Amagluglug v.s. Nigeria

One of the things that I most appreciate about being in Rustenburg, is that every once in a while, Olympia Park Stadium hosts soccer matches...for FREE! Free is definitely in my Peace Corps entertainment budget. So, after work on Wednesday, I headed to the stadium and got there before it completely filled to capacity, because the first few thousand attendees were promised a free vuzella (horn, sp?). Instead, the crowd received South African flags, but not as exciting as the vuzella (a soccer match requisite). Actually, this was nice for me as I've yet to get one (which will end up being one luck person's "gift" when I return home).



Since I'm not a soccer fan, I can't really say much for the game, with the exception that the score was tied when I left. One of the funniest aspects of my experience was during the pre-game entertainment, when a group of about 10 cheerleaders came out in their yellow crop tops and green spandex shorts. Prior to them coming out, everyone in the mostly male audience was jumping around, waving their flags in support of their team. Once the girls came out on the field with their hot pants on and started dancing to "The Thong Song" by Sisco, it was as if I'd suddenly gone from a crazy sports event to church. I couldn't believe (well, actually I could) how different the atmosphere was. Not a person was standing. All eyes were bobbing up and down, from side to side in tune with exposed hips and thighs. I couldn't help from laughing and discussing my observation with Saziso. He said that if anyone were to stand up and start waving their flag, blocking someone's view, they would get yelled at. Fans were just as serious about watching this spectacle as they were about their team winning.

Another thing that I noticed was a relatively attractive man with a beard. For some reason, I kept staring at this man, because something about him seemed to stand out from every other guy I see on a daily basis, and it wasn't because he was cute. After a few seconds, I realized that it was, in fact, the beard that made him stand out. I have not really noticed men around these parts, or in other parts of South Africa with beards, other than older Afrikaner men. I asked Saziso (South Africa according to Saziso) about how Black people might perceive the man, because he had chosen to do something that made him stand out from the crowd. (I phrase it that way, because, to a certain extent, it seems to not be viewed upon highly if you do anything to make yourself too different than the norm or makes you stand out in any way). I was told that people might/would judge him, because he would be perceived as "wanting too much attention".

Well, I can't think of anything else particularly exciting about the event, but I did have lots of fun hanging out with my friends and it was a nice way to celebrate Hump Day!

If you're actually curious about the game, click on this link: Amagluglug show Bafana how it's done

TB, Twobob, 2Bob, 2B, 2B or not 2B, Bob Bob, Double B, Double Bob, 20 cents

Couchin' Bob

2BClose

I'm ready Captain, put me in....

For the past year, with the exception for a couple of weeks at a time, my site mate and I have been relatively stuck with little to do. Of course, a great deal of the job description of a Peace Corps Volunteer is to rely heavily on your own level of motivation and creativity to get the job done regardless of: limited resources, lack of management, lack of direction (from your org/school or boss), lack of this, and lack of that. One of the ways I've kept from going crazy, because of the lack of direction from my supervisor, is to have an active social life and find other ways to put my degrees/education/experience to work. (For those of you considering joining the Peace Corps with an advance degree and expect that it will be used to the fullest extent, you need to rethink your expectations for service and be ok with the situation if it is not) Be creative.

Well, after several meetings over the past year, in preparation to receive a $500,000.00 grant from PEPFAR, and an extensive planning meeting today, it looks like my restlessness will be no more, or at least not for the next couple of months, because our extended mobile VCT services should be up and running by October. (that was a loooong sentence. My English teacher would not be proud.) I will be responsible for developing the Monitoring & Evaluation (M&E) system for the project. That means I would kind of be like Santa Clause when he makes his list and checks it twice to keep tabs on the kids (through out the year) who are naughty and nice. But unlike Santa, I'd have to write a monthly report to our funder, and make changes when things are going well. With Santa, if he thought you needed to change your behavior, you just wouldn't get that red wagon with the wings on the sides. I will also be involved with budget management, as well as developing an HIV prevention strategy and identify curricula that address HIV and behavior change on the community level. Additionally, I'll be involved with HIV training and writing up a policies and procedures booklet for the project as it relates to how things and people should run.

Because I'll be so heavily involved in M&E, I'm planning to take a brush-up online course in program evaluation. If you're interested in M&E and want to do the same or learn, follow the link to my mother's organization: Tobacco Technical Assistance Consortium
The course is distance (computer) based, so you can participate from anywhere in the world, like me! (Shameful family plug, but I don't care, it's by blog!)

I really hope that things turn out well, although they usually do (knock on wood). I'm ready to jump in and get my mind running at top speed again. Since I've been relatively inactive at work, I feel like that little girl in my head has been running around up there, tossing around papers and files that have been kept so neatly organized. It's time to do a Spring cleaning or sorts (which is fitting because the weather is warming up again...it was 26 degrees C today) and prepare for the major tasks ahead! Wish me luck!!!!!!!!

Dildo update

Just as I expected, thus far, the dildos that my friend sent me have been a hit, particularly with the female counselors! On Friday, I met up with four of the counselors who regularly go out on the mobile testing unit, in order to introduce the new educational tool and to have them refresh their condom demonstration skills. As soon as I walked into the meeting room with the brown box and a packet of condoms, everyone became giddy and could hardly sit still. Before introducing the dildos, however, I had to talk to them about the "Dildo Sign-In/Sign-Out Sheet". I told them, as they already seemed to know, about how expensive the dildos are and how our organization will not be able to afford to replace them if they happen to "disappear". Each dildo is numbered, so when a counselor wants to use one (for educational purposes only), they must write down the corresponding dildo number, etc., etc., etc. Somehow, I don't think that anyone hear what I had to say. To them, I must have sounded like the teacher in the Charlie Brown cartoon. Shame! After giving my little speech about taking responsibility for them if they're "lost", damaged, or stolen, we got to the part they were all waiting for: each one of them was handed a "life like" dildo of varying "skin" tones. It took a good twenty minutes for the ladies to calm down after noticing the texture, colors, veins, etc. Once we got that covered, one lady demonstrated how to correctly guide someone on how to use a condom. Each person gave tips on how to improve on the demonstration, although everyone in the group knows how to do it properly (teach someone how to use a condom that is). After the meeting, it took serious restraint for them not to run around the office with dildos, showing them off to other counselors!

Fast foward to today, one of the counselors on the mobile came into my office before heading out for the day, and told me that she told her husband about the dildos and said "to hell" with him! I told her not to have her husband coming to me complaining!

Sankofa (knowing where you've been so that you can move forward)

A couple of months ago, my resident Peace Corps Safety & Security guy invited me to speak with the new trainees about unwanted attention. Although I don't really think that I've experienced much unwanted attention, other than having a few old and young men grabbing my arm, which really freaked me out, I thought it would be cool to meet and greet the people who are now where I was a year ago. When we first pulled up (on Sunday) to the orientation hall where trainees meet up for technical sessions, we ran into a two guys, who from the moment we saw them, looked like the prototypical trainee (other than being two white guys in middle of a town only composed of Black people). Their white tennis shoes looked like they were fresh out of the box. Their clothes were not yet worn down and tattered from Omo and hand washings. They had sunshiny faces, not yet weighed down by the emotional roller coaster that is Peace Corps service. They weren't yet jaded by bureaucracy (PC and South African), frustrations over teachers who are too lazy to teach, NGO directors with a serious case of founders syndrome, corruption, HIV related death and illness, etc. They haven't yet been inspired by people who seem to make a way out of no way. The questions they posed were full of anxiety and excitement about fitting into their respective communities. If some how Peace Corps or myself as a volunteer could give them a detailed outline of what things were going to be like for them over the next two years, they might have taken it, read it, reread it, highlighted special points, and would have written a list of additional questions they want to have answered.

At one point, I, along with LaQuita, another African American volunteer, had the opportunity to meet up with several of the African American female trainees, to talk about some of the issues that were specific to the "African American experience" in Peace Corps. They expressed some of the same feelings and concerns about the needs and experiences of African American people that are not addressed by Peace Corps during training (and during service I might argue) that LaQuita and I did when we were in their place. They were frustrated that, while some trainees were treated like rock stars in a village (because it is rare and almost unheard of for a White person or someone who is perceived by them as White, to take an intimate interest in their lives), people in the village judged them because they were Black and couldn't speak the language. Some people they encountered called them coconuts (black on the outside, white on the inside) because it was thought that the Black volunteers were really just South Africans who studied abroad and forgot their culture. They were concerned that Peace Corps prepared trainees with an assumption of "whiteness", that everyone's experience would be similar based on the fact that the majority of volunteers are white and because PC has limited experience with the understanding of and dealing with the complexities that a darker skin tone can play in shaping one's Peace Corps experience. Peace Corps doesn't tell you and maybe can't prepare you for the mountain of emotions a Black volunteer may experience after hearing an older, Black woman being called "girl." How can you be prepared to see a Black man riding in the back of a pickup truck in the cold and rain while there is only one person (a White man or woman) riding in the cab? Can Peace Corps tell you that the only way some South Africans, Black or otherwise, know how to greet you is by calling you a "nigger." America has a similar ugly experience with race, discrimination, and inequity. In America, however, we like to pretend that those things don't exist. You're told that "we" weren't responsible for what happened to you; time has passed, you should just "get over it"; etc. While serving in PC South Africa, volunteers are place in situations that mirror what some people with a darker hue (not just African Americans) in America went through in the past and are still going through today, yet have the inability or unwillingness to realize the same or similar reality on their own home soil. These particular trainees found that they lacked being able to commiserate with trainees of other ethnic backgrounds, because they simply "could not understand". They were frustrated at how their fellow trainees looked at them in judgment for making this experience a "black v.s. white", when that's not the point at all, but rather wanting to be recognized rather than being lumped in with the majority. After speaking with our kindred, LaQuita and I recognized the need to serve as a support system for them like we were a support for each other. Additionally, we realized how far we had come, but how we have a long road ahead.

Wathint' Abafazi Wathint' imbokodo!

The English translation: "Now that you have touched the women, you have struck a rock!"

Tomorrow, I, along with South Africans, will commemorate the day, August 9, 1956, when thousands of women marched through the streets of Pretoria to the Union Building, carrying a petition with hundreds of thousands of signatures. The petition was against the proposed amendment to the 1950 Group Areas Act, commonly known as the pass laws, which, amongst other things, restricted the movement of Black men in "white only" areas. The amendment aimed to force Black women to carry pass books as well. Up until that point, only Black men above the age of 15 were required to carry around a "dompas" (dumb pass) with information including ID number, "homeland" (areas designated for specific ethnic groups, i.e. amaZulu, amaXhosa, Batswana), age, race, etc. These passes were to be carried around at all times and the carrier was required to presented it upon request. Passes also detailed whether or not the individual was allowed to move through and work in "with only" areas.

While so much as changed within South Africa to improve the lives of women, there is still so much to be done to increase women's political, social, and economic standing. Events to celebrate this day will be going on all throughout the country.

Although you may not be in South Africa tomorrow to take part in this wonderful day, you can still take the time to reflect on the impact that women have made in your life. If you are a woman, be proud that you have the power to create and just be. Each one of us can do our own part by ensuring that when we witness or are even aware of injustice directed at women (i.e. rape, domestic abuse, stalking, harassment of all forms, degradation, belittlement, sexual abuse, psychological abuse, manipulation, economic and social abuse, poverty, legal disempowerment, etc.) and do nothing, you become part of the problem instead of the solution.

Amandla!

Post backlog blues!

One of my mother's friends, Michelle, is one of my primary blog followers. When I don't post enough (or my recent overindulgence of posting too much about Twobob), I get a complaint from Michelle via my mother. So Michelle, I just wanted to apologize about not posting enough and for not posting enough interesting stuff. I guess that I've grown so accustomed to the things going around me (cause this is my regular life after all), I forget that, what may be interesting to you seems humdrum to me. In order to make up for where I've slacked off, I'd like to tell you about a few of the highlights of my life that I haven't written about on my blog...they're not necessarily in order. Please sista girl, forgive me!


June 16th: Youth Day







On June 16, 1976, primarily Black South African students planned a peaceful protest to raise awareness of their issues with the Bantu education system, which was enacted under the apartheid regime. Similar to the poor quality of education provided by the government to African Americans in the US at that time (and arguably a similar poor quality of education that still exists today for these same cohorts...in both South Africa and America), Black South African students endured poorly trained teachers, over worked teachers, poor/out of date/not enough resources, etc. Again, similarly, the government tried to rationalize the idea that separate is indeed equal. WRONG. (Side Note: I recognize that it is not completely fair to compare the struggle of one group to another. We have each fought our own battles. I just can't help but to see my face in the mirror, so to speak.) Another blow to South African students was the forcing, by the government, to require that all students learn Afrikaans, the language spoken by the ruling party. Many of the teachers didn't understand Afrikaans, yet were expected to teach the subject to their students. Destined to fail. Doesn't it make sense to make it easy for you, if you are in charge, to make your subservients speak your language...so you can tell them how you want your kitchen floors cleaned?

Well, instead of being the peaceful protest that it was intended to be, the police fired guns, dogs were released, and tear gas was sprayed into the crowd of unarmed students. Many people were injured, several died. The face of the June 16th massacre is Hector Peterson, a 12 year old student who was apparently the first person killed.

Because the events are so thoroughly written about, I'll leave the rest of the story telling to the experts.

"How does this relate to you? This is completely random!" is what you're probably thinking, so I won't keep you waiting. On June 16th, in honor of the lives lost and the continuation of the struggle, it is customary (at least in Rustenburg) to wear your school uniform. My friend Saziso clued me in on the event after he started digging through his closet to find his old school outfit. His searching had a domino effect on the rest of his family, so everyone started looking for theirs too. Soon enough, his siblings and his mother were all dressed up. His younger brother Tapelo (16 years old) really got into it and put on his younger brother's school shorts...talk about cutters... Saziso's mom brushed her hair in the style of the day: the "fly-away". Interesting. Can't say that I'd wear it.

The whole event was so funny and so much fun to witness, particularly Tapelo and his short shorts which he wore the whole day. As I hoped on the taxi home, I sat looking out of the window as people in the location (new word for township) walked around in their school uniforms. Although watching an entire family dress up in too tight, too short school uniforms, the purpose of the day was not lost on me or any one else. Respecting the strength of those whose shoulders you stand on is the only way to move forward.

The Day I Saw A Man Get Hit By A Car!!!!!

When some people think about South Africa, visiting South Africa, or let their loved one join Peace Corps South Africa, after asking themselves: "So what country in South Africa will you be going to", they think of violence. Yes, South Africa can be dangerous, but living in Chicago can be crazy dangerous too! I've personally never been harmed (knock on a big piece of wood), but I do know of volunteers who have been mugged and such. For me, however, the time I feel most unsafe is every day...serving as a pedestrian in this great land. To me, walking across the street (or side walk or any other place a car can fit) is the most dangerous and unsafe aspect of my life here. Drivers speed, don't respect traffic signals (robots as they're called here), stop signs, cross walks, side walks, don't drink and drive campaigns, speed limits, hazardous driving conditions, they don't take care of their cars, over load cars, etc.) Some drivers take pleasure at speeding up when they see you crossing the street, just to see you run. I really could go on and on and on and on...and if you catch me on one of those days, trust me, I will!

I can't remember the exact date (which is the problem with not keeping up with the blog), but I was walking down the major street in Rustenburg (Nelson Mandela) returning from lunch, when all of a sudden, I hear a loud screeching noise. I was annoyed, which I generally am by cars here. All of a sudden, as though it were out of a movie, an SUV type vehicle came up near my right side and I saw a rather heavy set man flip over the hood of the car as though he was a rag doll. I could not believe my eyes! The man was lying on the ground in the most awkward position I'd ever seen a person in. What I expected: Someone to quickly pull out their cell phone and call 911; an ambulance rushing to the scene no more than 5 to 10 minutes later; people crying/screaming; people rushing to the man to help, yet not attempting to move him. What I actually saw: hundreds of people rushing over to the man...to stare at him and his injuries; a young man slipping the injured man's cell phone in his pocket; no ambulance in sight; people attempting to move the strangely situated man. I don't know what upset me more: 1) witnessing a man get hit by a car; or 2) the spectacle that was created by the situation. This is not the first time I've seen a violent situation (after the fact) while people go out of their way to stop and stare for the gore factor. When passing an accident, both pedestrians and drivers will stop what they're doing (including driving), just to go over and look at what happened. Even South African news papers will, on the front page, show a person with a knife sticking out of their head. Title reads: "She caught him sleeping with her sister." They don't spare the details. In the US, I often complained about the censorship that seems to blanket American media, but in times like these, I'm happy that I don't have to see it/know about it. Additionally, not to say that American roads are totally safe, but at least public health messaging seems to be taken to heart a little more than it is here.

Ok, ok, I know I've only written about two things...but I'm tired of typing, plus I have some work to get done. So as I think of things to day...I'll do another back post. Enjoy, while looking left, right, and left again (the opposite for me).

Are you homesick yet?

Over the course of this month, several people in my office and friends from home have asked me if I'm homesick yet, seeing as how I've been here for a year (year since Swearing In on Sept. 28. 2007). My answer: Depending on the day! My mood falls under three catagories:

I can't believe I'm in the Peace Corps! I can't believe I live in a different country!

There are days when I can't imagine myself being anywhere else. I've wanted the chance to live in South Africa for a while now and have wanted to be in Peace Corps for even longer. I can hop on a taxi be in a different country in less than 3 hours. Life in South Africa and Rustenburg seem strange and foreign and I love it!

Life is normal.

There are days when I almost forget that I'm not in the U.S. (because the infrastructure of Rustenburg can be compared to any smallish city back home). Nothing particularly exciting happens. I'm just going from home to work and doing a little hanging out with friends in between. It feels like any ole regular day back in the U.S. I'm just living my life. Rustenburg has become my home, just like Chicago became my home after moving from Atlanta. Life is fine as wine!

Don't even go there...literally!

Then there are the days....those beautiful, 98 degree, sunshiny days (because it rarely rains, is rarely cloudy, and "winter" lasts a few short months) when I just want to go home and am ready to blow my savings on a plane ticket. During those days, I miss the "things" about home that are not here, but not "home" itself (and they are mostly food-related things...more so now because I'm hungry and I like to eat in general): Chick-fil-a; Wendy's; Mr. Everythings in the AUC; Taco Mac's; Carol Street Cafe; Casa Grande; Atkins Park; Adobo Grill, Willy's; up-to-date movies and music; flying to meet up with friends; a post office that will deliver my packages on time (sorry guys, it's starting to sound like I have a hang-up with the SA Postal Service).

Those I-wanna-come-home-right now-days, luckily, are far and few in between and only tend to last a day or so and then life gets back to normal. Once I'm over them though, the perspective that I had pre-funk comes back and I realize how lucky I am to be in my situation. I have made great (lifelong) friends, an adopted family that loves me, a job that is allowing me to experience new things and challenges me every day, support at the tip of my fingers, health care coverage that only our dear President must get, amazing sights/sounds/smells/smiles (I had to continue with the whole "s" thing...I was on a roll!), no bills (all of my living expenses are paid for), and an opportunity (for two short years) to see the world through different glasses.

My experience and having people constantly asking me about "homesickness", has made me evaluate my definition of "home". Home, to me, is not associated with a particular place. Sure I miss the people and things in different places, but home is where I am. I'm at home in South Africa. Rustenburg. Chicago. Atlanta. Durban. Bukoba. Cape Town. Potch. Savannah. When my two years as a Peace Corps Volunteer are over (one more year in fact), I'll leave Rustenburg for the next location...I'll miss my friends, Nando's, taxis, the irritating post office, the freedom, music, Generations, men's white leather loafers with pointed tips, the loss of personal space, budding democracy, and the many things I've yet to discover....home.