Class Assignment: Write about how you spent your Thanksgiving Holiday.

This Thanksgiving was one of the best that I think I've had, because I was able to experience the true meaning behind the holiday: Sharing with others. My roommate and I hosted a couple of our fellow Peace Corps Volunteers/good friends up for the weekend, unfortunately, however, our really good friend lost his gogo the week before. We didn't think that we would be able to hold dinner this weekend, because we wanted to support him in his time of need. As I was telling my friends about this dilemma, they suggested that they come anyway, because it is always interesting to experience traditions other than your own...that's what we signed up for by joining the Peace Corps, right? Due to transportation issues, only one person was able to get to here in time enough to leave for the Friday night vigil.

We arrived at Saziso's house at about 5:30 pm, because at 6:00pm, a horn was sounded off to announce the arrival of the casket. As the hurst backed into the driveway, people formed two lines on either side of the walk way, holding candles and singing hymns. The casket was ushered into a bedroom in the main house by several of the many male family members in town for the funeral. Prayers were said, hymns were sung, and there was a great deal of waling took place. Following this portion of the service, people went back to their various activities: cooking in large black pots (because the family provides food to visitors from Friday to just after the funeral on Saturday); chatting; praying; playing around (for the many children); etc.

At about 7:oopm, people started gathering under the tent, which was set up in the front yard, for an all night prayer session/revival. Prior to that starting, plates of pap (corn meal) and tripe were distributed to funeral attendees. Tripe is apparently a customary part of a pre-funeral meal, because a cow is usually slaughtered for the event and the rest of the meat is served at the funeral. My friend and I, along with at least 40 other people sang, listen to the service, danced, etc. My friend Saziso, in addition to being many other things, including a sangoma, is a preacher. So it was very interesting to see him in a different light. It was cool to meet the other preachers that he worked with, as well as a few of his sangoma friends. What an interesting contrast (or at least in my opinion). However, instead of conflicting with one another, the two lines seemed to fit seamlessly together.

Because I've yet to master the "6 to 6" (We've covered this already, remember? Well you would if you've been keeping up with my blog!), periodically, my friend and I would take a nap. I guess you wouldn't really call it a nap, because what seemed like every 5 minutes, Saziso or one of his friends/relatives would come in, turn on the lights, shake us and say "Are you asleep? You should go to sleep!" Thanks guys! We would also be rattled awake if anything particularly interesting happened, like when all of the chairs were moved from the tent, and church goers started to rotate around an invisible center piece, like the moon does around the earth.

Finally, at about 4:30 am or 5:00 am, things started to get somewhat quiet as people started to fall asleep, just to be up by 6:00 am for the funeral. When we "woke up", the day's frenzy was in full swing, and the church service had already commenced. The women were feverishly cooking and serving people. The men were talking and chopping wood for the fire. My friend and I, after the church service ended, followed the crowd and hopped into one of the taxis that had been arranged for the occasion. A short ride to the grave site was followed by a short grave-side sermon, lots of singing and drum playing. Once the service was over, we went back to Saziso's house to eat.

After we returned home, we were able to reunite with our other long lost friends who we hadn't seen in a few months. Being with my friends was like taking a long breath of fresh air. It was great to be able to share my life at site with them. We ate, cooked (we'll get to the menu later), laughed, looked at pictures, watched a few episodes of the first season of the Cosby Show (thanks mom from all of us), told funny stories, and took a much needed trip to the town pool. While at the pool, one of my friends began talking to the lifeguard who was trying his best to hit on her. He said that he had seen me around with a friend of mine. I asked him if I had to date someone at the pool to get in free. I was relieved when he said no, but was told that, next time, just ask for K (I'm protecting my source)! A free dip in the pool anyone?

After coming back from swimming, we did more of the cooking (which didn't seem to end until about an hour after our other friends had arrived). Our appetizer was freshly made salsa and chips. For dinner, we cooked green beans, baked beans, mac & cheese from scratch, a whole chicken and turkey with a garlic and sage base, garlic rolls, pumpkin squash, our famous potato dish, mealies (corn) on the cob, and for dessert, I made my first ever carrot cake with cream cheese frosting. Another friend made his/her delicious apple pie. Yummmmmmmmm!

Tshepo, Saziso, and several of Saziso's relatives (particularly his very attractive older brother Tshepo (don't be jealous girls...you know who you are!) ) and friends came over to share in our Thanksgiving meal. Prior to eating, we gathered around the kitchen island and told the story and tradition behind Thanksgiving. Then we all went around and said what we were thankful for. At first, I thought that might be a bit corny, but it turned out to be the most touching moment for all of us. Our South African friends had only seen/heard about the holiday on T.V. They were all so excited to take part in our festivities, just as we've (PCVs) been to take part in theirs. For the PCVs, that small (or large) part of us that was homesick on this particular holiday was relieved because we were together with old friends and new!

Once people were fat and full, all hell broke loose and we had a great time singing, dancing, laughing, and talking! There was a nice mix of popular South African music (Sista Bethina, the song about meeting the love of your life at the taxi rank, "O nwa, O nwa, O nwa", Dankie my bebeza, and other favorites), American music, and Michael Jackson music (a class of its own). One of my SA friends is a BIG Michael Jackson fan...my fellow PCV won his heart by having a more extensive collection than I do...in fact the whole night, they were wrestling with each other to get to the music fast enough to play their favorite MJ song! Hmmmm. We ended the night with babalas!

The next morning, everyone woke up, said our sad goodbyes until the next time, and the PCV/South African gang headed off to the taxi rank. Saying goodbye at the taxi rank, might I add, is not as romantic as when it's done at a train station, even at the airport. Maybe it's the whole mugging thing you're worried about. Maybe it's that you can't avoid smelling the aroma of rotting food or chicken feet roasting on the spit. So, I digressed a bit...sue me!

After putting my friends on the taxi, I jumped on another one with Tshepo, Saziso, and Montle, headed out to Saziso's...for more "holiday" fun. When I got there, we hung out, chatted, talked, and laughed. Ok...so I'm about to digress again...ready? So I hang out with people who love to drink beer, Castle Lite in particular. Because I don't drink beer and there is always a plethora of beer caps, I need something to entertain myself, right? Saziso dared me at one point to see if I was strong enough to bend bottle caps with the force between my thumb and pointer finger. Let's just say that I more than won the bet. It's become a habit, an addiction of sorts. For the whole of Sunday, Saziso's hot older brother Tshepo picked up on my habit and began to hand bottle caps to me without even thinking about it. At one point, I took a nap because I was exhausted. When I woke up, the thought crossed my mind about what was done with the caps collected while I was asleep. A few minutes later, Tshepo said, "Oh, I've got something for you." He had been saving all of the bottle caps for me...I smiled...ah, the spirit of giving was still in the air! Saziso later told me that he had been bending the caps until Tshepo realized it, and playfully yelled at him for taking the caps he was saving for me...see how they look out!

So, I'm back now...I was sitting with everyone in Saziso's room, when he walked in and called everyone to the front yard where three piles of clothes were resting under the tent. The clothes were his gogo's. The family members remaining after the funeral sat around the tent in silence, facing the front door of the house. The matriarchs of the family were led one-by-one to kneel in the door frame. One gogo (grandmother) took a razor and shaved a small piece of hair from the temples and the nape of each daughter. Another gogo collected it. This is one way to show that you are mourning the loss of someone. Every relative in the family is expected to wear a small blue sash pinned on their shirt sleeve every day for a few months, to show that they're mourning.

Once that ceremony was over, we went back to hanging out, watching movies, talking, and laughing. I was telling some of the men in Saziso's family about the many names I've been giving since I've been here: Lerato Machinini and Zanele (Za Za for short). Because I've somehow endeared myself to this family, Saziso's uncle (the man of the house) gave me a new name: Lebogang (Appreciated) Kototsi. Just now, my friend Tshepo said that, because Saziso's initials are SSK, I need a middle name...Lorraine...don't ask me why this one was chosen! So my full name is Lebogang Lorraine Kototsi (LLK). Call me Totsi for short!

In summary (don't you hate it when people include "in summary" in their concluding paragraph?), I really had a great time this weekend! I'm sure that this weekend will last in the minds of my friends (both South African and American) for a long time, forever for me!

THE END

E is for Intelligence

Just now, I was sitting with LifeLine counselors in the training room at my office, waiting for a guest speaker to arrive so that we could watch a demonstration on how to use the Orasure HIV test kit. Some of the local mines have requested that our organization temporarily supply them with individuals trained in HIV voluntary testing and counseling (VCT). While waiting, we were instructed to go around the room, share one word on how you're feeling, and words that are associated with the letters in our name. When it came to me...well...it went all down hill.

My feeling: O sharp (aka. "I'm cool"...even though that's not a "LifeLine feeling"...I used it anyway).

D-Dimonate (Delicious...my Setswana speaking friends think I'm crazy for that one...because it refers to foods...or something perhaps a little naughty in the Batswana context)
A-Attentive
N- Naughty (In a South African context, that means precotious...Rodha supplied me with that one)
I-Inspiring
E- Intelligent...........(Yeah, I didn't really pass the 1st grade...I made nice nice with the lovely people at Emory so that they would give me my Master's degree. As soon as it came out of my mouth...I knew that I was wrong...the only thing to do was to laugh at myself! And boy, did I laugh! The funniest thing about it is that no one else got it...except Elayna...and she laughed at me too...so from now on, E is for Intelligence)
L- Laughable (for my many, many bloopers)
L-Lovable
E-Embarrassed!

Takin' it back to the old school...in Bapong

(Pictured: Me, Saso, and cousins)

A comment on South African taxis...

First, I must define for you what I mean by taxi, a South African taxi to be more specific. Imagine one of those VW vans...you know the ones I'm talking about...they're often identified with the 1960's, hippies, Woodstock, and free love...yeah, that one...that's what South African taxis look like.

Imagine how loud your 16 year-old brother/cousin/son/nephew/friend might play music in the car right after he received his driver's licence and got to take it out for a spin for the first time alone with four of his friends. You can actually hear the car before you see it. That's how loud taxis are.

Here's a little interactive portion for you: If you know anyone with a mini-van (although a mini-van is too nice compared to a taxi), ask them if you and more than a few strangers can borrow if for about 30 mintues (that's long enough). Gather a group of about 15 people you don't know (who may or may not have taken a bath, potentially have an open wound, not use deoderant yet worked a 15 hour day in 98.6 degree weather, who is carrying about ten bags of groceries and expects you to carry at least 3 of them on your lap, and who might be lactating and will expose you to the maternal process of breast feeding), and sit in the van without the air conditioner on and with only one window cracked.

There must be 4 people in the back row, and at least three people in the other three rows. On the front bench seat, it's the driver, a fairly attractive (or not) young female in the middle (so the taxi driver has someone to hit on for the entire ride, or until she gets out), and another stranger next to the young woman.

Try being the person who sits in the last row next to the window. Now get out of the taxi without anyone kindly moving out of your way.

A Couple Of Things You Might Experience:

On our first trip to Thlabane, to visit our friend Saziso and other co-workers, Elayna and I were given not-so-specific directions to give to the taxi driver, in hopes of getting dropped off on the correct street. Well, the directions, plus our language deficiency seemed like they'd get in the way of actually making it to our intended destination. A call was placed on my phone to Saziso, but after several attempts, things weren't getting any more clear. The phone was then passed to the young lady sitting next to us, in hopes that she might help point us in the right direction. After a 7 minute conversation, she didn't seem any more clear than we were, so without a word, the phone was passed up to the driver (via everyone in the taxi). After a 5 minute conversation, the phone was passed back to me...we arrived safe and sound...a big "THANKS" is in order to all of those ananomyous taxi patrons!

Last weekend, I, along with Elayna, Tshepo, and Saziso took the last taxi headed to Bapong, to visit Tshepo's "compound" (that's for you manqane). After about five minutes out of the taxi rank, a man seated near the back had a loud conversation with the driver. Saso immediately started laughing. We were soon to find out that we were making a short detour to the driver's house...so he could pick up his gun. I'm thinking about going over to his house, now that I know where he lives, and pay a visit to him and his family...I feel a special bond with him...I feel like we met, had a first date, and met the family all in one night...

FOR MORE ON TAXIS AND OTHER SORTED THOUGHTS, VISIT: TOO MUCH TAXI (A big SHOUT OUT to Elayna's friends! I feel like I've had too much taxi too!)

After the storm....

Currently where I am, it's technically "rainy season", yet up until last week or so, there's been little to no rain. Last week, it rained and poured for a few hours, but generally cleared up by evening time. Last Friday, I was hoping to spend the evening on my balcony, reading, eating and sipping on a cold beverage, instead I was first treated to a visual dessert! The sky was overcaste, the sun was setting, and it was just the right temperature. As I was simultaniously reading my current book (Not without laughter, by Langston Hughes) and stuffing a piece of garlic bread in my mouth (courtesy of my neighborhood SuperSpar), something caught my attention: the color of the sky and the seemingly complete stillness around me. The sky was the most amazing mixture of blues and intense yellow. Over the course of the next two hours, the sky evolved into a meadly of pinks, oranges, yellows and reds. All I could do was sit in amazement as I was treated to what seemed like an experimental art show in the sky. I took pictures but it was truly a "you had to be there" moment. Enjoy the pictures anyway, however keeping in mind that it was a zillion times better in the moment.

On living with a PCV...

Sure, I've had roommates before. My freshman year at Spelman College, I had a roommate. My junior year, I had three roommates (six or seven if you counted boyfriends). From senior year in college until after grad school, my best friend Loopy should have paid half of the rent, utilities, and food for as much as he stayed over. Nothing, thus far, has seemed to compare to living with my current roommate/friend/fellow PCV- Elayna.

Elayna has an unusual obsession with cheese. On several occassions, she has assured me that, amongst her friends, she is not so bad. Sure, I like cheese (Cheddar, Feta, Blue Cheese, etc.), but I never really cared about it one way or the other. Ok, well, I lied. I guess I do have something for cheese, particularly when I'm eating certain foods. There was that one time, when I was very young and my grandfather came for a visit. He took me and my brother to Wendy's, stood in a very long line, and ordered a cheeseburger for me. When our order arrived at the table, I was hurt to find that there was no cheese on my burger; a necessary ingredient for the perfect burger! I proceeded to throw a hissy-fit in the middle of the store, and threw it down, insisting that it just wouldn't do. (Ok, I feel a sense of confusion and judgement in your eyes. I know I'm talking about living with a PCV...but it's a nice tangent. Plus, I really wasn't a brat growing up...I promise...don't judge me!). I grew out of the whole cheese thing, but living with Elayna has made me very aware of my daily cheese intake. Cheese is included in just about every dish I eat. F.Y.I. the Super Spar has a nice selection.

Elayna and I think about food a lot. Maybe this is due to the fact that, while in Pre-Service Training, we didn't really have much control over what we ate...we were thrown into a paradigm where pap and chicken feet are king. Additionally, for the first few weeks here, we had to go grocery shopping very frequently, because we had no refrigerator. Tragic, I know. We talk about food to our U.S. family and friends (I've had Cheez-its, Reeses Buttercups, toco kits, etc. sent to me), with each other, and with our co-workers. We talk about food so much at work that I think they think we have eating disorders. They say, "Oh my gosh! Man, you're always hungry."

We've even started to dress alike. This morning, we were busy getting ready for work. I tried on different outfits, first putting on my beige pants and collar shirt. That was cool, but it just wasn't the one. (I'm sure you've had that experience before). I finally decided on blue slacks (to add that professional touch), a light blue collar shirt, black shoes and belt. Five minutes before work was to start, we both walked out of our respective rooms to head out on our three minute treck to work. To our surprise and amuzment, we were wearing the exact same outfit and matching color combination...are we starting to morph into the same person? Luckly, we work at a counseling organization, so if need be, we can get face-to-face, couples counseling.