Farewell Event

My community farewell party was a highlight of my experience in Africa. It was lovingly organized by all the volunteers of the drop-in centre and friends in Bethal. It was kept a big secret from me, although I knew the date, time and place of the event. I felt so loved and appreciated as the evening progressed with speeches, poetry, singing and dancing. Sixty people attended on the coldest night of the winter….decorations, food and transport for attendees in the township completed the event. A slide show was shown of me in many roles and activities while in Africa….so many special memories filled my heart with so many incredible people that have touched me so deeply during my time here.

What also made the evening special was the attendance of so many youth…..Youth Leaders from the drop-in centre and youngsters of friends. I’ve always felt that the future of a country is bright and promising when young people care about their community and are willing to be a part of solutions to the challenges that face it.

Below is the speech given by the Deputy Chairperson of the CCBE for OVCS and the Leth’ithemba Drop-In Centre…..

FAREWELL MESSAGE TO JUDY ON BEHALF OF THE COMMITTEE OF THE LETH’ITHEMBA DROP IN CENTRE

Judy – America will never be the same to us anymore, because we have met Judy Schneringer from California.

A lady with a vision that almost becomes visible while you are working with her in accomplishing that vision.
A lady who is willing to make sacrifices to accomplish her vision.
A lady who knows how to travel by aeroplane, by car, by taxi, and also by foot.
A lady who is always positive and empowers people to be their best and to do their best.
A lady who doesn’t live by dollars, but by serving others.

Judy, you will always be remembered for the primary role you’ve played in the preparation, birth and growth of the Leth’ithemba Drop-in-Centre.
Thank you for your time, energy, expertise, love, endurance and sacrifice.
The Leth’ithemba Drop- in-Centre is a small baby now, but we trust it will grow steadily.
God gave you the grace to be part of its foundation, its birth and its growth.
We see you as a gift from God who helped Leth’ithemba Drop-in-Centre happen.
You were a gift from God for a specific time and place and we honour Him for that.

May god bless you and your family richly with His love, grace and presence and we hope that your memories of us will blossom in the coming years because Leth’ithemba Drop-in-Centre will be blossoming.

Peace Corps buddies and Various

It wouldn’t be right to forget my fellow Peace Corps volunteer buddies in my blog postings. Through text messaging from our cell phones to the occasional leave from work for vacation or trainings together, we were there for each other, more than any other support system. We clung to each other through the two years of being far from home. These photos show some of my best friends and me at different stages of our time together. The environment and accommodations are typical of our pre-service training experience through our Close of Service Conference just completed.

Birthday and Good-Byes

I arrived home alive from my last long-distance taxi ride in South Africa at noon the day before my 58th birthday. I thought of my life as we sped along at the highest speed possible, 15 adults crammed into the koombie, stopping frequently to check that left front tire and falling back frequently from attempting to pass 18 wheelers weighted down with coal. To be fair, I haven’t felt any safer in most private vehicles careening down the roads of South Africa, but in them at least I might have a bit more influence on the driver and the vehicle is in better condition mechanically.

My friend Napoleon picked me up from the taxi rank, the days now are sunny and crispy cold, and we went to his house where we had tea with his wife, Rosemary and the third of my Zimbabwean friends, Lillian (who I visited in Zimbabwe last Christmas)…..they and their children are my first friends, taking me under-their-wings when I arrived in Bethal September 2006. We made plans for my birthday the next day. I arrived home to an empty, quiet house. I have it to myself this week as Elize, Louis and Roelf (the young man living with us who’s Mom is opening a health clinic in Malawi) conclude a two week missionary trip to Mozambique. It is refreshing to have the house to myself as I have lived within family homes for the past two years, limiting my privacy. Yet, even though most Peace Corps volunteers have more privacy than just a bedroom, I prefer living with a family. Elize and Louis opened their hearts and home to me last September when I had grown out of the living arrangement with my co-worker and needed to make a change. I was welcomed into their lives as a family member and included in all family activities. This meant a whole lot to me since I have felt isolated and lonely frequently being away from the U.S. I have rounded out my cultural home stays, first at a Zulu home during pre-service training, then an Indian home with my co-worker for one year and lastly with an Afrikaans family now.

I woke up on my birthday happy, a beautiful day, ripe for the laundry I washed by hand to dry. My family’s full-time maid will return when they do. Wages, skills and education are so low for the mass of Black South Africans and unemployment so high that most middle-class families can afford to hire a maid and gardener (garden “boys”). I went for a jog, a two or three times weekly effort to get into better shape before I return home. It always puts me in the spotlight for anyone who crosses my path.….women, older women, older white women, older white women alone without a dog, older white women alone without a dog and dressed in inappropriate jogging togs don’t’ jog. After two years here, I still can’t stand being stared at, especially that look that says, “did she just land here from the planet Mars?”

I spent a lovely evening with my Zim friends. I brought chili, left-over from the meal I cooked for the missionaries the night before they left for Mozambique, and they supplied the wieners (viennas we call them here) and buns, etc. for a chili dog extravaganza. I’ve always had a lot of fun sharing my love for Mexican food with my South African family and friends. In 50 years time, I will still be remembered for introducing guacamole to half of the population of Bethal. And they all love it.

Next week, Saturday, is the special farewell party planned for me by the drop-in centre Executive Committee, where everyone who has been a part of my life in a meaningful way these past two years in Bethal will be present. The event is a highly guarded secret from me and I only know where and when it will be. Thinking of it brings sadness to my heart as I continue to say goodbye over these brief weeks to wonderful people that have given me so much love. They have shared their lives with me and taught me so much about what is important in life…...relationships…… “ubuntu,” that I do not exist, succeed, heal, love, etc. in isolation but in a relationship with other people. I tell them that I will come back for a visit to see them and how the drop-in centre has fared. In reality, South Africa is nearly half-way around the earth. I suppose it lessens my sense of loss to believe that we will continue our friendships. Nonetheless, the party will be a time of joy for me as well, a time to express to them the appreciation I feel so deeply and to enjoy their company one more time.

Leth'ithemba (bring hope) Drop-In Centre pix

Since I am having so much trouble figuring out how to label these photos, I will resort to describing them to you….hopefully you will be able to get a glimpse of the orphans and vulnerable children drop-in centre project for which I have spent the last two years of my life helping to develop and implement.

The first two photos show the June 2007 “Kick-Off Event” held in the Community Hall in the township to introduce our project and mission to the wider community. The head table features the Executive Committee (of which I am Secretary) and other community leaders.

The next two photos show the Youth Leader volunteers which we have come to rely on to implement many activities with the children. They are very entertaining and creative and we all have had a lot of fun with them in the different stages of the project.

I am standing with the two other centre Coordinators, Delisile and Elize (who also happens to be my host family mother whom I live with).

The remainder of the photos show activities we provide the children including homework and remediation of English skills. The last photo is little Thandazo, my of my favorite kids, proudly showing off his new Leth’ithemba jacket.

Mob Nation

For the first time since the end of Apartheid in the early 1990s, the South African army has been called on by the President, Thabo Mbeki, to help police quell the violence against foreigners erupting in the larger townships and shanty towns of the country. For about 10 days now, mobs have assaulted suspected foreigners, burned their homes and looted their businesses. Forty-two people have been killed and nearly 27,000 people have been displaced. I have kept myself as up-to-date as possible on the available news around the disturbances, but no one knows if it will end soon or continue to spread.

All indicators point to a breaking point of anger and frustration of the majority of South Africans that live in squalor and tin shacks and who have not benefited from the democratic government of the past 14 years. They are venting this rage at their settlement neighbors, refugees and immigrants from African countries such as Mozambique, Malawi, Somalia and Zimbabwe, feeling threatened that they are taking the few jobs that exist and that they are sources of crime. The additional tragedy is that these foreigners are desperate and poor as well and now they must deal with the second trauma of being terrorized here after leaving their homeland.

Just so you know, I am safe and have a safe lifestyle. Since September of 2007, I have been living with an Afrikaans family in the nicest area of Bethal, a quiet residential neighborhood. I have been fortunate to have a loving family include me as a family member and care for me as one of their own. I also have learned a lot about dealing with safety and security issues in South Africa.

My friends and host family have been making inquiries with our friends in Emzinoni (the township) to determine if violent incidents have occurred there yet. There is talk of church leaders from Bethal and Emzinoni meeting this coming week to fortify the community support for each other. I am told we do have a large number of foreigners in Emzinoni.

It is sad to be an observer of this violence although I’m not entirely surprised by it. It seems inevitable that the patience that poor black South Africans have displayed for so long would finally burst with frustration. Unemployment is easily 40%-50%. Food prices for basics and coal (used for fuel) have recently skyrocketed. HIV infections are still escalating and AIDs deaths leave families in chaos.

South Africa prides itself on its unity as the “rainbow nation.” Nelson Mandela overcame unimaginable obstacles to be released from prison after 27 years and with the support from the majority of South Africans, managed to steer the country from civil war and into an era of hope and confidence. Currently, it seems there is disillusionment and cynicism everywhere. Yet, I truly believe South Africa will overcome this bump in the road to creep forward towards the well-being of all its citizens. They have sacrificed so much already not to.

May Day

Here in South Africa, as in other parts of the world, May Day (May 1st) is a national holiday honoring the worker. It is a pep rally to voice frustrations at unlivable wages, unemployment, etc and, alternating, believing in better days ahead. I attended the May Day rally for the province of Mpumalanga which chose Bethal, my home town, as the location of the event. Why Bethal? A sleepy little farming and mining community stuck in the middle of nowhere? I met my friends, Mavis and Pastor M, who took me under their wings for the day. We arrived at the high school rugby field in time to watch the streams of busses off-loading participants arriving from hundreds of miles away. I guessed that maybe 5000 people struggled to find space on the field to see the stage where the Premier of Mpumalanga and Cyril Ramaphosa, a respected veteran of the “struggle” were the guest speakers. The energy level was high, with call and response of “viva COSATU (the trade union umbrella organization), long live.” My friends remarked that the scene reminded them of the many rallies they attended previous to 1994, protesting Apartheid and the feeling of solidarity that it engendered. As I listened to the speeches, some in English, I realized why the organizers had picked Bethal as the venue.

The Premier explained that although Bethal was not in the history books (yet?), it had an important place in the “struggle heritage.” As he continued, I realized that the pieces of the puzzle I had struggled with understanding for two years began to fall into place…...the snickering responses when I mentioned that I lived in Bethal…..the silence…. and the shaking heads. How did so many people, especially Black South Africans know Bethal? When someone would finally explain their reactions to my “I live in Bethal,” I was given bits of information about instances of suffering and vile treatment of farm workers in Bethal that was truly unbelievable. Certainly they were urban legends or exaggerations at the very least? Then the Premier spoke of the “Potato Boycott.” Evidently, 2008 is the 50th anniversary of a national boycott of the potatoes grown around Bethal fifty years ago. When I relayed some of the grotesque stories I had heard about Bethal to Mavis and Pastor M, they confirmed that the stories were true….stories of finding human skulls and thumbs while harvesting potatoes.…of farm workers eating baboons to stave off starvation…..farm workers and prisoners from the town’s prison buried in fields….slavery.

History is a funny thing. From history a country identifies itself. It provides the momentum for decisions going forward. It determines which group or individual is considered great and who the villains are (was Nelson Mandela a terrorist or a leader of the liberation of South Africa?). And who gets to write the history determines which group holds power……I know that I am straying from storytelling just now but living in South Africa has made me look at the relationships of history and power in a way that I have never done before. My Black South African friends share a history and my White South African friends share a different history… and yet they both live in the same country? When school children visit little Bethal Museum, they learn nothing about the Potato Boycott that drew thousands of South Africans to Bethal today. It shares nothing about 80% of the population of Bethal at all?

As a Peace Corps volunteer, I am reminded of the gift of time I have had to reflect on life and the world in the past two years. Being away from my own home has created the space for introspection and observation. The result is perspective and wisdom gained that I couldn’t dream of obtaining in the midst of regular life at home.

In Between

In between….three months until I return home and I sit here in an awkward space. My roles and responsibilities as coordinator of the Leth’ithemba Drop-In Centre continue to dominate my daily life, but now there is a subtle change brewing. This past Wednesday at the after-school program we provide, I suddenly felt a strange sensation. I am not the centre of the whirlwind of decision-making and activity as I have been since we opened the drop-in center 6 months ago. The flurry of mini crises and changing plans which I had fielded for more than 6 months has dissipated. Instead, the program components of improving English skills and assisting with homework, recreation, nutritious meal and spiritual guidance were hesitantly falling into place. The Youth Leaders scurried around organizing the 6-12 year olds that we serve into juniors (grades 1-3) and seniors (grades 4-7), herding them into the appropriate classroom. From the beginning, we have been fortunate to have attracted 5 enthusiastic teenage volunteers who have a heart for the smaller children that struggle to some extent like they do in the township. They yell to each other in Zulu and soon have the children singing and chanting as they wait for Elize to explain today’s English lesson to two volunteer teachers and three new older Youth Leaders who would assist them in the activity. Each child is given a magazine and scissors to cut out pictures of anything that had to do with cultivating, preparing or eating of mealie-meal, the staple food in their diet. In subsequent weeks we will label the pictures with English words and do vocabulary exercises. It is absolutely critical that our children get the English remediation necessary in order to succeed in school by the fourth grade when all lessons are conducted in English…..nobody came to me for instructions, advice. What was happening? The on-site coordinator, Delisile, and program coordinator, Elize, my host mother whom I reside with, have essentially taken over the responsibilities that I had assumed for the past 6 months. They huddle together sorting out the recipe of the bean, meat and vegetable soup the three volunteer cooks were in the midst of preparing. Were there enough donated apples for the head count of 65 kids today? And what about the little girl whom we have observed is having vision trouble? Eye disease? Elize knows an eye doctor in town. Would he help her?

I sit in a plastic molded chair with the autumn sun on my back outside the classroom door during the 1:30-2:30 recreation period. Alternating my time, I enjoy watching the soccer game that became much more enthusiastic as one of the new Youth Leaders joined in the competition…..we must get a air pump for our cheap half-deflated soccer balls, I think. Likewise, the netball game (something like basketball) that girls enjoy had everyone squealing with laughter as the other two new Youth Leaders joined in the action. Inside the classroom next to where I sit, the smaller children are playing with the donations of stuffed toys we received from the Bethal church community. The children we serve are starved for comforting touch. They cuddle and play with the stuffed toys so intensely that I have to smile.

Peace Corps training emphasize the need to make our projects sustainable. My goal has always been to help prepare, train and recruit community volunteers who would be ready to take over my roles and responsibilities when I left. Now that this is successfully happening, I feel sad. I suppose this is natural, sort of an empty nest syndrome? My time in South Africa is limited. Seeing the drop-in centre thrive is very rewarding. But it does remind me that a big part of my heart is embedded in the birth of this project, the people, the frustrating fits and starts. It will be difficult to leave. It will be difficult to say good-bye.

Bush Camping in Namibia

The time I have left in Africa is dwindling to a bit over 3 months now and I find that I haven’t seen much of Africa outside of the country I serve in, South Africa. So, my good traveling buddy Brenda and I decided to visit Namibia, a country the size of California with a population less than 2 million people located in south west Africa bordering the Atlantic Ocean, via a bush camping tour….not luxury tent camping, mind you, but a 10 day driving tour out in the bush (wilderness). With just enough provisions to get us through 2 days at a time, we were instructed to keep our tents zippered tight at night because of the scorpions and snakes and keep our shoes inside as the jackals like to carry them off in the middle of the night…..It sounded like our kind of fun.

What did not occur to me was that I would be camping for the first half of the trip with “only the clothes on my back.” My checked duffel bag did not arrive with me to Windhoek, the capitol of Namibia, where we flew to begin our journey. I was stunned. How was I supposed to function without all of those dependable and necessary items like clean clothes, tooth brush, and soap? I had nothing but a windbreaker. Well, I said to myself, I have three options. Choice number one was to become angry and frustrated, choice two was to get anxious and worried. Both are familiar territory. But I chose option three which was to accept the fact I had no control over the situation and to just get on with the trip. So, while the other 10 travelers on our tour were stocking up on gin and tonic, beer, wine, water and sodas with the 20 minute stop before our venture out to the desert, I was scouring the tiny shops for essentials; underwear and a cheap cotton hat that made me look like a thug. I borrowed shirts, towel and followed Brenda around anytime she had a flashlight, toothpaste or detergent in her hand. I did a lot of hand washing. What I found was that the fun and adventure of the trip was not diminished because I didn’t have the stuff that I thought was so important.

Namibia is a land of contrasts, so flat that it seems you can see forever in any direction, especially awe inspiring when inhabited with wild life, then suddenly, red star-shaped sand dunes rising as high as 60 stories tall stretching down to the crashing waves of the ocean. We saw ship wrecks imbedded in the sand along the Skeleton Coast and cave art paintings and etchings as old as the Pharaohs of Egypt. We stayed two nights in a tiny town called Swakopmund that has an atmosphere that many say is more German than in Germany. But, the highlight of the trip for me was the red sand dunes at sunrise and sunset on our last day of the tour. A freak thunder, lightening and rain storm had greeted us at Sossusvlei where we arose at 5:45 am to race to the top of Dune 45 to see the sunrise. The sand was wet and squishy between my toes as I gingerly made my way along the crest of the dune. It was spooky. It was difficult to balance as the wind whipped over me and pelted me with sprinkles of rain. Although there was only sand to tumble down on if I fell, it was a long ways down to the bottom. The sunrise was obscured by the low clouds that morning, but sunset gave us what we came for….a magnificent 360 degree view of setting sun colors reflecting off the desert, mountains and dunes, standing atop the tallest sand dune in the range we had climbed, rainbows, prism, thunder and lightening storms far off in the distance. The sensory experience was one to remember the rest of my life. As the sun disappeared below the horizon, we suddenly realized that distant storm clouds had changed direction and were barreling down on us. We started running down the dunes one after another back to where our tour guide promised he would fetch us. We struggled against the increasing wind. The sky darkened and we could hear the thunder and lightening getting closer and closer. Since I was the tallest one in the group of five, I figured it would be me chosen if lightening struck us. Just as it began to rain we reached the bottom of the dune and in view of the headlights of the tour truck lumbering down the gravel road towards us. In no time, Benny reached us with the door open saving us from getting drenched and anything worse.

Pictures of the drop-in centre

Fits and Starts

The development of a grassroots organization is not a linear process. I am learning quite a lot about how a group of community stakeholders organize to address a need that affects everyone, in this case, needy children. Each community has its own unique set of problems with a unique method of addressing them. Most of the drop-in centres I surveyed at the beginning of my service featured a feeding program and possibly help with homework. There is no blueprint for a drop-in centre such as the one we want to provide, that is, a model to develop an identified group of children referred by the local primary schools in a holistic approach at a neighborhood facility. We hope to address the social, physical, educational and spiritual needs of 80 children. We opened our doors to provide services in the township in November, 2007. We felt that because of the crucial need to begin services for our needy children, we would develop the systems to operate the program afterwards. The doors were opened before we had put systems in place…...hmmm. From this vantage point now, it was probably the best decision to start when we did because our committee meetings could have continued to convene and discuss indefinitely without taking action. The important aspect in my opinion was that the committee had built a diversified team of community leaders who have a cohesive mission and vision of what they wanted to accomplish. Additionally, the process itself of trial and error helps to create a framework that is workable for our particular environment. That is where we are now.

The interest in supporting the drop-in centre is growing. Volunteers with special expertise such as educators are inquiring about how they can help. Church groups in town want us to make presentations to their meetings. The supermarket and local butcher are donating food for the weekly meals. And financial support looks promising……even a generous Christmas donation from family and friends in America.

My role in this initiative is to pull all these components together as a coordinator, mentor colleagues, develop the Youth Leaders program, perform the duties of Secretary to the Board and be consultant to the Board of Trustees along the way. It is a lot of responsibility at this point but gradually I am handing the baton to those in the community who will eventually take my place when I leave and return home in August. It is good work and I am proud to be a part of it.

Although it is more of an administrative function I serve in this project, I always get taken aback at how profoundly affected I can become by the pain endured by our children…..a week ago we clarified our policy that we would only accept children between the ages of 6 and 12 years of age at our Wednesday after-school program. It became apparent that there were three children that did not fit the criteria yet had been attending our Wednesday program for 6 weeks. Someone had to tell them the new policy and then ask them to go home….in the African culture I have witnessed, it is not proper to show your feelings of pain. I suspect that is because there is so much suffering in general that revealing the true nature of one’s pain just accentuates everyone else’s condition and makes it more difficult to deal with. Anyway, Delisile, the centre Coordinator, reluctantly went outside to tell the children. As I tried to dismiss my feelings of sadness by adhering to “policy,” I could see that the children were crying and Delisile was too. Then, all of the volunteers huddled together trying to figure out what to do. Luckily, the school principal happened by and helped us solve the dilemma allowing the three children to remain in the program. Later, I asked Delisile about her tears. She replied that the children had not cried because of a sense of entitlement or issue of fairness about being asked to leave, they had cried because there truly was no food and nothing to go home for.

Christmas Holidays

The Christmas holidays are over. I sit on my bed on Sunday morning recounting and enjoying the memories made with friends and family over the past month….a whirlwind of activity that I had anticipated for six months with great excitement and endless planning that now seems over in a flash. The first week of holiday I spent in Zimbabwe (see previous post), then it was back to a traditional family celebration of Christmas with my host family and their relatives in Bethal, a two week travel adventure with my family (son Alan, sister Nancy and Ed, brother Steve and Lori) that included a visit to Capetown, safari in Kruger National Park (see blog at abdine.com) and ending in my home town, Bethal, they plunging into helping me with the after-school drop-in-center children’s program that is the heart of my Peace Corps work…..enough warm memories to last, hopefully, until I return home in August.

There are so many wonderful memories to cherish, yet one experience stands out for me.…..at our last CCBE for OVC’s Management Committee meeting of 2007 (the Committee that drives the drop-in-center), we discussed my family’s visit to South Africa and how important it was for me that my family be introduced to the seven community leaders that I have worked so closely with over the past year and one-half. The idea spontaneously generated was to devise a cross-cultural event where everyone could meet and socialize together. Perfect, I thought. My host family would be enthusiastic of the idea as they are both advocates of the drop-in-center and earnest in “building bridges” between the local communities of White and Black. How about a dinner where everyone wears the traditional clothes of their group and brings a main dish to share that offers a taste from their culture? The plan struck a nerve in everyone……a social gathering of both local groups in addition to a boisterous group of Americans! No one really knew what to expect as this type of gathering had no precedent in Bethal. So, on the last night before my family’s return to the USA, the Committee members and their families came together at my house for the first ever “cross-cultural event.” Represented cultures were Americans, Zulus, Afrikaners, Sotho, Ndebele and a missionary friend of my host family that is serving in the country of Malawi. Since my sister and brother had given away their American football jerseys and caps with “USA” in blinking lights earlier in the day to the children at the drop-in-center, our only contribution to American costume was my son, Alan’s, Davey Crocket coon-skin hat……a hit with everyone! The evening was transformed with laughter. The school principal who dressed in Zulu dress accused the Dutch Reform Church pastor of “cramping her style” because she couldn’t attend the event bare-breasted which is the mark of a true traditional Zulu dress for women. The most touching moment for me was at the end of the evening when the Africans spontaneously began a song and dance that illustrated their culture’s love of music and movement. Then the Afrikaans family sang folk songs accompanied by guitar and cymbals. My family and I sang the American national anthem, with emotion and patriotism, albeit a bit off key. Lastly, the South Africans sang their national anthem together, exhibiting love for their country that I have rarely seen in such a diverse group…..a fitting conclusion to one of my special moments among the countless others of my time in South Africa, but this time a memory that is shared with my family from America.

Meltdown in Zimbabwe

My Peace Corps friend and I came to Zimbabwe to visit the Victoria Falls and my Zimbabwean friends. The falls were fantastic, the great Zambezi River spilling over a one-half mile long gorge that sent spray drenching us from our view point far up the ledge of the two hour long walk along the rim. I am told that Niagara Falls is a fraction the size of Victoria Falls. Maybe that is why Victoria Falls is called one of the "seven natural wonders of the world."
But the experience of the water falls is not what I took back with me to South Africa when we returned home. What will always stay with me was being a witness to the collapse of a country. My Zimbabwean friends in South Africa had shared with me over the past year their sadness and concern for family and friends left in their home country. But, until I saw it myself, it was difficult to fathom the crisis that has been unfolding in this beautiful country over the past seven years.
Meltdown in Zimbabwe….the policies of the country’s government, headed by Robert Mugabe, along with the increasing isolation and sanctions by the world community and with the exodus of the skilled and professional Zimbabweans to countries that can pay them a salary worth more than the paper it is printed on, have created a tragic freefall of the economy.
My friends took us on a tour for three days of open stores with nothing on the shelves and closed gas stations in towns and rural areas. We saw lines of people weave around shopping areas hoping that government shipments of mealie-meal would suddenly appear. The grocery stores must remain open per government dictate yet what I saw on the shelves was not the staple foods required for life in Zimbabwe such as mealie-meal (corn meal), flour, cooking oil, soap and salt, but, instead, I saw dog food, cheap distilled spirits and Special K cereal. There was no milk, no meat of any kind, no bread, not even bottles of CocaCola which seems to be a dominate feature in all of the African countries I have visited. It was an appalling sensation to realize that if a Zimbabwean had no means to access food from the neighboring countries of Botswana or South Africa, or did not have a vegetable garden or field planted with mealies (corn), starvation could likely occur. I was told in the rural areas, people have already resigned themselves to eating one meal a day and there are reports of starvation. The government refuses to allow foreign journalists into the country to chronicle this disaster. I was advised not to take photographs of these scenes because the government has security officers ready to detain those attempting to reveal these conditions. People were fearful to discuss politics because of the climate of intimidation.

When I visited Victoria Falls as a tourist, I had difficulty spending my money…..? I could not access cash by an ATM (and even if I could, I wouldn’t have wanted Zim dollars). I could not use credit or debit cards as the "official" conversion rate was prohibitive. In order to obtain more cash in dollars, I had to pay a 15% charge in a lovely air-conditioned, hi-tech office. Business is done on the black market using US dollars or South African Rand. To convert one US dollar to one Zim dollar, I was offered between 1,200,000 and 1,600,000 Zim dollars depending on the day. The bulging pants pockets of Zim dollars are practically worthless. Four small apples cost $2,000,000 Zim dollars. Zimbabwe’s inflation rate is the highest in the world.
Have you ever wondered what it would be like to live your life without any fuel except for fire wood? The only way for a Zimbabwean to travel in his own country is to bring gasoline with him from Botswana and South Africa or buy it from the black market at an exorbitant rate ($60US to travel 130 miles). My friend stores 25 litre plastic containers in her bathroom filled with gasoline. As we drove 65 miles from one town to the next, I counted on one hand the number of cars with Zim license plates that we passed. And the other handful of cars we passed hailed from neighboring countries. And this occurred on a national highway.

And, yet, the Zimbabwean people persevere with a strength and morality that is amazing under such tremendous stress. There is negligible crime in Zimbabwe. We left our cars unlocked and anyone can walk the streets at all times…..very unlike South Africa. The people we met were friendly, generous with their helpfulness and kind….. I wonder what the future holds for Zimbabwe. I hope for a change in government and a willingness by the global community to step in and help. But, for the time being, keep the Zimbabwean people in your prayers.

Christmas Greetings

It is nearly Christmas. Schools and universities have finished the school year and have been closed since the end of November. Families are preparing to leave town for summer holidays and visits to relatives. Even the poor manage to find a way to travel back to family compounds. It is becoming hotter and hotter in most places in South Africa. Therefore, the destination of choice of those with means is the beach, preferably Capetown or Durban. I see small artificial Christmas tree decorations in some stores, some advertising on TV, but not the commercialism of home….yet. There will Christmas lights twinkling from 3 or 4 residences in town if you look for it. The little town in which I live is becoming a ghost town. Businesses close for a period of one week to six weeks during this time. My NGO will be closed from December 14th to January 14, 2008. The drop-in centre is closed until school reopens.
I am beginning to feel the pangs of homesickness once more. Over the past year and one-half, intense longings for people, places, food and familiarity of America seem to haunt me. It comes in cycles when I least expect it. I become lonely and melancholy. What amazes me is that the homesickness is not a result of unhappiness with my life here. I am very happy here. I live with a South African family that have taken me into their hearts and home and go out of their way to make me feel comfortable and loved. I have settled into a fulltime work project, the drop-in centre that is rewarding and important. And, lastly, I have moved to a different office location for work, eliminating the hostile environment that I worked under before. So, I live with the contradiction of enjoying my life here but wanting to be at home at the same time. It is a constant tension I live with.
I do have some great things to look forward to this holiday season. First, a friend and I will visit Victoria Falls in Zimbabwe. Then I will return home for a traditional Afrikaans Christmas with my South African family. The day after Christmas, I will meet my sister and brother and their spouses at the airport to begin a two week tour of South Africa. My son, Alan, will join us midway into the trip…… I have so much to be thankful for.
As I may have mentioned before, I have learned a lot about myself in the Peace Corps experience. That I thought I was an eternal vagabond adventurer, able to take off indefinitely to the far corners of the earth….is not true. I am much more of a homebody than I thought before I left the United States. Therein is the sacrifice I have made. It is being away from loved ones and places that are familiar, comfortable and predictable….where communication is not a hurdle every day and I get the jokes and I can letdown. That word home….is very special when you are far away from it and especially at Christmastime.

The Drop-In Center Begins

We haven’t selected a name for the drop-in centre yet, but we began operations 10 days ago. As you may remember, I am the Secretary of a community collaborative (CCBE for OVCs) made up of a Christian pastor from the town, a Christian pastor from the township, a primary school principal, a representative from the municipal government, two home-based care volunteers and me. The seven of us have been diligently working together since I arrived here in September 2006, to establish a drop-in centre for orphans and vulnerable children who are affected by the HIV/AIDs epidemic….a bottom-up project that is based on building trusting relationships across a wide spectrum of community members who formerly have had nothing to do with each other, let alone sit as equals in meetings month after month developing a mission and vision and “way forward” of what we would like to see improve in our community. This process has been very fulfilling for me as I have been involved from day one. I had thought that this project would be my “secondary” project and that the non-profit organization that Peace Corps placed me with would provide my main avenue for work. But, they have been unable or unwilling to utilize me even after multiple suggestions and ideas from me over time. So, I took the plunge and told the drop-in centre committee that I would dedicate the remainder of my time in Africa helping them to get the centre off the ground. It has been a good decision for many reasons. I needed to make a bigger commitment to a project and not rely on others to define my experience here. Also, the committee really values me and my experience. We have built a good foundation of respect and trust among all of us. Lastly, an outsider like me is still important as a bridge that this collaboration requires. The downside of this decision is that my stress level has definitely increased as I take on more responsibility for the development and implementation of the project.
Approximately 90 children showed up to the drop-in centre on our first after school program. We are starting to implement the services slowly with a once a week after school program. Our intent is to provide a nutritious meal, help with homework, counseling, referrals, recreation, etc. using volunteers from both communities and trained youth leaders to implement the program. Three unused classrooms at a township primary school were donated to us to use and we asked the headmasters of four of the surrounding primary schools to select a limited number of their neediest students to attend our program. We were prepared for 50 kids….oh well. I am learning that there are different levels of chaos when one is confronted with the unexpected. After the second week, I realized that outright chaos can actually begin to look like organized chaos.
And so we begin…..although there are many models of community and program development resources available to me, the one that works the best is a bottom-up approach, with an implementation that is based on our unique community profile, stakeholders, mission and needs. I am suggesting to the committee that we plan a day for strategic planning early in 2008 to take the next step forward for our cause. It is rewarding to be a part of this initiative.

The Taxi Ride

I am told by locals that this spring is exhibiting more typical weather than last year. Last year, I remember sporadic thunder, lightening and rain storms that pummeled our little town with electricity black outs coinciding with each storm. This season we have experienced the same conditions only continuously, not sporadically. Familiar roads are indistinguishable now that 50 shades of green have replaced the 50 shades of brown of winter. It’s amazing how quickly a windy, dusty, brown environment can be transformed into a wonderland of color; flowers, lush green grass covering the rolling hills, pools of water everywhere and huge old trees that leaf out in a matter of days it seems. Our torrential storms have pushed the town reservoir that I walk by each day to the limit. The day after the “taxi ride,” rain water surged over the dam and was creating a mini-river heading down town toward the township…..

I had attended a Diversity Committee meeting in Pretoria and wanted to spend the night at home in my own bed, not in a backpacker’s hostel, which is the cheapest form of accommodation that fits our budget for Peace Corps volunteers. Arriving at the taxi rank at about lunchtime, I spied a full taxi just leaving for home. Darn! What that meant was that I would now have to wait until an empty taxi filled with 14 to 24 people, depending on how many people could be scrunched into the taxi….. and for my destination, that meant that I would have to wait in the taxi for 3 to 31/2 hours until it pulled away for home. This system of travel works very well except that taxis only depart when every bench in the van is packed to the ceiling and squished with people, babies, luggage and miscellaneous odds and ends So, I and another man heading in my direction decided to bet that we could find another taxi more quickly going half-way home to a large urban area and then catch another taxi from there to home. That part of the plan worked find. But, again, bad luck. As we pulled into Witbank, I spied my taxi brimming full heading out of the taxi rank. #?!/*!&# is what I said because now I did indeed have to fill another taxi to get home, there were no other choices..…and I waited 3 hours and 15 minutes until we pulled away from the rank, the sky darkening.

I looked out to the horizon in the cloudy weather and saw one tiny spot with lightening bolts sprouting every which way….I bet that’s home, I thought….. Little did I or any of the others passenger know that we would speed towards the most ferocious storm of the season, in the dark. I was sitting in the front seat and actually had a functioning seat belt, which is unusual. There are never seat belts in taxis. It started raining hard with a lot of wind. The taxi’s wind shield wipers worked fine but the condensation of the packed vehicle clouded all the windows. As the driver attempted to clear a tiny circle of glass for visibility with his bare hand every 5 minutes, we would veer over to the edge of the narrow road to where the water was piling up. He did decrease his speed from 75mph to 50mph but it wasn’t slow enough for me. On the roads to my town, it is pitch-black dark, there are no fences which prevent animals from crossing the road and there is no shoulder on the road. Someone from the back of the van tossed up a role of toilet tissue to me and I spent the remainder of the trip trying to keep the wind shield clean so the driver could see where he was going. The closer we got to home, the more flooding occurred. We crept into town, the streets flooded, people on this busy Friday night struggling to find shelter and looking for rides home to the township….chaos. I had phoned my host parents that I needed a ride home when I arrived and I never was so glad to see their smiling faces as they pulled up to the dark taxi rank where I sat waiting.

The Paisley Grace Fan Club---South Africa Chapter

It started off innocently enough…..new grandma wants to share recent photos of first grandchild with Peace Corps buddies…..About fifteen of us had gathered at the Peace Corps headquarters to be transported to the training site selected for our mid-service training three hours away. We would train there for 4 days, the original 32 volunteers I began with who are working in organizations struggling to stem the HIV/AIDs epidemic. I received the obligatory ooohs and ahhhhs for the pix of my adorable 6-month old granddaughter, Paisley Grace. Of course, I am a bit biased as to her outstanding qualities…..but the raves didn’t stop…..from out of the mouths of the young females in our group came:
“Oh my gosh, look at those beautiful eyes.”
“Oh my gosh, I can’t believe how cute she is.”
“Look how sweet she looks in those sunglasses and swimsuit.”
“Can you believe how precious she is?”
“…..And all that hair!”
And even though we were separated in two vans on our way to the “Honeymoon Lodge,” the exclamations kept coming.
Well, not one to lose an opportunity, I proposed to the ring leader, Liz, that we start a “Paisley Grace Fan Club---South Africa Chapter.” Then the fight was on to establish the officer positions and who was eligible to be a founding member. Liz, of course, insisted on becoming President. She decreed that boys were not allowed to be members, but, perhaps could form an auxiliary organization, if they chose. Nonetheless, the next night we held our first annual meeting which happened to coincide with the dance party which had already been organized to entice one of the volunteers, Brad, to perform his outstanding “break dancing” feats which have been the subject of much rumor over the past 8 months since we have all been together. Needless to say, he needed a little coaxing. We had no electricity that night so two of us who had a flashing feature on our headlamps, provided a cool strobe-light effect in the darkened conference room. Then, all we needed was music which was provided by the Ipod that someone had intelligently thought to bring. Although most of the music played was from a decade where I must have been hidden under a rock, we danced our little hearts out. After several Castle beers and $1.50 wine were consumed, the party came alive. Brad performed his amazing break dance and the Paisley Grace Fan Club conducted our first annual meeting. We chose the remaining officers and members.
President---Liz
Secretary---Steph
Vice-Secretary---Sophia
Treasurer---Bree
Brenda was the only other member that I can recall voting in that night, but, I’m sure there must be more. The last order of business on the agenda was, “what do I get if I join the fan club?” So, the idea came to me that we must all have Paisley Grace Fan Club---South Africa Chapter tee-shirts
The last time that we gather as a group before we all head for home is called, COS, or Close of Service, which include several days with Peace Corps staff next June where we begin the process of saying good-bye to Africa, closing our work projects, saying good-bye to our African friends and looking forward to the adjustments and plans we’ll have to make to rejoin our family and friends in the good ole’ US of A…..we’ll see if we can get the tee-shirt idea off the ground then!

New Accomodations

More changes for me! Three days ago, I moved to different accommodations. That is, I am now living with a new family in the same little town I work in. This family is Afrikaans. So, the statistics so far are that I have lived with a Zulu family for the two months of training, an Indian family for the past year, and now, an Afrikaans family for the remainder of my Peace Corps experience.
I had hoped to obtain a “garden cottage,” on the property of a residence here in town. Many of my PCV friends have a housing unit, like an efficiency unit, sometimes called a rondoval in the village, separate from the main house of their host family but on their compound. All of my accommodations have been inside the main house itself. That’s why I wanted a “garden cottage.” Oh well, I’m destined to spend my two years in very close quarters with my host family. At any rate, I was in very close quarters in the Indian family’s home and I just decided that I needed more space, at the very least, and, I need to be more a part of the family. This was not the case over the past year. For most of the year, it was perfectly satisfactory….eating yummy curries with our fingers every night, lots of Bollywood and an adorable nine year old “host brother” who loves cars. But, at mid-service I find I need more intimacy with those I live with, in this sometimes stressful and lonely experience.
Now, I am located across town, nearer to my office, but further away from my little gang of nine year old boys who were my buddies in the other neighborhood. Yet, I can still visit them anytime so it’s not like I left completely. Whereas the language spoken at the Indian home was English, now, the home language is Afrikaans which is a language based on Dutch and German. I’ve only been there three days but already the first thing I need to do is learn dog commands in Afrikaans so I can get the German Shepard from my bed! He just wouldn’t respond to “down” or “off.”
I am very happy about this change. The couple I live with are about my age and are offering me a home because they “respect the work I am doing in the community.” I am very fortunate to have the warmth and comfort they are providing me. They are excited about me teaching them how to cook Mexican food. For next Sunday’s dinner, we’ll start out with guacamole, instant refried beans (sent from home), and maybe burritos if I can find someone who is going to a specialty store 45 minutes away where there may be some “wraps.” What I really miss is fresh cilantro so I may have to buckle down and grow some plants. As I’ve probably mentioned before, Mexican food is what all of us PCVs really miss from home and a real curiosity for South Africans.
Well, my living arrangement is a change at mid-service which coincides with a sort of “where do I go from here” with work, learning the languages, the experience in general, etc. kind of feeling. It’s like I need to re-charge my batteries after one year of adaptation, stress and making new friends because at this point I know my way around. This lull coincides with Peace Corps mid-service training set for the second week of October, aimed to re-energize us to our goals. Let’s hope so…..

Mealie-Meal Donation Pix

Hello everyone from Peace Corps Headquarters in Pretoria. I am here in the computer lab provided for the volunteers, using the internet and printer free of charge. I have been in Pretoria for 5 days now completing my mid-service medical examinations and working on Diversity Committee documentation of trainings and facilitations we provided to the 85 new American trainees who will be sworn in as volunteers tomorrow at the American Ambassador's residence...an exhausting week after a previous exhausting week where three of the five members of the Diversity Committee lived at the rural village training site with the trainees in order to be a resource for them and facilitate an exercise....dusty, hot, hot, dry, but satisfying to be able to help them throught this stressful time....we remember it well.



I am a member of the Diversity Committee, 5 current PCVs (Peace Corps Volunteers) who help new trainees, current PCVs, and Peace Corps staff with trainings, facilitations, cirriculum and program development. We assist Americans to gain greater understanding of the many diversities in what it means to be an American and how these different identities, i.e. white, black, female, gay, agnostic, etc and different perspectives are impacted as a volunteer in South Africa. These trainings help the group of PCVs become more cohesive and pave the way for the support needed at site that everyone requires but sometimes doesn't know how to provide each other. It has really been rewarding for me to be a part of this aspect of Peace Corps. For those of you who know me well, I am passionate about "building bridges" between diverse groups of people.



Wow, if you ever want great healthcare, become a Peace Corps Volunteer. I am amazed at the quality of care from the South African healthcare system and what Peace Corps allows us to access. I went for a basic mammogram examination yesterday and was given an ultra-sound exam and complete bone density test as well.



The following photos were taken by me while sacks of mealie-meal were being delivered to needy families just before Christmas 2006. You can read the story of my first tangible success, mealie-meal donations to the OVCs in the township where I live, in the blog posted in the December 2006 archives under "Office Party and More," December 18, 2006.

(...this idiot computer was way too slow uploading the pix...will post pix in next entry, hopefuylly)

OVC Feeding Centre Photos

orphans and vulnerable children eat their one decent meal of the day.

I was asked to greet and speak to the children.

They wait so patiently
One chicken drum-stick, some tomato sauce and plenty of pap

Preschoolers get to eat first and seated at a table.