A
few weeks back I celebrated my second South African Birthday, my 24th
Birthday in general. Now, I could go on
and tell you that the reason I am posting now now is that I have taken my time
to write this blog post, reflecting on yet another year of my life, agonizing
over every last comma and semicolon but I won’t do that, because, well, that
would be lying. These past weeks have
been unexpectedly hectic and I am just now getting around to posting. (Please notice my use of South African time
here – “now now” and “just now.”) Thanks
for your patience everyone; I’m really just trying to get all of you accustomed
to “African time.”
I
have, to be truthful, been spending a lot of time considering what it means to
grow – on runs, while bucket bathing, during hours on taxis squished between Gogo’s. By definition, to grow means “to increase in
size; develop; become; cultivate.” When
we talk about growth, are we considering the external implications of growth or
the internal ones? Are we thinking about
both concurrently? While growth
certainly occurs on the outside or is apparent to others – I used to get so
excited with each extra inch when I was a kid – I think the more important
growth is the one that we cannot see, at least not immediately. It is one that occurs over time, without too
much notice on the daily scale.
My
second birthday here was interesting, to say the least. It was a good birthday overall. It landed on a Monday this year (and I always have a case of the Mondays). The weekend prior I visited my good friend
Jill’s site and we did a 20 mile run, resulting in a purple toenail…yum. It came as quite the surprise to me that you
can actually run for that long without food or water. (Comfortable?
No.) Following our run, we
hobbled to Giyani to meet Mardy and Kelsey at Barceló’s for lunch. Since Kelsey has banned us going to Wimpy’s
except for milkshakes and coffee, this is our new “go-to” spot. I guess the powdered eggs just didn’t do it
for her. Can’t say I blame her. Kelsey gifted me with the movie “Sex and the
City.” I loved it because we had just
finished all 6 seasons of the show and I was sad it was over. Even more, though, I loved it because it was
IRC property. We’re such rebels. Our great friends/caretakers in Giyani – Andreis
and Fleur (owners of the Spar in town) – took me through the food store,
strolling through every isle, filling my cart with a chocolate cake, all sorts
of coffee, breakfast granola, and of course, a huge slab of chocolate. The weekend ended with a small celebration at
my home – Maggie (my host mom), Sylvia (my best friend in the village), Lebo
(Sylvia’s daughter), Selena (my host aunt), Maggie (the woman across the
street), and Tumelo (one of my host brothers) joined me as we enjoyed the cake from
Spar and two cold drinks from our village’s Tuck Shop. Throughout the celebration we watched a
Nigerian film, of which I understood very little save for the fact that there
were tsotsis somehow involved. My family
and friends sang for me, said prayers and gave speeches to me. Sadly most of this was lost on me as I am not
fluent in either Xitsonga or Sepedi.
Nevertheless, I smiled and nodded as I enjoyed my cake, thankful that my
mouth was full of icing so I would not have to say anything.
The
next morning (now my actual date of birth) I went for a nice run, and came back
realizing that I had sweated my blackberry to death. No matter what button I pressed the ensuing
result was “aaaaaaa.” Note – Blackberry’s
do NOT cope with any type of bodily fluid.
I’ve learned this the hard way. I
went to school, taught my Grade 6 and 7 English classes (my Grade 6 learners
even sung to me) and headed off to town to buy myself a birthday present – what
I hoped would be an indestructible Blackberry.
So far, so good. I haven’t taken
the chance of sweating this one to death, and now learn to listen to my
breathing as I run. It’s no Beyonce, let
me tell you.
My
birthday flowed into the next day when I went to my other primary school. I was sitting at the table that I share with
Joyce, one of my counterparts. Soon I
was overwhelmed by Grade 6 learners.
“Ma’am, can we have some paper and crayons? We want to make you birthday cards.” I almost said no because of “Ma’am,” (being
called Ma’am was my first external notice that I was now older) but I felt so loved
that I handed over the stationary gladly.
Before I knew it, my half of the desk was inundated with cards filled
with Mother’s Day stickers, Get Well Stickers, and heartfelt notes (the
stickers all come from their work books).
In addition, one of the girls gave me what will always remain my most
memorable gift: a roll of toilet paper, a pack of laundry pegs, and 2 glasses
that I’m sure her guardian found missing soon after she left home. All very practical and useful gifts. Here are some snippets from my cards:
- “I love you more than the world.”
- “You must grow up like an elephant.”
- “I love you, like my mother as you, you are my mother
at school mam you teach us a lesson.”
- “May God bless you.”
- “I am write this letter because I am happy for you.”
- “Be my favorite mem forever. You are a great teacher to me, I don’t
know to others.”
- “But next year, I will buy a cake for you.”
- “If you are not Nyeleti Don’t touch this paper because
this paper is for Nyeleti it’s not yours.”
- “I think you are happy to enjoy your birthday with us,
you are blessed to enjoy with us.”
- “How old are you?”
I hope these
made you smile, as they did me.
The
birthday festivities continued the following weekend as I headed to Nick’s site
where I celebrated with Nick, Abby, and Kelsey.
Nick and Kelsey baked my favorite – carrot cake (well, cupcakes)! Aside from chocolate, carrot cake is my
dessert of choice. Great job guys. I enjoyed.
Nick surprised me with the largest mug ever created, Starbucks coffee,
and chocolate (Twix AND Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups). Abby treated us all to some frosty beverages
which were much needed, and we cooked up chicken stir-fry. I even had the pleasure of a shower and
washing my clothes using the rinse cycle (Nick lives in the Posh Corps). While we were here, I asked Abby to French-braid
my hair following our morning run. Now
this might seem like a trivial point, but I assure you, it is not. She found, to my greatest of horrors, a GREY
hair!! Here it was: the greatest
external implication of my birthday, of my growth that could happen. My first grey hair. I had her pull out that hair quicker than you
can say Jack Robinson, and have been trying to forget about it ever since. Obviously, that is not working well for me.
Despite
the fact that my birthday is in the middle of October, it continued up through
the 2nd of November (Yay for Postal Strikes in South Africa)! Many, many thanks to all of my friends and
family back home for thinking of me and sending your love and warm wishes my
way. I don’t think I will need to buy
coffee again while I am here, or at least not for a very long while. Not that I’m complaining.
Now,
back to my mulling over what it means to grow.
I know you’ve all been waiting anxiously. On more than one occasion in the past month
different people have told me “Africa is a very tough country.” I am realizing this with each day that I am
here. I find myself butting heads with
new challenges, amazed that I can find more after 16 months into service. Yes Africa is a tough place. I should know; I live here too. I don’t think, however, that means that
things can’t improve. I don’t think that
means we should give up on Africa. That
doesn’t mean that things can’t grow.
Heck, I attended a gardening workshop in the Kalahari!! Things will grow, if you just give them time
to. Patience is a virtue; my parents
always told me (cue the rolling eyes).
I
look back to my 16 months here, and I often see instances of growth; these
instances keep me going, remind me as to why I am here. Just last week one of the teachers who I work
with closely came up and gave me a catalogue on alternatives to corporal
punishment to look at and add to my next workshop. Maybe, just maybe my workshops are kicking
in. At our Scouts meeting last
Wednesday, my counterparts were engaged, going around as the kids worked in
their patrols. One of the learners even
said he was in Scouts “to be trusted and to be honest.” My learners have now mastered (well, close to
it) passing papers to the front of their row.
In a country that just recently came out of the Apartheid, joy filled my
lungs (as well as heavy breathing) as I ran the hills of the Soweto Marathon
surrounded by people of all races – whites, blacks, Indians. These people, who years ago were separated by
the Apartheid Government, cheered each other on mile after mile (kilometer after
kilometer), chanted together – “Easy, Easy Wena” – in order to hit a certain
time, and crossed the same finish line, hand in hand. With the toughness of
this country, with the toughness of this continent, I too have become tougher. I too find that I have grown. I find myself instilled with a greater sense
of self-confidence, I find myself having patience (something I lacked dearly
back home), I find myself becoming a better teacher, and if something upsets
me, you will hear about it unlike before where I was a bit of a Welcome
mat.
Maybe
my vegetables aren’t growing (damn chickens, I really should have used fencing!),
but other things are. Maybe things like
birthdays help us to realize how far we have come and help us to “check-in”
with ourselves and with what we are doing in life. Are we really
growing, or are the numbers just increasing? Maybe we need to set aside time to see that
things are happening. If we try to see
change every day, frustration ensues (at least for me). Things don’t happen overnight. It takes time for growth and development.
There is always room for improvement. No
one or thing is perfect.
Just
as my learners told me to grow to the size of an elephant, which in my opinion
is one of the gentlest, most magnificent animals out there, my hope is that one
day we – myself, my family, my friends, my colleagues, my acquaintances, my
country, my village, my schools, my learners, South Africa – will all grow to
be as big as elephants. I hope that we
all grow to be the best that we can be. Because,
really, we can.
Le Rata,
Meg :)
