saying "siyabonga".

Happy Thanksgiving!  While we won't be celebrating with a big turkey dinner until Saturday, I've been thinking a lot today about being thankful, and how unbelievable it is that Thanksgiving is upon us once again.

It's one of my favourite holidays, though a relatively new addition to the Cloughley Repertoire of Excuses for Massive Eating.  When we first moved to the US, Thanksgiving was a foreign concept and an excuse to take the few days' off from school or work to visit somewhere we hadn't seen yet: Chesapeake Bay, the Virgin Islands, Colonial Williamsburg.  There was also the memorable year when Dad attempted to serve pheasant to our not-yet-developed palates.  As the years passed and my parents' collection of fellow ex-pat friends grew, we gathered at someone's house for a dinner in the late afternoon, replacing our extended family with similarly isolated immigrants.

But then we returned to our comfortably insular selves, and the past few years have seen Thanksgiving morph into a family celebration all our own.  Our day usually consists of serving lunch at the Trenton Area Soup Kitchen, then lolling around with a few glasses of wine while the turkey cooks, followed by dinner and more wine, then falling asleep to our latest Netflix in the basement.  At dinnertime, each person goes around and mentions something for which he or she is thankful.

Last Thanksgiving feels so long ago, but here I am, one year later, eating samp and beans for dinner... and through the haze of my end-of-school-term exhaustion, feeling very thankful.

Things For Which I Am Thankful (or Will Be In 13 Days) 2010:

1.  The post-volunteer luxury it will be to be able to say No

2.  The ability of my family to remain loving and such an unbelievable comfort to me no matter where we happen to be

3.  Every single child at St. Leo's for bringing a love into my life that I didn't know existed (and that I didn't know my heart was capable of containing)

4.  My faith

5.  Insoles for running shoes that give them a new lease on life when new shoes are out of my financial reach

6.  The Great Avocado Saturation of South Africa

7.  Every letter, card, mix CD, and bag of coffee I got (or got lost) via mail this year

8.  My health and the health of everyone I love

9.  Skype

10.  The ability to read and write, and other advantages of a good education

I think I'm still thankful for the ways I felt blessed prior to this year, but it is the overlooked privileges that I appreciate today.  As the Zulus would say, Siyabonga Baba.

Enjoy your turkey/tofurkey!

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smooth criminals.

St. Theresa's often has little assemblies for parents, foster parents, and caregivers who come to collect the boys when it's time for holidays.  Back in March, before the beginning of Easter break, my boys in Cottage 4 prepared this little number for a rapt audience.  After lots of rehearsing and covering their left hands in glitter to look like a glove, they took to the stage.
From left to right: Bheki, Sihle, Khumbulani, Philani, Llewellyn, and Eugene... and Michael Jackson of course.









It may not be Thriller, but it's as close to a Halloween post as I could come-- springtime in South Africa is not exactly festive for today's celebrations.  Happy Halloween, ghouls and goblins!


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warm fuzzies.

1.  discovering that some of the Koki pens (markers) we've been using at school are smelly ones!

2.  chick lit set in philadelphia

3.  cheese & wine before wednesday dinners with the augustinians next door

4.  being a robot sister with niamh and meg

5.  mrs h.s. balls chutney

6.  playing dress-up with the babies at st theresa's (especially sfiso, pictured above)

7.  the moment every day when philane in grade 6 asks me to "have a dinner" with him on friday

8.  FINALLY hearing grade 4 ask "please may i borrow" instead of "please borrow me a pencil"

9.  (big) sfiso's pencil sketches

10.  unexpected letters in the mail

Today, I'm happy.  I told you South Africa makes me mental.



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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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that's not the humidity you feel... it's AYOBA!

Today is the shortest day of the year... or the longest, depending on the hemisphere.  Down here, the sun set around 5pm and the thought of the days getting longer gives me a lot of joy.
Though the South African winter is heavenly, the short days sometimes make me feel like hibernating... which is what I did for the majority of last week, when my annual bout of coughing, sneezing, and general unhealthiness took over.  Those kind of symptoms usually rear their ugly heads come October at home (my brief encounter with pneumonia last year?  Anyone?)-- which makes me right on schedule, on southern hemisphere time of course.  Luckily, with some rest and TLC from my roommates, the World Cup holiday provided an excellent opportunity for recuperation.  As a bonus, I also got to spend some quality time with the Fitzpatricks, our longtime family friends.  They're here in South Africa to see some World Cup matches and to revisit a country they left behind back when my parents left, so it was really nice to have an adopted family for a little while.  They stayed at a friend's house in Umhlanga Rocks, a northern suburb of Durban that I hadn't visited yet, so I enjoyed seeing another part of the city.

The World Cup has been a very unique aspect to being my year as an Augustinian Volunteer here in South Africa thus far.  It's colored everything I've done, from geography lessons at St. Leo's to weekend plans to rearranged schedules and new safety precautions.  Though I was apprehensive about South Africa's readiness to host such a massive event, and though I still have some reservations about the impression that people who visit are getting of this country, I've been overwhelmingly impressed by the festivities thus far.  It hasn't been easy to be away from the kids we see five days a week ordinarily, but the sense of celebration that has taken over the city, the country, and most likely the world at large, is hard to ignore.  Even if "Wave Your Flag" and "Waka Waka" are played on repeat on the radio (or at clubs in Durban), I still feel a wave of emotion when they come on during half-time down at the fan parks on the beach.  I'm happy to deck myself out in South African gear for Bafana Bafana games, or drape myself in red, white, and blue to see the US play.

Meeting people from all over has been an amazing experience as well, especially when we get asked, "Oh, are you here for the World Cup?"  Though they could be pure social interactions, these encounters offer us an opportunity to explain our work here, and just last weekend we met a Yale graduate who is also a full-time volunteer, up north in Mtubatuba; his organization uses soccer as a vehicle for HIV/AIDS education in the bush.

It's hard to be a volunteer with a full-time job when the rest of the country seems to be on vacation; the influx of visitors to Durban alone have really boosted the energy of the city, and it's made it very difficult to return to our jobs come Monday.  Today was the first day of the holiday program we're offering to our learners at St. Leo's, and after a restless night last night and feeling generally apathetic about the prospect of working this week, I was so happy to see some of my students and spend the day with them, playing soccer, doing word searches, and feeling relieved knowing that at least some of them were keeping themselves occupied during this extra-long break from school.  Becca was a star and led the kids in a paper mache project which they all loved!  The camp will continue for the rest of this week and next week as well, and we've been assured that the numbers of kids will only increase over time.  It's nice to interact with our learners outside of a teacher/student relationship.  I only hope they'll remember who the teacher is when July 13th rolls around!

All in all, I continue to hope that this World Cup will result in more positive than negative for South Africa.  I'm nervous at the prospect of all the jobs that have been created for the month-long event becoming obsolete, and reports of missing children in some of the areas we work in have started to surface, but I hope that they come from misinformation and are no more than rumor.
In the meantime, all we can do is make an effort to keep the people we serve safe and happy, and let the rest of the month unfold as it will... and maybe enjoy a little ayoba on the side.

worth 1000 words...

the god of small things.

Sometimes, it's in the smallest ways that you realize someone is looking out for you after all.

Found by Becca, taken while camping in Scottsburgh this weekend.

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.