motivation to send erin mail

getting sentimental

2009-05-31T02:13:00.003-04:00

Some things I’ll miss most about South Africa (in no particular order):

- Ma Dolly’s laugh
- Kgosi’s wisdom
- Mr. Mphumela’s positivity
- Megan’s absurdity
- Ma T giggling and saying “whoooo, Refilwe!”
- Ma Sebolao calling me “Erin” at unexpected times (she’s the only one in the village who calls me by my real name)
- The sunrises and sunsets
- “hellohowareyouIamfineandthankyou!”
- jika ma jika
- pee buckets being a part of slumber parties (ok, really just pee buckets in general)
- the wide open spaces
- Ruthie (my cat)
- My Peace Corps people
- old women cheering me on as I run past “O a go TRAINING! Nice nice!”
- all the beautiful singing
- Mamun our shop keeper giving me free fruit and saying “you are my sister in South Africa”
- The looks white people give me when they speed past the village
- Dookie (the dog) sneaking into my house every day
- pension day (when all the old people come to get their pension and hawkers come to sell pretty much anything you could ever need for village life)
- The Daily Sun (it's a cross between the Weekly World News and a regular paper but it's taken as an appropriate source of information on what's happening in South Africa)
- Omphemetse, this darling little girl, practicing her English on all of my visitors: “What is your surname?” “My surname is Letube”.
- Kids who play homemade games like “tins” and soccer with sticks for goals and bag balls
- Thato and Tshepie’s constant company, kisses, hugs, dancing, playing, and sassing me in SeTswana.
- Hanging out with the World Map Project students
- Maynard’s Wine Gums
- Mr. Mohulatsi calling me “fi-zo!” (“fi” is from Refilwe… and that has turned into “fi-zo”)
- Long walks
- Running with a huge group of barefoot kids
- taxi adventures
- turkeys on my doorstep
- watching donkeys
- Bunnychow (take away curry in a hollowed out half loaf of bread… sooo good)
- “Ko ko” (What you say instead of knocking when you enter someone's yard or house)
- Old men in tiger striped cowboy hats and other dapper apparel
- Chakalaka
- Culture Spears (yup, I’m serious. I’ll miss Culture Spears)
- Wire cars (but I bought a really, really cool one this week that I'm shipping home! Woohoo!)
- morogo and bagobe (my favorite traditional Batswana food)
- Donkey carts driven by little kids or drunk old women
- Babies on backs
- The stars at night (they’re big and bright)
- the smell in the air during fire season
- rain on the metal roof
- Hansa, Castle and Black Label... They're all beers that are so bad they're good.
- tea and biscuits as a cure for most ills
- Sweet Chili flavored chips
- Seeing educators try new things in their classrooms

Now that I only have a week left in my village it's really starting to hit me how much I'm going to miss this place...

humanity

2009-05-17T03:44:00.003-04:00

When we were kids we used to have "staring contests" where were would keep our eyes wide, staring down our opponent as we felt our eyeballs water in a futile effort to keep them from getting that gummy dry eyeball feeling. The victory of winning a staring contest was always a little sweeter because you are staring into your opponent's eyes at the moment of their defeat. I'm telling you, these contests could be intense.
A few days ago my staring contest training from childhood finally came into good use. One of the principals I work with has ignored my advice on computers for literally months because he doesn't want to put the work/time into getting his school's computer fixed. The other day the computer crashed completely. It wouldn't even turn on. When he realized what had happened our interaction went something like this:
him : "what is wrong with it?"
me : "err... umm... well... yeah. The computer won't turn on."
him : "well, fix it Refilwe"
me : "I don't know how."
him : "fix it"
me : "I'm an art teacher"
him : "fix it"
me : "I think you need to take it to get fixed" (the three hundred thousandth time I've said this)
him : "fix it"
me : "really, I don't know how."
him : "fix it"
And then the staring contest began. I really think that he believed that he could silently bully me into obtaining computer skills I don't have. I stared. He stared. I tried to smile. He remained very serious. I stared. He stared. It was tense. There was another woman in the office and she watched with rapt attention, waiting to see who would win.
Of course, there was no winning for him. I really couldn't fix the computer so no matter how long he stared at me I wasn't going to fix the computer. Finally, he looked away and left the office without a word.
I tell this story not only to show off my staring contest skills, but also to illustrate that even after all this time working with people here there are some people who still see me as a machine, a tool to use when they need it and to ignore when they don't.

South Africa has a long history of dehumanization, of racism and violence beyond what most Americans of my generation can even imagine. Tribalism, racism and xenophobia are all symptoms of this history of dehumanization and I sometimes find myself an object and not a subject in my life here.

Two days ago a teacher who I know pretty well and have worked with on a number of occasions told me she was feeling sick and then said to me, "Refilwe, do you know what menstruation is?" in the same way people will ask me if I know what a traditional ceremony is. After I told her that yes, of course I know what menstruation is she was shocked. Totally shocked. I was a little offended by her shock, so I told her "you know, I'm a woman too. I menstruate". She didn't know what to do with this information so she just looked at me with a "no way" facial expression and walked away. She couldn't even fathom that we have something that basic in common.

These moments, in some ways, are similar to the moments when I am called a racial slur or harassed by strange men on the street. They are about distance and dominance, about asserting that the person doing the staring, laughing or harassing is better, more human than me. I remember studying dehumanization in college and thinking I "got it" because I could imagine situations in America when people were dehumanized. Being objectified is a totally different experience than witnessing the objectification of another. In my glimpses into what it is to be dehumanized I have gained a clarity in my understanding of what it is and how to diminish dehumanization so people can begin to relate, respect and learn from each other.

These moments also make me really appreciate all the wholly human moments I have here. I have a lot of people who I care about and who care about me. People who have made an effort to see past my foreign-ness, language and race and see me as a fellow human, as a person seeking understanding and connection.

I have a friend who is an older woman and her son has been "sick" and lately it has been getting much worse. When I know they are at the hospital I call periodically to check on him and she sends me text messages about what the doctor says. A few times we have just hugged each other, hoping against hope that things will turn out ok. She talks to me about how hard it can be to be a mom, and once she said it must be really hard for my mom to have me be so far away. In this moment of empathy for my mother I saw so clearly that she has made a real effort to see what things are like for me just as I have tried to empathize with her situation. Neither of us can really understand, but we try and in that we honor each other's humanity.
When I told my host father that I was leaving for China where I was going to teach at a university he was overcome with pride. He kept telling me that it was a "big big promotion". I tried to explain that I would still be a Peace Corps Volunteer, just in a different place but he wasn't convinced. It also became clear to me that he is a man who values education and takes great pride in his children and he has adopted me as one of his children and he is very proud of me. I am so honored by his pride. So I let it stand and I think most of the people in the village have heard from Kgosi that I got a "big big promotion".

My life here is still a mixed bag of dehumanization and human connection. For awhile there I wondered if I would ever have real connections with any South Africans and now my life is full of them. I am learning to cherish the connections I have made and be grateful for the efforts people have made to create space in their lives for this strange, American, white woman. I am learning to value the people who show me kindness and acceptance and to place my focus on those people instead of those who refuse to see me as a fellow human struggling through this world. I am also learning to be more accepting, to make the effort to see beyond "otherness" and welcome people into my life.

CHINA! oh, and election day

2009-04-23T14:28:00.002-04:00

I found out this morning I've been accepted to transfer/extend to China for a year... this means I'll serve another year in Peace Corps but I'm moving to China to do it. I'm excited. I'm overwhelmed. I have a lot to think about. I'm really looking forward to the new challenge.

It has been interesting to hear South African's views on China and Chinese people today, as I told people what was happening. My students all insisted on saying "ching chong ching chong" imitating spoken Mandarin... which gave me an opportunity to gently challenge them by impersonating what Setswana sounded like to me before I understood it (and they enjoyed impersonating the American English on t.v. that they cannot understand). One of my principals gave me a twenty minute lecture on how the Chinese people are harder workers than anyone else in the world (this was all based on the fact that many things in his home were made in China). Many people just commented on how far away I was going, which I thought was a little charming because they don't seem to realize that I'm already pretty far from home. All in all, I was really pleased with how excited people in my village are for me, how supportive they are of my going and how sweet they have been about me leaving early. It won't be easy to leave the people I care about here.

In other news, the South African elections were held yesterday. My host sister Barbara was the presiding officer at the polling station and my friend Nono was also a volunteer worker at the station so I went to visit them. Across South Africa there were long lines and some reports of voting not going smoothly but the polling station in my village (a classroom in our school) was running like a well-oiled machine. This is a result of two major factors: 1) Barbara is not someone you choose not to listen to and 2) there were about twenty five people working the poll and about three voters. It was touching to see how excited the people in my village were about voting and about democracy, and it was a good reminder of how hard South Africans fought for the right to pick their own president.

Thutlwane

2009-04-17T08:58:00.002-04:00

Today, on the way to school, I was thinking for millionth time about how beautiful my village is and how lucky I am to be living this life. I looked down at the sandy path and realized that amongst the bare footprints, the bootprints, and the ubiqutious generic converse prints were my shoeprints from yesterday. I don't know why this struck me but it did, it led me to think about my place in this place.

Thutlwane Village is beautiful. It sits on the edge of an expanse of flat bush that seems to go on forever. The sunrises and sunsets are lovely every single day, without fail. There is a sleepy windmill at the center of the village, a gathering place for kids to hang out (sometimes they literally hang from the windmill) and adults to collect water. There are sleepy cows and ornery donkeys in every open space. Dogs run free, and unlike the dogs in Megan's village they are friendly or shy or both. Old women work to keep their yards neat and old men heard the livestock and drive on ancient tractors. It's a farming community, but the fields are shrinking and the younger generation are striking out to find a different fortune or quietly sitting with their sickness behind closed doors. There are kids everywhere: laughing, fighting, playing soccer with homemade balls, and doing all those things kids everywhere do to amuse themselves and grow their little brains.

In the midst of all of this there is a white woman. I walk around with a level of comfort no white person has probably ever had in this place. I greet people and I'm greeted back. I get scolded for not using my umbrella to protect me from the sun. I get stared at for reading in my yard. I send the whole shop full of people into giggles when I scoff at the advances of drunk men. I live here. I am not of the community, and I am not exactly in the community, but I am somehow a part of this community.

This weekend our little village will have four funerals. Three of the dead are young people. Earlier this week Kgosi mused, "who will bury the old ones?" The friends and family of the dead, the city people who have never been here or more likely have not been here in a long time, will return to pay their respects and help these four people pass on. They will gawk at me. Saturday night, as they move into the "after tears" parties, they may even harass. They will not understand the fragile but very real position I hold as a somehow part of this community. But I will pass their confusion and even their possible harassment off as a misunderstanding because I know that somehow this is my place for right now and I'm incredibly grateful for that place, even if it is hard for people to understand.

monkey drama

2009-03-11T10:23:00.002-04:00

Something I've learned about myself since I came to South Africa is that I hate monkeys. My use of the word "hate" may strike you as a little harsh, but let me assure you it is accurate.

I don't like them. They have teeth and claws and opposable thumbs. They steal and make messes and masturbate in public. They are dirty and they often give humans dirty looks. I imagine they smell, but I never get close enough to them to find out. They act as if they have every right to enter into the human world but they are not welcome in this human's world!

Lots of people think they are cute. Last year at Christmas some friends of mine (who will go unnamed... but you know who you are) decided it was funny to feed the monkeys that hung out at our beach house in Durban. Upon viewing the food a well meaning but horribly misled friend had left around the front door the cleaning woman exclaimed, "much party for monkeys!".

It wasn't much party for me, though.

If it's not obvious by now let me be clear: I am really, really afraid of monkeys. I can't fully explain it. Until this past week I considered this an unreasonable fear, up there with my fear of birds and their hollow bones.

Well, last week I was in Blyde River Canyon helping with a training. It was a lovely week, filled with amazing people, good food and beautiful views. Go ahead, imagine me in this idyllic setting surrounded by rosy-cheeked-saving-the-world Peace Corps Volunteers and their South African counterparts. Imagine me strolling from breakfast to our first workshop with come colleagues, discussing some deep but cheerful topic. While you're at it, imagine me looking really stunning because we had access to hot showers EVERY DAY.

Well, now the stage is set: I was walking with my friends Katie and Tera when we saw some monkeys. There were a lot of monkeys in residence at the hotel where we were staying so we didn't think much of it. Then a car pulled up behind us and pushed us closer to the troop of monkeys. The car sounded its horn and sped past, pissing off the monkeys and forcing us even closer to the pissed off monkeys.

Then it happened. My irrational fear of monkeys became, in one terrifying moment, a completely rational fear. A monkey started following us. Katie, in an effort to get it to go away yelled an unmentionable word in Afrikaans that usually is quite successful in dispersing annoying animals. This monkey was not impressed with her alpha behavior and began TO CHASE US. Yes, this is true. The monkey chased us.

In this moment all of my higher brain functions shut down and all the miles I've clocked on my running shoes finally paid off. I took off, showing my cowardly colors, screaming and running as fast as I could. I left my friends behind, trying to convince myself that if the monkey caught them I'd come back and help but knowing that may very well not be true. So go ahead, imagine me running as fast as I can, screaming my head off, skirt flying, tears flowing as Katie and Tera ran with the monkey in hot pursuit.

They outran the evil beast and caught up with me at the top of the hill. When I realized we were safe I turned and yelled an unmentionable phrase in English in order to reestablish the dominance of humans. Tears mixed with laughter as Katie, Tera and I regained our higher brain functions (notably, that little jerk of a monkey had no higher brain functions to regain).

Miles to go before I sleep...

2009-02-20T12:28:00.004-05:00

By the time I came home from school it was about five and the golden evening had set in. The evenings here are lovely beyond description, with everything just a little warmer looking and cooler feeling. When I got home my host family was sitting in the yard. The adults were enjoying the evening and the kids were enjoying the attention of the adults. As I walked up Ma pointed to a chair and I sat down. Kgosi was cutting a watermelon and handing out pieces to everyone, including me. We chatted about the weather, the rain (that’s a different subject than the weather in rural South Africa), the kids, the livestock, and other news of the day. My host sister Barbara and I talked a bit about the HIV and STI prevention work she’s doing in our community. Mostly, though, we just sat with each other enjoying the time together. It was a magical hour, comfortable and laced with my understanding that few outsiders ever get this sort of daily intimacy with people living in rural villages. It was a precious reminder that I am very lucky to be living as I am.

I’ve been having a hard time personally in the last few months. I’ve been struggling with some anxiety. Earlier this week, in the midst of quite a bit of internal turmoil, I realized I want to be here. In fact, I love my life here. Life here has been really hard for me for a number of reasons I’ve shared with many of you but in the end I feel very sure that the hardship has been and will continue to be worth it. My life is peppered not only with wonderful moments like this evening, but also with hard working people who are doing their best to make their worlds better. My life here is made up of challenge, frustration, surprising moments of accomplishment and lots of reminders that this is the life I wish to be leading.

I got lost for a while. Honestly, I got scared. I was afraid that I was losing myself. Now I feel like I’ve turned a corner and found that I’m not only still the person I want to be, but even closer to perfecting that person. I’ve got “miles to go before I sleep”, but this effort to be true to who I want to be and what I believe is what I want my life to be made of.

I feel recommitted to my service and to myself. It’s a good feeling.
Thanks to all of you who helped me to get to this point.

The woods are lovely, dark and deep,
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.
-Robert Frost (Excerpt from "Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening")

This really happened. Like, for real.

2009-01-07T10:44:00.003-05:00

I just got back from a leadership camp I planned and ran for the student leaders at my primary school and a primary school in my area. Thanks to the incredible help of my principal, his friend (who is the principal of the other school) and Megan it was a success.

Not only did some of the kids at the camp swim in a pool for the first time (sheer, wet chaos) and have their own can of pop for the first time (lots of initial issues with opening, but then the natural progression to mixing coke and sprite to look like whiskey) but we also had... well... some incidents...

Let me just tell you about today, the second day in our two day camp. It started early and noisy. The kids woke up at about 5:15 and began romping as only unattended kids can romp. Then, later I ran some workshops on listening skills and self love that went really well. All was peaceful and happy. It was going great. Kids were listening to each other. They were showing off their "me" collages. I was feeling like we were almost done and everything had gone well.

Then, our guests arrived. They were two members of the South African Police Service form our area. They were on time and prepared. Ready to do a speech and question and answer time with our students about the drugs in our community. We decided to hold this session because there have been a wave of kids at our school who are huffing glue. I introduced them, got the kids ready to listen and then went to sit in the back of the room. I must admit I didn't understand most of what was being said because they were speaking in Setswana and my limited vocabulary doesn't include a lot of drug terms.

All of the sudden, the police officer started dropping baggies in front of all of the kids. He told them in Setswana "I'm giving you sweets" (of course my vocabulary includes "sweets"). I looked at what he was passing out and realized it was bags of weed. I'm not kidding. The police gave my kids weed. I thought, "no, way. that's got to be dried grass or something." but then I took a whif of the bag that dropped on our table and it smelled a whole lot like weed. I asked my principal if it was really "daga" (what they call marijuana here- pronounced "da ha") and he told me it was. Now I have all these pictures of my students holding little baggies of weed. I cannot even begin to describe how surreal it was.

Megan and I had to excuse ourselves to have a 30 second freak-out behind the building and then we came back in. The kids were still holding, sniffing, and looking at the bags of weed. The weirdest thing was, no one else seemed to think this was strange. Apparently, police giving small children weed is not cause for humor or alarm from my colleagues. I told my principal that Megan and I thought it was pretty strange and funny that the police were handing out daga and he just smiled and told me it was important for the kids to know what the "real thing" looks like.

In the end, the police collected all the baggies, reminded the kids to stay away from drugs and left. I must admit that the kids seemed to really enjoy the speech and learn a lot. I've had a lot of moments where I thought, "this would NEVER happen in the US" but I think cops giving weed to children (even if it was temporarily) may top them all.

Then, as if my day hadn't been strange enough, Megan and I were walking toward our bus when I noticed my principal helping the driver back up. I was struck by how badly the driver was driving when I realized the person driving our bus was not the bus driver at all but actually the principal from the other school! I asked why he was driving and he informed me that our bus driver had hitchhiked back to town and the owner of the bus had told him they would have to drive the bus themselves. So there he was, having never driven a bus before, driving all of our kids down the dirt roads back to the village. It's important to note that both of these principals are WONDERFUL and unceasingly positive, so they just laughed, loaded the kids and took off down the road.

Some things can really only happen in Africa...

Home.

2008-12-28T17:21:00.002-05:00

A long, long time ago in a land far, far away I recieved a letter from a wise and wonderful friend questioning me on why I never refered to South Africa as "home". It spurred an ongoing musing on the topic of home, and a dawning realization that at this point in my life I don't really have much of a defined "home".

In the last month I've experienced the "home" feeling of being with almost every person I love the most (above mentioned wise and wonderful friend is the notable exception). I've been "home" in the US since December 10. Before I came to the US I spent 10 days with a friend I really love and value in Cairo, in the perfect mix of adventure and comfort... things I hope for someday in my "home" reality. I've seen friends who are living all over the country, I've had hours of wonderful time with my family, I've opened presents and cooked food and talked about important things and drank whiskey. I've crossed a pretty wide variety of situations that all contribute to the happiness of my life. I leave in two days to return "home" to South Africa.

I'm a long way off from a settling point of any kind, and I'm still not quite sure where that settling point might be but at least this trip has given me an reminder of what I'm looking for. Many of my friends here in the US are settling into pretty cool realities that include partners, home buying, jobs they care about, circles of friends, and unusual paths. When I see people I respect and care about living cool and interesting lives I am reminded that some of these things can be mine.

So now I'm trying to readjust my thinking to go back "home" to South Africa and honestly, I know it's going to be hard becuase even though I care about the people in my life and the work I'm doing over there, it's not "home". Peace Corps is part of my adventure and it is helping me define what is important, what I want and what I don't want. In many ways living in circumstances so far from what I wish for in my life has exposed me to how sweet home is/can/will be.

I am so lucky to have amazing people in my life. Thanks if you were part of my much-needed return to my world. Thanks especially to the people who really listened to what I have been struggling with, and who live wildly and fully with me. All of you are what make the grey skies and empty strip malls of Ohio feel like some sort of promised land.

I'm leaving... on a jet plane!

2008-11-20T09:16:00.002-05:00

I'm leaving for Cairo in a little over a week. I'm so excited. It's hard to imagine being in one of the largest cities in the world when today I was teaching middle school kids and watching a donkey cart slowly pass the school.
Lately things have been going pretty well here. I'm working on some cool projects at my schools, actually helping my teachers teach, and just rolling with the village rhythum. There have been a few things lately that have made me really happy to be here...

There is a girl who attends the local high school who I have noticed before. She drew my attention becuase she's pretty masculine. I even asked Megan if she was a boy despite my inability to concieve of a boy living as a girl (dressing in a girl's school uniform, using the girl's bathroom, etc) in our rural community. Megan and I talked about it a little and decided she must be a really masculine girl.
Well... the other day I was at the farewell function for the grade 9 students at my middle school who are going to the high school next year. This event, like most South African events, was a bonanza of community speakers, singing, praying, food and traditional dancing. It was the traditional dancing that caught my attention, this time not only because I love it when the kids dance but also because this girl was dancing. The crowd went WILD when she started dancing. Old ladies were uulating. Middle school students were cheering. Some people were looking away in disgust. She danced really well, and when she did a partner dance with a boy people went even more crazy. Mostly happy, supportive crazy.
All of this hubub had me wondering so I asked Megan again and she delicately asked one of our teacher friends at the high school. She is a he. This girl is living as a girl despite physically being a boy. In rural Africa. In a really traditional society. In a patriarchy with incredibly static gender roles. She's doing it, and as far as I can see she's not facing all that much descrimination. I'm blown away in a really good way. I suppose I have a lot to learn about the nature of community and belonging in rural South Africa. This is a lesson I'm so glad to be learning.

A few days later, I was working at my primary school when a group of boys came in and turned in R100. That's about $10 USD, but it's a lot of money around here. To give you perspective, that's almost half of the pay our school's cleaner gets every month. To a bunch of kids in the school yard it must have appeard to be a fortune.
Often people in South Africa talk about the moral decline of the country. The crime rate and widespread corruption seem to speak clearly of some sort of cultural break down. But the thing is, there are really good people out there. These kids did the right thing simply becuase it was right. These kids are just one more little reminder that there are good people leading good lives all over the world in all sorts of circumstances.

I'm excited to strike out into the world and have some new experiences. I'm also excited to be leaving at a time when I'm feeling pretty good about my life here in South Africa becuase I know I'll be coming home to work I really believe in and people I really care about. This is a pretty cool life I'm leading...

Pictures... Finally!

2008-10-03T12:28:00.004-04:00

I've had a lot of people ask me to post some pictures... and I'm finally going to stop being so lazy and show you a little of my world! Enjoy...

This is my house (and very much my home). Well, half of this is my house. I love it here.

This is the Middle School where I work. We're painting our World Map on the other side of the white building! Most schools in South Africa look a lot like this.

Kids in the village make these cool wire cars out of scrap wire they find around. I love these wire cars, they're proof that kids here have it going on!!

This is my mom and dad at "danger point" at Victoria Falls, Zimbabwe. I took this picture from so far away because I was afraid to go out there... it's a long drop they're standing in front of.

This might be my favorite picture of my parents of all time.
We had such a great time on this trip!
I miss them so much.

the great questions of our time...

2008-09-27T12:14:00.002-04:00

hello all!
By the magic of a cellular modem donated by my friend Sarah when she headed back to the US, I am writing this from the comfort of my own home. That's right, as of right now my family doesn't have water but I have internet. Sometimes the place between developed and developing creates odd circumstances.
Okay, so I titled this blog "the great questions of our time" so I suppose it's time to get to those questions...

Often, in South Africa, things that should be simple fail to be simple. For example, I adopted a kitten from the SPCA in Mafikeng. When I saw the kitten, it was in a cage (that's how they roll here... there were also dogs and a monkey in cages) and the ladies working were trying to close (umm... an hour early) so it was a bit rushed. I knew right away this kitten was mine. It was naughty and crazy and meant to be my room mate. I was told I couldn't take "him" that day because "he" needed to get his shots. Cool, fine, whatever. I made plans to come back in a few days.
Well, when I came back, I was informed "she" was ready to go. I took a closer look at her little kitten body and thought, "oh, he's a she. Cool, fine, whatever". We journeyed home on the public taxi (no easy task in a culture that generally dislikes cats and often believes cats are embodiments of witches).
Looking at her later that night it hit me that this cat looks like someone. Who? Justice Ginsburg. So I named her Ruth Bader Ginsburg after my favorite Supreme Court Justice of all times. We live in a happy symbiosis of me feeding her and her attacking my feet and biting me awake every morning. She's a charming little asshole. It's been good to have company.
The thing is...and we're getting to the big question here...now, as she's getting bigger, I keep looking at Ruth and wondering, "ARE THOSE BALLS?". I don't mean to be crude, but really, it's kind of an important question. Do I need to call her Samuel Alito? I don't even like Samuel Alito. I suppose it'll be solved when I go in to get "her" fixed next month.

I don't know if you've heard, but South Africa has a new president. Last week Thabo Mbecki left office in what appeared to me to be a force out. People here in the village are pretty confused as to why the ANC (the ruling party here) couldn't wait the 5ish months until the next election. It's been really interesting to watch as an insider/outsider and to talk to people in my village about. South African politics are complicated and interesting. The Sunday Paper is always something to look forward to.
Another leadership shift is taking place in my life. One of the principals I've been working with has apparently left to work at another school. The thing is, HE DIDN'T TELL ANYONE! He just left. Weird, huh? Well, from talking to people I gather it's not all that weird at South African schools. People just leave. We're on a week break right now so it'll be interesting to see who is in charge when we come back to school.
Both of these situations lead me to another of life's great questions (although no question will eclipse the balls question) "Who is in charge here?"

Last question, promise.
In a little more than a week I'll be going to my Mid-Service Training (MST). A year ago, I was out of training and working as a PCV. Time really has started to fly. People told me it would happen, and I doubted it, but now I see it happening. A year from now, I will probably be back in the US, hopefully gainfully employed as a teacher.
I'm a little old for this last question, but lately I've started to wonder, "What am I going to do for a living?". I hear the US job market is shoddy but I'm just hoping employers will be wowed by my plethora of short term experiences and my good stories. Someday I'll actually have a job... Someday...

i've been a wild rover for many a year...

2008-08-19T03:32:00.001-04:00

I know, I know. It’s been a long time. I’m a slouch. I can’t even claim I’ve been busy… unless you’re willing to concede that reading for at least four or five hours a day constitutes “busy”.

Since I last posted I went on the most incredible vacation of my life. My parents came here to South Africa and we went to Kruger National Park, up through Botswana, and over to Victoria Falls. Then we came to my village. It was spectacular. It was fun. It was incredibly good to share it all with my mom and da.

I surprised myself by how excited I was when I was waiting at the airport for their arrival. I knew I was excited, I had been talking about our trip for weeks (months!), but when I was actually standing there, watching people come through arrivals I was practically peeing my pants. I really don’t think I’ll ever forget the feeling of pure joy when I saw them walk through the door. I’ve never spent this much time away from my family. Time together is really wonderful.

One night we were on a beautiful river cruise on the Zambezi. At one point the Canadian woman behind me was so overwhelmed by the experience that she exclaimed, “I’m in AFRICA!”. Although, of course, this statement contains some of the romanticism that blinds tourists to the realities around them it is still incredible to think that my path has led me here (and in turn led my parents here). The world is big and strange and when we venture out into it we are given the gift of unexpected destinations and experiences.

We were raised to follow our hearts, to have confidence in ourselves and to act on what we believe. There is a lot of freedom inherent in an upbringing like that, and it had delivered us in unexpected places. Last I heard Sean is on a wild fire crew in Oregon, Colleen is happy with her partner of many years, and Michael is married to one of the most incredible people I’ve ever known. Without pressure to be something specific we have all taken paths to be true to who we want to be. I have no real idea where my path will take me next (and I can’t even fathom where it will end up) but no matter what I have the love and support of my family.

Speaking of family, my Peace Corps family is slowly disbanding. Maybe disbanding isn’t the right word, we’re just spreading out. My friends who came a year before me are COS’ing (Peace Corps speak for Close of Service- the end of your two years). A few good friends form my group have made the decision to go home to other opportunities after a year of service. It’s a strange transition because I rarely actually saw my friends, but there was something important about our shared experience. Now, our worlds will inevitably be different but it will be interesting to hear about people’s adventures in world travel and readjustment to the Mother Land. I’ve known for a long time the transient life I’ve chosen leads to separation but I’ve also maintained some of the most important relationships I have via letters and emails. My friends who are leaving will be missed but they will remain in my world. They’re too cool for me to totally let go.

It’s been over a year since I came to South Africa. I’ve learned more in the last thirteen months than I have ever learned in a year of my life. I’ve built friendships that will last for the rest of my life. I have done some work I’m really proud of. I’ve changed but I think it’s for the better. I miss being with my family and my friends every day but at the same time I don’t really want to be anywhere but here, and I want my people out there following their paths and saving the world from itself. Sooner than you think it will be me walking through the arrival doors. I’ll be older, wiser, and no more sure of where my path is leading. I like it that way.

2008-05-31T02:33:00.001-04:00

So… maybe you’ve seen the news lately about South Africa. Over the past two and a half weeks there has been a rash of xenophobic attacks here. It’s been nasty. Mobs are attacking immigrants who are from African and Asian nations. People have been killed. Some estimates say as many as 100,000 people have been displaced (although most estimates are around 30,000 and I'm inclined to believe the lower estimates). It’s a dark chapter in the history of this country.

Living here during all of this, especially as a foreigner, has been sad and crazy. I am not in danger. Unfortunately this, like all things in South Africa, is racial and no white foreigners have been attacked. Plus, I live in a really small (and wonderful!) village in a rural area and all of these attacks have been in more urban areas. Being safe doesn't keep me safe from the inhumanity of what is happening in this country. It’s really awful.

After almost a year in South Africa I feel like I can list a litany of circumstances that are coming together to create this situation. Colonialism and oppression positioned this generation for pain and failure. Poverty has been magnified by rising food and fuel prices. Unemployment is really high. People living in the townships are often prisoners in their houses because of rampant crime. Deaths from HIV and the need to live far from home to find a job have disintegrated the family unit. Some people claim there are nefarious political motives behind the attacks. All of this is true (except the last, which is pure conjecture and not even my conjecture) and all of it is palpable here “on the ground” but it doesn't excuse this behavior. I refuse to accept that there is any circumstance that could justify burning another human being alive.

The thing is, these circumstances exist for millions of people in this country and millions upon millions around the world. I know people who face these circumstances with loving hearts, generosity, good humor and a determination to make their lives better. I’m often hit by the fact that many people would describe the circumstances most people live in here in my village as “devastating” but I look around and I don’t see devastated people. I see people claiming their life as their own and living it to their fullest. They have taught me that even when life flings shit in your face (we’re way beyond lemons here) they wipe off the shit and go on living.

It is this group of people, people taking responsibility for their lives and the lives of their community who make my service here worth staying. The teachers in my new schools are incredible; they are working hard and looking to improve. They are hopeful. My host father is working to make his village the best it can be. My host mother is touching people with her warmth and positivity. Just this week I met a group of people working at our local Health Department on HIV and other health issues. After these health workers did an AWESOME condom demo for Megan’s life skills group I told the kids that the health workers were heroes in their community working to save lives.

Really, though, in a country where people seem to increasingly be turning to violence and blame, those people who persevere and continue to claim their life and their country for themselves are my heroes. It’s cheesy but it’s also true. To stand in the face of seemingly insurmountable obstacles and decide to not even to consider the possibility of hopelessness because it doesn’t accomplish anything is an act of bravery beyond anything I have ever known before.

I know desperation can make people resort to horrible things but I just can’t process these things. I fear that these attacks are a symptom for the hopelessness many South Africans seem to have embraced. The cowardice of giving up and blending into the angry mob is just easier than working for something positive. If the young people allow themselves to be defined by this sort of violent cowardice I wonder what the future of this country will be. I myself am struggling to find the bravery to stand in the face of all of this and continue working, chipping away at my little part of the monolith.

back in the saddle

2008-05-12T07:56:00.001-04:00

Hey all. Sorry it’s been so long since I last wrote. I know that’s a trite way to start a blog entry but I really am sorry. I know that many of you check my blog to see how I’m doing and I should be doing my part. Enough self deprecation, on to my news…

I have a home! I’ve moved to a new village that is about an hour away from my old village. It’s a lot more rural and a lot smaller. I’m working at a Primary School and a Middle School. I’ve been here almost two weeks and I feel like this is home. It’s a good feeling!

I live with the kgosi (chief ) of the village and his family. They are really good people and I am so lucky to live with them. Living with the kgosi has its benefits, when I arrived with all my stuff in a Peace Corps truck I was greeted by the elders of the village and they helped me move in. That was a pretty cool welcome. I also was invited to the kgotla, the kgosi’s weekly meeting with the community. At the kgotla I found myself suddenly giving an impromptu speech in Setswana which was a little nerve wracking but also kind of cool.

It’s been nice to be back in a village, where my life becomes a series of little stories…

One of the first days I was here my three year old host sister was sitting with me, trying to figure out if she was afraid of this crazy white lady that has moved into the compound. I brought out some crayons for her and she was coloring while I was reading on my stoop. Suddenly she decided she wasn’t afraid, and showing her true sassy colors she climbed up on my lap. She instantly became fascinated with my moles on my chest. She started comparing the color of her skin with the color of the moles, and she seemed reassured that at least part of my body was the “right” color. When I sat her back down on the stoop among the crayons she picked up a yellow crayon and tried to give herself some white spots on her chest. Sometimes racial politics take on very cute and innocent forms!

Sometimes, though, racial politics can be very, very nasty here. Megan and I met a really nice Afrikaner guy who took us to his family farm. He spoke Setswana well, something that seems pretty rare in our parts, and he seemed to genuinely be friends with a Tswana guy who was with him. When we got to the farm we met his dad who said “I’m not racist but” (Megan and I braced ourselves at this point) “the only good black is a dead black”. We told him about all the wonderful people we know who are black and he looked at us like we are fools. It was a sad (and a little bit scary) look at the old South Africa and how it is still very much alive and well in pockets of the country.

I came here knowing it wasn't perfect, and that there was work to do. Now I'm getting on to the working part.

All in all, I’m happy. I have work to do at school, I have a great family to live with, my village is beautiful and friendly and I’m learning so much. I live closer to Megan so we can do more work together. I’m figuring out ways I can help my schools and my community. AND I bought a really cool one speed bike. I’m back in the saddle (pun intended).

Longtom!

2008-04-06T07:12:00.003-04:00

I ran the Longtom Half Marathon last Saturday in Sabie which is in Mpumalanga. My finish time was 2:20 which I wasn't really all that pumped about but I got the worst cramps of my life at around 10k. The race was also all hills, which made it intense for me because my province, North West, is all flat. Really, though, this is all just excuses. My friend Adam ran the 56k ultra marathon (The first 30k is uninterrupted uphill. No kidding.) and placed 11th. He's also been training in North West. So really, I just under preformed but that's okay, it was fun and I ran the whole damn thing.
This year PCV's raised over $20,000 for the KLM Foundation! Just to be clear, that's USD!! Many of you really helped out with that... and your sweaty, unflattering thank you pictures are coming soon! It was the most ever raised (by kind of a lot). Overall, it was a really nice weekend with a lot of volunteers in a beautiful place.
Michael and I stayed in Sabie for a week after the race. It was a VERY laid back vacation, much of our time was spent reading and cooking. It was great. We decided we wanted to go fishing so we asked around town for a place we could rent poles. Everyone told us we should go to this trout fishing place so we could rent poles and avoid buying licenses. We walked two hours to this place and when we got there it became obvious it was not exactly what we were looking for. There were lawn ornaments. And benches. Oh, and it was a trout farm. So we rented poles, chatted with the guys who worked there, and then went "fishing". This entailed putting our hooks into the water and immediately catching a fish. No lie, my hook was in the water less than 10 seconds before I had my first bite. In less than 10 minutes we had caught four rainbow trout and it only took us that long because we took turns. It wasn't exactly what we had expected and it definitely pushed my boundaries about killing and eating meat but it was really absurd and funny. The trout was really good...
I'm still homeless, but hopefully that won't be true for long. School break is over in a week and I'm hoping that means I'll be back to work soon.

support is pretty cool...

2008-03-09T07:09:00.004-04:00

I'm working on setting my mind to the positive things about South Africa and my service here. This is a really stressful time, waiting for a new assignment. Thursday night, the night before I went and moved everything out of my home, I received an SMS (text message) from our Peace Corps Medical Officer. She's amazingly compassionate and thoughtful, and the message said "you're doing the right thing". I needed that reminder. This is a hard time but I do feel like I'm doing the right thing.

As I pulled away from my house in Majemantsho in a Peace Corps truck loaded with everything I own I started crying. Feel free to call me a whimp but it was sad, okay? ANYWAY, the Peace Corps driver who was with me turned and quoted (loosely) the crimethink poster I had above my bed. He smiled and said, "Erin, your life is your life". It was surreal to have a kind hearted middle aged South African man quote an anarchist poem to me, but it was so perfect.

Now I"m at Megan's. We went for an long run this morning (1:45:25 for about 18k... Dave I thought you'd want to know) as a part of our training for Longtom. Being here with her is fun and our conversations have helped me readjust to the idea that I'm starting anew soon and I've got some experiences under my belt to bring with me.

Yesterday I got letters form a bunch of people, and amazingly supportive emails from even more people. Really, Aunt Vicki, you have no idea how much it means to me to get so many letters from you!

All of this reminds me I have really good support from a lot of different people. I'm so grateful for that.

The other night there was a PCV staying at the hostel with me who was on his way home after more than 2 years of service here. I was telling him about my situation and he asked me what was next for me. I laughed and said I guessed I had a lot of waiting ahead of me. He clarified by asking me if I was thinking of going home. I'm not. After thinking about it for awhile I kept coming back to an incident that happened about a week and a half ago...

I was walking home from school when a group of kids started walking with me. I asked them what they did at school and they told me they learned multiplication. I started quizzing them and it became clear they didn't understand multiplication at all. So we stopped right there in the middle of the road (roads aren't exactly busy in the village) and I put a bunch of rocks in a big pile. Then I taught the kids that 4x3 just means three groups of four. I had them make three groups of four and we counted the rocks to find our answer. Then we made four groups of three and discovered it gave us the same answer (okay, I already knew that... but it's called discovery learning!). We did a few more problems in this way, taking the abstract notion of multiplication and making it concrete for these ten kids in the dusty road. I didn't want to ruin their excitement by pushing the lesson too far so I gathered up my stuff and was getting ready to leave when one of the kids shyly said, "Mistress Refilwe, will you teach us division?" Can you imagine kids asking you to teach them division after school? These kids are so hungry for knowledge. So we continued with the rocks, dividing 12 rocks into 3 groups and so on. They weren't exactly ready for algebra by the time we were done but almost all the kids present had a way better understanding of what multiplication and division are. It was fun. It was fulfilling. It was one of the best Peace Corps moments I've had.

I take moments like that with me to my new village. I can't leave now. Not when I know there are more moments like that to come. Peace Corps can be really hard. Living in rural South Africa isn't exactly a safari vacation. Sometimes I miss home so much and feel like I'm making so little headway I think about calling it quits and coming back to the US. Right now, though, I know I have more of these moments to give. I have more experiences to learn from. I have 18 more months of living to do here before it's time for me to pack up (again) and head home.

silver linings...

2008-03-04T09:05:00.002-05:00

Peace Corps has decided to pull me from my site for security reasons. This means I'm moving. Right now this means I'm in Pretoria in a sort of PCV purgatory waiting for a new site.

I'm really torn about moving. Part of me feels guilty for leaving my schools. Part of me is really sad because my host family was amazing and I will miss them terribly. Part of me is freaked out because I'm back to square one, I have no idea where I will be living for the next 18 months. Then again I keep reminding myself I can really make a lot of a new start. I already have experience so maybe I won't make the same mistakes twice. It will be exciting to meet new people and settle into a new place. At least that's what I've been telling myself all day.

I hadn't realized how stressed I had become about safety in my village. I hadn't realized how much it was wearing on me to feel unsafe every time I left the house. Really, I hadn't even let myself recognize I felt unsafe when I left the house. I wanted so badly for everything to be okay so I could continue doing the work I was doing at my schools. I'm learning I need to start taking care of myself, it can't always be about the needs of everyone else.

I'm just going to keep looking for the silver lining and roll with this adventure.

sometimes...

2008-02-18T01:02:00.002-05:00

Yesterday I was running and I saw a group of three women in the village. Greeting is a big part of the culture here and I always greet people when I'm running so I greeted these three women in Setswana. One of them began yelling at me. I did not understand all of what she was saying but she was calling me a "boer" (a name for Afrikaners that is sometimes-including this time- used as a slur). She was yelling and looking at me like she wished terrible things to happen to me. I'm not sure but I think she spit at me. All I did was run past and say hello.

This wasn't the first time something like this has happened. Unfortuneately there is a lot of racism in this country. Periodically I am called slurs for white people, for "coloured" people (people of mixed decent) and for Indian people. The racist legacy of apartheid has become part of my life.

For some reason this woman calling me a boer really got to me. As a middle class white girl from the US I'd never been called a racial slur before I came here save posturing teenagers calling me "cracker" behind my back when I was subbing. This is new ground for me. It's incredibly painful to be written off as an enemy by the people in my village because I'm white.

Every once in a while I'll talk to someone and get a "you're not like other whites... you're an American" response which is as offensive. Sure, there are a lot of racist white people in South Africa (there are a lot of racist white people in the US) but there are also a lot of racist black people in South Africa who not only hate whites, "coloureds", Indians, "chinas" (people from Asia who are not from India or Pakistan) they also hate people from other African tribes. Sometimes I feel like I'm surrounded by a country of people who are held together only by a border because there is so much hate between South Africans.

This history of this country is horrific. Apartheid was an attack on the humanity of every South African citizen and the population remains wounded. In some ways I think, "I can see why black South Africans hate white South Africans. White people did terrible, terrible things to black people for years" but this line of thinking becomes a supporting argument for racism and that's not a road I wish to travel. Anytime people begin to hate based on nothing but assumptions things really get awful.

I know I'm not being clear about all of this. I can't seem to articulate what it is like to live in a racist society that sometimes seems to be destroying itself because people are unwilling to see beyond their conceptions of race and power. In my truly American mind, all I can seem to think is "this sucks".

Really, though. This sucks.

NEW ADDRESS!

2008-02-05T00:47:00.000-05:00

My host family's P.O. box was a two hour walk away and it was pretty hard for me to get mail so I took the plunge, splurged a little, and got my very own P.O. box in town. Now I can pick up my mail when I go to get my groceries... it's still an hour walk away but that's down right CLOSE.

You can send your adoring letters to:

Erin Gannon
P.O. Box 1973
Mafikeng
2745
South Africa

Happy "Super Tuesday". I hope you all get out and vote. It's a beautiful thing to live in a functioning and free democracy. Really.

now you, too, can do something.

2008-01-28T02:11:00.001-05:00

As many of you know running has become a pretty important part of keeping sanity for me. Every year PCV's from South Africa (and some of the surrounding countries) run a marathon called Longtom. Actually, Longtom is an ultra marathon (longer than a typical marathon) and I'm for sure not in the shape to do that but I will be running the half marathon. I'm really excited.
Longtom isn't just for fun. It's also a chance to raise money for the KLM foundation. Their website is: http://www.klm-foundation.org/; please check it out. The organization was founded by two PCVs (Peace Corps volunteers) who served in South Africa a few years ago. They decided to use the Longtom marathon as a fundraiser; they fund a worthy, needy child to attend an excellent secondary school in Mpumalanga - Uplands College. I think maybe you all are starting to get an idea of how hard it can be for village kids to make it out of the village and into higher education and going to a good secondary school is an incredible first step.
I think the KLM foundation is pretty amazing, and it's a chance for you to stop being a spectator in my efforts to make small change in South Africa and sponsor me in my quest to run a half marathon.
Please give what you can; any amount is appreciated. Even if you can only give $10 or $20, it is much needed. (Of course, I'm not going to fight you if you want to give more) It is tax-deductible. So please go to the KLM website to make a donation, just click on the 'donate' photo. Make sure to put my name in the white box where it asks for the Longtom person you want to sponsor. The online donation is preferable, but if you need to mail in a check, please make it payable to KLM Foundation (US) and send it to:

KLM Foundation (US)c/o Bowen Hsu461 So. Bonita AvenuePasadena, CA 91107
And make sure to include a note that your donation is in my behalf.

You can spare $20. This is a good organization run by Americans who know how awful it is when people use the faces of impoverished african kids to buy land rovers or nice houses. These people will use your money really well.

Plus, if you donate I promise to take a picture of myself just as I finish the race and I'm red-faced and exhausted and sweaty and send it to you...

no power... etc.

2008-01-20T03:15:00.000-05:00

I'm in Pretoria on a very rainy day. Next week I'm going to a training and I'm taking this weekend to get ready, to see some important people and to drink absurd amounts of coffee. It's been less than a month since I came back from Christmas/New Year's vacation and already I'm away from my village again which feels sort of strange.
I've told many of you that South Africa is like two countries in one because the economic divide is so great that you literally have both a developed nation and a developing nation within the same border. This week there was a little reminder that the "developed" portion of South Africa still developing. Eskom, the South African power company has been instituting "load shedding". This means that for hours a day (sometimes three or four, sometimes more) every day the electricity is just out. All over the country. Eskom announced this week that these blackouts will continue for the next five years. FIVE YEARS. The damage to the economy is already in the billions of Rands.
I've seen a lot of other Peace Corps Volunteers in the last few days, including my friend Michael who I'd count as one of the smartest people I know. Peace Corps South Africa volunteers are an interesting group of people, and the level of conversation when we get together tends to be pretty intense.
There were people from Peace Corp's DC offices here this week doing a program evaluation. One of the questions they asked was if Peace Corps should be in South Africa. It's an interesting quesiton. There have been some really great conversations about it this weekend. South Africa of 2008 is not Ghana of 1969. There is a huge number of university educated South Africans well qualified to work in schools. Many of the reforms teachers, students and others are calling for in the educational system are not grassroots reforms, they are system wide, broad based changes. These are not the types of changes new university graduates from the US are going to be effective in instituting. This argument is made pretty well in a recent OpEd piece in the New York times (http://www.nytimes.com/2008/01/09/opinion/09strauss.html?_r=1&ref=opinion&oref=slogin)
I'm learning a lot. I'm working my tail off to do what I can in the schools I work in. I'm growing as a person and as a teacher and eventually I'll bring that growth back to the US. It's strange because I am questioning what role Peace Corps South Africa can really play in educational development but at the same time I'm in now way feeling less committed to my individual work. I don't see my work as futile, but I'm not sure how much of an impact I can realistically make.
An unavoidable lesson to be learned serving in South Africa (and I suspect elsewhere) is that as the world changes and as global markets dictate more and more the fate of haves and have nots devlopment is also changing. If you picture me as a dusty hippie PCV from the late '60's teaching English under a tree you're vastly wrong and probably in good company. I think most Americans like the IDEA that there are other Americans (mostly young, smart, well educated Americans) out there in poor countries making the world a more even playing field. I don't teach under a tree, in fact I don't teach at all because this country has qualified teachers. I also have come to realize that the level playing field is such a distant possibility that I'm not willing to fully give up hope in it but I'm also not willing to pretend that it is possible in the current state of international interdependancy and political affairs. It's a nasty beast we're all a part of. I'm going to keep hammering away at my part...

2007 minutes in heaven.

2007-12-31T02:53:00.000-05:00

Last year for New Year's I spent a surreal period of time with Matt, Matto, and Stewie reaffirming that I wanted to live fully and wildly. It was wonderful. We decided that along with the ever-appropriate "on to glory" "2007 Minutes in Heaven" should be the slogan for this year.
I lost track of my time counting and I've had some decidedly un-heavenly experiences in 2007 but overall I think I've at least approached the goal. It's weird to think how different my life is today than it was a year ago.
I'm on vacation in Durban with a group of Peace Corps friends. We're eating way to much, sitting on the beach for innumerable hours (it's a last minute cram to reach 2007 minutes), wowing Afrikaners with our karaoke skills, and having smart conversations. It's a good vacation but I'm also excited to get back to my village and get working again.
I know this is short but internet time is expensive here.
happy new year's. 2008 will be the only year I spend completely in South Africa which means I need to make the most of it!
someone please ride the monorail for me tonight. it's the best way to honor me.

World AIDS Day

2007-12-04T00:41:00.000-05:00

Hello friends. I only have a minute and I realize I'm a few days late on my World AIDS Day message but I'm oporating on the better late than never assumption.

Before I came here I never knew someone with HIV or AIDS. People in the US seem to have stopped talking about HIV and in some ways this has led to it disappearing from our consciousness. HIV is a serious problem in South Africa, it has lowered the life expectancy by almost twenty years, it has left hundreds of thousands of children orphaned, and it contributes to the economic problems this country faces. HIV is not just an African problem. It is a worldwide problem and the privlages we have in the US do not protect us from HIV.

Living in South Africa I'm seeing first hand how horrible HIV and AIDS can be. I'm also meeting people living healthy and productive HIV+ lives. Above all, I'm beginning to realize how essential it is for people to be tested and to know their status.

PLEASE. Please, go and get tested. It is simple, it is confidential, and it's essential to your health and to stopping this disease. If for no other reason please go in honor of me and the work I am doing here. But really, you should go to honor yourself and any partner you have now or you may have in the future.

the ongoing heartbreak of no pumpkin pie.

2007-11-24T03:06:00.000-05:00

Thanksgiving was pretty uneventful for me. I spent the last week visiting other volunteers in my area, meeting lots of teachers and principals and spending some really good times with friends. I was in the constant company of my friend Megan for the week and it was great. She's really cool in that special "we can make fart jokes AND talk about serious stuff" sort of way. The fart jokes are obviously the more important part of that equation. Megan and I whipped up a very traditional Thanksgiving dinner of store bought bananna bread, pasta with red sauce and tea.

Now I'm spending the weekend with my friend. I made him my world famous (people on three continents know about it... so it counts) pizza dumpling. Tonight I'll make make-shift green bean cassorle because I can deal with no pumpkin pie, I can survive no stuffing, I can even endure no Wild Turkey with Matt, Pete and Matto but I refuse to leave Thanksgiving weekend without some sorto fo green bean cassorle. Actually, Thaksgiving is a great holiday for me here because I'm so preoccupied with food and Thanksgiving gives me an excuse to expose that preoccupation to everyone.

I'M OFFICIALLY ERIN GANNON, MA!!
My ass of an older brother (who will go unnamed but I suppose you might guess who I'm writing about) has been keeping this information from me for awhile. It's really cruel to mess with your little sister who is all alone, thousands of miles away, crying herself to sleep every night because she's not sure if the only thing she worked for in the last five years was actually acheived. He's a cruel man. Don't let his peaceful exterrior fool you.

All is well.

its getting hot in here!

2007-11-14T02:26:00.000-05:00

It is starting to get really hot here. I know the heat is really coming in December and January but November has been pretty sweaty for me so far. Along with the heat November has brought a formidable fly and mosquito population into my room. I finally gave up and put up my mosquito net. Now I fall asleep listening to the high hum of mosquitoes who I imagine are pretty pissed they can’t get to me. The roaches are starting to show themselves too... especially in the pit toilet. They’re spectacularly big, the smallest are usually the size of two quarters next to each other. My friend Erin has implemented a policy of killing the big lizards in her room and adopting the small ones as insect eating pets. I have adopted a seven-legged spider as my pet... although I must admit he has only seven legs because of an early skirmish where he narrowly survived my swat. My tolerance for all things creepy crawly has grown exponentially. So, seriously, who wants to come and visit me??
Every week I feel a little more settled here, a little more at home. Some of the surreality of a new lifestyle on a different continent is wearing off. At the same time at least a small amount of the novelty of having a white girl living in the village seems to be wearing off which is a relief. There is something pretty exhausting about being stared at all the time.
Don’t get me wrong, I’m still regularly causing a stir. Last weekend I was running through the village and a driver was so busy staring at me he didn’t realize he had stopped his car in the middle of the road blocking another driver’s way. The little ones still yell “la kgoa” (“white person!”) when I walk down the road. The bus and taxi drivers still refuse to believe I live in my village and not somewhere in town. Maybe I’m just getting used to being a novelty.
Last week my supervisor came to see me at school. She was having a hard time finding the school so I told her I would walk out to the tar road so they could spot me and then we could take the dirt road back to the school. I told her, “I’m wearing a black sweatshirt and a black and white skirt”. She laughed so hard. Apparently I forgot I was the only white person in the village and I’m pretty easy to spot.
I’m giving a workshop on encouraging critical thinking in the classroom tomorrow. I’m pretty excited about it, and I’m hopeful it goes well. I’ve worked pretty hard to make it practical and interesting for the teachers at my school. It will be nice to step back into a teacher role. I really miss teaching kids but language is such a barrier between me and the students at my primary schools.
I’ve been reading with small groups of forth graders after school which has been really fun. Literacy is a huge problem here. It is compounded by huge class sizes, incredibly high adult illiteracy rates (which means parents often feel they can’t help their kids learn to read) and the fact that students are supposed to be literate in both their mother tongue and English by the time they are in fourth grade. I’m doing my little part by reading with kids, helping them sound out words and praising them for their efforts.
I only have two and a half weeks of school left before the December break. It’s hard to believe I’ve already completed training and almost an entire school term! I suppose time flies when you’re disoriented, stressed, excited, homesick, learning, and adjusting.

Halloween.

2007-10-31T06:35:00.000-04:00

I love Halloween. I've tried to explain it to people here and they are willing to try to understand but it's pretty hard to express exactly why it is so fun to dress up and eat candy. So, alas, here I am on Halloween without anyone to make cool costumes with or get a candy belly ache with. I hope all of you in the US eat an extra Snickers in my honor.
I have so many good memories of Halloween. Digging in the leaves on the front porch in Blue Ash, looking for candy not found by the trick-or-treaters. FILLING pillowcases with candy (including the big candy bars from the Blue Ash cops). Mom hiding our candy in the dog food so we wouldn't all simultaneously develop diabetes. Crazy Halloweens in Kent (Abe Lincoln, Y2K girl, "No, You're Stupid", Mario and Luigi, the bloody wig, Tom crawling down the hall in Terrace, Denine dressed as Danny DiVito). Waiting for trick-or-treaters at Everett and no one ever coming. Athens. I suppose I can take two years off from the mania without losing my ability to create an absurd costume and eat sweets all night.
I've finally started to get mail here but I know there is a stash of mail that was sent to Pretoria that I have yet to see... it gives me something to look forward to! Thanks for writing to me. Thanks for sending me emails. It makes Halloween alone on the other side of the world seem not so bad.
Maybe I'll go to town and get some candy so I can at least have the belly ache...

2007-10-13T06:16:00.000-04:00

These photos are pretty awful but they give you an idea of what it looks like where I live. Don't let the mountains fool you. My new village is very flat... these photos are from my training.

It has been about two and a half months since I arrived in South Africa. I’ve started wondering how this experience is going to change me. So far I’m pretty much the same person I was when I left the US. The following is a list of ways I have changed/habits I have developed/skills I have acquired since my first day in South Africa:

- My hair is slightly longer
- I’m more tan
- I pee in a bucket at night
- I drink at lest two cups of tea a day
- I know that “now, now” actually means some time in the near(ish) future
- It takes me no less than an hour to get ready in the morning
- I read more than I ever thought possible
- I am getting really good at sitting and thinking for extended periods of time
- I can speak a little Setswana
- Hoards of children shout my name as I walk down the street and (I swear) it doesn’t go to my head
- I’ve lost any inhibition I had about saying “I don’t want to talk to you” to persistent men
- I’m becoming more tolerant of being called “sweetie”
- I’m becoming less tolerant of being called “baby”
- I sweep my room two or three times a day
- I polish my shoes a few times a week (although I should polish them every night)
- I no longer cringe when I see someone litter
- I go to bed around 8:30 most nights
- I have given in and started sending SMS’s (text messages)
- I carry my money (and sometimes my jump drive, my cell phone, my id, my bank card...) in my bra
- I’ve finally accepted that the flies are just part of my décor
- I know how to wrap my hair in a scarf and not look like a total idiot
- I’ve become inordinately possessive of my “good pens”
- I eat oatmeal almost every single day
- I have become obsessed with ice cream and rarely escape a trip to town without caving to the urge to buy a cone from the grocery store
- Children touch my hair so much I have become almost completely oblivious to it.
- I have learned that lots of wind can make you very tired.
- I now know most of the words to every ABBA song (they are inexplicably popular here)
- I find myself giving in and saying “black American” because explaining the term “African American” to African people is laborious and often slightly maddening
- It no longer bothers me to be openly mocked, laughed at or talked about and being stared at is just an accepted reality.
- I now know that rain on a metal roof is a pleasant sound but hail on a metal roof is one of the loudest, most horrific sound experiences possible.
- I’ve convinced myself I actually look better now that I only wash my hair every four days.
- I’ve taken to saying “aaaysh!” when I am tired, exasperated, frustrated, confused, amazed, clueless...
- Amazingly, I’ve become pretty neat.

Don’t worry, you’d still recognize me if you saw me on the street (especially if you saw me on the street in my village because I’m pretty much the only white person around). I’m the same awkward, absurd person I was when I left. I’m just developing some new quirks that may or may not become part of who I am permanently.

my first live post from SA!

2007-09-26T05:54:00.000-04:00

I know it’s been awhile but...hey, I live in Africa now, which means many things, amongst them: I have pretty limited access to the internet and time has ceased to have any meaning to me. I’m working on figuring out my cell phone so I can turn it (magically it seems) into a modem. Until then I’m reliant on my new access to internet cafes in “town” (more on town in a moment). My goal is to be more regular in these posts and to post them myself instead of relying on mailing them to the US and having my WONDERFUL, AMAZING, KIND, INTELLIGENT father post them. We’ll see how it goes, but to those of you still bothering to read this, thanks.

Time really does mean something different here. I was taught to arrive on time (or early) by school bells, a brother who hated being late, and a culture where “time is money”. Living in South Africa is teaching me that it is actually pretty nice to just sit for hours with people whom I only sometimes understand, dinner should take at least an hour to cook, multitasking looses its charm when you have nothing to do for an entire day and even school starts and ends on a flexible schedule. In SA “Your furniture should be delivered two weeks before you move in” translates into at least a week of sleeping on the floor. As an American this has proven to be pretty maddening but I’m getting over it and embracing a more general conception of time.

Since my last post I’ve become an actual Peace Corps Volunteer. Until now I was just a trainee but I’ve moved up in the world. I took my language test and did well (something I’m pretty proud of). I met the American ambassador to SA. I swore to uphold the constitution (!). I listened to inspirational speeches. It was like graduation but multi-lingual and not as long.

I also moved to a village outside of Mafikeng. Mafikeng is in the Northwest Province near the Botswana border. It is the provincial capitol and is a pretty big city (not like Jo’Burg or Pretoria... more like an African Akron). My new host family has made me feel welcome and the two schools I’ll be working in are going to be exciting because the teachers and administrators seem really committed to improvement. My host family has running hot water (this is a true luxury here) but I’m living in a small room across the driveway that has electricity but no water so I’m still getting that “I carried water on my head” Peace Corps experience (I’m not really carrying water on my head... yet). I’m getting settled in and starting to explore my new village. It’s a slow process because I have to figure out what is safe/culturally acceptable but yesterday my host sister took me on a walk around the village and this morning I went for my first run so I’m starting to get a feel for what lies beyond my house and my schools.

Running has become a really important stress relief for me. I run in the morning when there are not too many people out and it is still cool. The visual stereotype of African sunsets and sunrises has proven to be pretty dead on and each morning I see the sun rise over baobab trees. Constantly working to integrate into a culture is hard work, and the time when I’m running has become a really important way for me to take time to be outside of my room but not working so hard to fit in. Greeting is really important in this culture and running also gives me a great excuse to greet lots of people in Setswana without feeling obligated to stop and have extended chats with them. I plan on running a half marathon while I’m here and that plan has left me with a good, attainable, personal goal to attend to every day.

The first waves of loneliness are starting to hit me. It’s harder than I expected to try and relate to people when my language skills are so limited and I’m still trying to figure out how to navigate cultural differences. I’ve had the luxury of fellow trainees to debrief and relate to throughout training but now that we’re full-fledged volunteers we’re all living scattered across three provinces. My first three months of service (from now until right before Christmas) I am on “travel restriction” which means I’m not really supposed to leave my village except to go to town for groceries so I won’t be seeing many of my fellow volunteers but luckily some of my closest volunteer friends share my shopping town so we’ll meet up every once in a while to go grocery shopping and maybe eat lunch together. I’ve also met some volunteers who have been here for a year and I’m encouraged by their optimism and their assurances that they are not isolated hermits. It’s hard to be away from everything that is familiar and the people I love but I’m tough (and spoiled by things like having some internet access) so don’t worry about me.

I’ve become obsessed with Chackalacka which is a popular dish here. I’m so obsessed I’ve sent the recipe to some of you but this is the improved recipe AND I’m trying to start a Chackalacka craze in the US so for those of you who I haven’t shared this wonder food with...

CHACKALACKA

- Carrots (1 bunch)
- 1 Onion (diced)
- Hot peppers (I think they're just called "chilis")
- 1 Green Pepper (diced) – totally optional
- Cooking oil
- Approx. 1 tsp. Curry Powder – also optional but I’m a pretty big fan
- 1 can baked beans (the blandest, most generic you can find)

Peel and grate the carrots. In the bottom of a pot big enough to fit all of the ingredients sauté the onions and hot peppers until the onions are just starting to brown. Add the carrots, curry and green peppers. Continue sautéing until the carrots are cooked (not at all crisp). Add the baked beans and cook for two(ish) minutes. Enjoy on bread or just by itself. Think of me when you’re eating...

Thanks for the letters and the emails (as of yesterday I can check my gmail on my phone but it’s really hard for me to write emails on my phone key pad!). It means a lot to me to be connected to all of you.

As I am about to post this it started raining... the first rain they've had here in almost a year. I feel as excited as if it had been a year for me without rain... just thought I'd share a little, happy moment with all of you...

Blog Entry # 2, from exile

2007-09-11T20:42:00.000-04:00

August 26, 2007

Today is my host brother’s birthday. We began the day by singing “happy birthday” to him while he was still in bed. He’s fifteen and very much a teenager who puts a lot of effort into being cool. I really, really like him. During breakfast a song came on the local radio station and my host mom and brother got up and sang and danced together. It was fun and sweet – a great way to start a Sunday! I only have two and a half weeks left with this family. (I’ll be gone for a week visiting my permanent site in a week) and I will really miss them when I’m gone. My host mom blows me away with her independence, her sassy-ness, and her sense of humor. I’ve promised to come back and visit during the next two years and I know it will be a promise I will fulfill.
Today is also special because I’m learning to make “dumpling” which is bread that is steamed on the stove top instead of baked in an oven. Our oven is a wood burning oven that the family rarely uses (it hasn’t been used once in the four weeks I’ve been here). We cook on a hot plate, outside on the fire, or on a paraffin stove. I’m afraid of the paraffin stove (it explodes sometimes and lets off nasty fumes) so all of my cooking is adapted to the hotplate or the fire. Learning to make dumpling is huge for me because it means I can make my own whole grain bread when I’m cooking for myself at site. The dough is rising in the sunshine as I write this.
This afternoon I’ll probably see my friends Megan and Mike. Megan is a passionate “bollo” (soccer) player and she has organized a Sunday afternoon game. Megan and Mike are great company. They are clever and tough minded with a good mix of dark humor. When we get together the conversations are often a bit absurd but always good. It’s nice to have people around to keep my mind sharp! I won’t be playing soccer but I feel an obligation to learn about the game as part of my cultural assimilation. For the record, I’m officially a “Chiefs Supporter” although I’m not totally clear what that entails – I just know everyone in my host family likes the Chiefs so I have become a fan by association.
My language skills are developing slowly. I’m pretty frustrated by my slow progress but I have to remember four weeks ago I couldn’t express ANYTHING n Setswana and now I’m regularly having simple conversations entirely in Setswana. Mostly, I just push myself to us as much Setswana as possible mixed with my English (I’ve mentally dubbed this combo “Swinglish”). Sure, I have the vocabulary of an inarticulate two-year old but at least I know I worked hard to sound like a toddler! I’m getting used to being laughed at for my blundering word (mis)use.
I’m getting really excited to find out where my permanent site will be. We find out Friday. It’s really strange to have so little control over where I will be living for the next two years. Within a week, I’ll know what village I’ll be living in, if I’ll be living in a host family’s main house or outbuilding, what schools I’ll be working with, who my supervisors will be, what town I’ll be closest to ( and how close – some villages are 2+ hours from the shopping town), and what Peace Corps volunteers will be closest to me. There are so many variables that will shape my experience for the next two years! This week promises to be a waiting game filled with questions/demands from some of the other trainees who seem less willing/capable to realize they don’t have control of the site decisions…..
I need to go study Setswana. The adjectives are driving me insane but I suppose someday, under some unforeseeable circumstance, I may need to say “the tall man”.

2007-08-27T22:14:00.000-04:00

ON BEING REFILWE

August 11, 2007. As of today I’ve been in my training village for two weeks - in South Africa for three. I feel like I am finally beginning to get over my initial culture shock. By this I suppose I mean I’m no longer overwhelmed by daily tasks like going to the bathroom, bathing, cooking, and drinking water. [for those of you who are interested…I go to the bathroom in a pit toilet in my host family’s yard.] (don’t get wild ideas – it’s just an outhouse.) I take bucket baths & I’m still working on perfecting my hair washing technique. I cook with my “Mma” almost every evening (more on cooking and food later). I boil water before I drink it to be careful but the water here tastes great [is very clean]. It’s beginning to set in that South Africa is my (temporary) home. That idea stills blows me away a little!

I am living in a small village outside of Zeerust in the Northwest Province near the Botswana border. I will be here for six more weeks of training and then I will move to my permanent site where I will live and serve for two years. The people who live here are Motswana. They speak Setswana – a language that is spoken in Northern South Africa, Botswana, and parts of Namibia. I am trying desperately to learn Setswana and so far, I’m doing pretty well (meaning I understand about 5% of the conversations around me). The people here are so friendly and kind! I never go anywhere without being greeted.

The village itself is really beautiful. It is in the mountains so the views of the hilly village are impressive. The soil here is red & sandy with lots of rocks. Everything is coated in a thin coat of red dust. Here are small, scrubby trees and little thorny bushes. The houses are concrete or brick, single story with tin roofs. Almost everyone in the village (including my host family) has electricity. The “rich” people (everything is relative) in the village (excluding my host family) have running water. We get our water from the community tap & store it in huge barrels in the kitchen & in the yard. Rural South Africa is pretty segregated and our village is no exception. I’m pretty sure Peace Corps trainees are the first white/Asian/not black African people to be here.

My host family is a HUGE part of why I am so happy here. I live with my host mom & my 14 year-old host brother. I call my host mom “Mma” (the Setswana word for mother). She is a super kind, funny little woman who speaks a little English and who I really love spending time with. My host brother is like most fourteen year-olds – he spends most of his time trying to be cool – but he’s also great fun to be around and he’s teaching me to dance! Like many rural South African families, the rest of my host family (my host dad, host sister, and four other brothers) live and work four hours away in Johannesburg (Jo’Burg to every South African) because there is very little work in the villages. My host family is loving and a lot of fun. They have been helping me learn Setswana & avoid embarrassing myself in the village. I feel so lucky to live with my “African family”. Sure, often we can’t really talk because of my pitiful Setswana an my Mma’s broken English but still I love living here with this wonderful family.

One of my favorite parts of every day is cooking dinner. I usually get gome from training around five and I’ll study for awhile & then cook dinner with Mma. Almost every meal involves pap – the staple food here. Pap is kind of hard to equate to anything in America – it is made of maize meal and it’s a little like very thick, stiff grits. Many trainees fail to recognize the culinary genius of this starchy, tasteless blob-food but I have a corner of my heart (and at least ¾ of my stomach) reserved for it. I cook on of the three vegetables cooked n Motswana homes: “pumpkin” (butternut squash), cabbage, or beetroot. I was never overly fond of any of these before I came here but considering they are my only options, I have decided to embrace them whole heartedly. South Africans LOVE meat and my vegetarianism has become a curiosity that is accepted in a “crazy American” sort of way. Often I’m introduced (in Setswana) with the qualifier “she only eats vegetables! NO MEAT!” All of you reading this should ready yourselves – I’ve promised Mma I would “cook African” for everyone when I get back to the US.

I’ve also learned to “clean African”. Tomorrow I will do laundry which is a three hour ordeal involving hauling bucket after bucket of water from the community tap, scrubbing every inch of each article of clothing while trying to avoid rubbing my knuckles raw, rinsing each article of clothes in a basin of clean water, hanging everything inside out (to protect it from the sun), and lastly ironing each item (including undies!) because: a. South Africans really care about wrinkly clothes and b. it kills a burrowing parasite that sometimes lays eggs on drying clothes (How’s that for motivation to iron?!) Tomorrow we’ll also sweep and shine the concrete floors with a homemade broom, a dry scrub brush and a rag. If I’m feeling really wild/vain, Ill even take a bucket bath and actually wash my hair! Keep in mind all of our water is heated on a fire or in an electric kettle (our “stove” is a pitifully slow hotplate) so even bathing becomes a chore. Don’t get me wrong- I’m not complaining – these choices are part of my new life and learning to do them has helped me to better understand what it means to live in rural South Africa.

Another new part of my new life is my new name. I have been given an African name – Refilwe – it translates (loosely) to “we have been given” – an appropriate name if you ask me. So this is my new life – where I give myself freely to an adventure, to the work ahead of me and to the people I meet.

P.S.: To all of you who have written me: THANK YOU! It has been great to get mail and to remember that although I am on the other side of the world, under the stars of the Southern Hemisphere, six hours ahead of most of you (nine hours ahead of some of you), and a long time from seeing you again, I am still a part of your life and you are part of mine.

it's time to go.

2007-07-16T23:47:00.001-04:00

Matt took this picture of me at Great Sand Dunes but it seems appropriate for this post.

I'm leaving in the morning. First to Philly and then to South Africa. It still seems a bit surreal. I'm really excited and still minorly overwhelmed because I have yet to finish packing but overall I'm not even sure how to feel exactly.

I know this is huge. Rationally, I know that it is silly to even speculate on how my life will be different because I am completely lacking in the framework to understand the change that is about to happen in my life. Maybe my quest for more rationality in my life has led me to the point where I feel calm and ready and not much beyond that.

I am really going to miss people. The focused time I've had with my friends and my family lately has just magnified my awareness of what I am leaving behind. At the same time I feel like this choice is really right for me. I can't wait to meet people tomorrow, I can't wait to be in South Africa, I can't wait to stumble through language training... this anticipation is what is reminding me that it is totally worth leaving behind people I love for twenty seven months.

I bristle at all of the implications of most romantic movies but I feel like I've been socialized to swoon at the idea of someone leaving behind the life that they love for someone they love... the old "he moved across the country to be with me" fantasy. This is my version. I'm leaving behind the life that I love for myself because I love myself.

It's time to put not being afraid to live into action. It's time to share what I worked so hard to learn. It's time to go out into the world and live.

I am so ready.

p.s. I won't have Internet access for a long time... hopefully I will be sending posts home for my dad to post for me but please be patient. If you're wishing you were reading about my life send me a letter and maybe my response will beat my next post!

One Week!

2007-07-10T11:18:00.000-04:00

In seven days I'll be on a plane, headed for Philadelphia for two days and then I will be off to South Africa! I cannot even imagine the ways my life is about to change... but I feel as ready as I can be.

Yesterday I was driving around our suburb, through the urban sprawl that even in it's homogeneous anonymity has a familiarity to it, and it was evening and even Target looked a little beautiful in golden light. I was struck by the idea of dusk, when everything is lovely. These last few weeks have been like a dusk on my time in the US. The beauty and fun and wildness of the times I have spent with family and friends has been illuminated by my waning time here. Okay, so this is a little more romantic than I usually venture to be but really, there has been something really special about the last few weeks.

I took the train to Denver to attend the wedding of my friends Matt and Amanda. It was a really fun wedding and a celebration of two really amazing people having a go at married life. I saw friends who I don't see enough which was a good reminder that distance and time do not always cancel friendships. Matt and Amanda are friends from high school and it was fun to look around and realize how a wild group of oddball teenage punks turned into a wild group of oddball adults.

After Denver Matt, Matto and I drove across the middle of the country back to Cincinnati. Before the long haul home we camped in Colorado above Golden and down at the Great Sand Dunes National Park. Both places were beautiful (although notably different). Golden Gate State Park is full of vistas and views of far off fourteeners. We camped in a grove of aspens that seemed to glow in the twilight (I couldn't resist bringing it back to that) and stretched conversation past the limits of the absurd. Great Sand Dunes is exactly what it sounds like. The Dunes are appropriately identified as "great", they are huge and surreal in a basin between two mountain ranges. Matt, Matto and I stretched our bodies past the limits and climbed the dunes in an effort that surpassed absurd. It was sandy and wonderful. The drive back was marked by a visit to an abandoned state park (which was bordered by a non-existent town), being harassed by some very shady police in Kansas (because we were going to OHIO which made us suspected drug runners), a visit to Columbia MO (good times with Matt's friend Steve and a little too much whiskey), and listening to the Clash for hours. I live for these times with my friends, especially good friends like Matt and Matto, especially time on the road.

When I got back to Cincinnati I arrived home to find my maniac aunts cleaning my parents' house. My parents were headed for the Upper Peninsula of Michigan to attend my older brother Michael's wedding. My plan was to sleep for a few hours and follow them up. My aunts had come down to be with my mom during her last minute back surgery (there is never a dull moment in the life of a Gannon) and, inspired by the unending need of the women in my family to do SOMETHING to help, they had decided to stay and clean the house so it would be nice when my parents came home from the wedding. Although I had expected to come home to an empty house and a few hours of privacy, it was nice to come home to a very real example of how my family sticks together.

(I know this entry is getting long but it's been awhile since I posted anything and I have a lot to document!)

My brother's wedding was really amazing. It was held at the Hiram College field station in Wetmore, Michigan. It was wonderfully isolated and the whole weekend was full of quiet peaceful moments and raucous times with family and friends. The ceremony itself was really nice, designed by Michael and Julie (my new sister in law... weird) to honor who they are and how they see the world. The reception was punctuated by SIXTEEN total toasts which was a little out of control but fun none the less. My mom, with her back brace and her incredible smile, hardly appeared to be in any pain which is notable for a woman who had been hospitalized for pain for three days and then had back surgery less than 48 hours before the wedding! Although the decision on the "wedding ass" (a distinction given at every Gannon wedding) is still out my vote is for my sister's boyfriend who, at 7:45, was so drunk he tried to walk twelve miles back to the hotel on dirt roads despite the fact that we had shuttle vans available.

On the way home from the UP I picked up my friend Kevin in Cadillac, Michigan and we playfully argued all the way back to Cincinnati. It was a nice trip down and it reaffirmed (again) my guilty love for road trips. When we got back to Cincinnati we met up with Matt and Matto for more good times (always good times).

Roza and Jesse, my friends from Akron, came in for the fourth of July which was not only fun but it gave me renewed faith in my ability to have lasting friendships with my friends from college. On the night of the third we went to a basement show and spent hours "shortcutting" through Burnett Woods. We saw Heart play on the fourth for free they were amazing and kind of crappy and the crowd was old and not very rocking but in the end it was great fun and a hilarious foil to the metal show we went to directly afterwards. It was so good to see the two of them and share some of the craziness of Cincinnati with them.

THEN my dad and I went to Graceland. Yes, Graceland. It was like the ultimate American Pilgrimage. For me it was more about Paul Simon and less about Elvis. We saw crappy country in Nashville, we took pictures at Elvis' grave, we met the "first lady of Beale Street" in Memphis, we stayed in a town called Paris in the middle of nowhere that had a tiny Eiffel Tower, and we had some really good father/daughter time. I would recommend everyone take a road trip to Graceland with their father.

Now I'm back home trying to get my act together and start packing. It's a little bit less exciting than what I have been doing for the last few weeks but I suppose it's important. To take the metaphor too far... the sun is setting. I won't really take it to the "dawn of the new day" next logical step but you can...

My reality is really awesome.

one month!

2007-06-17T01:47:00.001-04:00

Today (actually, tonight... actually, this morning at 1:15am) I returned home to Cincinnati a whole lot closer to being Erin Gannon, MA.
In the last three days I "finished up" all of the little things I have inexplicably been putting off for the last four months. I had to drive across the state to finish which I had been convincing myself I didn't have to do, but in the end it's out of my hands so I suppose it was worth it.
I spent hours at a print shop pretending to not freak out as we worked through problems printing my final copy of my thesis. I talked to multiple university employees in multiple offices while I smelled strongly of my own sweat and thinly veiled panic. I found secret joy in turning the final copy in while wearing my favorite Pogues shirt with a great Fugazi song running through my head. I had a few smiling-like-an-idiot-in-my-car-alone moments. Tonight, to finish off the victory lap of Ohio, I gave my dad a copy as a father's day gift.
In a few months you will be able to check my thesis out of the Kent State library. I bet it'll be FLYING off the shelf so you may want to reserve your copy early.

I leave in a month. I've already started awkwardly saying goodbye to people, although some of those goodbyes proved to be premature because of the aforementioned unexpected return trip to Northern Ohio. I'm incredibly bad at saying goodbye. I just keep saying "see you later" or my new fallback, "see you when I'm almost thirty" which is the adult version of the old "see you next year" said by soon-to-be clever third graders as they leave for their two week winter holiday break.
I will always remember pulling out of the Everett driveway with my motley friends singing to me and waving like fools. It was beautifully strange and wonderful. I suppose I'm lucky to have friends who are more adept at saying goodbye than I am.

buy, buy, buy, sell, sell, sell, trash, trash, trash

2007-05-24T11:51:00.000-04:00

I know, you (the imaginary "others" who are reading this) are dying to know what is new in my little world. Mostly I've become someone I hardly recognize, some consumerist wild woman buying and selling and (worst of all) throwing things away. I have been spending most of my waning time here in Akron thinking about what I need, what I don't need, what I really want, and wondering what made me such a hoarder of junk. In the past few years I've tried to be really conscious of what I consume but recently it has set in that I was not conscious enough! I am still really overwhelmed by all the stuff I own and hopefully will not own soon.

On the positive side, I made $55 selling a bunch of my stuff last weekend at a garage sale. Plus, I've been able to give a lot of my stuff to friends who "need" it. And, if I am going to be honest I also need to admit I have acquired some pretty sweet stuff recently. I bought a new backpack, a sleeping bag, TWO new pairs of shorts, TWO new shirts, TWO new pairs of pants, and TEN new pairs of underpants! This is like a major shopping spree for me. In my own defense, for those of you who haven't seen me in awhile, I've lost some weight and none of my summer clothes fit me anymore.

I'm not sure if I should put the buying in the "on the positive side" paragraph because I feel pretty uncomfortable about spending that much money but I'm trying to be excited about all my new stuff.

My invitation is officially accepted, my passport is applied for, my visa is applied for, I've applied for graduation, I'm approaching the state I would identify as "packed and ready to move to Cincinnati", I have a dress for the weddings I'm attending this summer ($6 at a thrift store... SCORE), I have a bus ticket/train ticket TO Denver (who knows how I'm getting home), I'm really pumped for my road trip to Graceland with my dad, and I'm ready for some weird and aggressive times before I leave.

it's not even official

2007-05-16T23:11:00.000-04:00

I admit it is not official that I am going to South Africa because I have yet to actually see my invitation and thus I have not accepted the invitation but I am so excited I'm starting a blog. I'm already ahead of myself, forgetting not everyone spends their days obsessing over my impending Peace Corps assignment... so I'll begin by explaining what an invitation is and why I have yet to accept it.

Applying to Peace Corps is a lengthy process. Applying to Peace Corps while simultaneously finishing a thesis, working in cities all over the country, traveling and trying to maintain my reputation as a minor maniac has resulted in a lengthier process. I initially submitted my application for Peace Corps a year and a half ago. After that I went through medical tests, very expensive dental work, eye exams, waiting rooms at the VA hospital (where I received my blood tests for free... thanks US government!), three very lengthy phone interviews, and lots of waiting. The waiting is for the invitation which tells you in what program and what country you are being invited to serve. The invitation is a packet of information which informs you (loosely) what your life will be like for the next two years.

My invitation... the holy grail of the Peace Corps nominee's life... is in the hands of my parents. It ended up in Cincinnati as a result of an unknown sequence of events which have had me shooting the very innocent mail carrier in my Akron neighborhood dirty looks all week. It is so very close to being in my possession. Although I gave them permission, my parents have declined to open it and peek before I see them (and more importantly IT) on Friday but they did see through the window of the envelope a confirmation of my suspicion that I am headed to South Africa!

Now I have to get rid of pretty much everything I own, move home to Cincinnati, complete the next load of paperwork Peace Corps sends my way, attend two amazing weddings, go on a road trip to Graceland, finally submit my thesis to Kent and try and learn as much about South Africa as I can. So far I'm pretty overwhelmed, but I'm using my ability to convince myself things are not as big a deal as they are to cope.

I want to keep a blog so I can keep my friends and family posted on my adventures, my great love of hand written letters, my general whereabouts, and my clever wit (humor me). I think this is a pretty cool way for me to share my life with the people I love. I hope you enjoy reading about my increasingly crazy life.