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

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.

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

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!

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...

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...

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...

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.