I realized after reading some other intern's blogs that I may not exactly be doing GRS a great service through my blog, because I normally discuss only my life and fail to mention what is going on in the organization on a larger scale. So I am going to try to intersperse my life stories with some relevant GRS news for those of you that do not regularly check the GRS website, but do manage to read my blog. Oh, first, we have reached over 350,000 graduates. Big kilo for GRS! The latest news article is pretty fun and something you all can look out for in the months to come. I guess a while back Grassroot Soccer won a grant from British Airways that provided us with 10 worldwide roundtrip tickets (uh, lucky, wonder who got to use those, haha, probably Tommy Clark and company), 5 free global shipments (whatever that means), and $1,000 towards hotel accommodation. Now British Airways has selected GRS to be the face of the new Face-to-Face campaign. Tommy Clark (for those who don’t know, though most of you should is one of the GRS founders and the CEO) was interviewed on camera for this campaign and his full page advertisement will run in the following print media coming up, as in already out this week:
Business Week ----February 2011 TBD
The Economist ----September 25th, 2010
The Economist ----February 2011 TBD
Forbes ----October 11th, 2010
Fortune ----February 2011 TBD
Time: Global Business Section ----November 1st, 2010
The Week ----October 1st, 2010
The Week ----November 12th, 2010
The New Yorker ----November 1st, 2010
Entrepreneur ----December, 2010
Fast Company ----December 2010/January 2011
Inc ----November, 2010
Harvard Business Review ----March, 2011
The Atlantic ----January/February 2011
Sherman’s Travel ----Winter 2010/2011
Business Traveler ----December 2010/January 2011
Keep an eye out for me, maybe hold on to a copy for me, so I may actually see it upon return to the U.S. Cheers.
Thursday, September 30, 2010
Let's All Try to Do a Little Something
Lunch break: Macdonald’s and a quick safari. Would most people put those two together? I am working in Bloemfontein this week and I had an opportunity to grab a quick lunch with some of the people working in Lesotho (yes, I did also just spend the weekend with them). I met them at Macdonald’s for a fast lunch; they don’t have Macdonald’s in Maseru, so they have to get as much as possible when they are visiting. When I say as much a possible, I think they had three separate meals there in one day. After lunch we decided to run up to Naval Hill in Bloem, which as it happens is basically a free safari in the middle of the city. We pulled through the gates to be greeted by two giraffes just chilling 4 feet from the side of our car. We drove around and saw some wildebeests and antelope and in an hour I was back at work.
If you recall, I mentioned that the Kim office appears to be reaching a sustainable point, where it could function without the intern support. On the other hand I am learning very quickly that Bloemfontein could some serious intern support. There is a great group of coaches that work hard, but they definitely could use some administrative backup. I also do not understand why Bloemfontein is not its own site as opposed to a sister site overseen by the Kimberley office. I mean I am sure there is some reason it is set up like this, but Bloemfontein as a city is several times larger than Kimberley and not far behind Kimberley, CT, PE, or Soweto with its targets for FY 11 (Fiscal Year, it starts October 1st). I could see the interns being placed in Bloemfontein next year as opposed to Kimberley because there is a lot a growth to be had in Bloem and a ton of opportunity that could be seized, but I think they need a little push and a site coordinator that works on the same level as Mandla does in the Kimberley office.
The Bloemfontein team is doing everything in their power to make me South African. I have been renamed because of course this the first step to becoming proudly South African. I have been reborn and named Khethiwe (pronounced K-T-Way), which means “the chosen one.” Chosen for what I have not determined yet, maybe it is just chosen to be the Bloemfontein intern, but maybe there is something else that will show itself as the year moves along. A few times I have been introduced around as Khethiwe (secret: I don’t even know how to spell it yet) and people do a double take, sometimes laugh, and further inquire about this name for an American white girl. Additionally, they decided that in order to become South African, you must eat like a South African. I wish this upon no one. Yesterday I was basically force fed intestines. That’s right, intestines. No worries though because Playa (nickname for Pule, one of the coaches) said “they are clean intestines, not dirty intestines.” Thanks Playa, that makes me feel so much better about it. This is a girl that less than a year ago was vegan, has not eaten red meat in a very long time, and prefers to eat in a vegetarian fashion with the occasional chicken dish when protein is needed. Intestines. I was then introduced to liver. Mm…mmm…mmm, not! Luckily I just had to watch them handle it, cut it, cook it, and eat it, but I did not actually have to take part in this one. Apparently as Westerners we are very wasteful and should use all the parts of the animal, not throw it away. I just wish we would stop eating animals all together, parts or the whole thing.
This week while I am in Bloem I am supposed to primarily be acting as administrative support, but I can tell you that I haven’t been doing much in the way of administrative functions. This week is the September holidays (they are on a year round schedule for school with some breaks in September, December/January, March/April, and July) so we do not have any interventions going on. Now in Kim, the coaches are just off this week and are doing whatever they do when they are not acting as SKILLZ coaches, but here in Bloem we have a full team community service initiative running. For two days we went over to the Unity Primary School and worked to help them clean the school with some of the students (they call them learners here). We have been raking and digging and clearing out weeds around the school so they can put into some grassy areas and start a vegetable garden. I think it sounds awesome and I was super glad we could help in any little way. I think it is wonderful for schools to have vegetable gardens; really any type of garden would be great. Then, today we had the unique opportunity to go to an orphanage called Operatice and spend some time with the children there. I believe there were probably about 15 children ranging from 3 months to 15 years old. We had the chance to do some of our energizers with the children, dance, play some soccer, and play with some hula-hoops we brought.
I, actually, had a really special experience today at this orphanage. It is probably due to the fact that I am white and look very different than everyone else from a small child’s perspective (well from a lot of people’s perspectives), but that doesn’t make it any less special in my mind. When we got there, we walked up to the children that were waiting for us and started talking to them. I couldn’t really communicate that well because most of the children were really too young and hadn’t developed their English skills yet, so I just said my hellos and high fived some of the kids. After a few minutes in the group this approximately 1 and a half-year-old girl walks by a few of the other coaches pointing at me and grabs my hand. She then proceeded to give me a tour of the house (through walking and pointing of course because our verbal communication was very limited). She immediately melted my heart, keep in mind I generally do not like small children all that much. For the rest of the day she made me carry her around, play some small games with her and she sat on my lap in all the situations where we were sitting around talking. If we were walking her small hand grasped one or two of my fingers. At the end of our visit when we were leaving I waved goodbye to her and she waved back. All the “moms” of the orphanage told me I could take her if I wanted to, haha. I don’t think I am quite ready for that, but it really was a treasured couple of hours. I was having one of those days where I felt like an outsider; from the coaches all speaking in Sesotho and Setswana to the occasional challenges that driving offers me, and this little girl changed the pace of my day and made me really happy to be where I am doing what I am doing. Though she may never know the effect she had on me today and she will probably never even remember me, I know I will never forget the way she just walked up to me and turned my day around in a split second.
Here’s the thing, people, especially in Africa, generally do not like the whole “Save Africa” campaign and mentality, probably because it implies that in some way Africa needs saving. I don’t think that Africa needs saving, I think yea, Africa (well first of all I am totally generalizing when I say Africa), rather parts of Africa could use some help here and there. You know it would be nice if they and we could clear out this HIV/AIDS epidemic or at least get it down to manageable levels (well getting rid of it entirely would be ideal) and provide the basic needs for everyone, but they by no means “need saving.” In fact, I think there is a ton of things we could learn from Africa and the African people. Today when we left the orphanage, we left heaps of clothing that the coaches had compiled from their homes to donate. It blows my mind to think of really how little they even have in comparison to a lot of people I know, and still they give every little bit they possibly can. They gave clothing, their time and their energy for nothing; it was purely service that as a team they decided to do while they were not working for the week. That is truly something; really incredibly inspirational on so many levels. I am sort of secretly (well not so secretively anymore) hoping that this may inspire some of the people who are reading this blog to take some time out and give something back to their communities. It doesn’t have to be a big, grand gesture, just something small that can make a big difference in one person’s life and that’s all it really takes. See if you can RAK someone today. Random Act of Kindness for no other reason that it is a nice thing to do and ask them to pass it on. All you have to do is help someone out in anyway, tell them they have been RAKed and ask them to pass it on. It could be as simple as handing someone a flower you picked from the garden or in a personal case leaving a short note telling the person how important they are too you with a tea bag of a type of tea you know they have been wanting to try. You never really know how big of a different these small things can make in someone’s day.
Wow, I guess Bloem is having more of an effect on me than I ever would have thought.
If you recall, I mentioned that the Kim office appears to be reaching a sustainable point, where it could function without the intern support. On the other hand I am learning very quickly that Bloemfontein could some serious intern support. There is a great group of coaches that work hard, but they definitely could use some administrative backup. I also do not understand why Bloemfontein is not its own site as opposed to a sister site overseen by the Kimberley office. I mean I am sure there is some reason it is set up like this, but Bloemfontein as a city is several times larger than Kimberley and not far behind Kimberley, CT, PE, or Soweto with its targets for FY 11 (Fiscal Year, it starts October 1st). I could see the interns being placed in Bloemfontein next year as opposed to Kimberley because there is a lot a growth to be had in Bloem and a ton of opportunity that could be seized, but I think they need a little push and a site coordinator that works on the same level as Mandla does in the Kimberley office.
The Bloemfontein team is doing everything in their power to make me South African. I have been renamed because of course this the first step to becoming proudly South African. I have been reborn and named Khethiwe (pronounced K-T-Way), which means “the chosen one.” Chosen for what I have not determined yet, maybe it is just chosen to be the Bloemfontein intern, but maybe there is something else that will show itself as the year moves along. A few times I have been introduced around as Khethiwe (secret: I don’t even know how to spell it yet) and people do a double take, sometimes laugh, and further inquire about this name for an American white girl. Additionally, they decided that in order to become South African, you must eat like a South African. I wish this upon no one. Yesterday I was basically force fed intestines. That’s right, intestines. No worries though because Playa (nickname for Pule, one of the coaches) said “they are clean intestines, not dirty intestines.” Thanks Playa, that makes me feel so much better about it. This is a girl that less than a year ago was vegan, has not eaten red meat in a very long time, and prefers to eat in a vegetarian fashion with the occasional chicken dish when protein is needed. Intestines. I was then introduced to liver. Mm…mmm…mmm, not! Luckily I just had to watch them handle it, cut it, cook it, and eat it, but I did not actually have to take part in this one. Apparently as Westerners we are very wasteful and should use all the parts of the animal, not throw it away. I just wish we would stop eating animals all together, parts or the whole thing.
This week while I am in Bloem I am supposed to primarily be acting as administrative support, but I can tell you that I haven’t been doing much in the way of administrative functions. This week is the September holidays (they are on a year round schedule for school with some breaks in September, December/January, March/April, and July) so we do not have any interventions going on. Now in Kim, the coaches are just off this week and are doing whatever they do when they are not acting as SKILLZ coaches, but here in Bloem we have a full team community service initiative running. For two days we went over to the Unity Primary School and worked to help them clean the school with some of the students (they call them learners here). We have been raking and digging and clearing out weeds around the school so they can put into some grassy areas and start a vegetable garden. I think it sounds awesome and I was super glad we could help in any little way. I think it is wonderful for schools to have vegetable gardens; really any type of garden would be great. Then, today we had the unique opportunity to go to an orphanage called Operatice and spend some time with the children there. I believe there were probably about 15 children ranging from 3 months to 15 years old. We had the chance to do some of our energizers with the children, dance, play some soccer, and play with some hula-hoops we brought.
I, actually, had a really special experience today at this orphanage. It is probably due to the fact that I am white and look very different than everyone else from a small child’s perspective (well from a lot of people’s perspectives), but that doesn’t make it any less special in my mind. When we got there, we walked up to the children that were waiting for us and started talking to them. I couldn’t really communicate that well because most of the children were really too young and hadn’t developed their English skills yet, so I just said my hellos and high fived some of the kids. After a few minutes in the group this approximately 1 and a half-year-old girl walks by a few of the other coaches pointing at me and grabs my hand. She then proceeded to give me a tour of the house (through walking and pointing of course because our verbal communication was very limited). She immediately melted my heart, keep in mind I generally do not like small children all that much. For the rest of the day she made me carry her around, play some small games with her and she sat on my lap in all the situations where we were sitting around talking. If we were walking her small hand grasped one or two of my fingers. At the end of our visit when we were leaving I waved goodbye to her and she waved back. All the “moms” of the orphanage told me I could take her if I wanted to, haha. I don’t think I am quite ready for that, but it really was a treasured couple of hours. I was having one of those days where I felt like an outsider; from the coaches all speaking in Sesotho and Setswana to the occasional challenges that driving offers me, and this little girl changed the pace of my day and made me really happy to be where I am doing what I am doing. Though she may never know the effect she had on me today and she will probably never even remember me, I know I will never forget the way she just walked up to me and turned my day around in a split second.
Here’s the thing, people, especially in Africa, generally do not like the whole “Save Africa” campaign and mentality, probably because it implies that in some way Africa needs saving. I don’t think that Africa needs saving, I think yea, Africa (well first of all I am totally generalizing when I say Africa), rather parts of Africa could use some help here and there. You know it would be nice if they and we could clear out this HIV/AIDS epidemic or at least get it down to manageable levels (well getting rid of it entirely would be ideal) and provide the basic needs for everyone, but they by no means “need saving.” In fact, I think there is a ton of things we could learn from Africa and the African people. Today when we left the orphanage, we left heaps of clothing that the coaches had compiled from their homes to donate. It blows my mind to think of really how little they even have in comparison to a lot of people I know, and still they give every little bit they possibly can. They gave clothing, their time and their energy for nothing; it was purely service that as a team they decided to do while they were not working for the week. That is truly something; really incredibly inspirational on so many levels. I am sort of secretly (well not so secretively anymore) hoping that this may inspire some of the people who are reading this blog to take some time out and give something back to their communities. It doesn’t have to be a big, grand gesture, just something small that can make a big difference in one person’s life and that’s all it really takes. See if you can RAK someone today. Random Act of Kindness for no other reason that it is a nice thing to do and ask them to pass it on. All you have to do is help someone out in anyway, tell them they have been RAKed and ask them to pass it on. It could be as simple as handing someone a flower you picked from the garden or in a personal case leaving a short note telling the person how important they are too you with a tea bag of a type of tea you know they have been wanting to try. You never really know how big of a different these small things can make in someone’s day.
Wow, I guess Bloem is having more of an effect on me than I ever would have thought.
Finally a Weekend Away
A weekend away was very much needed. Kimberley is not a bad place, but it certainly is not the most exciting place I have ever been. Friday was Heritage Day in South Africa so Albert and I rented a car and stole away to Lesotho for the weekend. There are two GRS interns and two GRS fellows working in Maseru for the year, which as it happens is only about 3 hours from Kimberley. The perfect weekend getaway. The interns and the fellows actually work for Kick 4 Life, an affiliate organization based in the U.K. so they do some work that is similar to what we do and some that is very different. It seemed to me that they get to have a much more hands on approach in their jobs, as they are developing specific curriculums for Lesotho and running additional projects to the basic interventions and VCTs. The organization is also a little newer, so I think there is more work to be done. Be it a good thing more than a bad thing, Kimberley is reaching a point where it might be able to function without intern support very soon. It was a cool experience to see how their office functions and the work that they do for some comparison purposes. I really think that it would be beneficial for interns to move around a little and get an opportunity to see different sites, their systems, and see how the organization works in all the different locations. By the way, I was super jealous of their office as well, it was spacious, energetic, though probably distracting at times, and seemed like the place to be.
Lesotho (pronounced Le-soo-too) is a small African country that is entirely surrounded by South Africa. It is actually a country within a country. After a little bit of research I have found that Lesotho has had a very interesting history that moved from leader to leader, government to government until they finally gained independence from Britain 1966. It then continued to change hands quite often. The more I read about these countries the more I am just utterly confused by their histories and it makes me wonder if their own people can even keep track of it. I can’t even keep track of U.S. history and that is fairly straightforward by comparison; there weren’t coups or times where one king ruled, then another and back again. I just don’t get it. You can tell immediately when you cross the border into Lesotho that you are entering a different country and one that definitely fits into the developing countries category, if not the lesser developing countries.
Thanks to Semester at Sea I have become very good at checking CIA World Factbook for comparison purposes and I found some interesting information on Lesotho. As always I did the research following the visit. This allows for me to go into places open-minded and slightly uninformed, therefore skipping the judgments phase and I like to do the research after to see what surprises me. As I said before Lesotho is not quite as privileged as a lot of countries and at times felt like a whole other world. It absolutely blew me out of the water when I read that the average life expectancy at birth is 40 years old. Could you imagine? They are number two in the world for their death rate and the death rate is almost exactly that of the birth rate. I guess that is one way to keep a population at a steady number. We had been talking in the car on the drive about the absurd amounts of funeral homes/businesses there are between Lesotho and South Africa; now it sort of makes more sense. Additionally a week ago at an intervention graduation in Kimberley we had a situation where one of the student’s had passed away before receiving her certificate and it barely seemed like a big deal at all (keep in mind we work with 12-13 year olds). We merely bowed our heads in silence for a few seconds and then moved on, laughed, and had a good time. Strange. The HIV/AIDS prevalence rate in Lesotho is 1 in every three people. One in every three people. Mom, Dad, Pope and one of you has it. Really crazy things to think about. I don’t even know how to respond to these statistics. I knew there was a good amount of poverty there, I knew there were plenty of diseases and other problems affecting this country, but I had no idea about this death rate and the prevalence rate of HIV/AIDS. Just to help put this into perspective in case one in three doesn’t sound crazy enough, in South Africa the prevalence rate is one in six. I do not have any intention of just painting a morbid, terrible picture of a wonderful little country, but I wanted people to get an idea of what is really out there. On the other side of the spectrum, the literacy rate in Lesotho is at 84.4%, which I think is remarkably high considering all things.
Yes this country has its difficulties, but it truly is spectacular. The country is unbelievably beautiful, with unspoiled mountains, rivers, and villages and warm and welcoming people. The thing about Lesotho is that despite all of the modernization and globalization/Americanization of the world today, it has managed to hold on to its rich culture and traditions. The people are also very proud of their heritage and want to show you and teach you what it means to be Basotho (yes, I purposely put a “B” not an “L”). In the world today we are slowly watching entire languages disappear, traditional music and dances, and customs that have been passed on for centuries, poof…gone, because more and more people are speaking English and listening to American and European music and letting go of their own heritage. I’m sorry to say, but you can just see America seeping into these countries on so many levels. MacDonald’s, the O.C., the latest Eminem song; it is everywhere. What would we do if in a century’s time we were all basically the same without different cultures and traditions? It really makes me wonder if it possible for a country to move forward in the necessary ways (i.e. abilities to fulfill the basic human needs) without losing the wealth of customs and traditions that exist and have existed forever.
We started out our visit with an evening at the Lesotho Sun (nicest hotel probably in Maseru), where were dined and wined and dined some more on an all-inclusive buffet dinner for R60 ($8). We then burned off some of those calories in a little nightclub with the locals, especially Kwan and Poco, our Korean and Spanish friends (I’m just kidding, they were Basotho, but those were the names they gave us). Kwan wanted us to join his krump dance class (dirty style of hip-hop dance) though we all declined because we figured that was probably not something we were gifted to be doing (it also helps that I am not actually from Maseru, so that might be rather difficult). Also we somehow managed to skip through the R40 entry fee and sneak right through the gate and passed the guards with a bunch of other white people that actually paid…oh well!
The following morning I consumed by first bagel since I have been in Southern Africa. Everywhere we go they have cream cheese, all different kinds, even Philadelphia cream cheese, but nowhere have we been able to find to bagels to go with the cream cheese, no one has even heard the word bagel, until we got to Maseru. Sure enough they sell them in the Pick N’ Pay there. I made the mistake of comparing them to a grocery store at home, specifically Whole Foods, and thought that maybe if we made the request in our Pick N’ Pay in Kimberley, they could get some. Umm hello Kristin, where are you living again? Uh, probably not. I think it was maybe worth the thought, but then again maybe it was just a waste of brain space. After the bagel we headed out to the market in town where mainly we just wandered around trying not to get hit by taxi vans and inquiring about the price of chickens for sale. Only R55 ($7) for a chicken in case you were wondering.
Later that afternoon we grabbed some ice creams and hit the road for Malealea, the sleepy, mountain town where we would spend the next two days relaxing. We got there around 2:30 p.m. after winding our way up and through villages and around mountains. We decided to do a quick hike down to the waterfall there without a guide; no worries we got this (I’ll tell you now it is probably quite helpful to have a guide as we learned later). That lasted us all of about a 3-minute walk down to the trail, where we ran into our newest friend, Milo. Milo is a 14 year-old boy who works as a tourist guide because he cannot afford school fees to continue high school. He spoke solid English and obviously Sesotho (again I meant to use the “S”), plus a few words of Spanish and basic French; pretty good for someone who was 14 and not in school any longer. I found out that he had an 18-year-old sister and a 21-year-old brother and they all lived with their mother (no father). He loves hip-hop music, especially Chris Brown (don’t ask me how our music made it into this town in the mountains…cell phones…crazy) and wants to continue to be a tourist guide when he grows up. I can imagine that it would be difficult to dream bigger dreams when you don’t really even know what the possibilities are that exist out there. We have the opposite problem of endless possibilities; we can do whatever we want, be whoever we want to be, which makes our lives difficult because we never want to choose. These boys and girls living in these mountains and in hard-to-reach towns/villages can only imagine the life that revolves around the Malealea Lodge or the local bar. I wonder sometimes which one is better: too many options or none at all.
Traveling is such a brilliant experience and an awesome opportunity to meet people from around the world and learn more and more about all different places in the world, not just the one you are currently in. I met a guy who was from France, but was living in Reunion, a small island next to Mauritius (you all should know where that is if you were following me on Semester at Sea). He was some sort of biophysicist that was in South Africa for a conference and was now backpacking around Lesotho. I saw him buying some intense maps for his 3-day hike through the Lesotho mountains from Malealea to Semonkong. Awesome, but crazy intense. We also had dinner with a woman named Susana from Germany. She currently works in Jo-burg, but will be shipping back off to Germany in a few weeks because her yearlong contract will be ending. She then hopes to land herself in London, not a bad place. She also just finished her MBA from University of Chicago and has spent ample amounts of time at the Chicago and Singapore campuses. She told us that in the last 4 weeks she had found herself on four different continents. Pretty cool if I may say so myself.
In the Malealea Lodge we stayed in these small simple huts that perfectly provided for a great night sleep, but they had huts that ranged from basic to fairly luxurious in case you were interested. I woke up Sunday morning in just sheer awe of the beauty surrounding me. I was so inspired I just wanted to sit there and read and write for the entire day. With a cup of tea it would have been perfect. Unfortunately this was not possible because we needed to get back to Maseru by midday for Doug’s soccer game. I did get a few hours that morning to enjoy a nice muffin and a pot of tea while recording some of my thoughts in my journal. There’s the intellectual side of me again, haha! We made our descent back down to Maseru, enjoyed a lovely lunch, watched some soccer, and then said our goodbyes to the Lesotho interns and company. We spent about an hour and half chilling at the border trying to get back into South Africa. Before we knew it we were back in Kimberley and I was unpacked and repacked for my week in Bloemfontein. A little bit of there and back and back again.
Lesotho (pronounced Le-soo-too) is a small African country that is entirely surrounded by South Africa. It is actually a country within a country. After a little bit of research I have found that Lesotho has had a very interesting history that moved from leader to leader, government to government until they finally gained independence from Britain 1966. It then continued to change hands quite often. The more I read about these countries the more I am just utterly confused by their histories and it makes me wonder if their own people can even keep track of it. I can’t even keep track of U.S. history and that is fairly straightforward by comparison; there weren’t coups or times where one king ruled, then another and back again. I just don’t get it. You can tell immediately when you cross the border into Lesotho that you are entering a different country and one that definitely fits into the developing countries category, if not the lesser developing countries.
Thanks to Semester at Sea I have become very good at checking CIA World Factbook for comparison purposes and I found some interesting information on Lesotho. As always I did the research following the visit. This allows for me to go into places open-minded and slightly uninformed, therefore skipping the judgments phase and I like to do the research after to see what surprises me. As I said before Lesotho is not quite as privileged as a lot of countries and at times felt like a whole other world. It absolutely blew me out of the water when I read that the average life expectancy at birth is 40 years old. Could you imagine? They are number two in the world for their death rate and the death rate is almost exactly that of the birth rate. I guess that is one way to keep a population at a steady number. We had been talking in the car on the drive about the absurd amounts of funeral homes/businesses there are between Lesotho and South Africa; now it sort of makes more sense. Additionally a week ago at an intervention graduation in Kimberley we had a situation where one of the student’s had passed away before receiving her certificate and it barely seemed like a big deal at all (keep in mind we work with 12-13 year olds). We merely bowed our heads in silence for a few seconds and then moved on, laughed, and had a good time. Strange. The HIV/AIDS prevalence rate in Lesotho is 1 in every three people. One in every three people. Mom, Dad, Pope and one of you has it. Really crazy things to think about. I don’t even know how to respond to these statistics. I knew there was a good amount of poverty there, I knew there were plenty of diseases and other problems affecting this country, but I had no idea about this death rate and the prevalence rate of HIV/AIDS. Just to help put this into perspective in case one in three doesn’t sound crazy enough, in South Africa the prevalence rate is one in six. I do not have any intention of just painting a morbid, terrible picture of a wonderful little country, but I wanted people to get an idea of what is really out there. On the other side of the spectrum, the literacy rate in Lesotho is at 84.4%, which I think is remarkably high considering all things.
Yes this country has its difficulties, but it truly is spectacular. The country is unbelievably beautiful, with unspoiled mountains, rivers, and villages and warm and welcoming people. The thing about Lesotho is that despite all of the modernization and globalization/Americanization of the world today, it has managed to hold on to its rich culture and traditions. The people are also very proud of their heritage and want to show you and teach you what it means to be Basotho (yes, I purposely put a “B” not an “L”). In the world today we are slowly watching entire languages disappear, traditional music and dances, and customs that have been passed on for centuries, poof…gone, because more and more people are speaking English and listening to American and European music and letting go of their own heritage. I’m sorry to say, but you can just see America seeping into these countries on so many levels. MacDonald’s, the O.C., the latest Eminem song; it is everywhere. What would we do if in a century’s time we were all basically the same without different cultures and traditions? It really makes me wonder if it possible for a country to move forward in the necessary ways (i.e. abilities to fulfill the basic human needs) without losing the wealth of customs and traditions that exist and have existed forever.
We started out our visit with an evening at the Lesotho Sun (nicest hotel probably in Maseru), where were dined and wined and dined some more on an all-inclusive buffet dinner for R60 ($8). We then burned off some of those calories in a little nightclub with the locals, especially Kwan and Poco, our Korean and Spanish friends (I’m just kidding, they were Basotho, but those were the names they gave us). Kwan wanted us to join his krump dance class (dirty style of hip-hop dance) though we all declined because we figured that was probably not something we were gifted to be doing (it also helps that I am not actually from Maseru, so that might be rather difficult). Also we somehow managed to skip through the R40 entry fee and sneak right through the gate and passed the guards with a bunch of other white people that actually paid…oh well!
The following morning I consumed by first bagel since I have been in Southern Africa. Everywhere we go they have cream cheese, all different kinds, even Philadelphia cream cheese, but nowhere have we been able to find to bagels to go with the cream cheese, no one has even heard the word bagel, until we got to Maseru. Sure enough they sell them in the Pick N’ Pay there. I made the mistake of comparing them to a grocery store at home, specifically Whole Foods, and thought that maybe if we made the request in our Pick N’ Pay in Kimberley, they could get some. Umm hello Kristin, where are you living again? Uh, probably not. I think it was maybe worth the thought, but then again maybe it was just a waste of brain space. After the bagel we headed out to the market in town where mainly we just wandered around trying not to get hit by taxi vans and inquiring about the price of chickens for sale. Only R55 ($7) for a chicken in case you were wondering.
Later that afternoon we grabbed some ice creams and hit the road for Malealea, the sleepy, mountain town where we would spend the next two days relaxing. We got there around 2:30 p.m. after winding our way up and through villages and around mountains. We decided to do a quick hike down to the waterfall there without a guide; no worries we got this (I’ll tell you now it is probably quite helpful to have a guide as we learned later). That lasted us all of about a 3-minute walk down to the trail, where we ran into our newest friend, Milo. Milo is a 14 year-old boy who works as a tourist guide because he cannot afford school fees to continue high school. He spoke solid English and obviously Sesotho (again I meant to use the “S”), plus a few words of Spanish and basic French; pretty good for someone who was 14 and not in school any longer. I found out that he had an 18-year-old sister and a 21-year-old brother and they all lived with their mother (no father). He loves hip-hop music, especially Chris Brown (don’t ask me how our music made it into this town in the mountains…cell phones…crazy) and wants to continue to be a tourist guide when he grows up. I can imagine that it would be difficult to dream bigger dreams when you don’t really even know what the possibilities are that exist out there. We have the opposite problem of endless possibilities; we can do whatever we want, be whoever we want to be, which makes our lives difficult because we never want to choose. These boys and girls living in these mountains and in hard-to-reach towns/villages can only imagine the life that revolves around the Malealea Lodge or the local bar. I wonder sometimes which one is better: too many options or none at all.
Traveling is such a brilliant experience and an awesome opportunity to meet people from around the world and learn more and more about all different places in the world, not just the one you are currently in. I met a guy who was from France, but was living in Reunion, a small island next to Mauritius (you all should know where that is if you were following me on Semester at Sea). He was some sort of biophysicist that was in South Africa for a conference and was now backpacking around Lesotho. I saw him buying some intense maps for his 3-day hike through the Lesotho mountains from Malealea to Semonkong. Awesome, but crazy intense. We also had dinner with a woman named Susana from Germany. She currently works in Jo-burg, but will be shipping back off to Germany in a few weeks because her yearlong contract will be ending. She then hopes to land herself in London, not a bad place. She also just finished her MBA from University of Chicago and has spent ample amounts of time at the Chicago and Singapore campuses. She told us that in the last 4 weeks she had found herself on four different continents. Pretty cool if I may say so myself.
In the Malealea Lodge we stayed in these small simple huts that perfectly provided for a great night sleep, but they had huts that ranged from basic to fairly luxurious in case you were interested. I woke up Sunday morning in just sheer awe of the beauty surrounding me. I was so inspired I just wanted to sit there and read and write for the entire day. With a cup of tea it would have been perfect. Unfortunately this was not possible because we needed to get back to Maseru by midday for Doug’s soccer game. I did get a few hours that morning to enjoy a nice muffin and a pot of tea while recording some of my thoughts in my journal. There’s the intellectual side of me again, haha! We made our descent back down to Maseru, enjoyed a lovely lunch, watched some soccer, and then said our goodbyes to the Lesotho interns and company. We spent about an hour and half chilling at the border trying to get back into South Africa. Before we knew it we were back in Kimberley and I was unpacked and repacked for my week in Bloemfontein. A little bit of there and back and back again.
Thursday, September 23, 2010
I Live and I Learn
Ugh, I cannot get over my urge to look over my right shoulder when I am backing out. I practically turn my head all the way around to see when backing up, then halfway through the process I realize that it would make my life of whole lot easier if I just looked over my left shoulder. It’s amazing how completely habitual these things are and how much of a challenge it can be to get out of them. Knowing me I will finally get rid of all my U.S.-related habits in June and pick up the South African habits in July right before I come home and have to start all over again.
Last night we had dinner with out landlord and his family. It was really nice for them to go out of their way to have us over and get to know us. They have three little girls, one is 10, one is 6, and the other is 6 months. It was sweet; they spoke to us in English and it was adorable because English is not their first language and not the one they are used to using all of the time. We were over at their house for 3 hours talking about everything under the sun. He said he went to Cuba about 2 years ago and I was so jealous. We also discussed all of the places that we should visit while we are over here and when to go; it was nice to have someone who knows the lay of the land give us some pointers. When dinner was over we just walked out their door, took 5 steps, and we were back at our doors.
Work has been decently busy. Mandla is in Bloemfontein for the week and I am set to head there next week. We had a graduation yesterday and we have about 2 interventions a day running right now. I also have been working on switching us over to the new system of doing financial reconciliations. On Tuesday we had a big conference call with the head office in Cape Town so that three weeks into the month they could tell us that there was going to be a new way of doing the financial reconciliation. I start pasting receipts, numbering them, and entering them into the computer week one, so I had to go back and reenter all the receipts into the new form. Luckily they didn’t make me remove all of the receipts, separate them, and renumber them. That would not have been fun. At least they told me this week before I go to Bloemfontein and do it for them too.
At the interventions this week I have had the opportunity to play with some of the kids, sit in on some of the interventions, and get more involved. On Monday I got to play soccer with some little boys during the intervention and on Tuesday I jumped rope with some girls at a school. I feel so stupid because I keep forgetting to bring my camera. Thank goodness I will be doing this for a year. I went into one intervention on Tuesday and all the kids kept looking back at me in the classroom, so I decided to step out so I wouldn’t be a complete distraction. Wednesday morning we had our first encounter with Practice 6: Our Stories. I was excited because I have been waiting to hear some of the coach’s stories and I thought it would also be interesting to hear some of the kid’s stories. Unfortunately, I went into the wrong class. I was in the class where barely anyone understood or spoke English and the coaches didn’t even end up telling their stories. Also, the kids in my class were not taking it seriously and were making up stories as opposed to sharing real stories. When we all met up after the intervention, I was upset to hear that the other classes had really emotional experiences, the kids shared really great stories, and a lot of them were in English. One of the stories was so intense that a coach needs to follow up on the home situation and we have to talk to Mandla about it. They also said some kids couldn’t finish telling their stories because they were so difficult. Fortunately for me, Albert caught one of the coach’s stories on video, so we are on our way to being able to share them with all of you at home.
We are settling into a normal work routine now, so I feel like I have less interesting things to write about. Last Friday on our way back from an intervention, immigration got us. We were late to get back to the office for a conference call (the one we ended up having on Tuesday this week) and ended up in a police/immigration check. First, we are nowhere near any borders. Second, in all of my traveling I have never been stopped and asked for documentation (even when I was backpacking along the border between Mexico and Guatemala). They pulled us over and asked for Albert’s license and he gave them his U.S. and international driver’s licenses. After looking at them for a few minutes, they asked him where he was from, when he said the U.S., they decided they needed to see our papers. Of course we do not carry our passports and copies of them apparently would not do the trick, so Mandla had to go to our house, find the passports, and bring them to us, while we waited with immigration. This is such a foreign concept that we do not carry our passport, everyone (not our staff) keeps asking us why we don't and can't carry them. Hello, it is my most prized personal possession and if I lose it I am pretty screwed.Thankfully they did not throw us in the back of the immigration truck like they were doing with everyone else. If we had let Albert continue to talk to them, we might have ended up back there. Now we have copies of both the passport and the visa in each car, stamped and signed by the South African police, in case this ever happens again. You live and you learn.
Tomorrow we are off to Lesotho for the weekend. We are going down to visit Doug and Emma, the interns that are working in Maseru. Yes, my first passport stamp since I’ve been here. With all my new pages I have to get on this stamping business.
Last night we had dinner with out landlord and his family. It was really nice for them to go out of their way to have us over and get to know us. They have three little girls, one is 10, one is 6, and the other is 6 months. It was sweet; they spoke to us in English and it was adorable because English is not their first language and not the one they are used to using all of the time. We were over at their house for 3 hours talking about everything under the sun. He said he went to Cuba about 2 years ago and I was so jealous. We also discussed all of the places that we should visit while we are over here and when to go; it was nice to have someone who knows the lay of the land give us some pointers. When dinner was over we just walked out their door, took 5 steps, and we were back at our doors.
Work has been decently busy. Mandla is in Bloemfontein for the week and I am set to head there next week. We had a graduation yesterday and we have about 2 interventions a day running right now. I also have been working on switching us over to the new system of doing financial reconciliations. On Tuesday we had a big conference call with the head office in Cape Town so that three weeks into the month they could tell us that there was going to be a new way of doing the financial reconciliation. I start pasting receipts, numbering them, and entering them into the computer week one, so I had to go back and reenter all the receipts into the new form. Luckily they didn’t make me remove all of the receipts, separate them, and renumber them. That would not have been fun. At least they told me this week before I go to Bloemfontein and do it for them too.
At the interventions this week I have had the opportunity to play with some of the kids, sit in on some of the interventions, and get more involved. On Monday I got to play soccer with some little boys during the intervention and on Tuesday I jumped rope with some girls at a school. I feel so stupid because I keep forgetting to bring my camera. Thank goodness I will be doing this for a year. I went into one intervention on Tuesday and all the kids kept looking back at me in the classroom, so I decided to step out so I wouldn’t be a complete distraction. Wednesday morning we had our first encounter with Practice 6: Our Stories. I was excited because I have been waiting to hear some of the coach’s stories and I thought it would also be interesting to hear some of the kid’s stories. Unfortunately, I went into the wrong class. I was in the class where barely anyone understood or spoke English and the coaches didn’t even end up telling their stories. Also, the kids in my class were not taking it seriously and were making up stories as opposed to sharing real stories. When we all met up after the intervention, I was upset to hear that the other classes had really emotional experiences, the kids shared really great stories, and a lot of them were in English. One of the stories was so intense that a coach needs to follow up on the home situation and we have to talk to Mandla about it. They also said some kids couldn’t finish telling their stories because they were so difficult. Fortunately for me, Albert caught one of the coach’s stories on video, so we are on our way to being able to share them with all of you at home.
We are settling into a normal work routine now, so I feel like I have less interesting things to write about. Last Friday on our way back from an intervention, immigration got us. We were late to get back to the office for a conference call (the one we ended up having on Tuesday this week) and ended up in a police/immigration check. First, we are nowhere near any borders. Second, in all of my traveling I have never been stopped and asked for documentation (even when I was backpacking along the border between Mexico and Guatemala). They pulled us over and asked for Albert’s license and he gave them his U.S. and international driver’s licenses. After looking at them for a few minutes, they asked him where he was from, when he said the U.S., they decided they needed to see our papers. Of course we do not carry our passports and copies of them apparently would not do the trick, so Mandla had to go to our house, find the passports, and bring them to us, while we waited with immigration. This is such a foreign concept that we do not carry our passport, everyone (not our staff) keeps asking us why we don't and can't carry them. Hello, it is my most prized personal possession and if I lose it I am pretty screwed.Thankfully they did not throw us in the back of the immigration truck like they were doing with everyone else. If we had let Albert continue to talk to them, we might have ended up back there. Now we have copies of both the passport and the visa in each car, stamped and signed by the South African police, in case this ever happens again. You live and you learn.
Tomorrow we are off to Lesotho for the weekend. We are going down to visit Doug and Emma, the interns that are working in Maseru. Yes, my first passport stamp since I’ve been here. With all my new pages I have to get on this stamping business.
Thursday, September 16, 2010
Let's Take a Moment to Discuss
Let’s talk about the words “township” and “ghetto” for a second. The other night at the bar, a few of the guys welcomed us to the “township.” A few weeks back in Bloemfontein when we were driving coaches home we were welcomed to the “ghetto.” When I was on the radio with Malik, he asked me how I find the “townships” to compare to the “ghettos” at home. Keep in mind I had been here for about 3 days when I met Malik. At that point in time I was sort of caught off guard and unsure of the right answer to that question, so I quickly made up an answer (since I was on AIR!). Now after thinking about it more, I have reached a conclusion. I find the townships utterly fascinating. There are children running around playing in the dirt and the trash wearing tattered clothing, there are adults and teens stumbling along the streets drunk, then there are people dressed immaculately well driving Audis and BMWs. There are kids who spend all of their time with the video games and there are others that you can’t get away from the books. There are homes made from tin and cardboard, there are beautifully large homes with large gates and green lawns that cold fit nicely in one of the gated communities of Palm Beach County, and there are your basic concrete Habitat for Humanity style homes that provide solely the necessary shelter. All of the school age children swarm the streets around 2 p.m. in the school uniforms, some fitting perfectly, while others not so much. Some girls have bows in their hair; some boys have matching belts and shoes, while other children don’t even have a pair of socks and walk around with large tears in their pants. I am sure there are plenty of people involved in gang violence, but there are also tons of people that volunteer/work for NGOs and non-profits, like our very own coaches. There are paved roads and dirt roads. Are you confused yet? How exactly were you picturing the townships?
Back home I am afraid to even drive down Tamarind because I was told that it was dangerous. Do I know that to be true? Yes, maybe if you look at the statistics, but no I cannot really fully make that generalization because I have never spent anytime there. I don’t even think I have driven down the road; I just cross it when I am driving down Palm Beach Lakes Blvd. Here’s the thing: danger looms everywhere. It would be impossible to deny that. Every time you get in your car, danger is just around the corner. Every time you eat that cupcake (the non-healthy kind of course), danger looms in the form of high blood sugar, cholesterol, etc. So here is my conclusion. I cannot make this comparison because I have never experienced the “ghetto.” I just accepted what was told to me to be true and left it at that. It’s almost sad that I have spent way more time in the “township” in a country I have spent 5 weeks in than I have ever spent in the “ghetto” in a country I’ve lived in for 22 years. And why is it that I feel safer in the township here than the ghetto at home? Is it that it is just the unknown for me or is it truly more dangerous?
After doing some research, I found that in South Africa “township” originally meant segregated town. Under apartheid it referred to the residential development that confined the non-whites that lived near or worked in white-only communities. This would probably explain why Albert and I are always the only white people to be found whenever we are there. It would also explain the diversity because everyone who was not white, regardless of their socioeconomic status, had to live there.
Back home I am afraid to even drive down Tamarind because I was told that it was dangerous. Do I know that to be true? Yes, maybe if you look at the statistics, but no I cannot really fully make that generalization because I have never spent anytime there. I don’t even think I have driven down the road; I just cross it when I am driving down Palm Beach Lakes Blvd. Here’s the thing: danger looms everywhere. It would be impossible to deny that. Every time you get in your car, danger is just around the corner. Every time you eat that cupcake (the non-healthy kind of course), danger looms in the form of high blood sugar, cholesterol, etc. So here is my conclusion. I cannot make this comparison because I have never experienced the “ghetto.” I just accepted what was told to me to be true and left it at that. It’s almost sad that I have spent way more time in the “township” in a country I have spent 5 weeks in than I have ever spent in the “ghetto” in a country I’ve lived in for 22 years. And why is it that I feel safer in the township here than the ghetto at home? Is it that it is just the unknown for me or is it truly more dangerous?
After doing some research, I found that in South Africa “township” originally meant segregated town. Under apartheid it referred to the residential development that confined the non-whites that lived near or worked in white-only communities. This would probably explain why Albert and I are always the only white people to be found whenever we are there. It would also explain the diversity because everyone who was not white, regardless of their socioeconomic status, had to live there.
I Went Out in the Township
There is just something so unbelievably special about the township that does not exist anywhere else in the world. Albert and I sort of live a double life because we actually live in upper class white neighborhoods and interact with the upper class at restaurants and malls, but we spend all day working with the coaches and in the townships; something that most white South Africans never do. Saturday night we decided to go out in Roodepan (another section of the township) with two of the coaches to watch the Kaiser Chiefs play the Orlando Pirates. These are two Johannesburg national teams. Going out there I sort of knew that I would be the only white girl and that I would in some ways have to keep my guard up and be very aware of what was going on around me at all times. I just know that anytime you start to fully let your guard down something bad can happen. This is not just for life over here, but anywhere; it is always necessary to be aware of your surroundings and have a plan in case something starts to become dangerous or questionable. So before we left the house I ran through some ground rules with Albert, like that he couldn’t just disappear and leave me alone without first checking to make sure that I was comfortable or that the coaches were around. Sometimes in traveling situations I hate being a little white girl, because sometimes I feel like I am being paranoid, but I also know what can happen if you are not prepared.
We went out with Mzala and Casper (or Casavin, they call him Casper because he has such light colored skin). At first we thought that Mzala and Casper were the same age because they are always together and looked to be about the same age. I already knew that Casper was 22, so I just assumed that Mzala was somewhere in his early 20s as well. However, yesterday he told us that he is 30 and I could not believe it. He told us that he raised Casper and groomed him into the soccer player he is today. I started to look closer to see if there were any giveaways of Mzala’s age, but other than the fact that he has a few more scars than Casper, he still did not look 30 to me. Albert wondered if the scars were maybe a good indication of age, that maybe by every five years someone would have a few more scars, but at this point we have no conclusive evidence to support that idea. Scars could just say something about the person and there behavior as opposed to it being an age thing.
I cannot tell you how many times Mzala tried to warn us about where we were going and how many times he checked in on us while we were there. He continually told us that next time we can go out somewhere in Kim and was profusely apologizing for the venue, but I don’t think he understood that it was so much fun and such a nice breath of fresh air. We have gone out to a bar in Kimberley a few times and we never really had that great of a time, but the other night in the township we had a blast. I would choose going out there any day over the Halfway House. At the Half we have tried to talk to people, we have played pool to try to make friends, and we have gotten nowhere, but after the one night in Roodepan, we have a plethora of new friends. Of course, part of that may have to do with the novelty that we are white. I think Mzala was also slightly stressed out by the fact that I wasn’t drinking and didn’t know how to handle it, because he kept asking me if he could get me anything and he eventually told me that he felt bad that I wasn’t drinking anything. Trust me I was perfectly fine.
We walked in and all eyes were on us. I really did not know what to expect when we were heading out there, but it was perfect. Walking in my smile just grew and grew; it was awesome. We walked into the first room and there was a DJ and a bunch of people dancing, we walked into the next room and there was a bar and in the following room there were pool tables and a TV for watching the game. Something that Albert noticed, for some reason I didn’t even really think about it, was that steel bars separated the people serving drinks and the people ordering. Yesterday Thembi told us that is for when people start getting really drunk, rowdy and potentially violent. Albert and I took our seats on the side of plastic drink cartoons in the sea of black guys. A couple of guys told me I could sit on their laps; I graciously declined. Not only was I the only white girl in the entire place, but I was also the only girl watching the game. Very quickly Albert and I were forced to pick teams and since Albert choose to be for the Pirates with Mzala, I agreed to be for the Chiefs with Mzala’s friend Bailey. Bailey then proceeded to give me his jersey after I told him repeatedly that it was not necessary. I gave it back to him after a few minutes and he put it back on. We watched the game on this small TV that also sat in its own cage, which protected it. We could have watched the game in the Halfway House on huge flat screen, but what fun would that of been; there is no atmosphere there in comparison to this bar.
At half-time I accompanied Mzala into the room with the bar and he introduced me to a girl that was Graham’s “baby’s mama.” That is exactly how she was introduced to me. Graham is another coach that we work with. This is probably another discussion for another time, but I cannot believe how many people have children out of wedlock here. It doesn’t bother me at all; its kind of an interesting part of life here, but it would so taboo at home. I then joined Albert on the dance floor for a few minutes before we went back to watch the game. Another thing we picked up on during the second half of the game was how close guys are here. They are not gay at all, but they cuddle and snuggle and hold hands with each other. It’s sweet, but again just something that you would never ever see at home. After the game we played some pool and went back to dancing for a while. After about 45 minutes of dancing with all different types of people, the dance turn into somewhat of a disagreement over who was going to dance with me. I was dancing with a lady who was somewhere in the range of 60-80 years old and she was killing it. She could definitely still move it and shake it; I loved dancing with her. The problem arose when all of a sudden there were 15 people grabbing my arms and pulling me in four different directions because they all wanted to dance with me. I’m a white girl, what can I say?
For anyone who has travelled in the developing world, you can relate to this situation. Anytime you give one person a little of something, they all want it, then they all want more, and it is just the way that it is. It is not their fault; they just have never had certain things so when they are given one they immediately assume they can have more. That is a big reason why when you are travelling you have to be careful not to give things away, money, pencils, presents of any sort; they really need to be earned or they will not learn that you have to work for what you are given. After trying to fight everyone off for a few minutes, I decided this was our cue to leave, mainly because I didn’t want it to turn into any bigger of a problem. I also wasn’t really having fun dancing anymore since I had just become a puppet. Controlled and manipulated. I felt like an object; no one asked me who I wanted to dance with or what I wanted to do, they were just deciding amongst themselves. At that point I found Albert and Mzala and they escorted me out of there. I would never for ten seconds say that the evening was ruined; I had a wonderful time and it was so nice for people to in a sense accept us. Although I am still not sure if they accepted us or if they were just making fun of us, but either way it was a fantastic evening and a real chance to be a part of a world so foreign to us.
We went out with Mzala and Casper (or Casavin, they call him Casper because he has such light colored skin). At first we thought that Mzala and Casper were the same age because they are always together and looked to be about the same age. I already knew that Casper was 22, so I just assumed that Mzala was somewhere in his early 20s as well. However, yesterday he told us that he is 30 and I could not believe it. He told us that he raised Casper and groomed him into the soccer player he is today. I started to look closer to see if there were any giveaways of Mzala’s age, but other than the fact that he has a few more scars than Casper, he still did not look 30 to me. Albert wondered if the scars were maybe a good indication of age, that maybe by every five years someone would have a few more scars, but at this point we have no conclusive evidence to support that idea. Scars could just say something about the person and there behavior as opposed to it being an age thing.
I cannot tell you how many times Mzala tried to warn us about where we were going and how many times he checked in on us while we were there. He continually told us that next time we can go out somewhere in Kim and was profusely apologizing for the venue, but I don’t think he understood that it was so much fun and such a nice breath of fresh air. We have gone out to a bar in Kimberley a few times and we never really had that great of a time, but the other night in the township we had a blast. I would choose going out there any day over the Halfway House. At the Half we have tried to talk to people, we have played pool to try to make friends, and we have gotten nowhere, but after the one night in Roodepan, we have a plethora of new friends. Of course, part of that may have to do with the novelty that we are white. I think Mzala was also slightly stressed out by the fact that I wasn’t drinking and didn’t know how to handle it, because he kept asking me if he could get me anything and he eventually told me that he felt bad that I wasn’t drinking anything. Trust me I was perfectly fine.
We walked in and all eyes were on us. I really did not know what to expect when we were heading out there, but it was perfect. Walking in my smile just grew and grew; it was awesome. We walked into the first room and there was a DJ and a bunch of people dancing, we walked into the next room and there was a bar and in the following room there were pool tables and a TV for watching the game. Something that Albert noticed, for some reason I didn’t even really think about it, was that steel bars separated the people serving drinks and the people ordering. Yesterday Thembi told us that is for when people start getting really drunk, rowdy and potentially violent. Albert and I took our seats on the side of plastic drink cartoons in the sea of black guys. A couple of guys told me I could sit on their laps; I graciously declined. Not only was I the only white girl in the entire place, but I was also the only girl watching the game. Very quickly Albert and I were forced to pick teams and since Albert choose to be for the Pirates with Mzala, I agreed to be for the Chiefs with Mzala’s friend Bailey. Bailey then proceeded to give me his jersey after I told him repeatedly that it was not necessary. I gave it back to him after a few minutes and he put it back on. We watched the game on this small TV that also sat in its own cage, which protected it. We could have watched the game in the Halfway House on huge flat screen, but what fun would that of been; there is no atmosphere there in comparison to this bar.
At half-time I accompanied Mzala into the room with the bar and he introduced me to a girl that was Graham’s “baby’s mama.” That is exactly how she was introduced to me. Graham is another coach that we work with. This is probably another discussion for another time, but I cannot believe how many people have children out of wedlock here. It doesn’t bother me at all; its kind of an interesting part of life here, but it would so taboo at home. I then joined Albert on the dance floor for a few minutes before we went back to watch the game. Another thing we picked up on during the second half of the game was how close guys are here. They are not gay at all, but they cuddle and snuggle and hold hands with each other. It’s sweet, but again just something that you would never ever see at home. After the game we played some pool and went back to dancing for a while. After about 45 minutes of dancing with all different types of people, the dance turn into somewhat of a disagreement over who was going to dance with me. I was dancing with a lady who was somewhere in the range of 60-80 years old and she was killing it. She could definitely still move it and shake it; I loved dancing with her. The problem arose when all of a sudden there were 15 people grabbing my arms and pulling me in four different directions because they all wanted to dance with me. I’m a white girl, what can I say?
For anyone who has travelled in the developing world, you can relate to this situation. Anytime you give one person a little of something, they all want it, then they all want more, and it is just the way that it is. It is not their fault; they just have never had certain things so when they are given one they immediately assume they can have more. That is a big reason why when you are travelling you have to be careful not to give things away, money, pencils, presents of any sort; they really need to be earned or they will not learn that you have to work for what you are given. After trying to fight everyone off for a few minutes, I decided this was our cue to leave, mainly because I didn’t want it to turn into any bigger of a problem. I also wasn’t really having fun dancing anymore since I had just become a puppet. Controlled and manipulated. I felt like an object; no one asked me who I wanted to dance with or what I wanted to do, they were just deciding amongst themselves. At that point I found Albert and Mzala and they escorted me out of there. I would never for ten seconds say that the evening was ruined; I had a wonderful time and it was so nice for people to in a sense accept us. Although I am still not sure if they accepted us or if they were just making fun of us, but either way it was a fantastic evening and a real chance to be a part of a world so foreign to us.
Monday, September 13, 2010
It Sure Was a Festival
This Saturday we spent the day out at the Heritage Month Festival in Homevale (a section of the township). Due to obvious lack of organization and planning prior to the event I was sure the event was going to fail on so many levels. This was not our event, but we had attended some of the meetings to help out. It was mainly organized by LoveLife and Evelyn (the lady who came up with the idea for the event), but Grassroot Soccer, UNICEF, Lifeline, New Start, and Youth Aids were are present at the event adding some expertise where needed. To be honest I was pleasantly surprised to find that it actually turned out all right. Maybe it was just because I went into it with such low expectations. Of course there were several organizational malfunctions; nothing went exactly according to schedule, though I do not think that anything here runs according to any type of schedule. If you want your event to actually start at 9 a.m. you have to set the start time for 7:30 a.m. if you catch my drift. I also think that the entire event was saved by the performing arts sector of it. There was a sports component that involved soccer, basketball, netball, boxing, and maybe a few other sports and then there was a performing arts component that consisted of dance, singing, drama, and poetry. As Grassroot Soccer representatives we were technically there to support the soccer and the sports component of the event, but we all spent most of our time watching the dance and singing. I actually was asked to sit on the judge’s panel, so I was there for the entire thing.
The dancing is so great here. Before the performing arts competition even began, we watched this group of young boys, probably 8 years old, have their own mini dance competition in the boxing ring. They were so good; each one would go up and show off their skills and crazy moves and I was just blown away. Some of them seriously rivaled the abilities of the professional dancers I have seen in movies and on TV. Pretty much anywhere there is music, there is dancing and everyone can dance. I keep thinking that it would be insane to have a South African So You Think You Can Dance and you know what, it is crazy to me, but they watch the American version on TV over here. I wonder what they even think. I mean I am sure it is fine because these are some of America’s best dancers, but here they would just be someone else on the street that had some moves.
A lot of the dancing in the competition was pretty good too, especially towards the end. There were some unbelievable performances. There was a group of young boys again, different group this time, but similar age and they were awesome too. At the very end of the competition there were two groups that went back to back and did very similar dances in which they used dance as a way to communicate. I mean I have always heard that dance is a form of expression and I have seen it used before, but never exactly in this context. Interestingly enough both dance crews decided to tell the same story. After watching the first dance I was left sort of confused and concerned because I didn’t really understand if they were just telling a story to tell a story or to leave us with some sort of message. The performance started out with two guys showing up to school (remember this was all dancing) in their school uniforms; each one took sometime to show off their moves before finding their seats in the classroom. Next came a guy dressed in a girl’s uniform wearing a wig (adding the comedy to the performance) and she came in showed off her moves and found a seat as well. Following that the teacher came in, pretended to write on the board, handed out some booklets, and pretty much taught the class. After a few minutes of dance teaching, the teacher then collected the booklets. The one girl and the boy just got checks and nods of approval and were sent back to their seats. The second boy’s work apparently was not good enough so he was beat with a stick in front of his classmates. After that scene, the teacher left the room for a minute and the kids pulled out empty beer bottles and pretended to party and fake have sex. After that the teacher came back in and the student he has previously beaten pulled out a knife (fake of course for the performance) and acted out stabbing the teacher. There was then a medic that came to save the teacher. In the first performance the teacher died and was carried off by the students, while in the second the teacher was revived.
After the first performance I was fully perplexed; I thought it was extremely interesting that this was the story the kids decided to tell. I was even more interested when the second group, which was entirely unrelated to the first, came out with almost exactly the same story and performance. It made me wonder while the second dance was going on, exactly what goes on in the schools here; is this that common of behavior that both groups decided to act it out and tell this story? While at this point I don’t really have an answer to that, I did decide that it really doesn’t differ all that much in the United States at least in some parts. I think the part of the situation that is different is that it is not as common for students to attack their teachers or for students to be beaten by their teachers, but the partying aspects fully exist in the States. I will tell you now that the second group held up a sign at the end of their performance that said something to the effect of “Stop the Violence in Schools, Education is the Key to our Future.” So while I didn’t fully understand it at the end of the first performance, I definitely got the message by the end of the second dance. I really though it was an unbelievably creative way for them to take a stand on an issue and share it with their community.
After a full day of the performing arts, I accompanied Mzala (one of the coaches) and Albert to watch another one of the coaches, Casper, play in a soccer game. It was definitely a nice way to pass the afternoon and beat us sitting around our apartment staring at walls of maps of all the places in the world I want to visit. I think Albert really enjoyed it because he beginning to get into soccer, playing with some of the coaches and trying out for some of the provincial teams. I on the other hand am exploring my intellectual side (as if I really have one) and am spending my time reading and writing. It is sort of a nice change of pace from the summer, though I have to keep reminding myself that it is okay to take some down time and not be constantly running around and working out.
The dancing is so great here. Before the performing arts competition even began, we watched this group of young boys, probably 8 years old, have their own mini dance competition in the boxing ring. They were so good; each one would go up and show off their skills and crazy moves and I was just blown away. Some of them seriously rivaled the abilities of the professional dancers I have seen in movies and on TV. Pretty much anywhere there is music, there is dancing and everyone can dance. I keep thinking that it would be insane to have a South African So You Think You Can Dance and you know what, it is crazy to me, but they watch the American version on TV over here. I wonder what they even think. I mean I am sure it is fine because these are some of America’s best dancers, but here they would just be someone else on the street that had some moves.
A lot of the dancing in the competition was pretty good too, especially towards the end. There were some unbelievable performances. There was a group of young boys again, different group this time, but similar age and they were awesome too. At the very end of the competition there were two groups that went back to back and did very similar dances in which they used dance as a way to communicate. I mean I have always heard that dance is a form of expression and I have seen it used before, but never exactly in this context. Interestingly enough both dance crews decided to tell the same story. After watching the first dance I was left sort of confused and concerned because I didn’t really understand if they were just telling a story to tell a story or to leave us with some sort of message. The performance started out with two guys showing up to school (remember this was all dancing) in their school uniforms; each one took sometime to show off their moves before finding their seats in the classroom. Next came a guy dressed in a girl’s uniform wearing a wig (adding the comedy to the performance) and she came in showed off her moves and found a seat as well. Following that the teacher came in, pretended to write on the board, handed out some booklets, and pretty much taught the class. After a few minutes of dance teaching, the teacher then collected the booklets. The one girl and the boy just got checks and nods of approval and were sent back to their seats. The second boy’s work apparently was not good enough so he was beat with a stick in front of his classmates. After that scene, the teacher left the room for a minute and the kids pulled out empty beer bottles and pretended to party and fake have sex. After that the teacher came back in and the student he has previously beaten pulled out a knife (fake of course for the performance) and acted out stabbing the teacher. There was then a medic that came to save the teacher. In the first performance the teacher died and was carried off by the students, while in the second the teacher was revived.
After the first performance I was fully perplexed; I thought it was extremely interesting that this was the story the kids decided to tell. I was even more interested when the second group, which was entirely unrelated to the first, came out with almost exactly the same story and performance. It made me wonder while the second dance was going on, exactly what goes on in the schools here; is this that common of behavior that both groups decided to act it out and tell this story? While at this point I don’t really have an answer to that, I did decide that it really doesn’t differ all that much in the United States at least in some parts. I think the part of the situation that is different is that it is not as common for students to attack their teachers or for students to be beaten by their teachers, but the partying aspects fully exist in the States. I will tell you now that the second group held up a sign at the end of their performance that said something to the effect of “Stop the Violence in Schools, Education is the Key to our Future.” So while I didn’t fully understand it at the end of the first performance, I definitely got the message by the end of the second dance. I really though it was an unbelievably creative way for them to take a stand on an issue and share it with their community.
After a full day of the performing arts, I accompanied Mzala (one of the coaches) and Albert to watch another one of the coaches, Casper, play in a soccer game. It was definitely a nice way to pass the afternoon and beat us sitting around our apartment staring at walls of maps of all the places in the world I want to visit. I think Albert really enjoyed it because he beginning to get into soccer, playing with some of the coaches and trying out for some of the provincial teams. I on the other hand am exploring my intellectual side (as if I really have one) and am spending my time reading and writing. It is sort of a nice change of pace from the summer, though I have to keep reminding myself that it is okay to take some down time and not be constantly running around and working out.
It is Very Real
The other night when I was getting ready for bed, I was telling Thembi that I am really looking forward to hearing some of the coach’s stories. I think it will help Albert and I to get a better understanding of how much HIV/AIDS affects the communities here and personalize the work we are doing. I am hoping to capture some of the stories on video as well, so that I may share them with everyone at home. I was reading a few other intern’s blogs and it seems like they have been getting a little more of a personal experience from the coaches and Albert and I haven’t exactly reached that point with our coaches yet. We are hoping soon; hopefully they will see our initiative and open up to us. Thembi said that sometimes the coaches will say that HIV hasn’t affected them, but she thinks they are just hiding something or do not really want to talk about it. It is interesting to me that we are working for an organization that prides itself on starting conversations about HIV/AIDS and we cannot even get some of our coaches to open up and talk about their personal experiences with it. She also said that her life has been affected in so many ways that she cannot imagine that there are people who have not been affected at all. Unfortunately she has not told me her full story yet, but hopefully she will tell me sometime soon.
I do have some stories that I can share with you that have been written down for our brochures. These are not necessarily the coach’s personal stories, but stories that have come from working as a Skillz coach. Right now I will share one and another time I will share the other with you. The first one is from the Kimberley coach, Joyce.
“Hi, my name is Tsheiso ‘Joyce’ Masekela. I am a Grassroot Soccer Skillz coach. I would like to tell the story of a 13-year-old girl and how she was affected by HIV. Her mother was affected by HIV and was bedridden. She had to take care of her sick mother, siblings, and act as a mother. She was too quiet in class and did not want to participate in school or in the Skillz curriculum. However, before practice 6 she shared the story of her mother with me. She chose to share it with me because she related to my coach’s story about my HIV positive aunt. After that, she was changed. She started participating, talking freely, and teaching other students. I personally experienced the power of the coach’s story in influencing participants and the support I was able to offer as a Skillz coach.”
Coaches are chosen from the community in which they serve, which makes them role models that can relate to the hardships and the issues the kids face. If Albert and I worked with the kids we wouldn’t have any idea the world they come from and our experiences and problems would not be the same as theirs. I have to say there are several times throughout the day where I find myself very jealous of the coach’s jobs and their opportunity to have a direct affect in these children’s lives. I have seen these children look at them like they are gods and I hope they realize how special that is and how amazing the work they are doing is. I also need to say that while we do come from very different worlds there are some things that exist across cultures, ages, races, and genders that I think anyone can relate to. For me I feel like in some way I can relate to that 13-year-old girl from Joyce’s story. While I have not been directly affected by HIV or AIDS, there have been times in my life where I have had to take on responsibilities that I was not ready to assume and I remember the difficulties of getting through each day in that situation. I think in everyone’s lives there are always circumstances in which you feel you are alone in the world and until you open up and share your story you don’t realize how many people have been affected in the same way. That is really the beautiful part of the coach’s story and probably a key reason it exists in this curriculum. We aren’t dealing with an easy topic to talk to kids about; this is something that is very real and very scary and something that is not always taken seriously.
I do have some stories that I can share with you that have been written down for our brochures. These are not necessarily the coach’s personal stories, but stories that have come from working as a Skillz coach. Right now I will share one and another time I will share the other with you. The first one is from the Kimberley coach, Joyce.
“Hi, my name is Tsheiso ‘Joyce’ Masekela. I am a Grassroot Soccer Skillz coach. I would like to tell the story of a 13-year-old girl and how she was affected by HIV. Her mother was affected by HIV and was bedridden. She had to take care of her sick mother, siblings, and act as a mother. She was too quiet in class and did not want to participate in school or in the Skillz curriculum. However, before practice 6 she shared the story of her mother with me. She chose to share it with me because she related to my coach’s story about my HIV positive aunt. After that, she was changed. She started participating, talking freely, and teaching other students. I personally experienced the power of the coach’s story in influencing participants and the support I was able to offer as a Skillz coach.”
Coaches are chosen from the community in which they serve, which makes them role models that can relate to the hardships and the issues the kids face. If Albert and I worked with the kids we wouldn’t have any idea the world they come from and our experiences and problems would not be the same as theirs. I have to say there are several times throughout the day where I find myself very jealous of the coach’s jobs and their opportunity to have a direct affect in these children’s lives. I have seen these children look at them like they are gods and I hope they realize how special that is and how amazing the work they are doing is. I also need to say that while we do come from very different worlds there are some things that exist across cultures, ages, races, and genders that I think anyone can relate to. For me I feel like in some way I can relate to that 13-year-old girl from Joyce’s story. While I have not been directly affected by HIV or AIDS, there have been times in my life where I have had to take on responsibilities that I was not ready to assume and I remember the difficulties of getting through each day in that situation. I think in everyone’s lives there are always circumstances in which you feel you are alone in the world and until you open up and share your story you don’t realize how many people have been affected in the same way. That is really the beautiful part of the coach’s story and probably a key reason it exists in this curriculum. We aren’t dealing with an easy topic to talk to kids about; this is something that is very real and very scary and something that is not always taken seriously.
Thursday, September 9, 2010
It Rained for Like a Second
Our first official cloudy day in Kimberley. It even rained a little! Today I have spent most of the day calling around to the schools where we had interventions running before the strike to see if we can start up again. It has been an impossibly, grueling process. Who knew something so simple could be so difficult. I call and the principal is out, then I call back and he is in the classroom, then I call back and he will call me back. Have a received a call? You bet not. This has to be done for 9 schools. We really need to get our interventions back up and running and pack 5 weeks of work into 2 weeks so we can reach our numbers by the end of our fiscal year, October 1st. Probably tomorrow we will start running around to all of these schools so that we can meet with them in person and get a real confirmation. Hopefully we will be back on in at least two schools tomorrow. We also have a meeting tomorrow with LoveLife about the Heritage Month Festival this weekend and a development course scheduled with the coaches. Probably another busy day ahead of us full of running around with our heads cut off.
Today we also met a girl from Florida who just moved to Kimberley 2 days ago to work with the Evangelical Lutheran Church of America, which is partnered with the Evangelical Lutheran Church of South Africa. She will also be here for the next 11 months and may come on part time to help us out and fill part of the shoes of the missing intern. She seemed very nice and hopefully with her we will begin to grow our group of friends here in Kimberley. She also graduated from the University of Florida in 2009. I will tell you more when I know more.
This past weekend I attended the Tri-Nations rugby match between South Africa and Australia in the Bloemfontein World Cup Stadium. I met up with a fellow intern from Lesotho to catch quite a rugby game if I’ve ever seen one. I haven’t, but it was still awesome. I played once at soccer practice. First of all my bus was running on South Africa time and arrived in Kimberley 2 hours behind schedule, which landed me in Bloemfontein right at kick-off without tickets or a place to spend the night. On top of that thank goodness Doug has a South African Sim card for his phone, because otherwise I would have never found him. Luckily the bus station in Bloem, is basically the tailgating parking lot for the stadium, so I didn’t have to go far to get to the game.
After I found Doug we went directly to the ticket window to find that tickets were now selling for R300 apiece. Knowing that we could have gotten them for cheaper earlier or from someone selling them in the parking lot, we decided to pass and head back out into the tailgating areas away from the stadium in pursuit of some tickets. On our way to find tickets we passed four huge white Afrikaner guys who told us that we were going the wrong way and that the game was the other way. They had obviously been having quite a good time for the past few hours. We told them that we knew that, but we didn’t have any tickets. One of the guys goes, “Oh, we have an extra just come with us.” Of course I replied with a “Really?,” which tipped off the presence of foreigners and made them our new best friends. However, as great as a free ticket was, we were still short a ticket because there were two of us. We made this little detail clear and our new best friends decided to purchase another ticket off of someone selling them for us. It was pretty cool being adopted by these crazy men. They spent the entire game explaining the rules, introducing us to their entire clan over and over again (their were 16 of them), feeding us local specialties (biltong or beef jerky and some sort of Slim Jim type thing), as well as American specialties like Coke and Captain Morgan, and simultaneously teaching Doug inappropriate words to shout in Afrikaans. One of the guys gave us his number and told us that if we ever come to Pretoria to give him a call because now we are family and we will stay with him. The also invited us to the Braai after the game (cookout, bar-ba-que, tailgate), but we regretfully declined because we did not yet have anywhere to spend the night.
When we decided to go to the game in the middle of last week, we didn’t really make a whole lot of plans ahead of time (or any at all) thinking that it would be easy to figure out once we got there. That is something that works when you are traveling in off times to places or when you are going somewhere where the one of the biggest games of the year is not being played. I didn’t realize how big of a sport this was and how big of a showing there would be at this place. I knew it was the game being played for second and third place in the Tri-Nations tournament, but that didn’t really mean too much to me. The amount of people there well outdid the amount I have ever seen at a professional football game in the U.S. Also this was a World Cup Stadium and there were no empty seats. After the game we met up with a few of Doug’s friends from Maseru, a girl from Kenya working for the Clinton Foundation, a girl from Italy working in an orphanage, a guy from Columbia and a guy from South Carolina that were working in the English Language Institute. As a group we drove around for 2 hours going into lodge, after hotel, after resort in search of a room and after all that time and 20 hotels later we had only found one room for two people. After our search, Doug’s friends decided to head back to Maseru and Doug and I got the one room left in all of Bloemfontein. I had made a return bus reservation, but Doug had decided to fly by the seat of his pants, so when we got to the bus station around 9:15 a.m. the next day for my bus, we found out that the only bus heading to Maseru for the day had left at 6 a.m. that morning. Luckily we are pretty good at thinking on our feet and Doug was able to find a taxi mini bus back to Lesotho, but don’t you think that between Maseru, Bloemfontein, and Kimberley, all capitals of some sort and all within an hour and a half of each other that there would be more than one bus every other day. If I had wanted to go to Bloem on Friday or Sunday that would not have been possible, I could only go to Kim on those days. I remember from when I was in Cape Town and Western Cape that buses were easy to find and public transportation was everywhere, I am quickly learning that same system does not exist in Northern Cape or the Free State.
At the end of the day today we had a strategic meeting for FY 11! This was exciting because we are gearing up for a huge year; we are doubling our staff, we are tripling our couches, plus we are doubling our interventions and graduates. So we have a lot of work to do this year to reach our targets. It was also nice because we are going to be moving into our projects, things that we can now put our names on as opposed to just finishing up the past interns work. There are a few new things being put in place in terms of teambuilding, woowoo, with the coaches and we also got a chance to get a better understanding of everyone’s role and how it will all fit together. A little excitement in the office today!! Unfortunately this could also mean the end of lots of blogging.
Today we also met a girl from Florida who just moved to Kimberley 2 days ago to work with the Evangelical Lutheran Church of America, which is partnered with the Evangelical Lutheran Church of South Africa. She will also be here for the next 11 months and may come on part time to help us out and fill part of the shoes of the missing intern. She seemed very nice and hopefully with her we will begin to grow our group of friends here in Kimberley. She also graduated from the University of Florida in 2009. I will tell you more when I know more.
This past weekend I attended the Tri-Nations rugby match between South Africa and Australia in the Bloemfontein World Cup Stadium. I met up with a fellow intern from Lesotho to catch quite a rugby game if I’ve ever seen one. I haven’t, but it was still awesome. I played once at soccer practice. First of all my bus was running on South Africa time and arrived in Kimberley 2 hours behind schedule, which landed me in Bloemfontein right at kick-off without tickets or a place to spend the night. On top of that thank goodness Doug has a South African Sim card for his phone, because otherwise I would have never found him. Luckily the bus station in Bloem, is basically the tailgating parking lot for the stadium, so I didn’t have to go far to get to the game.
After I found Doug we went directly to the ticket window to find that tickets were now selling for R300 apiece. Knowing that we could have gotten them for cheaper earlier or from someone selling them in the parking lot, we decided to pass and head back out into the tailgating areas away from the stadium in pursuit of some tickets. On our way to find tickets we passed four huge white Afrikaner guys who told us that we were going the wrong way and that the game was the other way. They had obviously been having quite a good time for the past few hours. We told them that we knew that, but we didn’t have any tickets. One of the guys goes, “Oh, we have an extra just come with us.” Of course I replied with a “Really?,” which tipped off the presence of foreigners and made them our new best friends. However, as great as a free ticket was, we were still short a ticket because there were two of us. We made this little detail clear and our new best friends decided to purchase another ticket off of someone selling them for us. It was pretty cool being adopted by these crazy men. They spent the entire game explaining the rules, introducing us to their entire clan over and over again (their were 16 of them), feeding us local specialties (biltong or beef jerky and some sort of Slim Jim type thing), as well as American specialties like Coke and Captain Morgan, and simultaneously teaching Doug inappropriate words to shout in Afrikaans. One of the guys gave us his number and told us that if we ever come to Pretoria to give him a call because now we are family and we will stay with him. The also invited us to the Braai after the game (cookout, bar-ba-que, tailgate), but we regretfully declined because we did not yet have anywhere to spend the night.
When we decided to go to the game in the middle of last week, we didn’t really make a whole lot of plans ahead of time (or any at all) thinking that it would be easy to figure out once we got there. That is something that works when you are traveling in off times to places or when you are going somewhere where the one of the biggest games of the year is not being played. I didn’t realize how big of a sport this was and how big of a showing there would be at this place. I knew it was the game being played for second and third place in the Tri-Nations tournament, but that didn’t really mean too much to me. The amount of people there well outdid the amount I have ever seen at a professional football game in the U.S. Also this was a World Cup Stadium and there were no empty seats. After the game we met up with a few of Doug’s friends from Maseru, a girl from Kenya working for the Clinton Foundation, a girl from Italy working in an orphanage, a guy from Columbia and a guy from South Carolina that were working in the English Language Institute. As a group we drove around for 2 hours going into lodge, after hotel, after resort in search of a room and after all that time and 20 hotels later we had only found one room for two people. After our search, Doug’s friends decided to head back to Maseru and Doug and I got the one room left in all of Bloemfontein. I had made a return bus reservation, but Doug had decided to fly by the seat of his pants, so when we got to the bus station around 9:15 a.m. the next day for my bus, we found out that the only bus heading to Maseru for the day had left at 6 a.m. that morning. Luckily we are pretty good at thinking on our feet and Doug was able to find a taxi mini bus back to Lesotho, but don’t you think that between Maseru, Bloemfontein, and Kimberley, all capitals of some sort and all within an hour and a half of each other that there would be more than one bus every other day. If I had wanted to go to Bloem on Friday or Sunday that would not have been possible, I could only go to Kim on those days. I remember from when I was in Cape Town and Western Cape that buses were easy to find and public transportation was everywhere, I am quickly learning that same system does not exist in Northern Cape or the Free State.
At the end of the day today we had a strategic meeting for FY 11! This was exciting because we are gearing up for a huge year; we are doubling our staff, we are tripling our couches, plus we are doubling our interventions and graduates. So we have a lot of work to do this year to reach our targets. It was also nice because we are going to be moving into our projects, things that we can now put our names on as opposed to just finishing up the past interns work. There are a few new things being put in place in terms of teambuilding, woowoo, with the coaches and we also got a chance to get a better understanding of everyone’s role and how it will all fit together. A little excitement in the office today!! Unfortunately this could also mean the end of lots of blogging.
Tuesday, September 7, 2010
We Have Some New Office Rules
So these are the new office rules that were posted yesterday by Mr. Jones, Thuso Jones that is.
1) Dress Code:
• You are advised to come to work dressed according to you salary.
• If we see you wearing Prada shoes and carrying a Gucci bag, we will assume you are doing well financially and therefore do not need a raise.
• If you dress poorly, you need to learn to manage your money better, so that you may buy nicer clothes, and therefore you do not need a raise.
• If you dress just right, you are right where you need to be and therefore do not need a raise.
• Albert and I decided that based on our salary we should probably come to work naked, Mandla disagrees, agrees triple our salary, which would still unfortunately leave us naked.
2) Sick Days:
• We will no longer accept a doctor’s statement as proof of sickness. If you are able to go to the doctor, you are able to come to work.
• This one was good last night when Mandla threatened not to come to the teambuilding movie because he foresaw himself getting sick and promised to show us a doctor’s certificate, nope sorry Mandla you are coming with.
3) Personal Days:
• Each employee will receive 104 personal days a year. They are called Saturdays and Sundays.
• These don’t even exist for us because we tend to work at least on Saturdays and sometimes on Sundays.
4) Bereavement Leave:
• This is no excuse for missing work. There is nothing you can do for dead friends, relatives, or co-workers. Every effort should be made to have non-employees attend the funeral arrangements in your place. In rare cases where employee involvement is necessary, the funeral should be scheduled in the late afternoon. We will be glad to allow you to work through your lunch hour and subsequently leave one hour early.
5) Bathroom Breaks:
• Entirely too much time is being spent in the toilet. There is now a strict three-minute limit in the stalls. At the end of three minutes, an alarm will sound, the toilet paper roll will retract, the stall door will open, and a picture will be taken. After your second offense, your picture will be posted on the company bulletin board under the ‘Chronic Offenders’ category. Anyone caught smiling in the picture will be sectioned under the company’s mental health policy.
6) Lunch Break:
• Skinny people get 30 minutes for lunch, as they need to eat more, so they can look healthy.
• Normal size people get 15 minutes for lunch to get a balanced meal to maintain their average figure.
• Chubby people get 5 minutes for lunch, because that’s all the time needed to drink a Slim-Fast.
Yes, we may have a running joke of the day in South Africa too.
So everyday Mandla tells Albert and I that he wants us out of this city and that we better not come to this office tomorrow. Especially after my pranks and antics. Poor guy will be scarred after this year. Although I must say we have a running tally of the pranks on the board (South Africa vs. America) and South Africa is up 2 to 1. Mandla got Albert once when Albert locked the keys in the car (he told him we didn’t have a spare and let Albert freak out for 5 minutes before handing me the spare to go unlock the door) and he got me once when he decided to lock me out of the car and drive away without me. So if anything he is worse than us or maybe we need to step up our game.
Mandla is always yelling at me from the other room. Earlier he called my name and I didn’t respond because I was trying to promote the Pepsi Refresh Project so then he was mad (jokingly mad) because he called me again and I ignored him. He then got up and told me to come back for a second because he had a job for me. He then asked me how long it would take me and I told him an hour to buy myself some time and he was like “An hour? I think you can do it in less.” Of course I knew I could do it in 15 minutes, but I didn’t want to disappoint the beloved site coordinator and his expectations. He then just told me that I am missing out because I didn’t come back there again (this is after I finished my other job), so I asked him if I should come back there and he replied that he does not want me back there. He then proceeded to ask me what is wrong with me and I told him that he is what is wrong with me. You have to love the camaraderie in this office. He also threatened to move me out to Platfontein (one of our sites) and he said I could work from there for the rest of the year. He said he would give me a host family; I thought it sounded like kind of a cool idea, too bad he was just kidding. Got to go video the boys changing Mandla’s tire. Peace.
1) Dress Code:
• You are advised to come to work dressed according to you salary.
• If we see you wearing Prada shoes and carrying a Gucci bag, we will assume you are doing well financially and therefore do not need a raise.
• If you dress poorly, you need to learn to manage your money better, so that you may buy nicer clothes, and therefore you do not need a raise.
• If you dress just right, you are right where you need to be and therefore do not need a raise.
• Albert and I decided that based on our salary we should probably come to work naked, Mandla disagrees, agrees triple our salary, which would still unfortunately leave us naked.
2) Sick Days:
• We will no longer accept a doctor’s statement as proof of sickness. If you are able to go to the doctor, you are able to come to work.
• This one was good last night when Mandla threatened not to come to the teambuilding movie because he foresaw himself getting sick and promised to show us a doctor’s certificate, nope sorry Mandla you are coming with.
3) Personal Days:
• Each employee will receive 104 personal days a year. They are called Saturdays and Sundays.
• These don’t even exist for us because we tend to work at least on Saturdays and sometimes on Sundays.
4) Bereavement Leave:
• This is no excuse for missing work. There is nothing you can do for dead friends, relatives, or co-workers. Every effort should be made to have non-employees attend the funeral arrangements in your place. In rare cases where employee involvement is necessary, the funeral should be scheduled in the late afternoon. We will be glad to allow you to work through your lunch hour and subsequently leave one hour early.
5) Bathroom Breaks:
• Entirely too much time is being spent in the toilet. There is now a strict three-minute limit in the stalls. At the end of three minutes, an alarm will sound, the toilet paper roll will retract, the stall door will open, and a picture will be taken. After your second offense, your picture will be posted on the company bulletin board under the ‘Chronic Offenders’ category. Anyone caught smiling in the picture will be sectioned under the company’s mental health policy.
6) Lunch Break:
• Skinny people get 30 minutes for lunch, as they need to eat more, so they can look healthy.
• Normal size people get 15 minutes for lunch to get a balanced meal to maintain their average figure.
• Chubby people get 5 minutes for lunch, because that’s all the time needed to drink a Slim-Fast.
Yes, we may have a running joke of the day in South Africa too.
So everyday Mandla tells Albert and I that he wants us out of this city and that we better not come to this office tomorrow. Especially after my pranks and antics. Poor guy will be scarred after this year. Although I must say we have a running tally of the pranks on the board (South Africa vs. America) and South Africa is up 2 to 1. Mandla got Albert once when Albert locked the keys in the car (he told him we didn’t have a spare and let Albert freak out for 5 minutes before handing me the spare to go unlock the door) and he got me once when he decided to lock me out of the car and drive away without me. So if anything he is worse than us or maybe we need to step up our game.
Mandla is always yelling at me from the other room. Earlier he called my name and I didn’t respond because I was trying to promote the Pepsi Refresh Project so then he was mad (jokingly mad) because he called me again and I ignored him. He then got up and told me to come back for a second because he had a job for me. He then asked me how long it would take me and I told him an hour to buy myself some time and he was like “An hour? I think you can do it in less.” Of course I knew I could do it in 15 minutes, but I didn’t want to disappoint the beloved site coordinator and his expectations. He then just told me that I am missing out because I didn’t come back there again (this is after I finished my other job), so I asked him if I should come back there and he replied that he does not want me back there. He then proceeded to ask me what is wrong with me and I told him that he is what is wrong with me. You have to love the camaraderie in this office. He also threatened to move me out to Platfontein (one of our sites) and he said I could work from there for the rest of the year. He said he would give me a host family; I thought it sounded like kind of a cool idea, too bad he was just kidding. Got to go video the boys changing Mandla’s tire. Peace.
Please Help Us
http://www.refresheverything.com/athletesforchange
Hey guys,
We have a Grassroot Soccer affiliate program working in Washington D.C. fighting HIV/AIDS. They are trying to win a $50,000 grant from the Pepsi Refresh Project and they really need our help. All you have to do is follow the link above and vote once a day for the idea. Your help would be very, very much appreciated! You will have to copy and paste the link, I can't make it link on my blog. Thank you so much!
Hey guys,
We have a Grassroot Soccer affiliate program working in Washington D.C. fighting HIV/AIDS. They are trying to win a $50,000 grant from the Pepsi Refresh Project and they really need our help. All you have to do is follow the link above and vote once a day for the idea. Your help would be very, very much appreciated! You will have to copy and paste the link, I can't make it link on my blog. Thank you so much!
It is Finally on Hold
I have been scanning the papers and the news for anything that I can link to my blog and discuss, but I haven’t come across much that is too interesting lately. In the local paper I have found out that apparently today is “D-Day for the Strikers,” and by D-day I hope they mean decision day. It would be wonderful to get back to work or rather really start work. Since I have been here, there has been a strike going on. I am beginning to think either there is no such thing as school here or that it is just me, like I brought on this strike and if that is the case the strike will be lasting for another 11 months. That would not be good for the children. For those of you who are not like my mother and scanning every single African newspaper to get the latest news over here (I guess that is where I get my news junkiness), I will inform you of what I know about the situation. Warning: It’s not much. Mostly that the strike keeps us from going into the schools and running our program.
Aside from the problem of not educating the kids, the biggest problem relating to the strike revolves around the matric exams that all of the 12th graders have to take. The matric exams are standardized tests that need to be passed in order for the students to graduate. Pope, wouldn’t you hate that if no matter how well you did in your class, if you didn’t pass the year-end exam, you don’t get to graduate. Thank goodness we don’t have these in the states. If you pass you can get a job or seek further education, but if you do not then you can study part time to be able to pass later. Thuso said that it is very difficult to get a job if you do not pass; you wouldn’t even be able to work in the mines.
The latest news is that at this point most of the schools in Kimberley have returned to normal working hours and activity; however, the strike is not over. It is just simply on hold, possibly because of these matric exams they have already postponed twice. So more to come about the strike; I don’t know when we get to go back to work, but hopefully soon.
Aside from the problem of not educating the kids, the biggest problem relating to the strike revolves around the matric exams that all of the 12th graders have to take. The matric exams are standardized tests that need to be passed in order for the students to graduate. Pope, wouldn’t you hate that if no matter how well you did in your class, if you didn’t pass the year-end exam, you don’t get to graduate. Thank goodness we don’t have these in the states. If you pass you can get a job or seek further education, but if you do not then you can study part time to be able to pass later. Thuso said that it is very difficult to get a job if you do not pass; you wouldn’t even be able to work in the mines.
The latest news is that at this point most of the schools in Kimberley have returned to normal working hours and activity; however, the strike is not over. It is just simply on hold, possibly because of these matric exams they have already postponed twice. So more to come about the strike; I don’t know when we get to go back to work, but hopefully soon.
Monday, September 6, 2010
I Love Being a Child
Teambuilding is my favorite activity here and I am always looking for new teambuilding opportunities. We keep trying to get free tickets from Howard at the DeBeer’s office to go see the Big Hole for a teambuilding opportunity. When I say we keep trying, I really mean that we tried once and need to keep trying. This past week, luckily, we had the opportunity to get in some quality office teambuilding. Phew, we need all the building of the team that we can get! Last Thursday Mandla, Thembi, Thuso, Albert, and I went to the Gariep Festival in Kimberley and spent the night eating and going on rides, two things that you might not want to put together if you have a weak stomach. Oh, we also did some dancing. The festival was sort of similar to the Barnstable County Fair (but less trashy) or the South Florida Fair (but probably less trashy too). We spent 15 minutes in the car trying to decide whether or not to go since we had already rented movies, but upon hearing Mandla’s sadness that we might not want to go, I made the executive decision that we would go because I knew that we could fit in the carnival and the movie. Boy am I glad we decided to go, I love when I just get to be a child again. That would be the 5-year-old in me. I wanted to go on all the rides, but unfortunately we only went on four. Mandla and Thuso were fraidy cats and wouldn’t go with us on the cool rides, so they just waited while Albert, Thembi, and I (the children) went on the Round Up and Break Dancer. Round Up was the ride that is cylinder, kind of like a flying saucer, and it spins so fast you stick to the wall. The difference here was that it was open on the top and then it turned on an angle so you could see out while you were spinning; much cooler than the ones at home. Break Dancer was like the Scrambler at home, you sit in a little car-like seat and the car spins, and then the four cars on the one leg spin, and then the whole ride spins. It was great. The people in the car across from us kept their eyes closed and concentrated on not getting sick; I didn’t think it was that bad. I can’t believe there was a point in time in my life that I was afraid of roller coasters and similar rides.
After all of that fun, we talked Thuso and Mandla into doing Bumper Cars with us. Since it sort of hit me close to home, I just rode with Albert instead of crashing into people. Just kidding, I really just wanted to get some funny pictures (success) so I decided not to drive and instead catch some shots of Thembi, Thuso, and Mandla in action trying to kill Albert and I. It was hilarious; I spent most of the time laughing instead of taking pictures. I think they were really out to get us. Thuso said that I wouldn’t be able to get a picture of him (he doesn’t take pictures, sound familiar), but I did, yes, I did. Since I didn’t drive, I didn’t have to pay so we had four tickets left and lastly Albert and I went on the flying swings. These flying swings were pretty ghetto and probably not the safest, but I still had a good time at least when I wasn’t imagining my swing unhooking itself and shooting me across the fairgrounds. The clip that held my safety bar in place didn’t exactly work and when I looked up, while we were flying nonetheless, I noticed that we were just held onto the machine by a large size paperclip. Real safe, hey TIA (This IS Africa). Well, kind of. I wouldn’t compare it to a lot of other African countries, but I guess technically speaking it is considered part of Africa. All and all it was a wonderful way to spend the night; I don’t know if our team got closer, but its alright because there is definitely more teambuilding to come. I.E. tonight we are hitting up Movie Mania Monday with 10 of the coaches, our office staff, and Jerome (HR manager visiting from Cape Town). We already took 16 newspapers to the mall to get the tickets; comical to say the least. It should be a spectacle and a rowdy, good time. If anything interesting or out of the ordinary happens, I will be reporting back. Also last week we found out that Mandla is very, very afraid of snakes, so we had to make sure to start introducing snakes around the office. We just hung up a panoramic postcard with 5 different snakes all over it on Mandla’s door. Just wait for the plastic ones. I can’t wait for him to come out. Moral of the story thus far, don’t tell me things you are very afraid of, don’t tell me things I shouldn’t do or you do not want me to do, and do not, I repeat do not challenge me. All of the above will lead me to do these things. We are obviously hard at work here in Kimberley; blame it on the strike. Over and out.
After all of that fun, we talked Thuso and Mandla into doing Bumper Cars with us. Since it sort of hit me close to home, I just rode with Albert instead of crashing into people. Just kidding, I really just wanted to get some funny pictures (success) so I decided not to drive and instead catch some shots of Thembi, Thuso, and Mandla in action trying to kill Albert and I. It was hilarious; I spent most of the time laughing instead of taking pictures. I think they were really out to get us. Thuso said that I wouldn’t be able to get a picture of him (he doesn’t take pictures, sound familiar), but I did, yes, I did. Since I didn’t drive, I didn’t have to pay so we had four tickets left and lastly Albert and I went on the flying swings. These flying swings were pretty ghetto and probably not the safest, but I still had a good time at least when I wasn’t imagining my swing unhooking itself and shooting me across the fairgrounds. The clip that held my safety bar in place didn’t exactly work and when I looked up, while we were flying nonetheless, I noticed that we were just held onto the machine by a large size paperclip. Real safe, hey TIA (This IS Africa). Well, kind of. I wouldn’t compare it to a lot of other African countries, but I guess technically speaking it is considered part of Africa. All and all it was a wonderful way to spend the night; I don’t know if our team got closer, but its alright because there is definitely more teambuilding to come. I.E. tonight we are hitting up Movie Mania Monday with 10 of the coaches, our office staff, and Jerome (HR manager visiting from Cape Town). We already took 16 newspapers to the mall to get the tickets; comical to say the least. It should be a spectacle and a rowdy, good time. If anything interesting or out of the ordinary happens, I will be reporting back. Also last week we found out that Mandla is very, very afraid of snakes, so we had to make sure to start introducing snakes around the office. We just hung up a panoramic postcard with 5 different snakes all over it on Mandla’s door. Just wait for the plastic ones. I can’t wait for him to come out. Moral of the story thus far, don’t tell me things you are very afraid of, don’t tell me things I shouldn’t do or you do not want me to do, and do not, I repeat do not challenge me. All of the above will lead me to do these things. We are obviously hard at work here in Kimberley; blame it on the strike. Over and out.
Wednesday, September 1, 2010
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