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Disclaimer: the content of this website is mine alone and does not necessarily reflect the views of the U.S. government, the Peace Corps, or the South African Government.

I have almost completed my first month in my new village and am learning the challenge of being still.  I was warned during training that there would be much down time during my first three months at site, but I think that during the last several years of working two jobs and going to school I have forgotten how to relax.  I feel like there is something I should be doing, but then I realize that I am completing my tasks, there just aren’t as many of them here.  It is both refreshing and disconcerting to have so much free time available to me.  My host family, my organization, and many of the community members have been very welcoming to me.  When I first arrived they told me that they were going to make me fat before I leave (a sign that a guest has been well taken care of is weight gain).  Luckily my host mom has helped me to counteract this attempt by finding me awesome running partners.

Monday through Thursday mornings I accompany the caregivers from my organization as they visit members of the community.  During these visits the caregivers promote health by discussing the importance of diet and exercise, as well as the importance of visiting the clinic to test for HIV and hypertension.  The caregivers do an amazing job of building rapport with community members, as well as offering realistic diet and exercise options that can be easily incorporated in this community.  Even though I only understand part of the conversations, it is obvious that the caregivers are well received.  Each morning on my walk to work I pass a crèche (preschool), where the children run out to stare at me and wave as I walk by.  It is difficult to be in a bad mood when this is one of my first interactions each day. 

The local primary school has been very welcoming, even allowing me to attend a third grade class on Fridays to help my language learning.  The children stared and laughed at me quite a bit at first, but they seem to be getting used to me.  This past week I got everyone’s attention when I accidentally set off a keychain alarm on my purse and couldn’t turn it off.  I don’t know whether the children thought I did that on purpose, but they seemed to be quite amused at the incident and surrounded me immediately after to tell me all about themselves.

My host mother encouraged me to attend a funeral a couple of weeks ago with our neighbors.  She wanted me to be able to tell Americans what funerals are like in South Africa.  Funerals here take place over two days, Friday night and Saturday morning.  On Friday night attendees gather under a large tent and sing and share testimonies, this is comparable to the viewing we attend in America.  Instead of hiring catering to feed those in attendance on Saturday (as we would in the States), a cow is slaughtered on Friday and many of the women of the community stay up most of the night cooking the meal that will follow Saturday’s service.  The body of the deceased is brought to the home where the service is being held on Friday evening and remains there until the burial on Saturday morning, which reminded me of an Irish wake.  On Saturday morning we gathered again to follow the body to the cemetery, where a small service was conducted to show respect to the deceased and the family, after which those in attendance returned to the family home for a meal and to visit with one another.  When I returned home I was able to tell her about all of the similarities I saw between South African and American funerals.  It is so interesting that we can choose to see the differences between ourselves and others, or we can find things we have in common.

As part of my community needs assessment I had the privilege of hearing about the history of the community in which I serve from the son of the first induna (head man) of my village.  I could have listened to him all day!  The area in which I live was one of the homelands established during apartheid (around 1948).  My reading on the homelands reminded me a great deal of the establishment of the reservations in the United States for the Native Americans in the 1800’s.  My historian informed me that there was an amazing sense of community when the village was first established, but that maintaining that sense of community has become a challenge as the village has grown.  After he told me the story of the village I asked him who he would most like me to work with over the next two years, and what he would most like me to do.  His answer was simple: the youth are the future of this village.  

From bougie to basic

Disclaimer: the content of this website is mine alone and does not necessarily reflect the views of the U.S. government, the Peace Corps, or the South African Government.

It has been a while, and so much has happened over the last ten weeks.  I was officially sworn in as a Peace Corps Volunteer on March 31, 2016, and was taken from swearing in to the village where I will work and live for the next two years.  Here are some of the highlights that took place in the weeks leading up to this moment.

On January 18, 2016, I left Ontario Airport in California for Philadelphia, Pennsylvania.  I met the other 32 members of my volunteer cohort at an event called staging.  We participated in icebreakers and role plays, which provided a glimpse of how our lives might look as volunteers.  We departed for JFK airport at 2am on January 20, 2016.  Miraculously, we all made it to the flight and departed on our 16 hour flight to Johannesburg.

Upon arrival to South Africa we gathered our luggage and boarded several vans, which took us to a conference center in Mpumalanga Province.  We spent ten days getting to know each other, attending sessions to learn about our upcoming service, and learning to which language group we would be assigned.  It was exciting and overwhelming, but we had not even scratched the surface.

On January 31 we were taken to a meeting room in a small village about half an hour from the conference center where we had been staying to meet the families that would host us for the next two months.  I have never been adopted so I cannot say with certainty that the emotions I felt were the same that a child feels when going to meet a new family, but I can only imagine that the emotions are similar.  I was so apprehensive!  I had no idea whether my family would speak English, whether there would be running water and an indoor bathroom at the home, what chores I would be expected to do, or even if they would like me.  I was matched with a very sweet Gogo (grandmother), and taken to her husband’s waiting bakkie (pick-up truck).  Mkhulu (grandfather) and Gogo drove me to their home.  Mkhulu spoke to me and pointed to things all the way home, but it was all in Zulu and I had no idea what he was saying.  Upon arrival I was shown to my room and given a host sister, who turned out to be an absolute Godsend during my stay! 

I spent two months in Gogo and Mkhulu’s home, learning about rural South African culture, figuring out bucket baths, and learning to wash clothes by hand.  The family discovered my lack of culinary prowess quite quickly, so I simply helped cut vegetables and dish up dinner plates.  It had been emphasized to us that we should become part of the family rather than behaving as a houseguest, so I jumped in and began washing dishes each night.  This was in part because I had been told that I was in a patriarchal society where women are expected to do much of the housework.  Apparently in Gogo’s house it was expected that my three teenage host brothers take turns washing the dishes, and the boys simply did not share that information because they were getting out of doing chores because I misunderstood the rules.  I can’t even get mad at that because I would have done the same thing to someone when I was a teenager!  Gogo figured out what was going on after a week or so and put a very quick stop to that behavior.  We took turns after that.

During the day I attended language classes and technical sessions each day.  I was assigned siSwati as my target language.  SiSwati is part of the Nguni family, along with isiNdebele, isiZulu, and Xhosa.  The village in which I stayed spoke isiNdebele, and the family with which I stayed spoke isiZulu, so I was afforded the opportunity to practice my language skills at home.  At first I would write out what I wanted to say and read the card to Mkhulu and Gogo (who both speak very little English).  They would look at me confused for a while, then would read the card themselves and acknowledge that they understood what I was trying to say.  Eventually I was able to tell them simple things, such as where I was going and when I would be back.  When I did this for the first time without writing it out first Gogo got a huge smile on her face, clapped her hands, and chanted “number one, number one” to me.  It was so encouraging!  Gogo also gave me my village name on Valentine’s Day: Thandi, which means “love.”

So much took place in the short two months that I stayed with this wonderful family.  I can now successfully bucket bathe.  I can semi-successfully hand wash my clothing.  I was able to handle food poisoning using an outdoor latrine (no simple feat), and I have learned to carry toilet paper with me wherever I go.  My host siblings and their friends taught me so much about the culture of the Ndebele and Zulu people, including customs surrounding weddings, funerals, and coming of age.  I am so grateful for the homestay I enjoyed, and my host sister and I plan to visit one another in the future.

I now embark on the next leg of this adventure.  I have moved to a region of the Mpumalanga Province known as “the pocket.”  I am 45 kilometers from the borders of Mozambique, Swaziland, and Kruger National Park.  This is arguably one of the most beautiful spots in the country (everything is so green and lush), and is also one of the hottest spots in the country.  I will work for a home based care organization in a small village that has gone to great trouble to ensure my comfort during my stay with them.  There will be hiccups along the way (cobras come out at night here), but I am hoping that after two months I will be as reluctant to leave my new family as I was to leave my homestay family on March 31.  The pastor of one of the churches in my new village arranged an interpreter for his message on the day I attended.  I was so glad he did!  He spoke from Jeremiah: for I know the plans I have for you, says the Lord, plans to prosper and not to harm you.  It was exactly what I needed to hear that day to prepare me to look past the discomforts and find the positive points in my new home and new village.  The next three months will be spent in “lock-down” as I become acquainted with my new village and conduct my needs assessment.  If anyone feels so inclined, a letter of encouragement or a bag of skittles in the mail are most appreciated!  If you would like my new address, please private message me or my mom to get it.