A Celebration of Love, Life, and Friendship

One of the major goals of the Peace Corps is that of cultural exchange. As we live and work alongside the local people of the country we serve in, in my case South Africa, we are meant to share our American culture while learning about the culture where we are living. I can only hope that I have shared some of my culture and that I have taught a few things to the people that I am lucky enough to work with on a daily basis as they have done for me. Since arriving to South Africa almost 8 months ago now, I have learned so much about life. Yes, it may sound a bit cheesy but forgive me. South Africans know how to celebrate life in every facet. They know how to celebrate love, they know how to celebrate life, and they know how to celebrate friendship. Most of this stems from the culture of “ubuntu,” the idea that I exist because you exist. So, this blog is just a small glimpse of the celebration of love, life, and friendship that takes place every day in South Africa.

A Celebration of Love...

Valentine’s Day…I have always asked myself “What is this holiday all about anyway?” I personally never really liked Valentine’s Day. I always looked at it as a “Hallmark Holiday,” a holiday to support the card and candy businesses. I didn’t really see the need to celebrate a day of romance; why can’t you celebrate that every day? When I was little, I didn’t see the need for all of the mushy gushy stuff. This changed about two weeks ago when I experienced my first Valentine’s Day in South Africa. Coming out of my rondovel about to bike to school, my host brother Tumelo, in his “Cupid is my Wingman” t-shirt, found fault in my outfit. “Why aren’t you wearing red and white?” Tumelo asked me. I thought that my baby-pink cardigan was celebratory, but apparently it wasn’t flashy enough. In South Africa, at least in my village, you really need to show your Valentine’s Day colors. Throughout the day I realized what a big deal Valentine’s Day was here! Everyone was decked out – the learners were even permitted to dress in red, pink, black, and white if they donated R5 to the school. My learners were very excited about Valentine’s Day. As I walked into my Grade 7 English class with hot pink paper for them to make Valentine’s Day Cards, you would have thought I was holding gold. Before the school day ended, I had my first Valentine from one of my Grade 7 learners – absolutely heartwarming. When I got home, I had plenty of work to do – 90ish journals take quite some time to respond to. As I was responding to the journals, watching the movie “Easy A” (quite funny if you haven’t seen it), and enjoying my gourmet meal (an omelet and coffee), there was a knock on my door. It was my youngest host brother, Matome. “Mom says come and get meat,” Matome told me. “Alrighty,” I thought. Never one to turn down free meat, I skipped across the street to my Aunt Selena’s house, where Christmas lights were twinkling, music was blasting, and a large group of my female friends from the village were chatting. As I was about to finish my chicken, Maggie (my host mom) and Selena began handing out bags to a few of us – Valentine’s Day presents. What ensued from that point, I still am not sure – sometimes I swear I am on “Candid Camera.” Let’s just say there was a lot of dancing and parading of the presents. Although I was very confused (a normal occurrence here), I had a blast. I realized during this time that Valentine’s Day is not just a day to buy fancy cards and chocolates (although that is never a bad thing), but rather a day to recognize those you love – family, friends, significant others. To all of my family and my friends back home and in SA, I love you very much.

A Celebration of Life…

My fellow friends and Peace Corps Volunteers have been to countless funerals since arriving to South Africa. It seemed as though every weekend someone was going to a funeral. Whenever I asked my teachers “what are you doing this weekend?” the answer was “going to a funeral.” Even if they did not know the person, they were always attending a funeral. It is a sad testament to the HIV/AIDS epidemic in South Africa – South Africa has the highest number of people infected with HIV in the world. While it may sound rather morbid, I was a bit jealous about everyone going to a funeral. I too wanted to experience a funeral in South Africa; I want to soak up as much of the culture as possible during my service. A few weeks ago, my closest friend in the village – Sylvia (Thabiso) – invited me to go to a funeral with her in the next village; her Uncle had passed away. I accepted, and she began to tell me all of the rules for attending a South African funeral. As a female, I would have to cover my hair (with a duku), I would have to cover my shoulders (wear a cardigan), I would have to wear a dress, and I was not allowed to wear earrings. On the day of the funeral, I left with my host mom and another woman in the village at 5:30am. We got a ride to the next village, and at about 6:00am the service began. What happened from here, I can only use my best judgment since I did not understand 95% of what was said – the service was done in Sepedi. There were many people who came and spoke about the deceased. Between the different speakers, the ZCC (Zion Christian Church) choir sang. This was definitely my favorite part of the service; they have beautiful voices. After about an hour, we all stood. I was ushered to a car that did not have a/c and that did not have functioning windows (aka sweat box); I would have preferred walking, but for some reason or another I am still given special treatment. We arrived to a new location (at the same time as those who walked) where the service continued. This part of the service lasted for about an hour and a half. More people spoke about the deceased as the coffin was lowered into the grave. Then, to my surprise, all of the men who were present got out their shovels and began filling the grave with dirt and concrete. This took about 30 minutes to do. Following this, we again took the “oven” car back to our original location. On our way back, we had to get out of the car to be splashed with water. I am assuming that this is part of the religious ritual involved in the ceremony. When we got back to the original location, we were served the normal South African cuisine – pap, rice, chicken, pumpkin, beet root, mashed potatoes, cabbage, biscuits, and juice. If that wasn’t enough, prior to leaving we were served more biscuits and cold drink.
During the service, I was very surprised to observe the differences between South African funeral services and American funeral services. First of all, there were SO many people in attendance. Whether or not you knew the deceased, you came. You came because your friend or your relative knew the deceased. You came to support; you came to celebrate this person’s life. Secondly, most of the people in attendance were dressed in vibrant colors. I saw people dressed in yellows, oranges, pinks, blues, etc. rather than the normal grey, navy, and black. Lastly, throughout the entire 6 hours we were there, I only saw ONE person cry, and I am pretty sure that this was the deceased’s wife. Rather, most people were jovial, gathered together to celebrate this man’s life, and to remember him in happiness rather than in sadness.

A Celebration of Friendship…

“Mpoxo.” Before last week I had never heard of the word “mpoxo,” a Tsonga word/tradition. Now, I have attended “mpoxo” and I even have my own “mpoxo” scheduled for the near future (just now). At one of the primary schools where I teach, the teachers always eat lunch together; we enjoy pap and meat for lunch. Last week, however, lunch seemed a little fancier than usual. Of course there was still pap and chicken, but there was also lots of cold drink (an unexpected treat, for sure). Also, on this particular day, the principal, the HOD’s, and the cooks joined us; I was really excited about this since the more the merrier. This, my friends, was “mpoxo” at its finest. One of the teachers (a few weeks before this) had been singing too loudly for the likes of one of the older cooks. Now, just to backtrack a bit, age is very important in South Africa. Elders are held with much respect. What a gogo says goes. When the cook made her disappointment known, “mpoxo” was arranged. The entire staff contributed R20 to hold “mpoxo,” and during “mpoxo,” an apology was made to the cook. All was forgiven very quickly. So, yes, “mpoxo” is about apologizing, but it is more important that friends and colleagues get the opportunity to gather and enjoy one another’s company, something that cannot always happen with the ins and outs of everyday life.
Now, to give you a run-down on my “mpoxo”…
All of the teachers and both of my principals have come to realize how much Americans like to exercise. I insist that I ride my bike to school when I can. Otherwise, with all of the pap, cold drink, magwina, etc. I’d most likely gain a few pounds. Also, my bike ride to school, while a bit sweaty, is a nice time of reflection. Last week, one of the teachers came to pick me up for school. However, I was not ready. I had planned on riding my bike to school, and was still getting prepared. When I arrived at school, I was told that I owed “mpoxo.” Since I was not ready when the teacher came, I messed up the schedule at school a bit. At first I thought I was in trouble and felt really badly, but to my relief all of the teachers ensured me that I was not, that everything was sharp, sharp. The teachers were excited to get the chance to have another “mpoxo.” Any excuse to enjoy one another’s company and to make amends at the same time is always a good idea, especially when there is cold drink involved.

Since coming to South Africa, I have realized how important relationships are. One of the things I love about being here is that life moves a little bit slower. Everyone always greets everyone, says hello to everyone else when passing by on the street. Yes, time is still important, but people always trump time. That being said, here is my challenge to you. Make sure, during each day, to celebrate love, celebrate life, and celebrate friendship. I understand that days get busy, I really do. However, a day is never too busy to take 5 minutes to recognize the ones who you care about and who care about you. A day is never too busy to count your blessings. And certainly, a day is never too busy to catch up with an old friend.

Word of the blog:

Compare – Sepedi: bapetsa; Xitsonga: ringanisa

Salang gabotse,
Meg :)