This year I’m living in an Afrikaans-speaking community and thus have decided to attempt to learn the language. To help with this process, I talk as often as possible with the caretaker for my host grandma that lives with us. Elsa speaks only Afrikaans with a dab of English and so we play a game I like to call stare-at-each-other-blankly-until-resorting-to-charades.
A dialogue from this morning:
Elsa: Goeie more! (Good morning!)
Jen: Goeie more!
Elsa:Hoe gaan dit? (How are you?)
Jen: Goed, dankie. Ek es lief vir jou! (Good, thank you. I love you!)
Elsa: blank stare
You know, I think things are coming along quite nicely.
Tuesday, September 25, 2012
Sunday, September 23, 2012
The Many Faces of South Africa
It’s not often a stranger leans over to show you a topless picture of themself and relatives on their cell phone.
Meet Bongi. 27, recently married, career woman, grew up in Zulu culture, big hair, and even bigger laugh. We’ve been sitting next to each other on the 10 hour bus ride from Pietermaritzburg to Bloemfontein and chatted for quite a bit now to while away the endless hours of dry countryside. Quite the dramatic, she soon begins to spill out her marriage problems to me—all of them. Stuck in my seat I can do nothing but listen as she tells me all about the exorbitant amounts she spent on gifts for her relatives, the goat they had slaughtered for the ceremony, the unhappiness she feels at being trapped in a lovely marriage, and the conflict between her feminist ideas of freedom and independence clashing with the traditional values of her culture.
“Look!” she says, pointing out the different faces in the picture and naming each one. The women’s skirts are a riot of color even in the mini screen shot while I can just make out the dead rabbit one woman is holding by its feet at the end of the row.
Having no experience with marriage, Zulu or otherwise, I smile and nod as she spills out secrets I feel I shouldn’t be hearing. “What do I do? I’m trapped,” she laments and looks at me like I should have a magic answer to solve it all. Looking at the professionally dressed woman next to me, it’s so incredible to me that behind it all are traditional roots that combat the modern ideas that city culture has taught her. Caught between expectations of past and present, there are no easy answers to be had. Eventually a movie comes on the Greyhound TV screens and she kindly shares a set of headphones with me. Leaning in close to make the cord reach, I smile to think what a strange pair we make at the back of the bus laughing together at Ice Age 3 as the miles roll past.
…
Happy Cultural Heritage Day!
Bongi is just one example of the many, many faces of modern South Africa. From Zulu to Afrikaans, Tswana to Indian, there’s no end to the cultural heritages mixed here. Today is the official day to celebrate it all and so there are plenty of opportunities to wear their traditional clothes. Even I’m going to, apparently.
After a good crying session this afternoon (nothing emotional, just onions) my host mom announced I would be going to a cultural night and she would be dressing me up in traditional African wear. I’m excited! She just came in, looks like it’s go time ☺
Meet Bongi. 27, recently married, career woman, grew up in Zulu culture, big hair, and even bigger laugh. We’ve been sitting next to each other on the 10 hour bus ride from Pietermaritzburg to Bloemfontein and chatted for quite a bit now to while away the endless hours of dry countryside. Quite the dramatic, she soon begins to spill out her marriage problems to me—all of them. Stuck in my seat I can do nothing but listen as she tells me all about the exorbitant amounts she spent on gifts for her relatives, the goat they had slaughtered for the ceremony, the unhappiness she feels at being trapped in a lovely marriage, and the conflict between her feminist ideas of freedom and independence clashing with the traditional values of her culture.
“Look!” she says, pointing out the different faces in the picture and naming each one. The women’s skirts are a riot of color even in the mini screen shot while I can just make out the dead rabbit one woman is holding by its feet at the end of the row.
Having no experience with marriage, Zulu or otherwise, I smile and nod as she spills out secrets I feel I shouldn’t be hearing. “What do I do? I’m trapped,” she laments and looks at me like I should have a magic answer to solve it all. Looking at the professionally dressed woman next to me, it’s so incredible to me that behind it all are traditional roots that combat the modern ideas that city culture has taught her. Caught between expectations of past and present, there are no easy answers to be had. Eventually a movie comes on the Greyhound TV screens and she kindly shares a set of headphones with me. Leaning in close to make the cord reach, I smile to think what a strange pair we make at the back of the bus laughing together at Ice Age 3 as the miles roll past.
…
Happy Cultural Heritage Day!
Bongi is just one example of the many, many faces of modern South Africa. From Zulu to Afrikaans, Tswana to Indian, there’s no end to the cultural heritages mixed here. Today is the official day to celebrate it all and so there are plenty of opportunities to wear their traditional clothes. Even I’m going to, apparently.
After a good crying session this afternoon (nothing emotional, just onions) my host mom announced I would be going to a cultural night and she would be dressing me up in traditional African wear. I’m excited! She just came in, looks like it’s go time ☺
Friday, September 14, 2012
I’m Going to Cape Town!!! Aka How I Found Myself Doing the Electric Slide in Swaziland
Moments of clarity like to hit when we least expect them. For me, it was dancing the Electric Slide in the rain at night in Swaziland, 16 hours into an 18 hour Crazy (yes, capital C crazy) road trip.
Let’s rewind a bit.
It’s the first week of September. My palms are sweaty as I wait for my 1 on 1 with Tessa, our program coordinator, to hear more about details on what I’ll be doing/where I’ll be volunteering this year. The church door opens and Tessa’s smiling a bit to reassuringly for my comfort.
“So, do I get to do program management like was in the letter?” I blurt out before we’re even seated.
Her smile gets even bigger as we sit. This can’t be good. She pauses for a moment. “Housing fell through in Kimberley, what do you think about Cape Town?”
Silence. Processing. Everything I thought I’d be doing, out the window.
Twenty seconds later, with all sincerity, “Yes! Sounds great!”
During the beautiful “it’s okay to mourn for lost dreams” speech that subsequently followed my mind sped through the few things I knew about the city. Ocean. Mountains. Big city. Tons of cultural minglings. Baboons. So what comes out of my mouth, ending her eloquence entirely?
“There are baboons in Cape Town!”
So yes, folks, I’m now in Cape Town! Sister city of San Francisco, penguins on the beach…you read that right. And the dean I’ll be working with seems great! Tomorrow we’ll get a chance to talk about housing and volunteer options, one thing on the list is work at a reconciliation center. Stoked. I’ll also get a chance to update more frequently now that I’ll finally be settled (and no longer living out of a suitcase!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!) All of this falling together on such short notice and fitting perfectly is totally God working. Already I feel like I belong here and am fitting into the community.
What does this all have to do with the Electric Slide? A simple matter of learning to say “yes.” In the waiting time for Cape Town logistics to come together I was sent with Katie, another volunteer, to Swaziland on the second craziest road trip of my life to attend the Young Adult League biannual conference. It was more than we had bargained for, to say the least. Eighteen hours each direction, eleven women yelling at each other in Tswana the whole way, a stop at a town named Bethlehem where I bought a ham & cheese sandwich from a cashier in a devil outfit, tons of Christmas decorations in Bethlehem with none of them religious (please appreciate the irony in both of these), a conference that lasted from 7am to 2am with no breaks. 16 hours into the journey there and I was tired, still hadn’t heard the final confirmation on Cape Town, and was incredibly grumpy. Life wasn’t turning out like I had planned and honestly I would have rather been settled anywhere than on the road and living out of a suitcase again for another weekend. Stop at wrong hotel #3 looked dismal as ever and I chose to stay in the van instead of stand outside in the rain with everyone else. The music turned on, the same African slow jams we’d been listening to for hours, and, against all odds, people started dancing. Sitting grumpily in the car by myself it hit me that saying “yes” to opportunities was entirely my decision. Whether I enjoyed the bumps in the road or stewed in my own pit of impatience was all up to me. So what did I do?
I said “yes,” got out of my comfort zone, and started dancing in the rain.
*Zulu marriage counselor story next…I figured moving to Cape Town was slightly more important
Let’s rewind a bit.
It’s the first week of September. My palms are sweaty as I wait for my 1 on 1 with Tessa, our program coordinator, to hear more about details on what I’ll be doing/where I’ll be volunteering this year. The church door opens and Tessa’s smiling a bit to reassuringly for my comfort.
“So, do I get to do program management like was in the letter?” I blurt out before we’re even seated.
Her smile gets even bigger as we sit. This can’t be good. She pauses for a moment. “Housing fell through in Kimberley, what do you think about Cape Town?”
Silence. Processing. Everything I thought I’d be doing, out the window.
Twenty seconds later, with all sincerity, “Yes! Sounds great!”
During the beautiful “it’s okay to mourn for lost dreams” speech that subsequently followed my mind sped through the few things I knew about the city. Ocean. Mountains. Big city. Tons of cultural minglings. Baboons. So what comes out of my mouth, ending her eloquence entirely?
“There are baboons in Cape Town!”
So yes, folks, I’m now in Cape Town! Sister city of San Francisco, penguins on the beach…you read that right. And the dean I’ll be working with seems great! Tomorrow we’ll get a chance to talk about housing and volunteer options, one thing on the list is work at a reconciliation center. Stoked. I’ll also get a chance to update more frequently now that I’ll finally be settled (and no longer living out of a suitcase!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!) All of this falling together on such short notice and fitting perfectly is totally God working. Already I feel like I belong here and am fitting into the community.
What does this all have to do with the Electric Slide? A simple matter of learning to say “yes.” In the waiting time for Cape Town logistics to come together I was sent with Katie, another volunteer, to Swaziland on the second craziest road trip of my life to attend the Young Adult League biannual conference. It was more than we had bargained for, to say the least. Eighteen hours each direction, eleven women yelling at each other in Tswana the whole way, a stop at a town named Bethlehem where I bought a ham & cheese sandwich from a cashier in a devil outfit, tons of Christmas decorations in Bethlehem with none of them religious (please appreciate the irony in both of these), a conference that lasted from 7am to 2am with no breaks. 16 hours into the journey there and I was tired, still hadn’t heard the final confirmation on Cape Town, and was incredibly grumpy. Life wasn’t turning out like I had planned and honestly I would have rather been settled anywhere than on the road and living out of a suitcase again for another weekend. Stop at wrong hotel #3 looked dismal as ever and I chose to stay in the van instead of stand outside in the rain with everyone else. The music turned on, the same African slow jams we’d been listening to for hours, and, against all odds, people started dancing. Sitting grumpily in the car by myself it hit me that saying “yes” to opportunities was entirely my decision. Whether I enjoyed the bumps in the road or stewed in my own pit of impatience was all up to me. So what did I do?
I said “yes,” got out of my comfort zone, and started dancing in the rain.
*Zulu marriage counselor story next…I figured moving to Cape Town was slightly more important
Wednesday, September 5, 2012
Hello from Bloemfontein!
HOLD THE PHONE, STOP THE CLOCKS….
I SAW A WILD GIRAFFE!!!!!!!!!!!!! 7 OF THEM!!!!!
I AM SO HAPPY!!!!
(they’re my favorite animal if you can’t tell)
Hello from Bloemfontein!!
Orientation is finally over!! Yay! It’s been a long ten days of hanging out in Pietermaritzburg learning, listening, and chatting about South Africa and preparing us for our journeys this year. To jar us out of our comfort zones our country program coordinator Tessa took us to lunch at an English tea garden just before touring a prison that held hundreds of black political prisoners during Apartheid. The huge disparity in condition was a shock to see so blatantly side by side, not to mention hearing the history surrounding the place where Nelson Mandela and even Gandhi (ya, you read that right. He started out as a lawyer in S.A.) were imprisoned for some time. What was perhaps more disturbing was that in the tea garden restaurant it was impossible to see the poor neighborhood just outside the door, makes me wonder how much we do that in the US in allowing ourselves to be blind in our own comfort bubbles.
Now we’ve all left for our own corners of the country to volunteer. In a wonderful and strange turn of events, I’m temporarily staying in Bloemfontein for the week with my friend Katie because….I’m going to Swaziland this weekend. Nbd, it’s not another country or anything. It’s the church’s national youth gathering for Southern Africa and my church supervisor decided to send me along. From what I’ve been told it will be a bunch of singing and dancing and worship music, with quite a bit of it in Zulu. I’m excited!
Life is still very much in transition but will hopefully be settling soon once I get to my volunteer site. Once there, hopefully I can get more blog posts out and spend some more time with it.
Have a beautiful day! Thanks for tuning in!
Preview for next post: “Jen’s run-in as a Zulu marriage counselor”. True story.
I SAW A WILD GIRAFFE!!!!!!!!!!!!! 7 OF THEM!!!!!
I AM SO HAPPY!!!!
(they’re my favorite animal if you can’t tell)
Hello from Bloemfontein!!
Orientation is finally over!! Yay! It’s been a long ten days of hanging out in Pietermaritzburg learning, listening, and chatting about South Africa and preparing us for our journeys this year. To jar us out of our comfort zones our country program coordinator Tessa took us to lunch at an English tea garden just before touring a prison that held hundreds of black political prisoners during Apartheid. The huge disparity in condition was a shock to see so blatantly side by side, not to mention hearing the history surrounding the place where Nelson Mandela and even Gandhi (ya, you read that right. He started out as a lawyer in S.A.) were imprisoned for some time. What was perhaps more disturbing was that in the tea garden restaurant it was impossible to see the poor neighborhood just outside the door, makes me wonder how much we do that in the US in allowing ourselves to be blind in our own comfort bubbles.
Now we’ve all left for our own corners of the country to volunteer. In a wonderful and strange turn of events, I’m temporarily staying in Bloemfontein for the week with my friend Katie because….I’m going to Swaziland this weekend. Nbd, it’s not another country or anything. It’s the church’s national youth gathering for Southern Africa and my church supervisor decided to send me along. From what I’ve been told it will be a bunch of singing and dancing and worship music, with quite a bit of it in Zulu. I’m excited!
Life is still very much in transition but will hopefully be settling soon once I get to my volunteer site. Once there, hopefully I can get more blog posts out and spend some more time with it.
Have a beautiful day! Thanks for tuning in!
Preview for next post: “Jen’s run-in as a Zulu marriage counselor”. True story.
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