Don't Forget the Coffee....

This past weekend, Jill (another PCV, my closest neighbor, and one of my best friends from my class) and I held a girls camp.  Many Peace Corps Volunteers hold Camp G.L.O.W.’s (Girls Leading Our World) in hopes of empowering the young girls in the villages, teaching them about HIV/AIDS and decision making, and working with them to strengthen their futures.  Ours was in conjunction with Scouts of South Africa; specifically we worked with Keep the Dream 196, a Scout group held in Tzaneen, my second shopping town. 

 

Jill and I started the process of planning this camp a few months back.  There was much to do in order to prepare properly.  First, I started holding a girls’ club for my grade 7 learners after school once a week.  Next, Jill and I invited all of our grade 7 girls to write an essay, answering the question “Why should I go to Camp G.L.O.W.?”  The girls had to write the essay in English, and had a few weeks to complete the assignment, ample time to ask for help from teachers, friends, and family.  Since money hasn’t started growing on trees yet (I beg the question when will that begin to happen??), we were limited to the number of girls that we could bring along.  Once all of the girls submitted their essays, I chose Jill’s strongest 15, and she chose mine, so as to not have favoritism rear its ugly head.  Our subsequent step was the grant writing.  Wow is all that I can say.  After much help from Peace Corps, and after many, many revisions, our grant was approved and we were ready to move forward. 

 

When it came time to tell the girls who would be going to the camp, I felt torn.  While part of me was so excited to tell the 15 who would be going, the other part of me was dreading telling them, knowing that some girls would be disappointed, to say the least, that they were not chosen to go to the camp.  Luckily Jill and I had done it fairly, and I had that on my side.  Before the camp, I had two meetings: one parents/guardians meeting at Lekgwareng and one parents/guardians meeting at Ndzhovela.  Again, there was the question as to why there was an unequal distribution of girls chosen for the two schools.  Fairness.  Fairness.  Fairness.  I do not play favorites.  The parents/guardians meetings started right on (South African) time, 1 hour late at the one school and 30 minutes late at the other school.  I can’t complain too much; the parents/guardians of all of the girls showed, and they seemed pleased with the camp that their daughters/sisters were about to attend.

 

After months of preparation and a week of nail biting that everything would go smoothly, the day of camp departure finally arrived.  First I was off to collect the 5 girls and Sylvia (my counterpart for the camp, the Admin Assistant at the school, and my best friend in the village) from Lekgwareng Primary.  As we were walking towards the location I had agreed upon with the taxi company (my biggest stressor leading up to the camp), there was an empty taxi floating around the village, seemingly lost.  This taxi was not on familiar ground (we have about 2 or 3 regular taxi drivers who come to our village, all of whom I know by now).  This one I did not recognize.  He hopped out, and after much confusion and a few phone calls to his boss, we were on our way to pick up the 10 girls and Joyce (my second counterpart for the camp, one of the teachers I work with closely at school, and also a good friend) from Ndzhovela Primary, in the next village over.  You would have thought these girls were leaving for a month, and not a weekend.  Not the lightest packer myself, I couldn’t criticize too much.  But shoo, it was like trying to fit an elephant in a mouse hole fitting everything, people included, into this khombi.  Luckily, after much thought and left with little space to breath, we were off to start our weekend.

 

Obviously things couldn’t be that simple, that easy.  For some reason or another, the taxi drivers didn’t have any clue as to where we were going.  Jill and I, believing that the taxi drivers would have been prepared, didn’t think to print our own directions…that is why we hired them…We stopped and asked for directions at a gas station.  Then, we met up with Jill’s taxi and were still without any idea as to where to go.  We called the director of the camp, who thankfully sent someone out to direct us.  We would have NEVER found this place without being rescued by the Keep the Dream taxi.

 

After about 2 hours of travel time, and one much needed pit stop on the side of the road, we arrived to the camp.  It was about quarter to one, aka FAR past lunch time (here we eat at about 10am).  My stomach has adjusted so I was hungry.  Fortunately, lunch was ready.  It was two sandwiches (one with cheese and butter, one with poloney and butter) and juice.  Not my top choice, but enough to fuel the fire until dinnertime.  We all ate our lunches rather quickly, as our sessions were about to begin.

 

While all of the girls and Jill went off in one direction, ready to start the weekend of HIV/AIDS training, my two counterparts and I were off to a separate training – training to become official Scout Troop Leaders.  (Now, this was just an introduction course, so we will need to have additional training down the line).  A bit bummed since I had assumed I’d get to spend time with my girls, I turned my frown upside down; I was ready to make the most of the situation.  For the next two days I would be with about 40 South African women, all from Drop-In Centers for Orphans and Vulnerable Children who wanted to make a difference in their communities.  My counterparts and I were split up, and assigned to our own patrols.  Sylvia was assigned to the green patrol, Joyce to the blue, and I was in the yellow patrol for the weekend.  I was also in for a weekend of training in primarily Xitsonga.  Great practice to brush up on my language skills.

 

Prior to tea time after a few sessions, we had to set up our tindlu, our “houses” for the next few days.  When I say houses, I mean tents. This was exciting – many of these women, and certainly Jill’s and my learners, have never been camping before, let alone have slept in a tent.  It was fun being there for such a first time experience, something I think can be quite enjoyable.  As excited as I was that our tent was up, I was even more excited for tea time.  I grabbed my thermos, and lined up.  While I waited in line, my eyes darted around for the Ricoffee can (the instant coffee of choice in South Africa).  To my great dismay, there was no Ricoffee to be found.  I kicked myself, thinking I should have brought my own coffee along, just in case.  I figured, what kind of place doesn’t have coffee??  Only tea??  This would be a long weekend indeed…

 

Grade 7 girls can be dramatic.  Grade 7 girls away from home for the first time, in an unfamiliar setting, can be even more dramatic.  Multiply that by 30 grade 7 girls, and you have a whole lot of drama.  There were complaints of sore throats.  There were complaints of cell phones being collected at the beginning of camp.  There were complaints of not enough juice.  My counterparts were amazing, my superheroes.  We found solutions for each “crisis” we encountered, calming any concerns and making sure the girls had a good time. 

 

Now, as all of you know, running is my solitude.  Running is my sanity.  Running is my get away.  On top of that, I am training for a marathon in November, and a day without running or yoga equals a cranky Meg.  In order to be ready on time, I woke up before the sun did.  The running scene was gorgeous.  The camp was situated in the woods, surrounded by lovely trails and trees taller than the Empire State Building.  I was able to get in some great hills and start my day the way I enjoy before a packed day of training and trying to check in on the girls whenever I could. 

 

Remember tea time without my Ricoffee can?  Despite wishful thinking, the next morning, at breakfast time, proved no different.  I surrendered to the fact that it would be a day without coffee.  It was rough.  You know how in class you get the nods, as Pammycakes says, where you’re like a bobble head doll and you just can’t stay awake?  Your head and your eyes seem heavier than imaginable.  That was me…all day…every session.  I truly felt embarrassed, but no matter how hard I tried to concentrate, I could not help myself from falling asleep.  Then, the director of camp, who was surely my guardian angel, informed me that she had just purchased some coffee, and that I could help myself.  Even better, it was the real stuff, not just Ricoffee.  HALLELUJAH!!

 

That night, food ran short.  (Did I forget to mention that the cooks who had been hired failed to show?  The staff of the camp, the women teaching the sessions, therefore, also doubled as the cooks).  I didn’t mind waiting.  The girls had all eaten and I had had my coffee.  The women quickly whipped up some more pap, and Louise (the camp director) went off to find food for those who waited.  About 45 minutes later, Louise, once again, came to the rescue, carrying bags of KFC.  It was worth the wait.  Coffee and KFC?  The day was looking up.

 

In order to finish the day (Saturday), we all enjoyed a campfire.  Everyone was included, the girls, the women in the training, the staff.  It was probably one of my favorite moments in South Africa so far.  Each of the patrols sang a song for the rest of the group.  My patrol sang “We are One, One Big Family,” a favorite of mine that the kids often sing at school assembly.  Next we watched a movie – a classic – “The Jungle Book.”  Apparently the idea of Cub Scouts comes from “The Jungle Book.”  Who knew?  Too tired to stay up for the entire movie, I went to sleep and slept much better thanks to an extra blanket that one of the staff had acquired for us.

 

My next morning was wonderful, knowing from the moment I woke up that there was the promise of coffee.  I had a nice run, and then I went to help my patrol with whatever they needed before our final day began.  Apparently, what they needed was pictures.  I swear, sometimes I feel like Santa Claus.  The only difference is that the Santas at the malls have it easy.  It’s one season a year AND they get paid.  For me it’s non-stop and there is no payment.  Oftentimes I’m not even asked; I just realize someone is shooting my photo, and surely enough, there is the cell phone, right in my face.  This time I was happy to do it.  Here were these women, all trying to learn in order to make their communities better places. 

 

Remember the confusion with the taxi’s at the beginning of the trip?  The way home was no different.  In fact, it was worse.  Our group was the last group to be picked up from the camp, waiting over an hour and a half past the time we were supposed to be fetched.  Was I upset?  Yes.  I had told the learners’ parents we’d be home at a certain time.  We all wanted to stop at a food store prior to reaching the village, and it being a Sunday, we knew we were cutting it close since food stores close as quickly as they open (luckily we made it with five minutes to spare, literally).  We had paid good money for reliable and timely transport.  At about half-past two, our taxi arrived.  He was lucky.  I had had my coffee that morning. 

 

I am surprised that I still have my hearing after the ride home.  I could literally feel the seat vibrating, that is how loud the volume was (I know, I know, I’m such a Grammy).  South Africans LOVE their music, and they like it LOUD.  The girls requested the same song, on repeat, for the 2 hour drive home.  I didn’t mind.  The girls were having fun.  We had successfully stopped at Checkers (a great food store, that is now selling Starbies!!) and done our shopping.  And I had had my coffee.

 

Overall, I’d say the weekend and the girls’ camp was a huge success.  Sure there were a few bumps along the way, but everything worked out.  When we stopped to drop the girls off at Ndzhovela, a few of the parents were waiting for their daughters.  The Moms were so excited.  One of the Moms gave me a huge smile, an even bigger hug, and said “Na khensa” (thank you).  I knew right there that all of Jill’s and my hard work was so worth it.  The next day at school (Lekgwareng), the 5 girls who attended the camp talked to the rest of the student body at morning assembly about what they had learned.  While we might have to brush up on public speaking skills, the girls seemed to have retained a lot of information they had gotten at the camp.  At the end of the school day, Sylvia and I held a debriefing with the girls: what they liked, what they didn’t like, what they learned, how they would use the information to help the village, etc.  The highlights included the food, the showers, and the sessions on HIV/AIDS.  At least they did include the learning in there.

 

            While the girls learned a lot about HIV and AIDS, and while my counterparts and I learned much about Scouting, there was one important lesson I took away from the weekend.  Never assume that there will be coffee.  Bring your own just in case there isn’t any.  It’s better to air on the safe side.  Don’t forget the coffee. 

 

Le rata,

 

Meg :)