents and contact numbers and he agreed to prepare the tax returns for 2006. When January came along we forwarded the tax documents to the accountant and looked forward to getting the return by mail or email. When no return arrived by March, we emailed him and received the reply that he was swamped and would work on the return over the weekend. By last week we started to be concerned. A phone call to his office produced no response and our property manager’s inquiry produced no goods. The return is too complicated for us to do ourselves as our home was turned into a rental. So we sit today in South Africa feeling somewhat anxious, but utterly helpless as to what action can be taken. (Several of our contacts have tried to reassure us with the fact that taxes are not due until the 17th). Even if they arrived tomorrow, we may not have functioning email and the Hospital does not have a fax. Advice for potential Peace Corps volunteers-Try to cut all business ties to the US before you leave home.
So maybe after our tour of duty as Peace Corps volunteers, we will be housed in another Federal facility, Leavenworth. LOL. So all is not perfect in this beautiful country. In fact, most of the frustrations in our version of the Peace Corps are based on dealings with the US- three weeks for air mail to arrive at great cost; poor reception, delay, echo and disconnect from phone calls; no access to fax machines, intermittent email at night and no email in the day; and difficulty paying bills from South Africa. Control is held near and dear to American hearts. This experience in the third world 12,000 miles away has taught more than flexibility-seek peace and serenity in the midst of discord. The problems we have encountered have worked out, although not on our timetable. Fretting about the things one cannot control is not productive and our tasks here are so compelling that business and personal issues in the US fade in their importance. Our concern today is whether we can get a taxi back to the hospital this afternoon, how far we have to walk with our loaded shopping bags, and how to accurately do the payroll tomorrow so that no employee is cheated out of one rand. Dealing with the patients is a reminder of how blessed we are to have good health, confidence, and hope for the future.
The Jabule group is growing in numbers, energy and enthusiasm every day. This week the patients were hand sewing skirts, fleece hats for winter, dresses for their daughters, shopping bags with beading, and Zulu jewelry. A find was a load of old telephone cable on a junk pile which was stripped by the male patients, producing beautifully colored copper wires which will be woven in baskets. Dangly Zulu beaded earrings with the red and white AIDS symbol were made by some of the patients. Five new women joined the group and made head scarves as their first project. We celebrated a great week of Sizabuntu (Community Helping Project) by making No Bake Cookies on Friday, with the nurses translating the ingredients for the patients. We are outgrowing the small TV lounge and the time required to cut out each project and provide materials to each patient increases but the women are good natured. Thankfully, the Peace Corps grant will provide volunteer helpers to assist very soon.
Monday, April 09, 2007
The Ship Came In! Blessings from the Berg
Blog 8 April
Happy Easter Everyone! Blessings from the “Berg” (Drakensberg That Is)
Great News Came This Week!!!! The Peace Corps, using the President’s AIDS funds, approved our $3800 grant request to fund the Occupational Therapy Program for one year at Mountain High Hospital. I was so excited to hear the news and to have our handcraft/sewing group, Jabule (Happiness) SizaBuntu (People Helping), receive this gift which will fund handcraft supplies, two sewing machines, three paid assistants that begin as volunteers, and six weeks of instruction from the Zulu beading teacher. The Jabule group has been a blessing to me as the patients in their blue hospital gowns become individuals with personalities and artistic talent. They tease me and I joke with them as I show them simple beading, cut materials, hand out yarn, and demonstrate cooking. With this funding the program will no longer be hit or miss, depending on the availability of materials (and my access to town) or the demands of the office duties. Local volunteers will be trained to run the program so that it is sustainable and to teach sewing machine skills that may be used when the patients go home.
Thanks to all of the donors in South Africa and America that contributed materials to seed the program. It has been a great success as every day 15 women and a few men clamor for projects and want to learn new skills. They are interested in making practical items for themselves and their children but respond with big smiles when told that their work is Ihle (beautiful). The grant will allow expansion of the program to more men (shoe repair, carving and wire sculpture) as well as to bedridden women who can do handwork. The patients in this TB/AIDS hospital are not old and they are interested in fun, useful activities. What a great opportunity to use those skills learned from Mom and Home Ec in the US. A personal benefit is that the handcraft program has been an excuse to visit every available gift shop to look for new project ideas and admire the Zulu culture.
My skills have been put to use in the Peace Corps-environmental health, disease prevention, infection control, proposal writing, office management, budgeting, data inputs, computer graphics, payroll, embroidery, sewing, knitting, cutting out patterns, cooking, gardening, making pom poms for booties, and church youth programs. It seems that every opportunity for learning leads to a future, parallel opportunity to use that skill even for those of us who are not perfectionists. . So friends, be glad when you enter your prime years because Experience Counts and it can be used in the Peace Corps!
Easter in South Africa is a four day weekend so the Bond’s packed up to visit their neighboring World Heritage Site, Giant’s Castle in the Drakenberg Mountains. The usual scramble to get off our own mountain was worth the effort when we arrived at our mountain lodge and caught a glimpse at the magnificent mountain range which extends over 100 miles and has peaks 10,000ft rock peaks. Giant’s Castle is so named because a silhouette of a giant and castle create the peaks of the escarpment at this point in the range. Some of the other noteworthy peaks are Cathedral Peak, Monk’s Cowl and the famous Champagne Castle. This trip we are on the Peace Corps Budget and did not splurge for the Champagne Castle but settled into a lodge just outside the national park with thatched bungalows, hiking trails and plenty of charm for only $90 a night for two, including a hearty breakfast and dinner. The lodge is full of families enjoying the long weekend and the pond with canoeing, sports equipment, ping pong and cricket. It is hard to believe it is Easter as the leaves here at 5000ft have begun to turn color, the air is cool and the afternoons deliver heavy rainstorms.
The hiking in the national park is great with well marked trails that extend into the lofty peaks and a hut system for overnighters. We hiked to the World’s View, which delivered on its name. The easy trail transversed the mountains and then jutted up to the top of the highest hill where one has a 360 degree view of the entire escarpment and the rolling hills that lead up to the Drakensberg. The tops of the peaks were shrouded in fog but the view was stunning nonetheless. About half way a herd of eland and their young strolled alongside the trail looking to graze on the upper side of the ridge. They were still there when we returned from the top of the view point. The elder large grey males take the lead and rear to keep the young in line. Their movements were beautiful to watch as the herd of around 25 made random patterns but always keeping with the group up the side of the tapestry of flora on the mountain.
The visit to the Drakensberg included a hike to the mountain cave paintings done by the San people, the original inhabitants of South Africa. Drakensberg is a geographic and cultural world heritage site because of the rock wall paintings, which include warriors, sangomas (witch doctors), eland, and mytholocial half man half beasts with two tails and three animal heads. The paintings were dynamic in their depiction of movement and color but were mystical in their meaning. Much of the ancient art from the early inhabitants shows leash lines from the man figure to the animal but the significance of these tethers remains unknown.
Easter Blessings to you- family, friends and neighbors! At the holidays we get homesick for familiarity, comfort and renewal of our faith. This special Easter we seek joy in the Easter Message of Hope and New Beginnings for All. This Easter it is exciting to be in a New Democracy with so many opportunities for service and personal growth. .
Happy Easter Everyone! Blessings from the “Berg” (Drakensberg That Is)
Great News Came This Week!!!! The Peace Corps, using the President’s AIDS funds, approved our $3800 grant request to fund the Occupational Therapy Program for one year at Mountain High Hospital. I was so excited to hear the news and to have our handcraft/sewing group, Jabule (Happiness) SizaBuntu (People Helping), receive this gift which will fund handcraft supplies, two sewing machines, three paid assistants that begin as volunteers, and six weeks of instruction from the Zulu beading teacher. The Jabule group has been a blessing to me as the patients in their blue hospital gowns become individuals with personalities and artistic talent. They tease me and I joke with them as I show them simple beading, cut materials, hand out yarn, and demonstrate cooking. With this funding the program will no longer be hit or miss, depending on the availability of materials (and my access to town) or the demands of the office duties. Local volunteers will be trained to run the program so that it is sustainable and to teach sewing machine skills that may be used when the patients go home.
Thanks to all of the donors in South Africa and America that contributed materials to seed the program. It has been a great success as every day 15 women and a few men clamor for projects and want to learn new skills. They are interested in making practical items for themselves and their children but respond with big smiles when told that their work is Ihle (beautiful). The grant will allow expansion of the program to more men (shoe repair, carving and wire sculpture) as well as to bedridden women who can do handwork. The patients in this TB/AIDS hospital are not old and they are interested in fun, useful activities. What a great opportunity to use those skills learned from Mom and Home Ec in the US. A personal benefit is that the handcraft program has been an excuse to visit every available gift shop to look for new project ideas and admire the Zulu culture.
My skills have been put to use in the Peace Corps-environmental health, disease prevention, infection control, proposal writing, office management, budgeting, data inputs, computer graphics, payroll, embroidery, sewing, knitting, cutting out patterns, cooking, gardening, making pom poms for booties, and church youth programs. It seems that every opportunity for learning leads to a future, parallel opportunity to use that skill even for those of us who are not perfectionists. . So friends, be glad when you enter your prime years because Experience Counts and it can be used in the Peace Corps!
Easter in South Africa is a four day weekend so the Bond’s packed up to visit their neighboring World Heritage Site, Giant’s Castle in the Drakenberg Mountains. The usual scramble to get off our own mountain was worth the effort when we arrived at our mountain lodge and caught a glimpse at the magnificent mountain range which extends over 100 miles and has peaks 10,000ft rock peaks. Giant’s Castle is so named because a silhouette of a giant and castle create the peaks of the escarpment at this point in the range. Some of the other noteworthy peaks are Cathedral Peak, Monk’s Cowl and the famous Champagne Castle. This trip we are on the Peace Corps Budget and did not splurge for the Champagne Castle but settled into a lodge just outside the national park with thatched bungalows, hiking trails and plenty of charm for only $90 a night for two, including a hearty breakfast and dinner. The lodge is full of families enjoying the long weekend and the pond with canoeing, sports equipment, ping pong and cricket. It is hard to believe it is Easter as the leaves here at 5000ft have begun to turn color, the air is cool and the afternoons deliver heavy rainstorms.
The hiking in the national park is great with well marked trails that extend into the lofty peaks and a hut system for overnighters. We hiked to the World’s View, which delivered on its name. The easy trail transversed the mountains and then jutted up to the top of the highest hill where one has a 360 degree view of the entire escarpment and the rolling hills that lead up to the Drakensberg. The tops of the peaks were shrouded in fog but the view was stunning nonetheless. About half way a herd of eland and their young strolled alongside the trail looking to graze on the upper side of the ridge. They were still there when we returned from the top of the view point. The elder large grey males take the lead and rear to keep the young in line. Their movements were beautiful to watch as the herd of around 25 made random patterns but always keeping with the group up the side of the tapestry of flora on the mountain.
The visit to the Drakensberg included a hike to the mountain cave paintings done by the San people, the original inhabitants of South Africa. Drakensberg is a geographic and cultural world heritage site because of the rock wall paintings, which include warriors, sangomas (witch doctors), eland, and mytholocial half man half beasts with two tails and three animal heads. The paintings were dynamic in their depiction of movement and color but were mystical in their meaning. Much of the ancient art from the early inhabitants shows leash lines from the man figure to the animal but the significance of these tethers remains unknown.
Easter Blessings to you- family, friends and neighbors! At the holidays we get homesick for familiarity, comfort and renewal of our faith. This special Easter we seek joy in the Easter Message of Hope and New Beginnings for All. This Easter it is exciting to be in a New Democracy with so many opportunities for service and personal growth. .
Sunday, April 01, 2007
Fall at Mountain High
Fall has come to Mountain High and our home in the sky has been shrouded in mist for most of the week. Today we are in Vryheid, our shopping town, where the skies are bright blue and the air feels like Los Angeles on a beautiful fall day with cooler temperatures and a slight breeze. The days are growing shorter. We are looking forward to a trip to the Drakensburg Mountains for Easter where jagged peaks 10,000 feet high create a 100 mile national park and World Heritage sight.
The 2000 km trip home from Cape Town was a driving odyssey across the southern end of South Africa, along the coast of the Eastern Cape through KwaZuluNatal and Durban to Richards Bay. The southern coast was wild and forested, with wide canyons and bungy jumping across the huge abysses. The garden route was somewhat disappointing as the flowers were not in bloom but the varieties of shrubs, trees and scrub were interesting. We hit rain though the Tsitikamma National Park and fog. As soon as we reached the Indian Ocean the weather cleared and the National Road N2 transversed lovely beaches and port towns. The beaches on the Indian Ocean have beautiful surf but lack the dramatic forests and canyons on the southern side of SA. At Port Alfred the road turns in, making the coast inaccessible. This is the Apartheid homeland of Transkei and the area was the poorest we have seen with few farms, water, trees or signs of electricity where the Xhosa people live. Mandela grew up in this area and has retired to a small town here. Tourist facilities were hard to come by. The coast in this area is known as the “Wild Coast” and can be hiked through a national trails system.
The trip back to Mountain High by Greyhound Bus from the coast taught us more P and F (patience and flexibility). After turning the rental car in, we rushed to the bus stop at the Mac Donalds in Richards Bay. The bus was an hour late due to a broken fan belt. When the bus pulled in the driver stated that the fan belt was broken again and he called to have Greyhound send a mechanic with another fan belt. The mechanic eventually showed up and repaired the fan belt. We cheered the mechanic and boarded the bus. After a 10 minute ride the driver stated that the air system had also failed which affected the doors and brakes. We all got off the bus and waited while the mechanics were summoned again. The crowd was fairly good natured about all of the delays, even the mothers with tiny infants and bored children. At last we pulled into Vryheid at 7pm, a four hour delay and had to stay in a b and b. The director of the hospital was not happy the next morning when it took 2 hours to fill the taxi to transport us back to the hospital but such is life with the vagaries of public transportation. The work has been piling up and new projects need attention. The women in the sewing group have been waiting for supplies and ideas to start new handcraft projects. The cold and damp have piqued their interest in making fleece hats and warm socks. It is a pleasure to be needed and have a job to do although we also enjoy touring this beautiful country.
Our flat was filled with wet clothes that took three days to dry after washday turned into a downpour. It had the appearance of a Salvation Army Thrift Shop with shirts, underwear, pants, socks, and wet towels hanging from every chair and door knob. Besides a car, a clothes dryer is missed most of all American comforts. Washday is a judgement call; the weather drives the decision. Wrong guess and one lives with his mistake with wet clothes competing for space in our small flat. As fall set in, we check the weather reports but they are always 30 or 60 % chance of rain. They are always accurate too!
The 2000 km trip home from Cape Town was a driving odyssey across the southern end of South Africa, along the coast of the Eastern Cape through KwaZuluNatal and Durban to Richards Bay. The southern coast was wild and forested, with wide canyons and bungy jumping across the huge abysses. The garden route was somewhat disappointing as the flowers were not in bloom but the varieties of shrubs, trees and scrub were interesting. We hit rain though the Tsitikamma National Park and fog. As soon as we reached the Indian Ocean the weather cleared and the National Road N2 transversed lovely beaches and port towns. The beaches on the Indian Ocean have beautiful surf but lack the dramatic forests and canyons on the southern side of SA. At Port Alfred the road turns in, making the coast inaccessible. This is the Apartheid homeland of Transkei and the area was the poorest we have seen with few farms, water, trees or signs of electricity where the Xhosa people live. Mandela grew up in this area and has retired to a small town here. Tourist facilities were hard to come by. The coast in this area is known as the “Wild Coast” and can be hiked through a national trails system.
The trip back to Mountain High by Greyhound Bus from the coast taught us more P and F (patience and flexibility). After turning the rental car in, we rushed to the bus stop at the Mac Donalds in Richards Bay. The bus was an hour late due to a broken fan belt. When the bus pulled in the driver stated that the fan belt was broken again and he called to have Greyhound send a mechanic with another fan belt. The mechanic eventually showed up and repaired the fan belt. We cheered the mechanic and boarded the bus. After a 10 minute ride the driver stated that the air system had also failed which affected the doors and brakes. We all got off the bus and waited while the mechanics were summoned again. The crowd was fairly good natured about all of the delays, even the mothers with tiny infants and bored children. At last we pulled into Vryheid at 7pm, a four hour delay and had to stay in a b and b. The director of the hospital was not happy the next morning when it took 2 hours to fill the taxi to transport us back to the hospital but such is life with the vagaries of public transportation. The work has been piling up and new projects need attention. The women in the sewing group have been waiting for supplies and ideas to start new handcraft projects. The cold and damp have piqued their interest in making fleece hats and warm socks. It is a pleasure to be needed and have a job to do although we also enjoy touring this beautiful country.
Our flat was filled with wet clothes that took three days to dry after washday turned into a downpour. It had the appearance of a Salvation Army Thrift Shop with shirts, underwear, pants, socks, and wet towels hanging from every chair and door knob. Besides a car, a clothes dryer is missed most of all American comforts. Washday is a judgement call; the weather drives the decision. Wrong guess and one lives with his mistake with wet clothes competing for space in our small flat. As fall set in, we check the weather reports but they are always 30 or 60 % chance of rain. They are always accurate too!
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