a good year.

When I think about 2010, I feel quite short on words.  I've been asked, "So how was your year?" or "How does it feel to be home?" and of course, my year was life-changing and it feels really good to be back at home, surrounded by familiar faces and simple wonders that I will never again take for granted.

But I still feel that I haven't done any justice to the year I spent in South Africa.  I don't know how to go about telling my story, so I've decided to share some photos, maybe an accompanying story, and piece together my year this way.

The next community leaves for South Africa's sunny shores in just a few days.  I'll spend a few hours with the four of them on Saturday evening, and I feel so excited for the adventures they're about to experience, yet a part of me yearns to be stowing away and tagging along for the ride.  Now that the holidays are over and I've been reunited with the people and the country I left behind one year ago, I feel as though I should be going back-- back to school, back to St. Theresa's homework time, back to karaoke on Wednesday nights at The Highlander and Durban's beachfront and rugby matches on the weekends and Robson's delicious microbrewed beer.  Thinking about it all makes my heart hurt a bit.

As for the here and now, I'm frantically applying for jobs whenever I can in education, housing, and academic non-profits in New York and Philadelphia, and recently applied to a few graduate programs as alternatives, in case the whole employment thing remains out of reach.  I'll find something, I know-- and for now, I'm content to enjoy the snow while reminiscing about the Durban summer.

Enjoy the photos, but I'm pretty sure that there's as much for me as they are for you.  And thank you, ngiyabonga kakhulu, for keeping up with me.




P.S. I'm also back on my old blog.  Though life is not as "different" as it was this time last year, I still like to think there are things worth noting.


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springtime.

Another early morning, another month begins... the first of October is here and with it, Durban's signature humidity and the gorgeous purple, yellow, and magenta blooms on the otherwise bare trees all around.  Spring is in the air and though it gets up to almost ninety degrees during the day, I'm enjoying the heat at the moment.  It allows for Sundays spent reading at the beach, gives enough light for running after our return from St. Theresa's in the evenings, and now that the nine-month mark is approaching, emotions are running high at 8 Warwickshire Crescent.

Two weeks ago, we had our final site visit from the office back home; April, our esteemed director arrived and after a brief stay here in Bothas Hill, we packed up the car, awoke at an ungodly hour, and drove north for twelve hours until we were 20 kilometers from the border of Botswana, at the Madikwe Game Reserve.  We stayed at Mosetlha, a bush camp and eco-lodge inside the park, at Becca's recommendation-- she had stayed there as part of her six-week study abroad experience in Pretoria during college.  Though some might have found the idea of no running water and no electricity daunting, the four of us have stuck to a low-maintenance regimen since beginning our year in South Africa, so heating our water in a donkey boiler and using paraffin lamps at night was lots of fun.  We had two game drives a day with our guide Sam, and my favourite part of the program involved a cooler full of beer and cider, snacks, and beautiful sunsets halfway through our evening drives.

We saw tons of animals, even a handful of lions which I'd missed on my safari with my family in Hluhluwe-Umfolozi back in April.  I think the highlight of the safari was our evening drive on Saturday; we spotted a baby rhino and his mother racing through the bush, with two young male lions following closely behind.  After two minutes, the lions gave up and settled down for yet another nap... proof that big cats and small cats are all the same: lazy!

Otherwise, we had a lot of rest and relaxation time.  On the way home, we had to drop April off at the Johannesburg airport, and decided to make a stopover in Jozi before driving back to Durban.  On Sunday afternoon, we paid a visit to the famed Apartheid Museum, built in 2000.  Each visitor to the museum is assigned either White or Non-White upon purchasing a ticket, and must enter using the appropriate entrance.

Unfortunately, that was the beginning and end of the segregation simulation; the rest of the museum was laid out for us to peruse as we wished.  It was enlightening, but I found the exhibits a bit confusing and the layout was not exactly chronological.

The most interesting insight for me was being in the city where my parents spent the first few years of their marriage back in the early Eighties.  The city has changed a lot since then, as has South Africa itself.  I wrote my high school research paper on apartheid, but to look out over the Johannesburg skyline and feel connected through family and history and my present experience was a really powerful and moving feeling.

Meg has some family that stay in Sandton, a suburb of the city, and they graciously hosted us on Sunday night.  After a delicious breakfast of fruit and yogurt and muesli on Monday morning, the four of us, armed with our AA Road Atlas and recommendations from friends and family, explored Parkhurst and Melville.  We only spent a few hours walking around, then had a bite to eat before our drive home... but I really enjoyed Johannesburg and I hope I get to go back and spend more time someday.

Meg and I also made it a real South African roadtrip by investing in some biltong to chew on.  South Africans are awfully proud of their version of beef jerky, and though I was thirsty for about eight hours after devouring a packet, I think I'm hooked!

It was a great trip-- especially with the addition of my new camera to the family.  I still have a lot to learn, and I'm nervous when it's around sticky children and the dusty wind, but I'm still very excited.

We're on school holidays again; this time it's spring midterm break, which seems like a funny way to describe the three weeks that we had school since the World Cup.  But I've busied myself with job applications in the hopes that someone will hire me come December.  I've discovered lots of education non-profits on the East Coast that have openings, so I'm keeping my fingers crossed for some sort of sign... and trying to remain in-the-moment about my last two months here in South Africa.

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worth 1000 words...

Here are a few snapshots of life as it's happened lately...

Back in July, our community took a trip to a game farm with our friends Brian, Matt, and Martin... lots of giraffe viewing and quart drinking ensued.

We reaped the many benefits of the Durban International Film Festival, and might have gone on a top-secret poster-stealing mission on the streets of Durban one night... as the organizer of said mission, I was elated.

One of my favourite books we've got in the library (along with The Gruffalo), Room on the Broom led to a really great creative art project with Grade 5.


Sanele wore his pants up to his neck one morning.  Gosh I love that face.

And then Becky came to visit!!

We met in Cape Town, and toured Stellenbosch to taste some delicious South African wine...

... and drove around the coast in style in our little red Kia (free upgrade, no big deal).

Even though school was closed due to the strike, she got to meet and consequently fall in love with our St. Theresa's boys.

We spent a day touring Durbs-- complete with a formal introduction to the Indian Ocean.

And then we celebrated Becca's (far left) 24th birthday with a Mexican fiesta at home.

I bought some gorgeous Indian silk at Essenwood Market (6 metres for R100... that's about $15!) and got to try it on as a sari, but I don't think I could pass for Indian.

Then we introduced Becky and Meg, Mary-Kate's friend from home, to the joy that is the Durban Sharks playing a rugby match in the Currie Cup.

On her last day, Beck and I took a short drive towards Pietermaritzburg to a game reserve called Tala, which was small, but we got to hang out with lots of wildebeest (yes like the ones that killed Mufasa) and giraffes... cue Becky doing lots of animal impressions, all day.

Then our guests left, and we were left to celebrate St. Augustine Day with the Augustinian sisters next door and our three friars/friends-- Fr. Frank, Baba Benji, and Fr. Jack.  I made mum's poached pears as a little tribute to St. Augustine, and they went down a treat.

Unfortunately, my digital camera bit the dust two weeks ago; keeping it safe in a case was to no avail, and the screen cracked and would cost about $350 to fix.  But, luckily, I'm really excited to announce that after some hefty discussion with my parents, this little baby is on her way to me as we speak.

Our coordinator April is on her way for our last site visit, and she arrives tomorrow night.  We'll have two days here with her, then on Friday morning, we'll be driving up to Mosetlha Bush Camp, in Madikwe Game Reserve, up on the border of Botswana, for a weekend of safari adventures.  We'll finish our trip with an overnight in Johannesburg on Sunday.  We mainly want to see the famed apartheid museum in Jozi, but I'm really looking forward to spending a small amount of time in the city where my parents spent two years before I existed.  Even though much has changed since the early 80s, I'm excited to see it nonetheless.

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my south african pedicure

I'll admit it: I really never expected to come to South Africa as a volunteer and find myself having a pedicure on March 12th, exactly two months into my year here.  But, yesterday morning, there I was-- laid up in Casualty.  After two painful injections to my big toe, the operation was over in about ten minutes.  I made it to St. Leo's for the last two classes of the day, and then spent the rest of the afternoon on the couch with my foot up, painkillers within reach.

The bandage looks like something a cartoon character would have on, after an anvil dropped from the sky and hit them on the toe.  The big bandage comes off tomorrow, so I plan on milking this while I can... and hopefully I don't have to be seen out in public today.
It was also amusing to be strategic about hiding my foot during our interview with PBS last night.  When the show airs in May, you'll have to let me know how well I covered it up...

Photographic evidence, so you can all feel sorry for me or something:

Pre-op.

Cartoon toe.

Post-op.

church dedications, birthdays, & other weekend things.

I woke up at 6:00 this morning, after a night of disturbed sleep.  The sun was shining through grey clouds and although I was really tired, I couldn’t get myself back to sleep again.  That’s what happens when your daily routine starts at 6 am I suppose.

Though we’ve been without internet here in Bothas Hill for the past ten days….. ta-da!  Life goes on.  The break from contact with the outside world was refreshing at first, then tiresome when I turned 23 and couldn’t talk to anyone at home for the most part, but then it was liberating to be able to find other ways to spend our time.  Work keeps me busy and though homesick, I was able to put my energy into teaching, reviewing for vocabulary tests with Grade 6 and 7, and swinging young boys around in circles after helping with homework at St. Theresa’s three afternoons a week.

The four of us spent Valentine’s Day in the valley at the dedication ceremony and Mass for a newly-built church at St. Helen’s Parish, one of the outposts of the Augustinian church in Kloof.  We left the house at 9 am and didn’t get home until 3:00 that afternoon, but the ceremony itself was something that was really amazing to see, as these things don’t happen very often at all.  The mass was a regular Zulu mass, but the words to all the songs sung throughout were printed in booklets, so Mary-Kate, Becca, and I made a good attempt to sing along which helped move time along more quickly.  Following the Mass, the four walls of the church were blessed and a relic of St. Helen was placed under the altar.  The archbishop of Durban was in attendance, and he and some other members of the church and community were thanked in a traditional Zulu ceremony, involving lots of excited yelling from the women in the congregation, the gift of livestock and beautiful blankets, and long speeches lauding each person’s contribution to the finished product.  The inkosi or chief of the area was at Mass with his entourage as well, and it was really fascinating to see him and hear what he had to say about the dedication.

I can now count seeing live sheep during Mass off my bucket list.  One was so nervous it even pooped on the church’s nice new carpet!

The choir in traditional Zulu dress-- mostly black with really colorful beading

The archbishop receiving his gifts: a headpiece, matching staff, and mink blanket from a woman on the parish council at St. Helen's

I wrote last time about going to see the Durban Sharks play some rugby, and the match was a lot of fun.  We had some food and drinks beforehand, then made our way into the stadium just before the rain began.  The Sharks lost (in a pretty dismal end to an exciting second half), but I think we all really enjoyed being there to see a game—and I hope I get to some more of the Super 14 series before too long!

Here's the walkway up to our seats, and you can see the arch of Moses Madiba Stadium (built for the World Cup) in the background 

Our whole community at the game... Becca, me, Mary-Kate, and Meg

I had a very nice birthday; though I was far from home and missing contact with my friends and family very much, I was completely showered with kindness through letters and parcels that have been coming to 8 Warwickshire Crescent in a steady stream since the 17^th.  Thank you so much for your thoughtfulness—even if the cookies did arrive in crumbles, or the cards got redirected and didn’t arrive until today, I feel very touched by all the attention.

Evidence of my recent monopoly of the South African postal service

We celebrated here on the 16^th, as it was Fat Tuesday.  With my actual birthday falling on Ash Wednesday there wasn’t really much room for celebration that day.  The community of four Augustinian nuns who live next door to us were eager to have us round for dinner, so we braved torrential downpour and some pretty spectacular African lightning and feasted on pancakes, carrot cake, and I was given a dozen orange roses in celebration.  My housemates didn’t disappoint either— Meg treated me to a scavenger hunt on the morning of my birthday, I got some delicious Cadbury’s chocolate from Becca, and an amazing fish-and-chips dinner from Mary-Kate.

Last Saturday, we threw a braai which actually ended up being more of an American barbeque, and had some friends around for drinks and food.  The rain held off and we had a really nice time, as evidenced by an Australia-shaped bruise on my upper arm, texts the next day from our South African friends, and the mountains of bottles and cans we dumped at the recycling center last Sunday.  When you climb up on the roof of a poolhouse to be serenaded with “Happy Birthday” from friends you’ve only known two short months, life is really good.

Smiling faces having a good time at the braai...

... and my Australia-shaped bruise, one week later.  The kids at St. Leo's love it.

On a more somber note, my faithful trusty iPod decided to conk out on me this week.  I’ve had the thing for three years without a problem, so I was pretty sure that I’d see it fail some time during my year here, but not so soon!  Hopefully with the arrival of some American visitors in March, I can get it home and fixed and back again without much issue.  Listening to NPR podcasts on Sundays had become part of my weekend routine, and I’m really missing them already.

This weekend has been much more low-key so far, thank goodness.  This morning, we made good use of our early rising and took a trip to the Shongweni Farmers’ Market, where we indulged in lattes and breakfast sandwiches.  We bought hummus from an Israeli food stall, and also some fresh basil and oregano plants, which Becca planted outside our cottage this morning.  At just over a dollar for each one, we really got a bargain.  We then went to Stations of the Cross at Our Lady of Mercy which was nice.  Stations never fails to remind me of my days at St. Ignatius School, where we’d pray them every Friday during Lent, reading out of grey, red, and black booklets.

The sky is very overcast today, but I’m happy to get a break from the oppressive heat of the South African summer.  We have plans to have a community retreat day tomorrow at the Krantzkloof Nature Reserve, just down the road.  There are rumors of a waterfall there, but with or without it, it’ll be a nice day of reflection and relaxation before March arrives.

jazz in the afternoon.

After dropping Meg home from work on Friday, Maryann Carpenter (who runs Hillcrest AIDS Respite Center) stopped by to mention the Rainbow Restaurant, a venue in Pinetown (about 20 minutes' drive from here) that was rumored to have live jazz on Sunday afternoons. We were intrigued.

And so, after sleeping in late-- and by late, I mean until about 9:00-- we packed into our car, picked up Ruthie (Maryann and Steven's daughter), and drove to Pinetown to see what the Rainbow Restaurant had to offer us.

We took the exit into Pinetown, and my mind immediately flashed to all the dangerous scenarios that the AV staff had warned us about during orientation.  We were suddenly driving through an area where shops were boarded up, garbage littered the street-- yet behind the somewhat grimy facade, people moved here and there, doing their Sunday business at a large outdoor market, selling wares and buying goods for the week ahead.  Women with large parcels balanced on their heads always serve as a reminder of the exotic nature of my new home in South Africa, but as we drove down the busy street, it dawned on me that these women were merely making efficient use of their hands.  Instead of being weighed down by shopping bags, they could now lead their children and grandchildren by the hand without fear of losing them in the crowds.

We found a parking spot after searching for the Rainbow for a few minutes.  As we drove up and down the street, searching for number 23, I felt a bit uneasy that we had come; we were heavily in the minority and though I spend five days a week as one of the only white people in Molweni, I felt very strange in this new place with no idea what to expect.  But we parked the car nonetheless, made our way to the other side of a busy main road, and through the gates to the restaurant.  As we approached the entrance, a couple of guys hanging around outside the door greeted us with friendly smiles which put me at ease.  We each paid our R50 to get in, and made our way inside.

The air was heavy with the smell of food, alcohol, and the buzz of bodies-- sweat mingling with excitement and satiated appetites all around.  It was dim inside; the curtains had been drawn in an effort to keep out the heat of January's last day.  All around, people laughed, talked, and paid no heed as four white American girls inched their way around the perimeter of the crowded space in search of a table.

After finding a spot to the right of the stage, we ordered some drinks and waited for the music to begin.  On the other side of our booth, six men in impeccable button-down shirts laughed and chatted, bobbing their heads to the jazz record filling the silence prior to the first set.  I don't know what it is that sets musicians apart from their earthly counterparts, but I knew just by looking at them that they were it.  And sure enough, after a brief announcement from the proprietor, they ambled onto the stage and a dim hush overtook the waiting audience.

And then... jazz happened.

I'm trying so hard to describe in words the sounds, smells, tastes, and feelings of the three hours we spent at the Rainbow on Sunday afternoon, but I'm not sure I can do it justice.  Though I've struggled a lot over the past few weeks with a very schizophrenic identity as a white American female volunteer, living and working here in South Africa, much of my confusion and anxiety melted away to the tune of a couple of saxophones, keyboards, drums, bass, and guitar.  I felt that I'd been there before, yet I was excited to have discovered such a place amid the chaos of my new life.
With cold cider in my glass, warm jazz melting into the walls around me, and surrounded by faces that all seemed very familiar, I felt more comfortable than I have since arriving here in South Africa almost three weeks ago.  The Rainbow seemed like an oasis in an unpredictable, confusing place-- and I was happy to relax there and drink in every last drop.

settling in.

So now that it's Monday, I've been here in Botha's Hill almost a week.  Hard to believe already!  I'm sure this is an omen that the year will fly by, especially once we begin work and get into our daily routines.
I thought I'd attempt to post a couple of photos to show you slices of the beginnings of a life here at 8 Warwickshire Crescent.  Thanks to our new computer, I can now be a bit more diligent about this little blog.

The entrance to our little "cottage"

The amazing view of Embo from our property

My side of the bedroom I share with Becca

Life has been exciting but exhausting.  I've been really struggling to find time to sit and process things as the days pass, but between grocery trips, visits to our worksites, and meeting new people, it's been hard to take quiet time.  We've taken turns leading a small reflection every night, but I still like to sit quietly on my own and think things through.  Unlike at home, I'm not at liberty to go for a run alone and think, though Mary-Kate and I did venture out into the neighborhood across the main road two days ago for a jog.  Even stepping outside our gated property without the safety of a car was a really weird feeling, but it's quite safe; we just have to stay alert.
Food shopping at the supermarket has been an adventure in and of itself-- because we live on a budget, we have to be really diligent about saving money and making things last.  Here in South Africa, it seems that milk in a bag and wine in a box will save us valuable rand.
Doing things like exercising and grocery shopping have slowly begun to make me feel quite at home here in South Africa.  I find my mind less and less preoccupied with the fact that "I'm in AFRICA!" and more and more just struggling to get into a routine that will make me feel organized and productive, as I did when I moved to Villanova, and when I studied abroad in Paris.  It's hard because I haven't started working yet, but tomorrow or the next day work will come and these more relaxing days will, I'm sure, be just a distant memory.

Sunday was a great day; our group went to two Masses which seemed like it would be a lot but was a really fascinating study in the dichotomy here in South Africa that we've come to experience every single day.  Whether it be visiting the Hillcrest AIDS Center and then driving down the highway to a Western-style megamall, or spending two hours at a Zulu mass in the morning and then with the white community at Kloof in the evening, the differences between life in the valley and life in the hills are more striking as the days pass.
The Zulu mass at St. Leo's, though long, was really beautiful with traditional singing that blew us all away.  It ended with a slew of parish announcements which is typical on Sundays, when the whole community gets to be together all at once and hear the current news.  Deacon Lawrence announced that the Cardinal of Durban has mandated that every parish (even outstations like St. Leo's) contribute monetarily to the Haitian relief effort.  I was really touched, because the people of St. Leo's, who typically would be the ones on the receiving end of aid requests, emitted such a generous spirit.
After evening mass at Kloof last night, a group of young adults from the parish invited us back to one of their houses for pizza and beer.  It was a really lovely evening, and the four of us here were quite glad to make connections with South Africans our age who hopefully will show us around a bit!  Our lives here in Botha's Hill, besides work and errands, will be quite isolated, as it isn't safe for the four of us to venture out, even in the light of day.

Our AV international director, Pat, is here with us until Wednesday.  He was a volunteer when the South Africa program began, and he's been such a great source of information about work, recreation, and general other aspects of life here.  After he leaves, the four of us will really be on our own-- driving on the opposite side of the road, handling our monthly budget, and making connections with people at our individual worksites all by ourselves.  I can't wait to start working, though we haven't had a chance to learn much Zulu yet and I'd really like to be able to speak a little when I get to St. Leo's.  I'm sure that will come with time.

So, to recap:
- new computer
- photos of 8 Warwickshire Crescent
- valley vs. hills
- Sunday routine
- excited to start working

Apologies for the rambling, but my mind is all muddled and I want to get everything out so I don't forget anything.

Salani kahle!
(May you stay well)