The Missing Puzzle Piece

This blog post acts as my “thank you” to my Mom, my Dad and my baby sister.  While words will never fully express the extent of my gratitude, a girl’s gotta try.  First of all, Dad thanks for sending the best Christmas presents ever!!  You gave up Christmas with them for me, and made me the happiest person in the world.  You’re truly the best and are truly selfless.  Secondly, Mom thanks for flying over to see me.  I know it wasn’t in the original plans, but to be honest I don’t know if either of us could have gone much longer, yet alone another day, without seeing each other.  Thanks for spoiling us while you were here.  Luckily I didn’t get too many “you look fat” comments upon returning to the village, but I felt well treated.  And last, but certainly not least, thank you Erny.  It blows me and everyone I tell away that you saved so much and worked so hard to come and see me.  That was an amazing gift in itself.  You’ve grown so much, and I’m so proud of all you do.

As I sit here, writing this blog post, it is hard to believe that this time last month I was out with my Mom and sister most likely sipping on our drink of choice – Amarula coffees – and trying not to pee our pants from laughter.  It seems like a really, really great dream I had, one of those dreams you wish you wouldn’t wake up from.  I know many of you have heard how the trip went from my Mom and Erin, but then there are some of you have not, so I’ll be sure to fill you in.  This blog post will be a special one (and a longer one).  I’ve had my Mom and sister write their own thoughts and impressions on the trip to spice things up a bit.  Thought it’d be something different, something fun.  Also, I can’t hog the entire spotlight.  When I say that their 3 weeks here was the perfect vacation, I am not exaggerating.

Puzzles have always been daunting to me.  Heck, some puzzles have 1000+ pieces.  They always take such a long time to put together.  First, you must find the corner and side pieces.  Then you must fill in the middle, being sure to group similar colors together and referring to the cover photo to help you.  I’ve never had much patience for puzzles.  That is, until coming into the Peace Corps, more specifically Peace Corps South Africa.  After 19 months, I now have enough patience to sit on a non-moving taxi hours on end, waiting for it to fill.  I now have enough patience for my learners to painstakingly draw a table into their notebooks, making sure every line is perfect, make shifting just about anything into a ruler.  Heck, I now even have enough patience to stand in line at the post office in 100+ degree weather just to see if I have a package, no guarantees (I guess the fact that the post office is air conditioned helps).  South Africa has instilled patience in me, and for that I am thankful.  Sometimes good things take time, for all of the pieces to come together.  I’ve come to realize that no matter how intricate the puzzle, no matter how much time and effort it may take, the end result is always something incredibly beautiful.  The pieces were meant to come together, meant to intertwine. 

I’d like to think of my Peace Corps service as one big puzzle (unfortunately, no cover photo to refer to included), comprised of many different puzzle pieces.  My puzzle pieces include that of my village; my two schools each making their own separate and unique piece; my host family, and my relationship with each member making its own piece; my friends in the village; my counterparts; my colleagues; my learners; my incredible boyfriend and best friend, Nick; my Peace Corps family (SA24 and the other SA classes); my Peace Corps friends, who I know to be lifelong friends; my work with the Peace Corps; my different projects, also all making a separate piece; Jack, the dog who runs with me.  The list goes on.  Despite all of these pieces, and with my time winding down, I still felt as though a few integral pieces to my “Peace Corps” puzzle were missing.  That is, until my Mom and sister visited. 

It may sound lame so forgive me, but when I met my Mom and sister at O.R. Tambo and hugged them for the first time after a long separation of over 17 months, I felt complete again.  I had my own puzzle pieces; my heart finally felt full again.  We have always fit together.  The 3 Musketeers were back together at last.  Prior to their arrival, I’ll be honest that I was a bit nervous.  Had I changed?  Had they changed?  Would our relationships have changed after so much time?  My fears were soon set to the side.  As we sat in Mugg & Bean all craving coffee and muffins, I realized it was as though not a day had passed since seeing them.  Sure Erin’s hair was longer and sure Pammycakes was looking like even more of a beast with all of her running, but what we were as a threesome hadn’t changed a bit.  There was so much to say, and our lips moved a million miles a minute.  I think I can speak for all of us when I say that we were relieved. 

Our first stop on our trip was Johannesburg/Pretoria, where my Mom and Erin were finally able to meet my second family (my family away from home) – Sue, Eddie, and Porsche.  We grabbed a quick bite to eat prior to every restaurant closing down (it was Christmas Eve).  Then, Sue was kind enough to give us a tour of the hospital where she works, introducing us to all of her babies.  Erin was in heaven, being a nursing student, and I was thankful that I had chosen teaching as a profession.  Afterwards, we headed to our backpackers.  I was able to show them Pretoria, where many of our trainings take place.  I loved being in the backpackers as it was fun to show them how PCV’s travel!

The next morning (now Christmas Day) Erin and I woke up early to run.  It was so nice to be back with one of my favorite running buddies.  Once we were showered and filled with coffee (obviously a must), we set off for my village.  Again, I was nervous about this day.  My two very different worlds were about to come together.  Sure I had integrated into my village and sure I had gotten used to the many stares, the pungent smells of my pit latrine, and my homey yet rather ghetto rondavel, but I wondered how would my Mom and sister react?  How would they cope with it all?  Upon pulling into my host family’s compound, and seeing my Mom hug Maggie, my host mom, I realized that I could, and needed to breath.  Everything would be a’ok.  In the end, I’m so glad they were able to see the village, my home for 2 years.  It was so amazing for them to meet everyone I love here, everyone who takes care of me here.  It was also wonderful for everyone here to meet two of the most important people in my life.  Although our Christmas dinner wasn’t anything special – peanut butter banana sandwiches, pasta, and wine – it was definitely one of the best Christmases I’ve ever had.  Their glimpse into my life here will help them to understand both the treasures and the challenges of my service, hopefully making my transition back home that much easier.

Following our stop in the village, it was off to Kruger National Park.  I had gone back in June with Nick’s family, so I knew this time around that it was NOT a good idea to get out of the car when lions were around…woops!  We drove around the park ourselves for a little while, but Pammycakes really wanted to take a safari, so we booked an evening safari, and boy am I glad we did!  We were all a bit anxious to see the Big 5…at first Mom thought that a termite mound was a lion and Erin mistook a bush for a lion cub.  Eventually though, we saw some real animals: water buffalo, hippos, rhinos, springbok, some pretty spectacular lizards, and giraffes.  The most exciting part of the safari had to be the lions.  We saw a male lion and about a dozen lionesses.  The lionesses came right over to our jeep!!  Erin and I were scared stiff as my Mom hung out of the window trying to get the best pictures.  We had to remind her that these things do not mess around!!  On our way back to the entrance we saw some beautiful owls, a cheetah, and even had some beetles hop onto our jeep.

While I loved spending time with my Mom and Erin in Joburg, Pretoria, my village, and Kruger, the next part of the trip was what I was really looking forward to for myself: Cape Town!  I had not been during my time in South Africa, and I had heard only great things about the city from anyone who had gone.  Apparently, it was the Europe of Africa, a must see.  I was ready to board the plane and check this place out for myself!  I was not disappointed.  Cape Town was amazing for so many reasons.  First of all, the running weather and scenery was ideal (yay for Two Oceans in March!!).  It was like a backdrop to a movie.  If I lived there, I’d probably run four times a day if at all possible.  Erin and I loved it.  I think more than anything, though, my favorite part of Cape Town was that Nick would be spending 5 days with us – my three favorite people all together.  I had to pinch myself!  It was incredible having my Mom and sister meet Nick and vice versa.  It wasn’t a surprise to me that they all got along so well, which made me unbelievably happy.  Among the other highlights in Cape Town included hiking up Table Mountain (it was Pammycakes’ first hike!!  Yay!!), New Year’s Eve on Long Street with my family, Nick, and my Peace Corps family (it was crazy – the streets were full of people and it was Mardi Gras theme), going to the Waterfront for dinner and drinks (such a nice atmosphere), going to Simon’s Town and seeing the penguins, visiting the gorgeous beaches, and of course going to Robben Island where my Mom and Erin met more of my Peace Corps family.  Note – do NOT take Dramamine if you are prone to sleepiness.  I’m pretty sure I fell asleep standing up, and sadly do not remember much of the tour.  I would have preferred to have felt sea sick. Chibby, if you’re reading this, think back to Assateague Island.  Struggle.  Still, I was glad to have gone where Nelson Mandela spent many of his years, fighting for what he believed in.

Next on the agenda: wine and cheese!  We first went to Stellenbosch, which is famous for its wineries and vineyards.  Pammycakes was in her glory, and Erin and I were pretty excited as well (I prefer beer, but I’ll never turn down a good glass of wine).  After the effects of the Dramamine had finally worn off, we were booked for our first wine tour with our knowledgeable tour guide, Neil.  If you haven’t been on a wine tour, I definitely recommend it.  Our tour included visits to four wineries (some old, some new), a full rundown of how wine is made and stored, as well as the aging process, a gourmet lunch with, and you guessed it, wine, and cheese tastings!  After four different wineries (this is the maximum for wine tours) we were all ready to get home.  I understand why you don’t visit more than four wineries – wine really knocks you off your feet.  Kind of like Dramamine…While we were in Stellenbosch, we also made a short trek to Franschhoek, not too far from where we were staying.  This was one of my favorite places that we went to on our trip.  We had a chocolate tour and a chocolate tasting in the morning (maybe this is why it was my favorite), shopped until our feet ached (literally as I was practicing wearing heels), and had a lovely late lunch.

At this point in time, the trip seemed like it was playing in fast forward.  I wanted to press pause and rewind.  We were on our way back to the beautiful Cape Town for just a few more days together.   We stayed in a lovely B&B (where Pammycakes decided we’d only ever do B&B’s in the future which I am totally on board with), went to the beaches again, shopped, ate, and soaked up our time together.  The farewell was definitely not as fun as the reunion.  Rather than tears of joy we had tears of sadness.  I’ve decided that hellos are always nicer than goodbyes.  However, I was so glad they had come.  Also, it helped knowing that rather than 17 months it would be a mere 8 before coming back together again, this time for good.  Warning for everyone I love – you’ll have me attached to your hip when I’m home.  Be excited!!

This trip was so special and necessary in many ways.  First of all, it helped me to reflect on how I’m doing here, seeing things through my Mom’s and sister’s eyes.  Both of them realized that this had been the right move for me, which I was happy to hear.  In addition, it made me excited to get home.  I had been starting to worry about how it would be to transition back home (I’ve always heard going home is the harder transition of the two), worrying that my time here had changed how I looked at things or my values.  Sure I have changed, and sure I appreciate what I have so much more, but I’ll have loved ones by my side helping me to transition back to my life in the US of A.  I finally understood the true meaning of “home is where the heart is.”  I felt more at home in South Africa with my Mom and sister here than I ever had before.   Their trip got me back to site, feeling re-energized and ready to make the best of my final stretch in the Peace Corps.

My Mom and sister’s visit added a very big and important piece to my Peace Corps puzzle (while accomplishing one of the 3 Peace Corps goals), and while my puzzle is not quite finished, it is looking really nice and more complete by the day.  I still have a few big projects I am working on (the Books for Africa library project, Scouts/a Scouts Camp, and Grassroot Soccer) that will add some pieces to the puzzle.  I also still have to run (and not die in the process!) the Two Oceans Marathon and the Comrades Marathon, some more personal pieces to my puzzle.  It’s not the final product just yet, and while at times I felt like throwing in the towel, I’m glad to have worked hard and kept with it because the final product and all that has been accomplished is so worth it.  Who knows, maybe I’ll take up puzzling (my verb for making puzzles) as a hobby when I get home with my new found patience and appreciation for puzzles…

Now for reflections from Erin and my Mom on our trip:

Erin –

Before leaving for South Africa, I had no idea what to expect aside from what Meg had told me.  When people tell you things, you try to picture in your head an image of the description, but it is always skewed from the reality.  Well, I was finally ready to be able to place the stories I’d been told for 17 months. 

Everyone says it’s easy because Meg and I talk every day, and trust me it is, but for one second think about how weird it would be not seeing your sister or your best friend for 2 years.  Now that you have, you know how excited I was to see her, and when I finally did, it was as if we had never been apart.  Most people who know us know that our relationship is rare as sisters for how close we are, and I never thought we’d get closer, but this trip proved the impossible in many ways.

I don’t know how to even describe how amazing this trip was when people ask, because it was truly “the trip of a lifetime.”  It doesn’t matter where you travel no matter how amazing; the biggest piece is who you are with.  Well, I was with the best people ever!  My favorite thing about the whole trip was knowing that Meg hadn’t changed a bit, and that she was really in love.  To answer everyone’s question, Nick is a great guy and he makes Meg happier than ever!  Meg has impacted so many lives and I could tell this from just one day in her village.  These next 8 months will be weird without you Meg, but they will fly by and you’re going to continue to make differences in people’s lives every day!

A few highlights of the trip: going to Meghan’s village and eating peanut butter and banana sandwiches on Christmas, the safari with Pammycakes wanting to get out with the lions while I was petrified, climbing Table Mountain, almost being mugged in Cape Town, and the long runs with my running buddy by my side!

Pammycakes –

Italy, England, and Napa Valley are on my bucket list.  I have been to England and Napa Valley, so Italy is at the top of my list.  South Africa, however, was never on my bucket list.  When Meghan first approached us about the Peace Corps and mentioned South Africa, I was worried.  We did not know a lot about the country, in fact very little, and it was so far away!  After her acceptance letter came most of my friends said, “When are you going to visit her?”  My reply was always the same: “I am not going to visit.”  The cost of the trip, the distance, and just the thought of traveling to South Africa was not in the plans.

The quote is “a picture is worth a thousand words.”  I realized after returning from South Africa that yes, a picture is worth a thousand words, but being there is worth a million!  Meghan text messages almost every day with some family member.  We heard, in the 17 months before seeing her again, about her rondavel (African-style hut), her host family, the schools where she teaches, fat cakes, how she bucket bathes, her pit latrine, and her 4 legged running companion, Jack.  I also never would have imagined that I would say, South Africa is a beautiful place and I would go back if I could!

The rondavel, where Meghan lives had more room than I had expected and was very close to the host family’s house.  The pit latrine was just as I expected and they added a door for her after she arrived instead of just the tattered curtain.  Unfortunately the school gates were locked while we were there, but we still had a beautiful view of the world map that we had heard reports of over the past few months.  It was gorgeous!  Soon after Meghan arrived in South Africa, she spoke about one of her favorite foods: fat cakes.  I imagined them like a funnel cake or a sugary glazed donut.  Meghan was so excited as she stopped and bought 4 of them for Erin and me to share.  Unfortunately they did not taste as I had expected.  I found them to be simply bland balls of dough.  Oh well, more for Meghan and Erin!

Meghan taught us the process of bucket bathing and washing her dishes outside and leaving them to dry on the stone wall.  I suggested that she at least rinse the soap bubbles off.  We met the dog across the road, Jack who runs with her for miles on end and for that I am happy as I see him as her faithful protector.  Meg’s host mother and father, Maggie and Daniel were so nice and I held back tears as I hugged Maggie good-bye.  If only she knew what we owe her for stepping in as Mom for all these months.

There are so many moments of the trip that stand out, but I came home with a few “ah-ha” thoughts.  For one thing, I was able to successfully drive on the left side of the road on the opposite side of the car.  Erin had to shout “left Mom, left!” a few times but we did it.  The people everywhere were extremely friendly.  The country is so diverse from Johannesburg, to Cape Town, to Stellenbosch and Franschhoek.  We listened to people speak Afrikaans in Stellenbosch and Sepedi in Limpopo.  Climbing Table Mountain was a bit tenuous at times but the view from the top was breathtaking!  Our trip to Robben Island was memorable where Nelson Mandela spent 18 of the 27 years he was behind bars as a political prisoner.

Of all the sites and places we saw, nothing could have topped what I witnessed while we were in Meg’s village on Christmas Day.  There was not a single thing in sight that would have told me it was Christmas Day.  I suppose I imagined there may have been a tree, or wreath, or angel.  We took a walk to the house next door where a group of women (Gogo’s) were gathered under a tree just enjoying the day.  Meghan wanted to introduce us to them and began to speak in Xitsonga and had been speaking Sepedi just a few moments before.  That moment alone was the best present I could have received.  It confirmed to me that her decision to join the Peace Corps and live in South Africa was a good one, and the memories and life lessons learned will go on forever. 

As always, thanks so much for taking the time to read about my adventures!

Le rata,
Meg :)

Xandla Famba, Xandla Vuya

How is it that everything said in a foreign language sounds so much nicer than it does in English?  If you’ve ever seen the show “Modern Family,” I’m sure you know what I’m talking about.  Gloria’s Spanish always makes any phrase in English sound so beautiful!  Well, at least for the most part.  “Xandla Famba, Xandla Vuya” (the “x” is pronounced as a “shhhh”) loosely translated means “You scratch my back, I’ll scratch yours.”  Much prettier, wouldn’t you agree?  My good friend, Sylvia, had taught me this phrase about a month ago.  I asked her for Xitsonga lessons, telling her upfront I would pay her (Peace Corps reimburses us for tutors).  She told me, “No, no Meghan.  Xandla famba, xandla vuya.”  When I inquired as to  what she meant by this, she reminded me that I often help her with English and with computer questions that she has.  “We help each other.  We are friends,” she told me.  (I was grateful to play off the tears falling from my eyes as sweat when she told me this.)

            I am extremely blessed to have become good friends with Sindri, a CHOP (Community and Health) Volunteer who lives fairly close to me.  Not only did Sindri help me as a newbie when getting to country (she arrived in the group before mine), but Sindri and I have done a few projects/workshops together in my time here thus far.  Last year Sindri came and taught my grade 6 & 7 learners about HIV/AIDS right before World AIDS Day (December the 1^st every year).  About a month ago, I went to Sindri’s home-base care org to give the caretakers she works with a workshop on SOUNS (the literacy program).  Just this week, on Tuesday evening, Sindri and one of the caretakers she works with, Winnie, came to my village to give a 2-day Nutrition workshop.

            Now, why would I want to hold a Nutrition workshop if I am a Community and Education Volunteer?  I have multiple reasons for holding a Nutrition workshop in my village.  The first is clearly for the wellbeing of those in my village, in particular the children in my village.  I have seen mothers give cold drink (soda) to their young children.  Every day when I walk to school I see learners eating ma-zimba (basically Cheeto’s) for breakfast.  Many people believe that pap is sufficient enough of a diet, eating it for breakfast, lunch and dinner.  There are some children in my village with the pot belly, a sign of malnutrition.  I can’t seem to quote Sir Francis Bacon enough, agreeing to the utmost that “Knowledge is power.”  In order to solve any problem we first need to know the correct information.  When you have mangos falling off of your trees, take advantage of that.  The second reason I chose to hold the Nutrition workshop is because of the time of the year.  Term 4, particularly the end of Term 4, is rather chaotic, to say the least.  Luckily I have plenty of projects at the schools to keep me busy, but with testing things are thrown out of whack.  Teachers are busy marking, learners are running wild, and I’m busy sweating due to the +100 degree weather.  Hot.  Mess.  I didn’t feel bad missing two days of school to hold this workshop when not a whole lot is going on.  Lastly, I held this workshop because I love working with other volunteers.  We all come with our own skill sets when we come into the Peace Corps.  Why not help one another out, complimenting each other while helping our communities?  Xandla famba, xandla vuya.

            In order to prepare for the workshop, I spoke with Violet, a woman who has been helping me with Scouts and who works at the home base care in the neighboring village; Sylvia, the administrative assistant and my good friend in the village; and Maggie, my host mother and quite the social butterfly in order to dot all of my i’s and cross all of my t’s.  When we discussed holding the workshop, their first concern was food.  Would the workshop be catered?  I hadn’t thought of this.  Wasn’t it enough that we were feeding them with knowledge?  This, for me, is the best food out there.  Not in South Africa.  If you want attendance, you need to provide food.  I caved, settling on providing bread and juice.  There was no way I was going to cook up pap and chicken in the South African summer heat.  How difficult could bread and juice be?  Next was securing the location.  In my village, we have a small brick building that is pretty central to everything else. It’s close to the school, to the tuck shop, and to my home. I attend Church here and there are often meetings held here.  I talked to one of the men in the village who wields a lot of power, who gave me the green light for using the building to hold the workshop.  The final step was advertising.  I printed out fliers with all of the information.  When I showed it to my HOD, she fixed a few things, pointing out that it was fine to put the start time, but not the end time as no one would be up for a workshop that lasted from 8am-3pm.  I printed new fliers, leaving out the end time.  Violet and Sylvia helped me to spread the word, and pasted the fliers (the adverts as they call them) around the village and in the tuck shops.  I stumbled over my Xitsonga and my Sepedi, trying to communicate the message to women and neighbors I’m friends with.  I’m sure it was something like “Workshop.  Teach.  Food.  Bread.  Juice.  Please come!”  Clearly I’m not fluent yet.

            The big day finally arrived – Day 1 of the workshop.  Sindri and Winnie had done all of their preparations and had all of their posters ready to go.  We had stayed up way past our normal bedtimes getting ready the night before, finally hitting the sack at a little after 10.  Have I mentioned I’ve become even more of a Grandmom here than I was in the states?  Trying to adhere to American time, we arrived at the AFM Church (the site of the workshop) at 7:45, 15 minutes before the workshop was scheduled to start at 8:00.  Quite accustomed to “African time,” we all assumed people wouldn’t arrive until closer to 9.  8:30 rolled around, and I went on a stroll in the village.  I felt like the annoying taxi rank men who try to lure people to their taxis.  Unfortunately I didn’t have the megaphone.  “Come to the workshop!” I told anyone and everyone I saw.  “I’m coming just now,” each person would respond.  (“Just now” is different from “now now” in that you don’t know when they will be there.  People here do not like saying “no,” as they don’t want to hurt your feelings.)  I even sticky-tacked a sign to the outside of the tuck shop.  I sauntered back to the church, a little bit down and gloomy that no one was coming.  As I was walking back, I ran into a woman I am fairly close with.  “The Chief called a meeting for this morning in the middle of the night,” she informed me.  Of course!  I go through weeks of planning, and all I had to do was pull a Paul Revere.  I suppose the Chief does pull rank on little old me.  When I finally got back to the Church it was about 9:30.  Two people had showed.  I was feeling more hopeful at the site of some people and starting to understand the frustrations of a CHOP Volunteer (being an Education Volunteer, the learners and the teachers sort of have to show up to school so I never experienced the low attendance thing).  This hopeful feeling diminished when my two attendees left at 9:45.  This was not a good sign.

            At about 10:00 I started daydreaming about “Glee.”  At least I had tried.  I could use the day to catch up on chores, watch some “Glee” episodes, and maybe bake some banana bread.  I refused to ask more people to come when I had already advertised plenty.  Then, at about 10:15, 2 Gogo’s came in.  They sat down, thanks to Sindri’s encouragement, and started chatting with Winnie about simple nutrition.  By 10:45 we had FIVE women.  This was good.  We began our workshop.  More people started coming in around 11 (please notice, now THREE hours after the original start time): 9 people, 12 people, 13 people, 16 people, 18 people.  My sweater started making me a bit uncomfortable.  I was ready to jump in front of the door to stop people from coming in.  How much bread would I need to buy!?  My host brother, Tumelo, can eat an entire loaf by himself in just one sitting.  The numbers continued to increase…28, 34 people!  Thank goodness it was an overcast and cool day or we would’ve been miserable with heat and even worse, body odor.  Note to self – spray deodorant does not cut it. 

            The workshop on Day 1 was going swimmingly!  Winnie had wanted to teach the majority of the workshop, which was great since the English level for the adults in my village is fairly low.  The focus was on food groups:  What are carbohydrates?  What do carbohydrates do for you?  Which carbohydrates should you eat more of?  Which carbohydrates should you eat some of?  Which carbohydrates should you eat less of?  What are proteins?  What do proteins do for you?  Where can you get proteins?  What are fats?  What do fats do for you?  There was also a discussion of malnutrition, examples/pictures of children with malnutrition and how you can tell if a child is malnourished.

            At around 11:45 I walked over to the tuck shop.  There were 34 people in attendance at the workshop.  Figuring that half of a loaf was plenty for one person, I bought 17 loaves of bread.  I also bought juice mix.  Side note – This tuck shop must think I’m crazy!!  I constantly go there to buy 45+ lollipops when my classes have gotten all of their stickers for their sticker charts.  Now I was spending R100+ on bread and juice??  Maybe they’re just grateful for the business.  Or for the laugh that I provide.  The tuck shop worker was kind enough to drive me back to the church since I haven’t mastered carrying things on my head and well, 17 loaves of bread is a lot of bread.  Juice and bread was enjoyed by all.  In order to make sure not everyone left, Sindri and Winnie resumed the workshop after “tea time,” and held down the fort.  I ran home to make us sandwiches.

            Following the break, a whopping 27 people remained which was more than expected (I had assumed everyone would cut and run after food and drinks were given).  I am happy to say I was mistaken.  The second half of the day focused on reviewing what we had already learned, protective foods (fruits and vegetables), and vitamins.  A few women arrived around this time, expecting bread and juice.  This (aside from the late start) was the only frustrating part of the day for me.  There are often instances where people expect handouts, and this is not something that I am okay with nor will I do.  Just because I am white does not mean I have money trees in my backyard.  Wouldn’t that be swell?  Nevertheless, I was very pleased with how Day 1 went.  When we got back to my rondovel, Winnie, Sindri and I looked at the sign-in book.  Throughout the day 46 people had come!  Obviously not all of them stayed, but I was very impressed by the turnout.  For a non-compulsory workshop, this was great!

            Day 2 started a bit later.  Everyone in attendance on Day 1 had voted to start at 9 rather than at 8.  This makes sense since chores (fetching water, washing clothes, sweeping, taking the cows to the bush, etc.) tend to take place in the early morning hours.  I didn’t mind.  We slept in until 6:30 (I can’t believe I consider this sleeping in), had a leisurely breakfast, and headed over to the church.  I was even able to run to the school quickly and respond to a few journal entries from my grade 7 learners.  Attendance was, to say the least, a bit lower than Day 1.  5 community members showed up for Day 2.  Maybe the others didn’t prefer the flavor drink I had bought?  Maybe it was the heat of Day 2?  Either way, the 5 who attended were very enthusiastic and eager to learn which made me happy.  We started the day with a review.  I was thrilled to see how much information they had retained.  Next we moved to making our own food group posters.  Now the attendees could have something to take home with them, a souvenir from their Nutrition Workshop.  As Winnie and Sindri moved onto junk food, listing alternatives to cold drink and ma-zimba, I ran to the tuck shop and bought 2 loaves of bread, a bit more manageable to carry than 17 (and a bit easier on the wallet!). 

            Our “tea time” was very nice, and friendlier than the day before because of the change in numbers.  We were able to chat a bit and enjoy one another’s company.  Following the break, Sindri informed us of how much fruits and vegetables children should eat in a day, using her fists to show measurements.  Even I was learning!  Each of the women made a day’s menu for her child, according to age, and then shared it with the group.  I was really impressed with how well they had done.  I am hopeful they will adhere to what they wrote out.

            I truly believe that knowledge is always a step in the right direction, no matter how small.  I’d consider this workshop a success even if it did start late on both days and even if numbers fluctuated.  It allowed me to work with members of the community which I really enjoyed.  This isn’t something I’m able to do too often.  It also revealed to me just how much these women care about their children and the health of their families.  Towards the end of day 2, when Sindri was talking to the women, she mentioned how a child should have 2 tablespoons of protein a day (i.e. peanut butter).  One of the women was genuinely concerned.  Did she have to spoon feed the peanut butter or could she spread it on bread or mix it with porridge?  Sindri assured her that either way was fine, so long as the child was getting the necessary amount of peanut butter.  The people in my village want to do right by themselves and by their family.  They just need a little bit of help getting there.

            Maybe it’s naïve of me, but I believe that kindness makes this world go round.  If you do something nice, don’t necessarily ask that it be returned.  Just have faith that somehow it will come back to you, eventually.  What we put out there usually has much great returns which are often multiplied.  I was more than happy to help Sindri with the SOUNS workshop, and I’m raring to go to help again next year.  However, what she and Winnie did for the people in my village, bringing so much knowledge to grow strong and healthy children which will impact how they do in school and in their futures is far more than I could have ever asked for. Remember, xandla famba, xandla vuya.  You scratch my back, and I’ll scratch yours.

Le Rata,

Meg :)

Ke a Leboga (I am Thankful)

As you mash your potatoes, baste your Turkey, and slice the cranberry sauce, I will most likely be sleeping with my fan directly on me due to the 7 hour time difference and the +100° temperatures.  Not to worry, though.  This weekend, a bunch of PCV’s will be traveling to Polokwane where we will celebrate the great American holiday of Thanksgiving, my personal favorite holiday.  While it pains me to be away for yet another holiday and to miss our local Gobble Wobble for the 2^nd year in a row, I am happy to say I have much to be thankful for this year.  I’ve taken the liberty to list just some of the things I am thankful for.  I’ve chosen to be symbolic, listing something I am grateful for, for every month of my Peace Corps service, totaling 26 items.  I thought of doing days, but it’s been brought to my attention that I’ve been here for 502 days.  That would take a really long time and I doubt you’d want to read that much while the football game or the parade is on.

I am thankful for…

1.      My family who supports me no matter what.  I am so grateful for my Mom and Dad, all of my brothers and sisters, my nephews, my Aunts and Uncles, my cousins, and my Grandmom.

2.      My friends back home who I love just as dearly as if they were my family.  This includes my friends from high school, from university, from the Crew, from running, etc.

3.      My boyfriend, Nick, who is also my best friend, treats me like gold and makes me feel like a princess every time that I’m with him.

4.      My family here who gives me a place to call home and loving faces to come home to everyday.  I am so lucky to have my host mom who taught me how to hand wash my clothing and introduced me to the community, and my host brothers who won’t let me help fetch the water from the borehole and constantly make me laugh.

5.      The PCVs in my group and from other groups.  The support we give each other is incredible and the PCVs I work with have become like family to me.

6.      The Peace Corps Staff in South Africa who work hard to keep us safe.

7.      My learners who make even the toughest days worth it.

8.      My counterparts who teach me as I try to teach them, and show constant improvement.

9.      My principals who truly care about my wellbeing and help me to accomplish my projects and my goals.

10. My village which has taught me the beauty of simplicity and to slow down a bit.

11.  The people in my village who make me feel like I am on “Cheers,” where everybody knows your name, especially the Gogo’s and the kids.

12.  Wonderful people like Sue & Eddie, and Andreis & Fleur who insist on taking care of me and the other volunteers whenever they can.

13.  My education that I have learned not everyone is fortunate enough to receive.

14.  My health which has continued to stay in good standing despite what many of the sessions the PCMO’s (Peace Corps Medical Officers) led during training had me thinking.

15.  The opportunity to be a Peace Corps Volunteer – to learn a new language (or 2), learn a new culture, and have your life changed, while hopefully making an impact where you can.

16.  My two legs and my sneakers that allow me to run wherever I go.

17.  Getting to spend Christmas with my American family and my South African family, bringing my two worlds together.

18.  Realizing that I’ll never want to be a celebrity.

19.  Having my needs in life met – always having food on the table, having a roof over my head, shoes on my feet, clothes in my closet, etc.

20. Having projects that are going in a successful direction, and that I can see lasting once I am gone.

21.  Organizations like Mother Bear and Darien Book Aid that make our job as PCVs much easier.

22. My blackberry that keeps me in contact with family and friends back home, and helps me to do a lot of my work here.

23. My fan, my fridge, and my blender that make summer months here bearable.

24. Sunscreen.

25. The ability to cook for myself.  While pap is good occasionally, I could not eat it every day.

26. Knowing that I’ll be home for Thanksgiving next year.

Remember that Thanksgiving is a time to count your blessings, not your calories.  Dig in and enjoy everyone.

Le rata,

Meg :)

"I Hope That You Grow to the Size of an Elephant"

A few weeks back I celebrated my second South African Birthday, my 24^th 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 2^nd 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 :)