Welcome Celebration

If I have learned anything during my time in South Africa so far, it’s that people here are very proud of their heritage. Tradition, culture, and family mean everything to the people in this country, and it is especially obvious in the rural areas. September is designated as heritage month here, and last Monday was a school holiday for Heritage Day. It was a day to reflect on where you came from, and to celebrate the traditions and customs that are important to your family and community. My school thought that having a traditional ceremony during this week would be a great way to welcome me into the school and community, as well as introduce me to some crazy South African experiences. So this past Wednesday I got to experience what it’s like to be the center of attention in South Africa, and was able to see some amazing African songs and dances.

I think the most impressive thing about the whole event was how much effort my school put into it. In the US we might have a cake in the staff room for a new teacher, but I got a whole party with the majority of the community in attendance. The whole thing started on the Friday before when my teachers took me into town to be fitted for my traditional Zulu outfit. Of course I had no idea what that meant so I just stood there and smiled as an old lady took my measurements while yelling things to her assistant in Zulu. I have mastered the smiling when I have no clue what is going on, which is the majority of the time. After that I got no information. The learners at the school had been practicing different things during the last period of school for a few days, but I was basically locked in the staff room so that I would be surprised when Wednesday rolled around. When it finally did I had no idea what to expect. My host mom had spent the majority of the day before in the cook house preparing, but again they wouldn’t tell me anything. So when we walked to school the next day I was both nervous and excited. As I walked into the school grounds I was shocked to see a big party tent set up with chairs and a long table in the front. I tried to look around at all the hustle and bustle but I was quickly ushered back into the staff room. There I waited, for hours! Even with the prep that had been done over the past few days, there was still so much that had to be done, and I wasn’t allowed to help with anything.

A little after noon some of the teachers came into the staff room to collect me. Apparently it was finally time to get things started, which meant it was time for me to get dressed. It also meant that I was being to be dressed from head to toe in traditional attire but some of my female teachers that all call me daughter. My outfit was amazing! It started with a traditional Zulu skirt and vest. It was a little shorter than I had expected, but I later found out that that is common when for a “Zulu virgin girl” (I’m still unsure how I feel about being shown off like that). I then put on the Zulu vest that matched the skirt. Then they started adding my favorite parts, the bead work. First it was a belt, then a necklace, and bracelets, and earrings, and a head band, and then my favorite part, the shoes. The beaded sandals are beautiful. Everything is so brightly colored and handmade; I was stunned with how much effort they put into getting me every part of a traditional outfit. Most other volunteers have gotten gifts from their school, but none of them have gone all out the way mine did.

Once I was dressed to their liking it was time to make my big debut as a Zulu woman in front of my school and community. The teachers signaled for the music to start, surrounded me all dressed in traditional outfits, and we left the comfort of the staff room. The minute I stepped outside the crowd that had gathered erupted in screams and chants. While I had been self-conscious in my new outfit, thinking people would think it was weird that I was wearing their clothing, the crowd loved it. Gogos (grandmothers) were jumping up and down shouting while at the same time trying to take pictures of me. It was overwhelming and amazing to realize people were so excited to see me dressed like I was one of them. As we slowly made our way to the long table in front of the tent, I got a good look at all of the people sitting there. Turns out the village chief and his high council had come out for the event, and that my seat was next to them at the head table. I don’t think I have ever been more intimidated by an old man, but even he was smiling and clapping as I made my way to the front.

Then the party really began. There were dancers of all ages, songs that ended up being sung by the whole crowd, and welcome speeches from multiple members of the community. The dancers were my favorite part. They younger girls went first. They were all wearing skirts that were all strings of beads in the front, and cloth in the back. The traditional Zulu dance consists of different body movements that are determined by your age and marital status, and then these crazy kicks into the air. It is crazy, and hard to describe, but they can kick their legs all the way above their heads. After the young girls there was a dance with drums for the women who had recently been married. They had long skirts, their hair wrapped, and their face had patterns painted in small little dots. It is common for unmarried Xhosa women that are of age to have their faces painted white or orange. Then when they get married they dot their faces with patterns for the first year to show that they are newlyweds.  My village is a mixture of Zulu and Xhosa, so I get to see some of both cultures.

After the dancing there a few of my teachers as well as some community members came to sing some of their traditional songs. It took about two words in for the whole group to join in. Everyone knew the words to every song, well everyone except me. It is crazy how well people here can sing. Music is such a huge part of this culture, and it becomes very obvious in the way they can move and sing. Throughout all of this, random people would come up with their phones to take pictures of me. As beautiful as everything was, being the center of attention was a little much at times. I usually try pretty hard to blend in to crowds, but there was no way for that to happen here! After multiple songs, there were a few local leaders that had welcome speeches prepared. Of course I didn’t understand the majority of what was being said, but I knew they were talking about me and the crowd seemed to like what was being said so I sat there with a big smile on my face. Each one had me stand after their speech for a big hug and more pictures. At that point I couldn’t feel my cheeks anymore, but the day was far from over.

As if my school hadn’t given me enough already, they had gifts to give before we were able to eat. A few gifts were given to the chief and members of his high council. It is important to acknowledge his presence at community events, but he seemed to be enjoying everything as much as I was. Then my teaching staff lined up to take pictures with me as they handed me a wrapped gift. I was told that it was very special to all of them, but that I should wait until I get home to open it. Of course that peaked my curiosity, but I waited. Then all that stood in front of me and some much needed food was one more teacher with one more gift from the staff. One of my male teachers (the only one even close to my age) said something into the microphone to the crowd, and then offered me a beautiful beaded necklace, which of course I accepted. Then the crowd went wild! Turns out that it is a Xhosa tradition that when a man offers a woman a necklace his is asking for her hand in marriage, and by accepting it I had just said yes. It’s all fun and games until someone proposes in a language you can’t understand. Of course no one tells me this until after I had accepted the necklace, and it would be an understatement to say that I was pissed!!! I have been getting proposals from just about everyone, but not someone I am working with, and in front of a whole group of people. Of course all of the female teachers knew that I was not actually accepting his hand, and after a very mean glare and a sharp shake of my head at said teacher the crowd knew I was pissed too.

Thankfully this was a great time for people to start filing into the tent with trays of food. The community had prepared a traditional South African feast. Now, before I came to Africa I promised myself that I would at least try all of the food that was offered to me, and I am proud to say that I have stuck by that promise. I can now say that I have eaten chicken heads, chicken feet, chicken liver, chicken gizzards, and cow intestines. To be honest the chicken liver wasn’t that bad, but the cow intestine was probably the worst thing I have ever eaten. A cow intestine consists of a thick outer layer of muscle, and an inner layer of almost fluffy cilia. It almost looks like some weird sea plant. As weird as it looks, it tastes so much worse. It is extremely chewy and slimy, but at the same time you can still crunch on small pieces of dirt that wasn’t cleaned all the way. It was bad, really really bad. I will avoid ever eating it again. I was then given a big cup of sour corn meal porridge to wash it down. Another South African favorite, but not something I will ever drink again. It is very common here to let things sour before eating or drinking them. Many people pour sour milk over pap, and they love it. I’m surprised I still haven’t gotten really bad food poisoning, but so far my stomach has handled everything pretty well.

After feeling extremely stuffed I was able to get up and walk around. Almost everyone wanted to take a picture of me. No one really wanted to be in the picture with me, but everyone was ready with their phones to take a picture of me to show their friends. Mothers and gogos came up to me to hug me and tell me how excited they are to have me here, while others warned me that all learners are lazy and don’t try. It was an interesting mix of comments that’s for sure. Once the chief made his exit it seemed the party was winding down. I finally had a chance to corner the teacher who proposed and make it very clear that I am not interested and that what he did was extremely inappropriate. He made a few comments about how I am very strict, but I think after a few more death glares he got the idea.

Over all the day was so amazing. It was weird being the center of attention, but it was so heartwarming to see so many people come just to see me and to welcome me. I felt so privileged that people were willing to put so much time and effort into making sure I experienced some real South African culture, and to thank me for coming to their village. Hopefully I don’t disappoint them over the next two years, and that I can actually make a difference here!

Mail

A lot of people have been asking if there is anything special that I would like when people send mail. I have decided that I will compile a list of all the things I miss from home and can't find in my small shopping town. If at any point you are sending mail and are thinking of putting in a little something extra for me, these are the things that would put a huge smile on my face.

Good ground coffee (the coffee here sucks)

Sour candies/ hard candies

Licorice spice tea

Instant hot apple cider

Taco mix/fajita mix/chili powder

Zip lock bags

Gum

Crystal light (any flavor has to be better than the water here)

Emergen C

Bobby pins

I also want to give a very big thank you to everyone who has been sending postcards to my mom. As I am sure she has told you, I love postcards, and it is so special that even though I am half way around the world, I can get post cards from so many places back home. There is a small ledge in my new home that goes all the way around my room. I have started putting all of the beautiful pictures up around the ledge, so now I feel like i am surrounded from places back home, and so many warm thoughts. On hard days it really helps to look around and know that so many people back home are thinking of me!

My spider experience

South Africa happens to have some of the scariest spiders I have ever seen. The are huge, and I'm not saying they are huge just because I am a total baby and hate spiders, but they are actually huge. Besides the lovely black widows South Africa is home to the wall spider. It is extremely fast, has a very flat body, and super long legs. Some of them are the size of a small hand, and that just isn't ok with me. However, after a few long debates with my new friend Chad, I had decided that I would not try to kill the wall spiders. His winning arguments were that 1 they eat other bugs including mosquitoes, 2 they always stay on the walls, and 3 most of them are too fast to kill anyways. All of these seemed to be valid arguments, so I decided that I would deal with my over the top fear of spiders and let them be.

A few nights later I noticed my new friend the wall spider above my door as I was getting ready to go to bed. After choking down the fear that it was going to leap off the wall and eat me, I decided to just get into bed and pretend it wasn't there. By that I mean I went to be with my flashlight and checked to make sure the stupid spider hadn't moved about every ten minutes until I finally fell asleep. I was very happy to wake up the next morning in one piece, and the spider was still in the same place. It wasn't so bad, and I was proud that I had let the spider live and didn't end up sleeping on the couch. That day when I got home from classes I looked around and saw no spider. I didn't actually like that it was now gone, figuring it could possibly  now be in my bed, but I got distracted by other things and forgot about it. And then came bed time. As I was washing my face in my little bucket, I looked up and noticed Mr. Spider had moved to the opposite wall, right above my bed. So it went spider, window curtain, pillow. Having a spider just chilling above my head wasn't the most ideal situation, but the night before it had been fine so I was just going to go with it. Turns out spiders don't like clapping, so when I tried to kill a mosquito that was flying near the lamp next to my bed, Mr. Spider decided to drop down the curtain. This is when I freaked out. I now had a giant spider somewhere behind the curtain, near my pillow, and eventually my head. As much as I tried to rationalize my fear, take some deep breaths, tell myself that I am bigger than the spider so it is probably more scared of me than I am of it, nothing really seemed to work. So rather than get into bed that night, I moved my pillow to the other end of the bed, took out my super sweet mummy sleeping bag, got in and zipped it all the way up. The only things that were not tightly enclosed by my sleeping bag were my eyes, nose and mouth. I figured that If I was going to be attacked by a killer spider he would have a harder time getting to me if I was cocooned in a sleeping bag than if I was just under some blankets. That was also about the time that I decided being friends with the spiders was not an option, and next time I would have to kill it before I tried to go to bed.

On the first day at my new site I managed to kill my first giant spider all by my self, and I was starting to feel like things were going better with that whole thing. I then went to my outhouse late one night, sat down, looked forward with my head lamp, and came face to face with a black widow. Nothing makes it harder to pee than being watched by the scariest spider you have ever seen. So I am now back to square one, where spiders are the worst bug known to man, and now they dictate when I can and cannot go to the bathroom.

"Interviews"

I learned early on that Peace Corps likes to have a name for everything that we do while we are here. These first three months that we are at our permanents site are called the "integration phase" of our service. This is the time that we are supposed to get comfortable within our schools and our communities. It is a time for us to figure out how the South African school system really works (or doesn't), how our individual schools function, and how the community is laid out. In theory this is a great idea, and would be extremely beneficial for volunteers. In actuality the process is extremely flawed and I have spent the majority of my time doing very little. At this point in our service we are not in the class room, but are doing things such as interviewing the teachers, meeting important community members, and getting to know the wants and needs of both the learners and the school. Peace Corps gave us a detailed schedule of what we should be doing each week for the next three months.

Week one, which I just survived, was designated for teacher interviews. During the last week of "interviewing" the teachers, it became very apparent that the word interview holds a very different meaning here, and it is not a good one. Teachers would do almost anything to avoid sitting down with me and answering a few simple questions. Peace Corps had warned us that people might initially think that we are spies from the Department of Education, or that we were there to get them in trouble for different things, but I had kind of laughed that off. Seriously I'm like the least sneaky person ever, there was no way these people would think I was some sort of spy, right? By the way my teachers reacted I should be considering a future with the CIA because I am for sure spy material. Out of 18 teachers, I got 10 to sit down and answer four questions: What grades/subjects do you teach? How long have you been teaching? What are the biggest challenges teaching in South Africa? How do you feel about changing to the CAPS program next year? Americans would not hesitate to sit down and answer these questions, but South African will actually get up and leave the staff room when they see you coming. To be honest it was a little entertaining.

Although I spent most of the week sitting in the staff room listening to my teachers talk in a crazy language while they were supposed to be in class, I did get some valuable information from my interviews. Regardless of how long they had been teaching, the answers for what are the biggest challenges were almost identical for everyone. The number one answer for this question was the constant changes in the curriculum. Recently South Africa has adopted an outcome based approach to teaching, which all teachers seem to hate. Their complaints range from "there wasn't enough training given before the approach was implemented" (reasonable), to "this approach makes it so learners have to find the answers with out us being able to tell them the answers" (um isn't that the point of teaching?). As amusing as some of these answers were to me, I held my tongue, nodded my head, and listened. Then came most common challenge answer number two. "Learners are lazy, and they do not show respect to teachers now that it is illegal to hit them. This answer was hard for me to hear. The idea of taking a stick and hitting a child with it because they were late to school makes me flinch every time. It was very hard for me to sit back and take notes and not mention the fact that in the US we don't hit students and we are ranked way higher in education than South Africa is. As much as I really like to make snarky comments to my friends and family, I do my best to contain them while here. Sarcasm doesn't seem to get you far in this country.

The rest of the week I basically spent chilling in the staff room, learning a little about the upcoming changes in South African curriculum, and watching a lot of teachers skip class so they could spend time marking. This coming week I am  supposed to spend time interviewing my principal (who has already said he wont have time), interviewing the deputy principal (who will be out of town), and taking inventory of the school resources. So basically I will spend one day looking at the three computers that have never been set up at our school, looking at the lack of library, and then sitting in the staff room just hanging out. Maybe I will bring my computer and look up different grants to try and get my school a library in the next two years.

Finding my place

I'm not going to lie, the first few days at sight were rough. For the first time since coming to South Africa it really hit me that I am in a country half way around the world from home, and I had just said goodbye to the last people that understood where I was coming from. It  was extremely hard to go from feeling like I was at some strange summer camp to feeling like I was completely isolated in Africa. The emotional roller coaster that I was on was not fun, and it made me question what on earth I was thinking when I signed up to spend two years so far from anything I had ever known.

However, you will be happy to know (hopefully) that I am not writing this from the Johannesburg airport, and that as the days have gone on things have gotten easier here in my hut in South Africa. Those of you who know me well should also be proud that after about 20 minutes of raising my shoe and then jumping back and squealing like a child, I finally manned up and killed my first giant spider. As pathetic as I know that makes me, it was a very gratifying moment in my Peace Corps experience so far! Well that was until I discovered the black widow in my outhouse, but that is a story for another day. So here I sit, with one less spider, and thinking that I might actually be able to give something to this small community in South Africa. The first few days I spent with my principal meeting community members that looked at my like I was a science experiment that they didn't understand. I met the police chief, the Redcross staff, the clinic staff, and post office staff, the teachers, and the learners at my school. It was overwhelming to say the least, and I can still probably only tell you half of the teachers' names. I also got a very interesting tour of my shopping town while I tried to buy food that didn't have to be refrigerated. Aside from meeting a ton of new people I had nothing to do, which is what made it hard to feel like I was in the right place. I would do my few errands during the day, and then go home and sit in my rondavol all alone. I didn't really know where I fit in with my new host family, so I was nervous about trying to merge into their family.

My mind set didn't start to change until the third night in. I was sitting in my room debating whether eating peanut butter straight from the jar was acceptable for dinner, when there was a very timid knock on the door. At first I ignored it, thinking it was probably just another goat trying to break in, but there it was again. When I went to the door my oldest host brother was standing in the rain with his math book tucked under his arm. Not even saying a word he stepped around me, sat down at my small table and opened his work book. It was that moment that really gave me a feeling of purpose, so like any good teacher I sat down and helped.  Not to sound too full of myself, but I have to say, I am a pretty bomb math tutor. Who knew that after like seven years I would still remember how to explain a sine and cosine graph. After blowing through that math assignment we got to talking. Turns out my new brother takes two taxis to get to high school everyday (there is no high school in my village) and that this was the first time he has ever been able to get help with homework. He said that after 3rd grade his mom stopped being able to help him with homework because she cant read English. He cant stay after school if he needs help because he has sports and then has to make sure he catches the taxis home, not that I have seen any after school help offered anyway. It made me think back to all the times I sat down with my mom and dad at the dinner table getting help on any subject that I could possible need help in. Even in college I could always call my dad to talk science or email my mom my papers to have her edit them before I turned them in. Learners here have never had that, and I realized that even if I cant change all of these kids' lives, I can at least give them something they have never had, help.

So here I am, the new village tutor. So far it has only been my very large family who have decided that knocking is no longer a thing, and who barge into my room with their different books looking for help. I have been told by other volunteers that once word gets out that I am offering help after school that more will come, and that makes me excited for all of the tomorrows here in Africa. I am still trying to decide where I fit in at my school, but I have months until I actually start teaching to figure that out. I did decide that peanut butter from the jar is a completely acceptable dinner, lunch, and snack, and that being all alone in the middle of no where in South Africa isn't so bad.


Side note:
My new address
Kelsey Lynch
PO Box 994
Umzimkulu 3297
South Africa
*If you are sending anything larger than an envelope please write that it contains educational material and tell the post office that it is wroth nothing.

So Many Changes

Site.
Well this is going to be a long one because I don't even know where to begin with my explanation of site so far. I guess like most things I should start at the beginning. First off, my group of 15 headed to the Sisonke district of KwaZulu-Natal wasn't even sure if we were going to site on Monday September 2nd. After swearing in we were informed that our supervisor workshop, where we were supposed to meet all of out principals had been cancelled. Turns out the building where it had been scheduled originally was not suitable for this type of event. Given that, we were basically put on standby and had to be ready to leave when we got word that a new location had been chosen. To be honest I was kind of hoping that we would be delayed a day so that I could get at least one quality shower in at the college. Unfortunately that didn't happen, but I was also very excited to be heading to site on the correct day. After three attempts to fit all of our luggage into the vans and trailers, it was a very tight fit, we were off on our 10 hour drive to a town in the Sisonke region where the following day we would be meeting our supervisors for the next two years. Just a little side note, for safety reasons I can not disclose where exactly I am on this site. This is an open blog that anyone can read and according to Peace Corps guidelines it is a security risk for me and my community to put exact locations here. That being said, I will be able to post my new address here (when I get one) because it will be located in a town near my village and not in my village (because mail doesn't come to rural areas).

That being said, we arrived very late at our location, and had to be up very early the next day to have a few hours of workshop with our supervisors before they took us to our new homes. Now, Peace Corps for some reason really likes to make everything as uncomfortable as possible. So the next day we were informed that as a way of introducing ourselves to our principals we would walk into the room where they were all seated, introduce ourselves in isiZulu, and then tell them what school we would be working at, again in isiZulu. The principals of course had no idea which volunteer was going to their schools before this little introduction game, which made it kind of feel like volunteer lottery. You could totally tell the minute you walked into the room which principals were hoping you would be theirs and which ones didn't want you. It was nerve racking to say the least. I'm not really sure what my principal thought when he first saw me because I was too focused on not totally butchering their language, but he seems happy with having me now. After we were finally all seated by our principals, we spent the next four hours discussing why we were here, what we would be doing at the schools for the next three months, and the cultural differences between South Africans and Americans.

Then came the time where all the volunteers looked around at each other...and panicked. It was now time to say goodbye to the last white person we might see in who knows how long, and the last time we might have a real conversation in English for months. As we slowly hauled our over weight luggage to our principals' cars,  the realization that we would soon be heading off into rural Africa all alone really set in. To be honest I kind of wanted to pee my pants. What kind of crazy person thought this would be a good idea? Oh wait, that would be me. After another round of choked up goodbyes we got in the cars and went our separate ways into the unknown, because we literally had no idea where we were going.

After a relatively short ride through the town of Umzimkulu (my shopping town) we were traveling down a long gravel road, that gradually turned into a dirt road through the rolling hills of South Africa. After a little bit we rounded the last corner and I got the first glimpse of my new home away from home. It was breath taking. Tucked away in the mountains is a beautiful village that slowly creeps up the side of a hill with a small valley at the base. I was shocked at how pretty it was. Houses here are pointed super bright colors, and with the green grass behind them, the village seemed like it popped out of the hillside. We slowly made our way down to the base of the village and turned into my new home.

To my excitement I was greeted by a big black lab. He isn't nearly as cute as Butch, but he will be a nice companion for the next two years. My family was right there behind the dogs to greet me as well. At this point I couldn't tell you all of their names, or even how many of them are actually part of my family. Originally I was told that my family consisted of a mom, two daughters, and a son, however I was greeted by at least twice that many kids all trying to get a glimpse of the new white girl who would be living with them. Thank god most of them speak at least some English. After a long round of introductions and some super awkward silent moments I was shown my new room. Let me tell you, this place is HUGE. It has to be at least twice the size of my room at home. It is rondavel, which is a giant round room with a thatcher roof, and I love it. At this point it is pretty empty, which makes it feel a little creepy. The Department of Education is in charge of providing furniture for volunteers, but like all things controlled by the government, it takes time to actually get those things. I am fortunate that my family has loaned me a small bed until I get the new one, but that could take anywhere from a week to six months. My new host mom left me to unpack what little I could, and as I looked around at my new home I thought to myself "holy shit, I am now completely alone in the middle of no where Africa".

To be continued...

Swearing In

Well it's official. I have finally sworn in as a Peace Corps volunteer. Swearing in is the time that we go from Peace Corps trainees to Peace Corps volunteers. It is a pretty big day for everyone involved, so naturally it should start out going completely wrong. My van was picked up at 7:30 am, which means that I woke up at 6 am to take a bucket bath, and was taken to the location of the ceremony. As we sat and waited for the rest of the trainees to arrive people slowly started to notice that none of the staff was there either. This was some what strange, but no one thought too much of it. Luckily one of our language trainers started to wonder what was taking the other vans so long, and she called another trainer. Turns out we were at the wrong location. The night before our ceremony some people were informed that there would be no electricity at the college where we had been working. So in light of that information, plans had been changed and a new venue was selected. Apparently not all of the drivers were given correct instructions on where to take us, and we ended up at the wrong place. Fortunately we weren't that far from where we should be, so we were only about 30 minutes late, which in South Africa is nothing.

From there we had some coffee and cookies while we waited for the event to start. That took about another 45 minutes, so all in all we were only starting about an hour or so late. Here there is what we call South African time, which basically means that if you say something is going to start at 8 am, it really means that is will start around 9:30am or later. Time is fluid in this country, and for Americans it is a very hard transition. I'm sure my family would agree that I am a little psycho when it comes to time, and that I get very frustrated when things don't take place when they are supposed to. So to use Peace Corps' favorite word, I am learning to be flexible when it comes to things starting on time.

Aside from the little hiccups at the beginning, the ceremony was very nice. Our language tutors and the rest of the host country staff got up and sang a beautiful song for us that we very touching. I am still shocked at how well people can sing here. Then, after we were sworn in by the Country Director, and given a great speech by a representative from the US Embassy, we were official volunteers. Unfortunately, for some this was not the happiest time, because for them it meant it was time to say goodbye> most of our sites are around 10 hours away from Pretoria and about 12 from where we were staying. Immediately after swearing-in some of our now good friends had to head off to their new homes. Some tears were shed, but everyone knew that this was when our real adventure would begin.