Young White Female in Rural Black South Africa

I cannot count how many times I have been proposed to while living in South Africa. Many men will start a conversation by telling me their name and then asking where I’m from and some will ask my name. Some will also ask what I’m doing here, and where I’m from. Then, the next 2 questions are almost always:
1. Will you marry me?
2. Can I have your phone number?

I’m actually quite rude to most men when I am alone for this reason alone. It’s exhausting. I’ve come up with my own ways of saying no, as have all the other female PCVs (single or married) serving in South Africa. When I’m outside of the village, I almost always claim to be married and don’t have a cell phone. If he asks where my ring is, I claim I was mugged or afraid of being mugged (depending on where I am and where I’m headed). If he offers to buy me a cell phone, I say I don’t want one. That usually ends the conversation. If he insists on continuing, it usually consists of heavily questioning my singleness and then when he is sure I really am married, my faithfulness to my husband. The little lies usually work better for me when dealing with strangers in town and make me feel safer. In and around my village, I am a bit more honest and the men are much easier to convince I’m not available. They’ve seen me around and have heard about what I’m doing and where I’ve from. I’ve used lines like, “My cell phone is for official Peace Corps business only, sorry.” Or “I don’t give out my number to anyone I haven’t talked to at least 5 times.” And “I don’t want to be married yet. I’ll get married when I go home. I wouldn’t be here right now if I had gotten married. I’d be at home in America with my husband.” Or “Peace Corps won’t let us get married. It’s a rule.” Or “My labola (dowry) is too high.” To the all-to-common, “Can I come visit you?” comment, I have leaned the best way to respond is accept with an ok and ignore if they request where and when. I have yet to actually receive a visitor. I can usually deflect the annoying requests with minimal effort, but it truly is annoying.

Today, I ran into a slightly different situation of the same sort. It is the typical way a conversation beings, progresses, and ends with most men who try to talk to me when I’m out and about. I was walking to school alone and a man passed me on his bike. He quickly stopped and here’s what happened.

Man: Dumela ma. (Hello ma’am)
Me: Ahe. (Hello)
Man: Where are you going?
Me: To the school.
Man: What do you do there?
Me: I teach computer classes.
Man: Will you type a letter for me?
Me: No.
Man: Don’t they have typing machines there?
Me: Yes, they have computers, but I don’t type letters.
Man: What do I do if I want to type a letter?
Me: You can go speak with the principal. He can set something up for you.
Man: If I go talk to the principal, he will charge me a fee for the service.
Me: Yes.
Man: How much?
Me: I don’t know. You’ll have to ask the principal yourself. I do not type letters for people.
Man: When can I meet you?
Me: What?
Man: I want to talk with you?
Me: Ok. What do you want to talk with me about?
Man: About how I feel.
Me: Well, ok, how do you feel?
Man: I feel fat (gesturing with hands by his groin) when I look at you. I want to have an affair with you.
Me: No. (as I turned and walked away)

Traditional School

Today there was a celebration in the village. I had been hearing about it for weeks. In many of the black South African cultures, there is a traditional school. Kids go to this school to become a man or woman. In my village here, it is the Tswana culture. The participants go off for 4 weeks and stay in a tent way far out in one of the fields. I’m not really sure what is done at this traditional school, but I know it is a big thing, a big rite of passage. Outsiders are not told what happens on the inside, so it makes for an exclusive bunch. This year in Brooksby, there were 56 students. I’m not really sure what the requirements are. I asked a friend how old they have to be to go and she said anyone can go, usually 12 and up. Boys and girls go, but they go separately. Throughout my 2 years in South Africa, I have heard rumors of what happens, but I am not certain of much.

Yesterday afternoon, the group came back. They had been gone for 4 weeks. I stood In my yard behind my house and watched. My host sister came out and watched with me. We could see the mob coming from afar. There were men on horses zig zaging back and forth as they approached the edge of the village. I was told this was for entertainment and excitement for the spectators. They moved swiftly. My host sister told me she would be going to the celebration in the morning instead of today. That is the exciting part. That is when they do the singing. She said each member has their own song.

So today, I wasn’t sure what to expect. I did my laundry and had some lunch. Then I decided to check out the celebration. I had not wanted to go alone, but it didn’t seem that my host sister was really going after all. I know celebrations usually go all day and all night, but I didn’t want to miss this. I walked over to the neighbor’s yard where the party was happening. As I walked in, there sat my host mom. When did she get there? Didn’t I just see her at home? She offered me food. (Why did I just eat lunch?) They had killed two bulls for the feast. As I looked around, it looked like the people who were eating had pap with their meat but that is all I really saw. There were people everywhere. The biggest crowd was formed around a spot in the yard. People were standing on whatever they could (boxes, tree branches, chairs, plastic crates) so they could see. In the center, there was a group sitting on the ground. It was very difficult to get close enough to see what was going on. This is what I saw.

All of the men who had returned from the traditional school were sitting on the ground like the little old women sit (legs straight out in front of them). Each had a big blanked wrapped around him. Attached to the blankrt was handkerchiefs. Some had South African flags attached or other clothes. Many had beads like Mardi Gras beads around their necks. Each had a hat on. Attached to the hat was handkerchiefs, rings, mirrors, and money. Each man had a stick as well. There were men in regular street clothes holding sticks and hovering around them, obviously in charge. They were also keeping the crowd back far enough so there was a little space in front of the men for some photographers. The men were all singing. 1 would stand up and perform as the rest would do backup chanting. It was the most beautiful singing I’ve heard so far in Africa. The man would sing his piece and then 1 or 2 family members or friends would join him as a photographer would take their picture. Then he would sit down and rejoin the chorus as another would stand and sing. The audience would respond with calls and whistles.

When I asked about what I was seeing, no one would really explain too much to me. The men who were hovering around were men who have already attended the traditional school in the past. The handkerchiefs and other things attached to them are to make them look pretty. They were singing about whatever they choose. I was told, “some about their mom, dad, sister, whatever they choose.” That’s about all I found out.

I only stayed for a short while, but it was quite the experience. I’m glad I went and saw. And I’m glad that the South Africans are so pushy that I got pushed out of the way after taking a couple of pictures. A short time was long enough for me.

The Windy Season is Coming?!?

It’s almost the windy season. You could have fooled me. I thought it was already here. It took me about 10 minutes longer to get to school today because the cold wind was blowing so hard in the opposite direction of the school. It reminded me of Kansas on a windy day, only I couldn’t go into a sealed building here to get out of it.

Dust, dirt, and sand are everywhere. Ah, nothing like gritty food...

I have learned to roll a towel from both ends and shove the unrolled middle under the door. This prevents the sand dune from building inside my door and up against my door on the outside so it can’t blow in when I open the door. Now it only builds up in the corners where the towel doesn’t reach.

I tuck my pillow under the covers so I don’t sleep with my face on “sand paper.”

Beware of hanging white clothes on the line, for they will not come off white, but a reddish brown, the color of the ground here. It’s permanent too.

The gritty sand layer on the floor, make sure to sweep it up good so it can come back in an hour or so.

I am thankful for my glasses. However, sometimes I wish I had brought my snowboarding goggles because then the dirt flying through the air really wouldn’t get in my eyes. And the scarf…well it serves 2 purposes in this cold, windy weather.

Ah, windy season. How I did not miss you!

Frosty

I woke up this morning a little on the chilly side. I got up and looked at my little clock with a digital thermometer on it. 33degrees in my room. Brrrrr!!! I open my door to go out to the pit toilet. Frost everywhere. It was noticeable colder outside than in my room. Are you kidding me? I’m in Africa!!! I went as quickly as possible and returned to my room where I jumped back into my bed, which had already cooled off. I’m ready for summer to come back!

Beans, Beans, The Magical Fruit…

As a functional vegetarian in a far away from anywhere place, I have struggled to get the proper nutrition for my entire 2 years. Protein has been a big problem. My doctor put me on a baked bean diet…1 tablespoon of baked beans in the morning, 1 at night. That didn’t work out so well because baked beans come in a can, not in a tablespoon serving size, and I have yet to get a refrigerator for leftovers. I’ve added lentils to my diet. I eat an incredible amount of eggs and hope my cholesterol doesn’t get too high. I’ve also tried adding dried beans to my diet. The key word is tried. To make beans, you must soak them first for 8-12 hours first. I have a hard time remembering to put them in water, so I have a bunch of beans sitting in my box that have yet to be cooked.

This morning, I woke up at 7am and decided to have beans for dinner. For some reason I was thinking ahead, but still slow to action. I put the beans in a bowl and added water so they could soak for the day. They soaked for 8 hours, from 9-5. I had forgotten 1 little fact... they take at least 2.5 hours to boil. Shoot. Ok, so I put them on the stove and set my alarm so I remember when they should be done. Late dinner tonight…7:30. So my beans boiled and boiled and boiled. I made some soup to put them in so I had my beans boiling and my soup simmering. Then I wanted some tea, so I turned on my kettle and boiled some water. Finally, at 8:15, I tested another bean (for some reason, they just didn’t seem to get done by 7:30 like planned) and it was done. I tossed some in a bowl with some soup and sat down to eat. Arg, the beans were not really done, so I turned the hotplate back on and ate the ones in my bowl anyways. I ate my dinner and got into bed because it was freezing.

All of a sudden, I hear this noise. It sounds like something falling onto my table. I’m not sure what it was. I go over to the table and turn off the hot plate and I am hearing sparks and electrical buzz. What?!? Am I going to electrocute myself? What’s going on? All of a sudden, it’s sprinkling on my head and shoulders. What?!?

I look up to see that the steam from the 4 hours of bean boiling, 30 minutes of soup simmering, 3 minutes of water boiling, and drastic temperature drop when the sun went down has caused my tin roof to collect water in a condensed form. It is now dripping from the ceiling onto my metal table with power strip, charging camera, and charging cell phone. Yikes!!! Maybe I just wasn’t meant to eat beans.

Computer Camp: Last Day

The last day of computer camp, I decided to have a special day. I arranged the schedule so all the students could come at 1 time. Only half of them actually showed up, but it was an even mix between the mangos and guavas. They took a prove-that-you-learned-something quiz and most did really well. Better than I was expecting. I guess they did learn something after all. :) When they finished, they got to play computer games for a bit. Then we did an “around the world” activity on the computers. I arranged the computers into groups. The students moved from 1 computer to the next around to each computer in the group. On the computer, they had a task they had to complete. It was another way to show me how much they learned. They had to insert clip art, edit text styles, create autoshape, and a couple other things. The activity where they moved to a different computer was a bit more difficult for the students to understand but once they understood what I wanted it went well. It made for a good last day.

Here are a couple of pictures from our 3 weeks.