Ukubonga

Five months is definitely a good point for a mid-year slump. The approaching Fifa World Cup evokes in me not excitement but dread. There is an iron fist in my stomach and I wonder if a country with the fastest growing HIV/AIDS rate in the world can handle such a huge influx of people and attention.

All 4 of us have been facing these less than pleasant emotions for the past few weeks. In an attempt to raise morale, Shin did an awesome spirituality night that involved talking about not what frustrates us about South Africa, but what we can’t imagine living without. I’m going to share them with you. My life will never ever be the same because of these things:

- Hour long prayers at St. Leo because teachers aren’t there. Specifically Lindani’s bashful face when he realizes you are watching him.

- Phumelele sneaking a bran muffin into my purse.

- Waking up and looking at Embo every morning.

- Solidarity. And somehow figuring it out.

- Female role models: Karen, Dawn, Themba, the 1000 HCH ladies, Gogos.

- Gogos in general. Particularly Gogo Ndlovu, Gogo Gloria, Gogo Flossie., etc….

- Slow jams

- South African Wine and Salti-Crax

- Being an Auntie at St. Theresa’s Boys Home. Cottage One. Loving the hell out of teenage boys who are embarrassed by me. The Ngcobo brothers (the picture is of me and the 3 of them: Siyabonga, Sfiso, and Manqoba)

- “throwing it to Embo” – when my brother was here he caught a very large mouse in our house and threw it into the valley of Embo.

- The man who sells us beer every weekend at the Shongweni Market

- The Shongweni Market

- SA terminology: robots, boot, keen, etc…

- Avos the size of your face

- The world’s most beautiful sunrises and sunsets.

- The letters Q, C and X and being able to properly pronounce them

- R7.58 to the US Dollar

- Karaoke

- The Indian Ocean

- When people think I know what the hell I am doing at work.

- Learning what the hell I am doing. Ngiyafunda.

There is so much more and I will always add to this. It is such a healthy way to remind myself (ourselves) that moments are fleeting. The is no room for anything but gratefulness and thanksgiving.

A Weekend in 1000 Hills

A Weekend in 1000 Hills

Some of my blogs will probably end up being long, thoughtful, and reflective. Others, like this one, will be simple and less emotionally charged updates.

My current small joy is that I discovered I have a recording of “Children Go Where I Send Thee” on my iPod. I realize that it is Christmas music, but it’s the little things in life that bring joy. Also, it’s winter here so but me some slack! J

This weekend seemed more low key compared to last weekend’s South Coast camping shenanigans. But for a low key weekend we accomplished a good amount of things.

Every Friday Shin, MK and I drive to Gogo Ndlovu’s house (Gogo is Themba Themba’s mother). We spend a little over 2 hours with Gogo each Friday attempting to get some of the Zulu language to stick in our minds. It’s difficult on Fridays to find the motivation to study a language so foreign to us especially after a week of draining and emotional work. Gogo is worth putting out the extra effort though. She always, without fail makes us laugh. For instance, while teaching us verb classes this week, she used “I don’t like your upper lip” as a casual example. Maybe it’s not funny right now but trust me that hearing an older Zulu Gogo say it so nonchalantly will have you nearly wetting yourself with laughter.

Saturday we spent the day at one of the most beautiful houses I’ve ever had the pleasure of being in. Someone decided to throw a benefit beauty event for the Kloof SPCA and for 1000 HCH. So the girls and I attended, on Dawn’s dime. We drank Mimosas, at cupcakes with sparkles, and listened to 3 hours of beauty tips (I felt a little awkward in my unbrushed hair and my Birkenstocks, but hey, it was for a good cause). I think that sometimes I feel extremely uncomfortable around excessive displays of money, but that’s a whole other blog. The amazing thing about the event was that the host announced at the end that she would be donating 100% of the proceeds. That means that she footed the entire bill for the beautiful event. After she announced that, my discomfort melted into sheer gratitude.

Meg and I went to one of our co-workers birthday celebrations on Sunday. The women who volunteer at 1000 HCH are incredible. We really are so incredibly fortunate to be surrounded by so many people so full of love. I had a chocolate milkshake and a man named Patrick played James Taylor on his guitar. My moments of sadness about being here are always washed away by moments like that. When I am surrounded by people I love and music I love and a chocolate milkshake, I forget the sad things and only remember the love I feel.

Finishing off the weekend, MK and I drove to Kwanyuswa to visit Gogo Gloria. She was bitten by a snake a few years ago and developed a relationship with the previous volunteers while she was being treated at the Respite Unit. When Brian (another former volunteer) visited in March, he introduced MK to her and now we are able to continue that relationship, which I am very grateful for. We sat with Gogo for about 1.5 hours but it only felt like 20 minutes. She told us about many things. She talked for a while about Madonna and her adoptions, divorces, and travels. She is the sharpest woman. She remembers everyones names. When my brother was here he visited with her. Three weeks later she asked how he is doing back in the states at work with my mom. Gogo also commented on our short dresses (knee length!!) saying that MK and I both should wear them because we have strong legs, unlike hers which were bitten by the snake. Also, apparently we have good teeth.

Spending time with Gogo was the perfect end to the weekend and I leave you with this post feeling so grateful. I hope you can find the same feeling in your own lives.

You can always help. You can always do more.

Friends,

Please help a wonderful organization to get back on their feet. Father Greg Boyle and Homeboy Industries of East Los Angeles are going through a serious financial struggle right now. Take a lesson from G-Dawg's humility and help this incredible organization.

You can read about Homeboy Industries here: LA's Homeboy Industries Lays Off Most Employees

And you can donate here: Donate to Homeboy

Words and Meanings

Tonight was Father Frank’s birthday. We went to mass at 5:30pm at the church in Kloof and then, as we do every other Thursday, drank red wine with the 3 priests and indulged in some good cheese. It was a nice ending to another long and frustrating day at St. Leo’s Primary School.

School was rough today for the same reasons it usually is. All of the teachers left their classrooms empty from 11:30am until the end of school at 2:30pm. Our lessons went well except for regular schedule interruptions. They recently stopped allowing many of the students attend their computer classes. They have decided only the students who can afford the computer fee are allowed to learn about computers. This also negatively affects their oral English classes that we teach. We also learned (as we were walking back to our car at 2:30pm) that there is no school tomorrow. So, that’s good. Maybe.

Work at 1000 HCH on Tuesday was rough as well. I took care of an 11 month old who only weighed 3kgs. Her name was Samkelisiwe and all of her bodily functions were shutting themselves down because she is so malnourished. When she and her mother were finally fed, it was almost painful to watch the way they ate as if it were the first time they had ever been presented with food. I don’t think I will ever forget Phume and Samke. We enrolled her in the crèche, so now she will get regularly fed, bathed, and clothed. Who will take care of her mother, Phume, though? How is helping one ever enough?

On a brighter note, I have begun helping a young man named Mthokozisi to improve his English so that he can find a better paying job. He wrote an awesome essay for me to present the language skills he possesses so we can assess and move on with our lessons. I thought I would share it with you, so that you can share his story (I didn’t edit it – just typed it as he gave it to me):

My name is Mthokosizi Dube. I am 23 years of age (to give you some perspective – 23 is also my age). I was born in January seven 1987. I live at a place Called Inchanga. I hate that i can not speak English fluently because its going to be hard for me to survive in South Africa if I do not try to improve my English. I am willing to learn as much as I can.

Academically I previously studied financial account at Damelin College in 2007. I did Trial Balance i got 86% and I did payroll and Bank Reconciliation i got 71%, unfortunately I did not complete my diploma. My maternal grandmother who was paying my college fess passed away in January 2008 that forced my withdrawal from Academia. In the past two years I have been doggedly searching for a job but due to my low level of qualification I have not found one. I have only seen my friends who have more qualificationsthan I have secure lucrative jobs with a plethora of opportunities. I think without an advanced degree opportunities for upwards mobility are limited. It is really tough for me because after my birth both of my parents passed away. I was raised by my paternal grandmother who passed as well when I was in grade 4. Her unfortunate death resulted in my living with my maternal grandmother until 2008. I really need to do something because it is hard for me to stay focused in life. I do not even know who I am.

So, that was the flooring essay Mthoko shared with me. I was so surprised to read it after he had repeatedly told me how limited his English was. When I told him that I wanted to share his essay with you, he was so flattered and humble about it. He continues to stay motivated and wants to work as hard as he can to help himself achieve great goals. He gives me great hope.

Letting Go Gains Tighter Grip

Frustration is easy to come by in South Africa. It’s hard to constantly appreciate the breathe taking beauty of my drive to work when all over the streets are half-finished, half-assed “infrastructure improvements” for the World Cup imposed by a government that (as of late) hasn’t believed much in follow-through. It’s hard to feel excited about the opportunities the 1000 Hills Community Helpers offer the hundreds of women of Inchanga when I pass the same three 16 year olds on the corner trying to make a buck everyday. And how can you appreciate an education that is offered to a child when daily teachers are failing to show up to classes, or if they do show up somehow manage to do anything but teach. I can’t tell you the number of times the classrooms on either side of the library we teach have been filled with screaming Grade 3 or Grade R students. As I said, appreciation is hard. Desperation is easy. There are days when tears find me more frequently than laughter.

Never in my life have I felt such utter exhaustion the way that South Africa grants it to me daily. We wake up before the sun has risen and often arrive home after it sets. There is no doubt in my mind that this is the hardest thing I have experienced yet in my still very young life.

Anyways, moving on. Today I found some clarity. It came to me somewhere between a fit of tears that hit me after receiving a package from my mum that was already open, soaked, covered in mold and 75% destroyed and cooking dinner for the girls. I was cooking eggplant parm and feeling sorry for myself about how tired I felt and how sad I was about the package and how frustrating it is to live in South Africa sometimes (or all the time?). Then, as usually happens, a song played that made me re-evaluate my emotions. “Letting go gains tighter grip.” It is so easy for me to cling to the hardships, there are so many of them around to cling to. I can very easily allow myself to get lost in the overabundance of sadness that dwells here. But why would I ever hold on to that when there are incredible things here that I will never, ever in my life experience again. So my attempt now is to bring these things to you (in blog, photo, and video form). Maybe sharing them will allow me to more fully let go of feeling so desperate.

The first thing I want to share with you is the way we start our days at St. Leo’s Primary School. I know I have mentioned it in earlier blogs, but I want to give you a more vivid depiction. At 7:30am a bell rings in the school yard. 700 children, from Grade R to Grade 7 race to line up in single sex lines, from oldest to youngest. Usually the air is colder and the kids are bundled up like snowmen. The red dust from the ground is usually unsettled from the urgent rush to line up before Mam Mthethwa becomes aggravated. The they sing at least three songs. Almost always in Zulu and without fail in beautiful and natural harmony (Africa somehow breeds it in you in a way I have never seen anywhere else in the world). My soul feels more alive in those 20 minutes than I have ever experienced before.

And don’t even get me started on the amazing female role models I have encountered here. Themba Themba (I’m not joking! That is her name and surname. She married a man with the surname “Themba”) is the administrator and grade 4 teacher at St. Leo’s. Not only does she teach and essentially hold the school together at its seams, she knows every single student (out of 700!) and each of their stories. AND she dances. I wish you could meet her. And then there is Dawn Leppan, who founded the 1000 Hills Community Helpers. She lives in Inchanga and is the only white woman I know who can drive through the valley at night and not turn heads. She takes calls at any hour of the night and has, quite literally, given everything she has to the people she is serving. Her selflessness is apparent in her children as well. Her daughter Karen quite a full-time job to run the dispensary at the center for free. I could go on for pages about these incredible women. I am so blessed to be so regularly surrounded by so many great women.

The cottage one boys at St. Theresa’s boys home are another source of great joy and great frustration. Even despite the 45 minute “chat” (which ended up being more of a 45 minute guilt trip from me about responsibility) Sifiso still called me Bex and walked me to my car and Philane actually did his homework for once. So, I shrug of the frustration and exchange it for the unending love I feel for the 10 boys in Cottage One.

So… 3 moments. It’s easier to focus on the things that are uplifting anyway. Like I said, letting go gains tighter grip.

I get knocked down, but I get up again...

... you're never gonna keep me down.

I figured I should probably include some semblance of an update about life in general and not just my emotional psychosis. So, here's an attempt:

1. My brother visited. (And I found no time to inform you! Sorry!) We went on safari at Hluhluwe and stayed at an awesome backpackers called Isinkwe. We also sang with the babies, turned Sam into a human jungle gym at St. Theresa's, drank a lot of brown drink, saw a movie, and were happy.

2. Meg and I have taken on a big project at 1000 Hills for the world cup. We are organizing 5 weeks of themed activities for the school holidays to provide the kids with a safe haven as an alternative to the streets (which host dangers such as abduction and human trafficking). We will give them two full meals and some (hopefully) awesomely educational activities. Shameless plug: if you want to donate anything for this please contact me at becster08@gmail.com and we can arrange something.

3. I have my ipod back. Music and I are once again happily reunited. And I am shamelessly into Will Smith this week, thanks to Sinead and her awesome iPod. I'm also in love with the book I am reading, which I am sure you could tell from my blog post previous to this one. And still want to bring Thobani back to the states with me. Man that kid is awesome.

4. Otherwise, I am going camping this weekend with the girls and some friends for Adam's birthday down the South Coast. I borrowed a sleeping bag that has climbed to the top of Kilimanjaro. Hopefully that's not the closest I come to Kili's summit.

Usale Kahle. I miss you all very much and you are always in my heart.

PS - I was pondering today in the car on my drive home from St. Theresa's how fucking great it is that I have so many 'best' friends. I am so lucky to have so many wonderful people in my life. I am completely serious. I am so infinitely blessed with you crazy people. A thousand time thank you.

Two Points for Honesty

So I’ve been reading this incredible book by Tracy Kidder called Mountains Beyond Mountains. I’m sure all you social justice-heads out there that I’m close with have read it at least once. Anyways, the book is about a Harvard educated doctor and anthropologist named Paul Farmer. When Farmer was my age he began commuting between a life in Cange, Haiti and medical school in Boston. This blog has turned into a reflection on the unparalleled work that Paul Farmer has done for the people in Haiti. But, it is also a painfully honest reflection on my thoughts on my own service and also on my calling towards a life long service.

On page 25 of Mountains Beyond Mountains Farmer says that he doesn’t sleep because he can’t. When he sleeps there is always someone who is not getting treatment and he cannot bear that thought.

My feelings upon initially reading that particular passage were feelings of great despair, an emotion I have been battling severely since my first trip to South Africa in 2007. How can we possibly begin to fix anything or help anyone? The inscription at the beginning of the book is a Haitian Proverb: “Beyond mountains there are mountains.” Any glimmer of success and healing is tarnished by the next challenges, which are undoubtedly waiting for you as soon as you summit the previous ones.

Once I seemingly work through the despair, I am met with my own guilt. I feel the weight of Farmer’s decision not to rest so he can meet the vast amount of need. But yet, at then end of my days here, I am not thinking about how more I can help the people I spend my days with. I am thinking about how long it will be until I can rest my head. I realize and accept that I am not expected to deny myself rest. My frustration lies in the fact that I cannot find in myself the tireless zeal and commitment that Farmer seems to have.

I love South Africa (very obviously, or I wouldn’t be back here a second time). I love my work. I love the beauty and the brokenness and the contrasts and the progress that has been made and the progress that will be made. But my selfish and very human nature is keeping me from submerging myself completely, as Paul Farmer has done with his entire life in Haiti.

I can’t wrap my mind around how natural and easy it seems to be for him (and for others) to devote the entirety of their being to service. I think part of the learning process is that it probably isn’t easy or natural for anyone and that I shouldn’t expect that it would be for myself either. Being here is important and an awesome step towards these things, but I often feel that there is something within me hesitating to give more than just this year. Sustainable service goes far beyond a one year commitment and I feel as if I am hesitant to give that. And I feel frustrated and saddened about the hesitation within me.

I’ve been meditating and praying a great deal on whether or not I am called to live here permanently. I want to be able to dedicated my life to something the way that Farmer did. To give my entirety to helping and bettering a place. To the principles of “ubuntu” that I’m always harping on. But my constant battle with my own human desires and fears.

Another conversation and battle I have been having within my head is what skill I have to offer. A lot of Farmer’s work surrounds his medical services. It is a practical thing that is needed everywhere. I say I have this desire to provide my aid, but what exactly is it that I am providing? And is this argument in my head even relevant if I don’t have something specific to offer? Or am I just another white liberal (or WL as Farmer calls us) who wants to feel better about herself and her notions of services?

Anyways there isn’t really a point to this ramble. I want to only desire a life dedicated to enabling others to live fully. I guess that is the point of this. What I want to desire and what I actually desire are two very separate things. There have been many moments where my desire for chocolate, a long run, Philadelphia, or comfort have far outweighed my desire towards constant service. And I am frustrated about that.