A Fish Fresh Out of Water

A Fish, Fresh Out of Water

When I was younger, I was obsessed with watching “The Little Mermaid.”  I would sit on the couch in our family room, holding my stuffed Flounder and Sebastian that I had received as Christmas presents (there is unfortunately a home video that provides full-blown proof that I had gone bonkers when I opened these gifts), and sing along to “Under the Sea” just about every day of the week.  I secretly wished for a fin, so that I could join Ariel and her friends in all of their undersea adventures.  Obviously this never came to fruition…

I may have never gotten my fin, but I sure as hell am on the adventure of a lifetime, as I enter into my 2^nd year as a Peace Corps Volunteer in South Africa.  As I look back on myself when I first arrived to South Africa, I think of the image of Ariel immediately after the ugly sea-witch, Ursula, granted the young mermaid princess a pair of human legs.  Not accustomed yet to walking or her land legs, she tripped on her feet, having to be rescued by the ever so handsome prince, Eric.  Similar to Ariel, I had trouble finding my feet when I arrived to country.  I didn’t know what to do, what to say (quite literally), how to eat (fork or no fork?), how to bucket bathe, and the list of mishaps and misunderstandings goes on… and on.  Needless to say, I myself was a fish fresh out of water.  And luckily, I too, was rescued.  I was rescued by my host family, my village, and countless other individuals I have met along the way.  I was rescued by their love, their patience, and their understanding.  I was rescued by the fact that I kind of stick out as an outsider, a foreigner.

A few weeks back I was lucky enough to host four wonderful women – Vanessa, Linda, Brianna, and Diana – all PCT’s (Peace Corps Trainees) in the newest PCSA class, SA26.  These four ladies, along with their LCF (Language and Cultural Facilitator) Nonjabulo or “Auntie” as I know her from my own training many days ago, came to my village for 4 days (Saturday to Wednesday) to live and observe what the life of a volunteer is like.  I was rather nervous before their arrival, thinking to myself “What the heck do I know??”  I didn’t know how I could be of help to these new arrivals, but I was willing to try.  Now, not to pat myself on the back, but I really surprised myself, I think more than anyone else.  They loved their time in my village.  My village loved having them, my schools welcomed them with open arms, and my host family continues to ask when they will be back again.

 The following week I traveled to Mpumalanga to help with PST (Pre-Service Training) for SA26.  I assisted Peace Corps in training the PCT’s on topics such as Teacher Training, Reading Comprehension, and Listening Skills for L2 Speakers, and Student-Centered Classrooms.  Again, I was a bit intimidated.  I was going from the safe and familiar confines of teaching my grade r, grade 6, and grade 7 learners to the so-called shark pool of highly qualified PCT’s.  Some of the faces I had to teach had been teaching as I was fresh out of diapers.  Jeeze, one of the women was starting her 7^th, yes SEVENTH Peace Corps Service.  However, again, my nervousness was for nothing.  The PCT’s appreciated my advice.  They appreciated my anecdotes from site and from school.  And more than anything, they appreciated that I was still learning and willing to admit so.  It was fabulous meeting more Americans, and even better getting to reconnect with the four women who had in such a short time become such good friends of mine. 

During both my hosting of the PCT’s and my week’s stay at the training site, I realized quite a few things.  I realized how much I have grown over the past almost 14 months (I have now been here longer than the time I have remaining, which is crazy to think).  I realized how patient I have become, not a strong suit of mine before.  I realized the little things I have picked up on, allowing me to integrate into my village.  I also realized how precious each day in my service is, advising the PCT’s to enjoy each day, no matter how long it may seem, which happens quite often.  Here are some of the things I have learned, and some of the ways I have grown in my time here:

• Since arriving to South Africa, I now only give and receive things with my right hand.  As a sign of respect in the South African culture, to do otherwise would be downright rude.  Even with Americans I feel very uncomfortable giving or receiving things with my left hand.  Heads up family and friends, no more left hand for me!
• I have gotten used to dust.  It’s kind of like my second layer.  Not saying I’ll miss dust when I’m done, but I don’t mind it anymore.
• When it comes to eating, I realize I have adapted very much to the bread-heavy diet that exists here.  Luckily I haven’t come as far to eat an entire loaf of bread in one sitting (as my host brother, the very slim Tumelo, enjoys to do), but don’t think I haven’t considered it.
• I’ve gotten used to the concept of South African time.  “Now now” means right away, “Just now” means sometime soon, and “Now” means sometime today.  This week I had two parents’ meetings for our upcoming girls’ camp.  The first one began an hour late, while the second one began 30 minutes late.  Not too shabby.  Talk about patience.  Before now I hardly had the patience to wait five minutes for a cup of Starbucks coffee.  I’ll be waiting 26 months until that cup of coffee…
• In conjunction with patience, I should bring up waiting.  Waiting has become a part of my everyday life here.  I wait at the post office.  I wait for learners to arrive so I can begin class.  I wait for roosters to stop crowing so I can get a wink of sleep.  I wait hours on end for a taxi to fill up and push off.  I wait.  And I wait some more.  Books, music, and my blackberry help me to fill this waiting time.
• I have grown to appreciate people and relationships more than ever.  If you don’t have friends and family, where are you in life?  No matter how many material possessions you have, without loved ones you are truly lost.
• I have realized just how lucky I was growing up.  I never needed, and even more than that, I never wanted.  I had an amazing education growing up, one which I probably took advantage of on more than one occasion.  I had teachers who were properly trained, and teachers who knew that I could be successful, pushing me to reach my full potential.
• Constantly confused as to what is going on, I have learned to go with the flow, and go with the punches that come your way.  Things will work themselves out, eventually.  You’ve just got to have faith in that.  No need stressing the small things.
• You cannot always make everyone happy.  No matter what you do, no matter how hard you try, you cannot please everyone.  This still bugs me, but I’m learning to deal with it.
• Did someone say sardines?  While claustrophobia became a huge concern of mine when first arriving to South Africa, I now enjoy the cushioning when squeezed between to Gogo’s and their 20 shopping bags on my khombi rides home from my shopping town.
• As a resident assistant in college, I learned to fall asleep to noise and loud music.  College has nothing on the shabeens during the weekend or the taxi’s that blare traditional Xitsonga or House music.  I am sure that my hearing has been somewhat impaired, but at least I have become used to it.
• Now 4 spoonfuls of Ricoffee will get me through the day.  I actually enjoy a good cup of Ricoffee (with sugar and milk) whereas when I first arrived I didn’t think I would survive. 
• I have grown as a teacher, an educator.  I know when my learners are picking up on a subject, and when I can move on.  On the flipside, I also know when my learners are struggling although in chorus when I ask “Do you understand?” they reply “Yes, Naledi.”
• Helping and giving to others is so much more rewarding than helping yourself.

On the flipside, there are a few things that I have not gotten used to, and that within the next year I still don’t think I will get used to…

• Being called “baby.”  I am not your baby.  My Mom’s name is Pamela Joyce Kroberger.  My Dad’s name is Jack West.  I’m pretty sure that name is only applicable to them, and at almost 24 years of age, not even they call me baby.
• Being the center of attention, in the fish bowl so to say.  I don’t like having all eyes on me.  At one point in life, I believe they refer to it as adolescence, I only wanted one thing in life: to be a celebrity.  That has since changed.

Being with the new PCT’s was almost like looking in a mirror over a year ago.  I fretted about the smallest things, I splashed water every which way as I bucket bathed, and I couldn’t get over how brown my water became after just one load of laundry.  All of those worries, those concerns, and those confusions have since faded.  Over time, I have adjusted.  I guess you really can’t see change on a daily basis.  But, over a long period of time it presents itself.  Don’t worry, I’m still me, still the same old goofy Meeg who drops Blackberry Phones into buckets, accidently puts plastic kettles on recently used hot plates (hello 4^th of July in the rondavel), and who drops freshly bought peanut butter.  Sorry to say, the clumsiness still remains.  Shame.

For the PCT’s who are about to swear in and join the PCSA family, and for anyone who is about to embark on a new adventure, hang in there.  Sure you’ll have your mishaps and lose your footing at first, but after a while it is so worth it.  You’ll be glad that you stuck in there.  A little over a year into my service and I’ve finally found my legs, my footing.  For now I am really enjoying walking.

Le Rata,

Meg J