Children of the Dawn Go Rock Climbing

As evidenced by my long hiatus from posting, I've been keeping myself quite busy these past few months. Two of the projects I've been working on include writing the content for Fanang Diatla Self-Help Project's new website (designed pro bono by Crafty Arrow Designs) and organizing a rock climbing trip for some of Ga-Mathabatha's Children of the Dawn. The former is still a work-in-progress (please feel free to send me any feedback if you are so inclined), but the latter went off without a hitch this past weekend in one of my favorite places in South Africa: Waterval Boven.

On the blog portion of Fanang Diatla's website, I've posted a trip report from the weekend, including some photos. I've also uploaded many more photos to a Picasa album here. Enjoy!

Light at the End of the Tunnel?

Passing through a 400m train tunnel in Waterval Boven en route to some classic rock climbing over Labor Day weekend set me to pondering whether I might be finally starting to emerge from my own proverbial tunnel that is my first five months of Peace Corps service here in South Africa. As evidenced by the tone of my last major post, I was alarmed that the prevailing trend in my satisfaction with my service pointed steadily downward.

I arrived at site full of hope, overjoyed at being placed with a well-functioning organization with managers and staff who seemed enthusiastic about working together with me to improve the organization's efforts in strategic planning, monitoring and evaluation, microfinance, and enterprise development. I also had the support of a fellow Peace Corps Volunteer who had been working with my organization for more than a year-and-a-half. During the time before he returned home to the US to prepare for graduate school, we formed a close friendship, and I was quite grateful for how he balanced giving me the space I needed to establish my own role while also providing me with helpful guidance and advice whenever I asked.

Well before my co-PCV's departure, my day-to-day experiences were disabusing me of my initial impression that I would be able to accomplish much in a short period of time. Despite my counterparts' seeming eagerness to jointly undertake many of the projects we discussed in our early meetings, other events and priorities consistently intervened. Last-minute requests for reports or surprise visits from importunate funders. Unexpected trips to town. 'Swine flu' outbreaks. Problems with stipend payments.

Before long, over four months had passed, and I was still trying to work with my counterparts to organize a community needs survey--a project I had proposed and done substantial leg-work on during my first month. Particularly discouraging with regard to this project was how a similar request by a major funder to organize four disparate focus groups for one of their research projects was carried out in a matter of days. At that point, it seemed to me that the only way I would be able to accomplish anything would be to show up with a sack full of one-million rand--not too likely a scenario nor one in accordance with the Peace Corps principles of relying primarily on local resources.

During the few weeks prior to my Peace Corps In-Service Training (IST)starting on the last day of August, I noticed a few signs that a few of the many seeds I had planted in the previous months might be taking root. Our community librarian excitedly recounted to me how she had successfully implemented some of the activities aimed at stimulating interest in reading among children that she had learned at a library conference in Polokwane. Our Project Coordinator, after months of hesitancy in engaging with me due to a substantial language barrier, came to me to discuss how to develop a monitoring and evaluation tool. The municipal representative from the Department of Agriculture expressed interest in meeting about providing assistance to develop our food security garden into a productive farm. Although no single incident would alone have restored much hope in the future of my service, these small moments and others lifted my spirits enough for me to depart for our IST absent any dread of my eventual return.

A week of training in the company of friends I had last seen months before, both Americans and South Africans, sandwiched between two weekends of rock climbing restored my state of mind to a level of peace and contentment I had not experienced since my early days at site. During a personal health session late in our week of training, we were warned that the times after trainings are often characterized by plunging mental well-being among Volunteers, due to PCVs reforming and relying on the supportive friendships that we used to sustain ourselves during Pre-Service Training, only to lose them again after several days together. Thus far, thanks to some of my projects continuing to show signs of promise and my excitement at getting to see my girlfriend for the first time since the beginning of February (not necessarily in that order!), I have been able to stave off post-IST blues.

Although I am looking forward to my upcoming holiday for primarily for obvious reasons, I am also quite interested to see how things may or may not change in my absence. I think every Volunteer hopes that one’s efforts will result in long-term benefits for the Volunteer’s community. A multi-week holiday gives one a glimpse of what interventions are most likely to persist after the close of one’s service. Already, I’m intensely curious to see which of the small initiatives I’ve undertaken with various counterparts thus far will survive my absence and which will be taken in directions I would not have anticipated. With luck, I’m hoping my temporary absence will provide some clues as to where my time will be best spent upon my return. I guess I’ll find out soon enough.

RIP, Dear Senator

For all his faults, the poor, the disabled, the uninsured, single mothers, and oppressed minorities of the US lost one of their most dedicated and unarguably their most effective champion last night. I just hope we can do his memory justice by finally realizing his dream of universal health care that he spent his last forty years fighting for. In spite of the long shadows cast by his elder brothers, Ted Kennedy's innumerable achievements fighting for those marginalized by society during his 46 years in the Senate have no equal. Rest in peace, Senator Kennedy. We'll do our best to make sure the dream shall never die.

The 'Tough' Part

On the agency’s website and in its recruiting materials, Peace Corps service is often touted as “the toughest job you’ll ever love”. And if you speak with a Returned Peace Corps Volunteer (RPCV) upon her arrival home in the US, odds are good that her portrayal of her service will not be too far afield from the official tagline. Speak to someone in the first six months or year into his service, however, and odds are good that the ‘tough’ part of the tagline will heavily outweigh the ‘love’ part. To my surprise, I have failed to defy those odds.

Before embarking on this chapter in my life, I (like, I would guess, most other Americans familiar with the work of the Peace Corps) envisioned the ‘tough’ part of life in the Peace Corps as learning to live without all of the many comforts most Americans have come to take for granted: electricity, running water, grocery stores, reliable personal transportation, air-conditioning, television, refrigeration, etc. Add to that vague notions of having to learn a new language, being isolated from family and friends back home, and adapting to unfamiliar cultural norms (Am I supposed to take off my shoes when I enter someone’s home? Am I supposed to make eye contact with people?), and you probably have a decent representation of the tough part of Peace Corps service in the public consciousness.

As I shared many of these preconceptions of Peace Corps service, I believed that I was particularly well suited to thrive as a Peace Corps Volunteer. As an ‘outdoor enthusiast’, I’ve long known that I have the ability to adapt to living with few creature comforts for sustained periods of time. As a long-time rock climber and runner, I’ve long known that I have a natural propensity to endure long periods of pain and misery to achieve distant goals (being a public policy graduate student certainly qualifies here as well). I’ve rarely had trouble meeting people and making new friends when placed in situations where I know no one. My prior work in politics and government and the time I spent volunteering for various organizations demonstrated a strong ethic of public service. I’d traveled to places as diverse as Costa Rica, Peru, and Bangladesh and, other than getting pick-pocketed within three hours of my first foreign trip (excluding a day or two each in Toronto and Juarez), I’d found traveling abroad to be immensely enjoyable and rewarding. What other qualities could one need to be an effective, fulfilled Peace Corps Volunteer?

In two words: Patience and Persistence. The kind of patience and persistence required to be a successful Volunteer are altogether different than what one typically conceives. By patience, I don’t mean an ability to tolerate waiting. Being tolerant of having to wait more than we’re accustomed to in the US is one of the challenges of Peace Corps that I anticipated. Although I cannot say that I enjoy waiting four hours for a khumbie to fill up for a trip that should take one hour, I’ve certainly been forced to make peace with waiting. The Patience I’ve struggled with most (and it is definitely patience with a capital ‘P’) is being at peace with the knowledge that I could be substantially more effective and more productive elsewhere. My principal motivation for entering Peace Corps was to ‘make a difference’ in the lives of those less fortunate than myself. How does one sustain one’s motivation for Peace Corps service while simultaneously holding the belief that one left behind a career and a set of volunteer activities that almost certainly made a greater difference in the lives of those less fortunate than oneself? Should such motivation even be sustained? For how long? Those are among the many questions I’ve found myself wrestling with for months.

One obvious solution to resolving my dilemma would be to simply find ways to become more effective and productive in my work. This is where Persistence comes into play. At least two or three times each week, I walk into work with a new plan to address some of the myriad causes I perceive to be limiting my effectiveness as a Volunteer. With rare exception, I walk home that evening with my plans thwarted (yet again), my self-confidence dashed and motivation to try again the next day at a perilously low level. As one of my ‘veteran’ Volunteer colleagues here in Limpopo puts it, to survive as a Volunteer, you have to somehow sustain the enthusiasm to start new projects knowing full well that pretty much any project you start is almost sure to fail to generate long-term benefits and, in some cases, may even cause long-term harm. At first I thought he was exaggerating; now I’m not so sure.

If you’ve read this far, you may be asking yourself why I’m still here. In a word: Hope. (How about that for triteness?) I hope that, one of these days, I’m going to have learned enough from all of my many, many failures that I’ll actually be able to get a non-fundraising project off the ground. One of the problems with hope is that holding on too long can lead to regret if the object of hope is never fulfilled. In the absence of progress on ‘making a difference’ over the next few months, judging whether I’ve crossed the fine line separating Persistence and unrealistic hope is likely to be one of my biggest challenges. If I’m lucky, there’ll be no need to make that judgment.

General Update:

In one week, the group of Volunteers with whom I arrived here in South Africa nearly seven months ago (i.e. SA-19) will participate in a full week of training back at our pre-service training site in Mpumalanga Province. It should be a great opportunity to reconnect with a lot of friends I have not seen in the five months since we graduated from trainees to volunteers.

Not long thereafter, I’ll have my first visitor from home! My girlfriend and I will be touring South Africa for several weeks. I couldn’t be more excited!

PS – Thanks to those of you who sent me Happy Birthday wishes over the weekend!

First SA Vacation - Climbing in Eastern Cape

In lieu of a full blog post (for the moment, at least), I would like to direct your attention to my newest Picasa photo album from the 2009 Petzl Rock & Road. From July 17-25, I participated as a guest in South Africa's premier rock climbing competition. The competition brought together most of South Africa's top-ranked sport climbers for a week-long competition at four venues across the Eastern Cape province. Perhaps the competition's biggest attraction was the addition of an international guest climber: Adam Ondra, the world's top-ranked sport climber on 8a.nu.

The week proved to be a lot of fun, and I intend to write more about it in my next blog post. In the mean time, enjoy the photos I've posted, and check out the Petzl Rock and Road website for another perspective on the week (only the most recent updates are on the first page; you'll have to go back a few pages to start at the first day).

Knowledge o kae? (Where is Knowledge?)

Without exaggeration, I hear the above question about ten times per day when I'm in the office. Given the frequency I'm asked about where one might find Knowledge, one might think that the staff at Fanang Diatla Self-Help Project are budding epistemologists. As interesting a work environment that would be, the reality is that I share an office with the most-demanded member of Fanang Diatla's staff, whose name just happens to be Knowledge. (You Northern Sotho scholars at home will have noted that 'Knowledge o kae?' refers to the person whereas 'Knowledge e kae?' would refer to 'justified true belief'.)

As the financial manager and heir-apparent of an organization that receives funding from too many sources to count, Knowledge is almost constantly responding to queries from funders, other managers, administrative staff, home-based care volunteers, staff at the village clinic, bakery staff, drivers, members of the Fanang Diatla football team, and, of course, our CEO, Ms. Agnes Qwabe. These queries frequently take Knowledge away from our shared office, whether to our CEO's office, the village bank, the clinic, nearby Atok Platinum Mine, or to 'town' (aka Polokwane), but rarely does he inform me of his destination when he departs the office. Thus, my usual response to the query I hear so often is a disappointing "Ga ke tsebe" ("I don't know," which is also my usual response to the second-most common phrase I hear from my office post, "[Hole] Puncher e kae?").

Oftentimes, especially when the destination is 'town', I accompany Knowledge on his excursions. I thought, for this posting, I would write a bit about one of these such excursions to illustrate why it often takes rather longer than one would expect to accomplish even relatively simple tasks in the developing world, even when one happens to live in a part of the developing world that has relatively easy access to first-world resources and institutions.

One of my early projects here at Fanang Diatla has been to secure donations of computers to establish an information technology center at our new drop-in center (DIC) for orphans and vulnerable children. After an unsuccessful application to the Dell Foundation (they failed to mention on their website that they have appropriated all of their funds for the entire year) and unanswered queries to the Vodacom Foundation, we received an affirmative response from Computer Aid International, a UK organization that collects used computers and distributes them to schools and NGOs in developing countries. Computer Aid International agreed to donate ten used PCs to the new Fanang Diatla information technology resource center, so long as we paid for shipping and handling from London to the Port of Durban (South Africa's 2nd largest city and the busiest port in Africa). Thus, although the computers were technically 'free', Computer Aid International would not ship the computers until we deposited ₤770 (about $1,265 or R10,238) into their UK bank account. That amount, while certainly more than reasonable for ten high-quality used computers, would represent a substantial expense for a non-profit organization based in a poor, rural community where many families subsist on less than R1,000 per month (and many much less).

When I read the email from Computer Aid International on the 22nd of May, my excitement was tempered by my uncertainty regarding whether we would be able to find an organization willing to provide us the required funds within the six-week window (starting from the 13th of May, the date of our original application) for which the invoice would be valid. To my surprise, when I informed Fanang Diatla's CEO, Agnes, of the financial conditions of the donation, she assured me that finding the money to pay the shipping and handling costs would not be an issue. I just had to complete the paperwork, and she and Knowledge would ensure the funds would be available.

Within a few days, I had prepared all of the paperwork and investigated the logistics of making an international bank transfer from South Africa. My optimism that completing the transfer would be so simple even led me to email our principal bank to see if we could execute the transfer online. That's when things started going downhill. Less than 24 hours after replacing the cable that connects my phone to my laptop, which had limited my access to the internet to borrowing Knowledge's computer during the times he was out of the office, my laptop charger decided to malfunction and become a serious fire hazard, as the resistance in the wires somehow increased enough to burn through the plastic coating. The bad news: I was out a functioning laptop until I could replace the adapter. The good news: I managed to avoid burning down my house.

I found myself reassured the next day, when I called a computer shop in Polokwane that assured me that, although finding a replacement charger for a Dell laptop would be impossible, they carried a universal adapter that would get me back up-and-running for a 'mere' one-third of my monthly stipend. Despite the financial blow, having a working laptop would be more than worth the cost. To make a long story short, I'll just say that more than a week later I had discovered the limitations of 'universal' and found myself still without a working laptop. Instead, I had the pleasure of spending many hours and wasted rand dealing with the worst customer service I've experienced in my life thanks to the monopoly Dell South Africa has given to a single supplier of Dell computer accessories to out-of-warranty customers.

By the time I received my new laptop adapter, we were down to fewer than three weeks until the deadline to deposit the ₤770 into Computer Aid International's account. Also by this time, I had followed up the non-response to my email inquiry about international bank transfers with a phone call and learned that we would need to come into town to execute the transfer. Of course, organizing a trip into town is rarely a problem--except when we have a full week of visits by one of our major funders. Thus, Knowledge and I would have to delay our trip to the bank until the following Friday, eight business days from the deadline.

To ensure that things would run smoothly on Friday, I called our bank to see if we could make an early-morning appointment and to check to see what, if anything, we would have to bring in addition to the order invoice and our own bank account information (the former inquiry more to provide incentive for us to leave on-time than to ensure that we would be received promptly upon arrival). The bank representative informed me that 1) they do not make appointments and 2) we would just need to bring ourselves and both parties' banking details. Very simple.

At the bank on Friday, despite departing two hours late and being accosted by a white bank employee eager to share her life story of being abandoned by her adult children who fled the country in the 1980s and early 1990s to escape being drafted to fight the 'terrorists' in Angola and Mozambique ('terrorists', of course, being the Apartheid-era term for the ANC freedom fighters in exile), we reached the front of the queue not long after noon. Not long after being seated, however, we were informed that we were missing two essential elements of the transaction process, a letter on our official letterhead indicating approval for the transfer and, more significantly, the physical presence of at least two of the three signatories capable of authorizing a transfer from our main account. It was at that point, that I realized that the "yourselves" from my previous conversation with the bank representative meant not "your organization's Peace Corps Volunteers and Financial Manager" but "the persons with the authority to withdraw funds from your account". Thus, we returned home to Ga-Mathabatha that afternoon unsuccessful but confident that everything would be easily resolved on Monday, when we would return with the required letter and two authorized signatories.

When I arrived at the office on Monday morning with the approval in-hand, ready to head out early yet again, Knowledge kindly informed that, yet again, we'd have to delay our trip. Tuesday was a national holiday, but Limpopo Province had declared Monday to be a school holiday, which meant that all of the potential signatories would be off for the day. No problem. We'd just go on Wednesday.

Wednesday arrives. Only one week left to make the deposit. Once again I'm ready to head off to town. The signatories are back to work and free to leave for town for the day. We'll be leaving just after morning prayer. After morning prayer, Knowledge's phone rings. It's our principal contact person with the provincial Department of Health. He needs a report on the work of our caregivers, and he needs it yesterday. We're not leaving today.

Now it's Thursday. More than five weeks since I submitted the application for computers to Computer Aid International and five days until the invoice expires. One thing I learned about international bank transfers during my early research into the process is that the actual transfer can take anywhere from a few days to a week. The odds are pretty good that if Computer Aid does not receive the funds in the allotted time, they'll deny a second request believing that Fanang Diatla probably is not ready to manage a computer lab if the staff cannot even manage a simple bank transfer. Thus, I'm a bit nervous when 10am passes, and we still have not left the office. By 10:30, however, we're on the road and on our way to pick up one of the two signatories en route to town. We arrive just after noon and find the line at the bank to be mercifully short. The service agent assisting us is friendly and gives off an air of competence. Things are looking up.

Within thirty minutes, we've filled out and signed all the necessary documents and the agent has faxed all the forms to the Lebowakgomo branch of the bank, which hosts our main account. We wait. Nothing happens. The agent calls the Lebowakgomo branch. The 'advanced expert', the only person capable of handling international bank transfers at the Lebowakgomo branch, has left for lunch, but he should be back soon. One hour passes. The advanced expert has not yet returned, and Knowledge has to run off to a short meeting with some folks from the Department of Social Development. Another half-hour passes. I run across the street to get some lunch and bring back a snack from KFC to one of the signatories. Three o'clock passes. The bank closes at 3:30. My phone rings; it's Knowledge. Yes, we're still waiting. Yes, go ahead and make an angry call to the Lebowakgomo branch. It can't hurt at this point.

Ten minutes later, the agent's phone rings. It's the advanced expert. The agent corrects one of the forms, gives the form to the signatories to sign, and faxes it back to the advanced expert. The funds will be in Computer Aid's bank account on the 22nd of June. My muscles relax. My breath deepens. Knowledge returns. I smile.

Swearing-In Speech

Posting the press release about my Peace Corps group's swearing-in ceremony reminded me that I never posted the text of my swearing-in speech. I know I've slipped a few Sepedi words into my blog here and there, but I wanted you all to get a better sense of the language I (attempt to) speak virtually everyday. For you budding Sepedi scholars at home, I've made the translation closer to literal as compared to what my friend and fellow PCV Jeff read aloud during the ceremony.

Thus, without further ado, le a ipshina [Enjoy yourselves]:

Madume. Ke rata go le dumediša bohle. Legatong la baithaupi ba Peace Corps, ke rata go le leboga bohle ge le tlile mo lehono. Ge nkabe e se thakgo eo le re filego yona, nkabe re se mo lehono go tlo kgatha tema ye ya go ba baithaupi.

[Greetings. I would like to greet you all. On behalf of all Peace Corps Volunteers, I would like to thank you all for coming here today. Without the support you all have given us, we would not be here today to become full-fledged Volunteers.]

Pele re fihla mo dikgwedi tše pedi tša go feta, ke motho e motee feela eo a bego a kile a tla mo South Afrika. Re be re sa tsebe Sepedi, isiZulu, Siswati, goba Setswana. Re be re sa tsebe setšo sa South Afrika. Re be re sa ka ra ja bogobe, morogo, mala a kgomo, goba mašotša. Go feta moo, re be re sa tsebe go bina ‘sika le khekhe’ goba ‘ngwazi’.

[Before we arrived here two months ago, only one of us had ever come to South Africa. We did not know any Sepedi, isiZulu, siSwati, or Setswana. We did not know about South African culture. We had never eaten pap, wild spinach, cow intestines, or mopane worms. And, even worse, we did not know to dance ‘cut-the-cake’ or ‘ngwazi’ {if I have a lot of bandwidth, I’ll send a demonstration video of each}.]

Ka morago ga ‘kgwedi tše pedi tša tlhahlo mo South Afrika, re kgona go dumediša le go itsebiša ka maleme a rena ao re ithutilego ona. Re kgona go lora ka Sepedi, isiZulu, Siswati, le ka Setswana. Re kgona gape le go fehla bogobe ka lefehlo, ka bokwari bjo bogolo. Godima ga fao, ba bangwe ba rena ba šetše ba kgona go bina ‘Jika Majika’. Le ge e le gore re sa tlo dira diphošo tše ntšhi kudu ge re leka go itlwaetša bophelo bja mo South Afrika, le re file motheo woo o tlo re kgontšhago go kgotlelela, le gore re dire segwera mo ditšhabeny tša rena mo South Afrika.

[After two months of guidance here in South Africa, we can greet and introduce ourselves in our target languages. We can even dream in Sepedi, isiZulu, Siswati, and Setswana. We can use a ‘wooden stick with metal loops on one end’ to stir pap with much skill. Even better, some of us are ready to compete on Jika Majika {a very popular house dancing show on eache evening}. And although we will still make many, many mistakes in our attempts to integrate into live here in South Africa, you have given us a foundation that will enable us to persevere and gain the trust and friendship of our host communities here in South Africa.]

Mo mengwageng e mebedi eo e tlago, ke a tshepa gore re tla fihlelela dilo tše ntšhi tše botse, rena gammogo le mekgahlo ya rena mo ditšhabeng. E mongwe le e mongwe wa rena o tla gola a ba a fetoga ka tsela eo re bego re sa e lebelela. Ka go šoma ka boima le ka katlego ya rena, re tla ithuta kudu ka rena, le ka fao re nyakago gore re be ka gona.

[During the next two years, I believe that we will accomplish many great things in partership with our host organizations and communities. Each of us will also grow and change in ways we could not have anticipated. Through our hardships and successes, we will learn more about ourselves and about the people we want to become.]

Re fihlile mo dibeke tše pedi feela ka morago ga go bewa setulong go mopresidente wa rena, Barack Obama, eo a thopilego dikgetho, mme a re botša gore re swanetše gore re be le kholofelo ya dilo tše botse tšeo di tlo tlago ka moso. Bjalo, ge ke eme mo pele ga lena, ke bona sehlopha sa batho bao, ka thušo ya Peace Corps, le ka thušo ya ditšhaba tša rena, ba nago le monyetla wa go dira gore kholofelo eo ya mopresidente wa rena phethagale.

[We arrived here only two weeks after the inauguration of our president, Barack Obama, who won an election on the promise of hope {literally: ...who won elections because he told us that we must hope for good things to come in the future}. Now, as I stand here before you, I see a group of people who, with the help of Peace Corps and our host communities, together have both the opportunity and the potential to fulfill that hope of our president.]

Go bagwera ba ka ba Peace Corps, ke le lakaletša katlego moo le yago go dula gona mengwaga e mebedi ka moka. Ke leboga mmušo wa rena le wa South Afrika ka tšhomišano ya dinaga tše go lwantšha HIV/AIDS. Gape ke leboga le Peace Corps bohle ba re šomišanego mmogo le bona me leetong le la rena mo Afrika Borwa.

[To my Peace Corps friends, I wish you success during your entire two years {here in South Africa}. I thank the governments of the US and South Africa for working together to fight HIV/AIDS. I also thank the entire staff of Peace Corps for working together with us on our journey here in South Africa.]

Ke a leboga. Ke leboga kudu.

[Thank you. Thank you very much.]

Press Release About Swearing-In on Embassy Website

The website of the US Diplomatic Mission to South Africa recently featured a press release about my Peace Corps group's swearing-in ceremony last month. There are even a few photos. Enjoy!

How to Fetch an Avocado

Yesterday capped off what proved to be among the best (and most productive) of my six weeks here at site. In the morning, my host brother Vynand and I left the house at about 8:30 to hike to an abandoned avocado orchard in the mountains to the northwest of our home. I had been looking forward to this trip from the moment I heard the first rumors of avocados nestled in the heart of the nearby mountains.

Vynand's late-night plans had dashed my hopes last weekend of departing the house together at 5:30am to explore the clifflines about 15km northeast for potential climbing opportunities. This weekend, however, he decided that a morning hike would be an ideal way to expedite his recovery from a lingering cold. Thus, after giving Vynand a chance to sleep in a bit, we departed with a backpack full of water, biscuits ('cookies' in local parlance), and some extra bags to return with what I hoped would be more avocados than we could carry.

Our path followed the left fork of the rocky dirt road that passes between humpback whale-shaped mountains just north of our the house. We followed the road steadily up from the arid valley into the mountains. As with the my previous journeys into the mountains two weeks ago, we passed quickly from dodging cactus spines to marveling at grand deciduous trees. In spite of my inability to actually identify the changing species, witnessing such evident change in such a small space of time is one of the best parts of hiking in the areas surrounding my village.

Despite hiking together mostly in silence, I certainly appreciated having Vynand present alongside me--even if doing so felt a bit less adventurous than hiking alone. Virtually all of my knowledge of the area's history and lore has come from conversations with Vynand. His English is among the best I've encountered in the village, a skill he honed during his work with seven different mines over the past ten years. He also has a remarkable ability to spot baboons far in the distance (including atop the mountain adjacent to the house).

As we drew closer to our destination, Vynand recounted the history of the landmarks we happened upon along our way--the foundation of the shop at which his father worked as a serviceman decdes ago, the small quarry where many villagers obtain flat stones for their walkways and driveways, and, lastly, the site of yet another abandoned mine headquarters, complete with dilapidated concrete buildings and empty swimming pool. Unlike the mine headquarters for the andalusite mine, which was largely intact until ransacked by local villagers 2007, the headquarters of this mine died a more 'natural' death resulting from a sharp drop in global demand during the 1970s for the mine's product--asbestos.

In the weeks since my first discussion with Vynand about the abandoned avocado orchard, the dearth of details combined with my obsession with avocados gave my mind's eye license to imagine a grove of dozens of untouched avocado trees abandoned by anxious Afrikaner farmers during the height of the freedom struggle in the early 1990s. Thus, I admit to being rather underwhelmed when Vynand pointed to two trees in a small clearing just past the mine headquarters. My initial disappointment deepened when, upon approaching the two trees, we encounted a 20-foot long wooden pole with a metal hook fashioned upon the end. It appeared that the avocado trees hidden among the mountains were not the best-kept secret in Ga-Mathabatha.

Like many a cloud, this one too had its silver lining. Despite being few in number, these two avocado trees were enormous--towering at least seventy feet above the ground. And in the high branches far above our heads were at least two hundred avocados, none lower than thrity feet from the ground. I immediately thought of my climbing rope, harness, slings, and quickdraws back at the house, which would enable me to safely climb high into the trees to retrieve more avocados than we could carry the 10 or so kilometers back to the house.

In his condition, however, Vynand was not exactly enthusiastic about making a return trip home only to return later in the afternoon. Instead, Vynand grabbed a thin, sagging branch far from the trunk of one tree and began to haul himself upward. To my amazement, the branch held and Vynand was able to climb easily to the second-lowest branch, which was at least twenty feet off the ground. I then handed him the wooden pole, and we proceeded to become a two-man avocado harvesting operation with Vynand hooking and pulling the avocados from their branches and me haplessly attempting to catch and/or avoid being hit by the falling avocados. After a few misfires resulting in a few unripe avocados splitting in half upon colliding mid-descent with low-lying branches, and thereby becoming baboon food, we quickly refined our teamwork and were able to come away with twenty avocados, some at least three times the size you'd find in your average North Carolina grocery store.


All twenty are now ripening in a canvas Weaver Street Market bag hanging by my window. Although tempting, I promise I won't eat them all.

(Mis)Communication

One of the challenges common to virtually all Peace Corps Volunteers all over the world is learning to communicate effectively with the people of one's host community. I say 'host community' and not 'host country' because, as is the case for PCVs throughout most of sub-Saharan Africa and many other areas of the world, even if you attain fluency in the language of your host community, it's possible that you could walk to a neighboring village and struggle to even inquire about the location of the nearest toilet. In The Gambia, for instance, where I would find myself today if not for a rare bout of bronchitis, one could leave for a morning bike ride from one's Serahule-speaking village and return before dinner having ridden through nearby villages each speaking a different language, such as Jola, Wolof, or Mandinka--some as dissimilar from one another as Polish and Italian.

In comparison, I am rather linguistically fortunate here in South Africa. While the country may have eleven official languages, many of them are closely related and fall into a patchwork pattern across the country roughly following the lines of the nine provinces. For instance, my host province of Limpopo is home to a vast majority of South Africa's Sepedi-speaking people. In the far-northern areas of Limpopo, one will find the majority of the country's Venda-speaking people, and in the far eastern area, near the border with Mozambique, is the home of the majority of the Tsonga-speakers.

For a visual representation, see Wikipedia's entry on South African languages here. As there are no cities on the maps, the best I can do to give you an idea of where I am is to link you to this map of my district, Capricorn, and say that I'm in the little 'arm' in the southeastern part of the district--in the heart of the Sepedi (aka Northern Sotho)-speaking area, represented in pink in the language map. The big 'take-away' from the language map is that with the exception of Gauteng province (aka Johannesburg and Pretoria) and, to a lesser extent, Mpumalanga province most languages are confined to distinct, continguous areas. Thus, I don't have to worry about riding my (non-existent, at this point) bike to a village that does not speak Sepedi.

One might have noticed that only one of South Africa's eleven official languages is not part of the map--English. (The unlisted brown spot just south of the southern tip of the Sepedi-speaking area is the adopted home of the Ndebele-speaking people). That's because, despite more than 3.5m people reporting speaking English at home (roughly tied for fifth with Setswana/Western-Sotho), in none of the municipalities of South Africa is English the majority or even plurality language spoken at home. In most of the cities and large towns (the term city being reserved for municipalities with populations well over 1m), English is the unofficial language of business and commerce. Even in rural villages such as mine, many educated persons and young adults/adolescents have at least a conversational grasp of English. Thus, on a daily basis, I find that I end up using English in most of my daily interactions (even if I start many conversations attempting to speak Sepedi).

While being able to interact with some of my neighbors and co-workers in English has enabled me to learn much more about my organization than would have been possible if I had to rely exclusively on Sepedi, even enabling me to get started working on a few projects, I know that doing so has several major drawbacks. Obviously, I will not learn to speak Sepedi well unless I practice it on a regular basis, and each conversation that lapses into English is another opportunity I've missed to practice. It's not been four weeks since the end of my Peace Corps language training, and I admit to being rather disappointed with my learning progress since that time.

Despite scoring very well on my language exam, I discovered upon arriving in Ga-Mathabatha that I somehow understood less of the Sepedi conversations around me than I had while among my Setswana-speaking host family during training! Needless to say, I was in for a rather rude awakening. And although I have progressed to the point where I can often pick out key words (admittedly, often cognates with English or Afrikaans) to understand the context of the conversations occurring around me, I'm still limited to very simple exchanges when attempting to converse with others in Sepedi. I have certainly disabused of the notion that I would magically absorb a foreign language simply by eavesdropping on conversations.

In general, the biggest challenge for me with communicating in Sepedi is understanding what others are saying to me. Although I try to be conscious of the fact that English is often the second, third, or seventh language of the person with whom I'm speaking, and therefore speak slowly, enunciate, and rephrase when not understood, rarely am I afforded the same treatment. While many here are rather shocked when I, a lekgowa (white person), greet them in their own language, the expectation is that someone who is capable of the simple tasks of greeting and commenting on the weather must be fluent. That I am incapable of understanding someone's rapid-fire response is a constant source of disappointment both to the person with whom I'm speaking and to me.

Although often frustrating, I'm doing my best to treat the situation as a lesson in humility and patience. I know that the first three months at site are among the most difficult of one's more than two years of Peace Corps service. So as long as I keep my spirits up and persist in trying to learn as much as possible, I know that I still have a lot of time to learn the skills I'll need to my community in the 23 months I have left here in Ga-Mathabatha.

Go lokile! (All's well!)

Election Day

Today is Election Day here in South Africa, and, unlike in the US, the day is declared a national holiday. Part of being a Peace Corps Volunteer is keeping one's opinions of host country politics to oneself. Thus, in lieu of writing any sort of political analysis (as much as I would love to), I'll leave it to the NY Times, which has an excellent article towards the top of today's edition of the website.

South Africans Vote, Expecting Few Big Changes by Barry Bearak

The author's observations and conclusions are consistent with what I've seen here in my community, but one item he does not note is that the newest contender to the ruling African National Congress (ANC), the Congress of the People (COPE), seems to be drawing votes away principally away from the ANC, not the other major ANC rival, the Democratic Alliance. Granted my sample is rather limited, but those of you watching from the US should take note of whether the entry of COPE into national politics simply reshuffles the pool of non-ANC votes or whether COPE draws its support primarily from former ANC supporters.

That's all I'll say for now, lest I get myself into trouble ;-)

North Canada?!? O tswa Canada? (You are from Canada?)

Making a Difference
It's only been two and a half weeks since I arrived here in Ga-Mathabatha, and already I've started working in partnership with my host community to create positive change. This afternoon, my host sisters and I began trying to alter the sleeping habits of the household's chickens, which like to roost in the overgrown grape vines adjacent to the house. This presents a major problem, as the grape vines are immediately adjacent to the windows of the room shared by my host sisters. And contrary to popular belief, roosters do not wait until sunrise to greet the day--more like every hour, on the hour, between 2am and 6am.

To rectify this troubling issue, my host sisters and I decided to gently encourage the chickens to roost elsewhere. As chickens tend not to respond well to subtlety, this gentle encouragement took the form of throwing stones of various sizes at the chickens roosting in the grape vines. After about twenty minutes, we had chased the chickens out of the grape vines and successfully repelled those brave enough to return. I hope this proves to be the first of many fruitful partnerships for me here in South Africa.

Fanang Diatla
When I'm not pelting chickens with rocks or sleeping, I spend most of my time here in Ga-Mathabatha at Fanang Diatla Selp-Help Project, which I neglected to introduce in my last post. A group of five women here in Ga-Mathabatha together founded Fanang Diatla in 1984 to address the near-complete absence of health services in their community. Fanang Diatla continued as a small group of women volunteering to provide basic health care to their community until the late 1990s. It's at that time, when HIV/AIDS was beginning to devastate communities across southern Africa, that Agnes Qwabe, Fanang Diatla co-founder and CEO, began to dramatically expand the scale and scope of her organization's role in Ga-Mathabatha.

Today, Fanang Diatla, working closely with the Ga-Mathabatha Clinic, sends out dozens of volunteer carers into the community to visit ill patients in their homes each day. Fanang Diatla's services have expanded to include many other services to address community health needs, care for AIDS Orphans and Vulnerable Children (OVCs), and combat poverty. In addition to its home-based care services, Fanang Diatla

• Runs a network of thirteen drop-in centers for OVCs, who otherwise might go hungry or have no place to go after school;
• Operates a multitude of income-generating projects, including a sophisticated bakery, a vegetable garden, fence-making, upholstery, and juice-making businesses, a small poultry project, and a village bank (which serve to both generate income for other Fanang Diatla services and to provide jobs to members of a community suffering from severe unemployment, including members of the community with disabilities);
• Hosts a chapter of the national youth HIV/AIDS education and empowerment group called Love Life;
• Links very poor children (usually orphans) with international sponsors through a program called Children of the Dawn (let me know if you would be interested in sponsoring or co-sponsoring a child at 160 Rand per month, a little less than $18 at current exchange rates); and
  
• Sponsors a soccer team of local male youth (the term youth is broadly inclusive here in South Africa, sometimes even including adults in their early 30s).
  

Fanang Diatla's next big step is to become a regional training center for Home-Based Care workers, which would raise the organization's profile substantially and bring in more income to expand services.

Where do I fit in?
With all of these good things going on, one might wonder why Fanang Diatla requested a second Peace Corps Volunteer to whom the current Volunteer, Nathan, could pass the torch. There have been days in the past two weeks when I've asked myself that question many times, but Fanang Diatla does have areas where the organization could improve. At this point, it seems most likely that the work I'll be doing for Fanang Diatla will focus on improving the organization's use of technology, monitoring and evaluation capacity, and (despite Peace Corps' assertion that PCVs are not fundraisers) fundraising/income generation activities.

It's looking quite likely that I'll also be spending a fair amount of time working with some of the local schools, where there are some acute teacher shortages, especially in math, the sciences, and technology. Although several schools have expressed interest in my teaching classes, I'm a bit wary of becoming a near full-time teacher. One of the main reasons I wanted to join Peace Corps was to promote sustainable capacity-building. While it's tempting to see a dire need and want to step in to fill it, I need to recognize that I'm only here for two years and that I should focus my efforts towards projects that will endure beyond my departure.

Memorable Moments
During the past ten weeks here in South Africa, I've had some rather noteworthy interactions, and it would be a shame not to share some of my favorites which here.

North Canada?
So one of the most common interactions I have with native South Africans involves explaining where I'm from. While virtually all South Africans are familiar with the US, the perceptions are often limited to the television shows we export to South Africa, namely Beyonce, 50 Cent, and Chris Brown music videos, Wayans brothers shows, and, my personal favorite and most unexpected, World Wrestling Entertainment.

Thus, many people who learn that I'm from the US or 'America' ask me which part or which state. When I reply that I'm from North Carolina, the typical response that I get is a blank stare (alas, this is even the case since my beloved Tar Heels won their second men's NCAA basketball championship in five years). Usually people are satisfied when I tell them it's near the Atlantic Ocean, about a 4.5 hour drive south of where President Obama lives.

At least three times, however, my thick American accent has resulted in my being interpreted as having said that I'm from North Canada. Each time, I've then had to explain that not only am I not from Canada or North Canada, but that Canada is not part of the US. Neither is the UK.

I write this not to poke fun at South Africans but to illustrate that even in a country where people are inundated with American culture on a daily basis, knowledge about the geography, demographics, politics, cultural practices, etc. is often very limited, especially in rural areas. I still am baffled by how I often find myself conversing with someone who knows intimate details of the lives of many African-American celebrities but is shocked that there are black people in the US. My favorite statistic to use in these cases is that there are roughly as many black Americans as there are black South Africans. Many are as incredulous of this statistic as they are of my assertion that there are both poor people and rural areas in the US. Thus, I've got my work cut out for me to fulfill one of Peace Corps' three principal goals: "Helping promote a better understanding of Americans on the part of the peoples served."

On that note, I think I'll sign off for the night. I think I hear the chickens returning to the grape vines.

Re a lotšha, bagwera baka!

(Translation, from Sepedi: We greet [you], friends of mine)

Alas, I do not have the energy for an extended post after an exhausting first four days at site, but I wanted to let everyone know that I survived training and have made it safely back to Ga-Mathabatha to begin my two-year stint as a full-fledged Peace Corps Volunteer. My posts through the next few weeks are likely to be rather haphazard chronologically as I attempt to catch you all up on my Pre-Service Training (PST) 'adventures' while simultaneously posting on my current experiences here at site. Please just bear with me for now.

Last Thursday was our swearing-in ceremony, where we took the same oath our new president uttered a mere 2.5 months ago (unlike our Chief Justice, however, our Country Director did not opt to exercise creative license). I was fortunate to have been selected as one of two Volunteers to deliver a speech in our target language, which in my case is Sepedi (my colleague, Sharon, gave an impressive speech in Zulu). After substantial editing the night before by our Language and Cross-Cultural Coordinator, Mogobe, I was able to read my speech well enough to elicit laughter from the non-American portion of the audience.

After the ceremony and a delicious lunch, we rushed to our makeshift pick-up point to load our luggage and recent 'settling-in' purchases into bakkies (pickup trucks), khombies, and trailers. Following a few tearful goodbyes, I set off in a bakkie with a fellow Volunteer and a driver from her organisation. Despite waiting nearly an hour for a vehicle swap at the nicest KFC I've ever seen, I made it to my new home well before dark.

As much as I have to say about the last four days here at site, let me close for the night by introducing y'all to my host family, of whom you're likely to read quite a lot during the next two years. The head of my host family is Paulina, a 53-year-old widow who is incredibly sweet but happens to speak even less English than I speak Sepedi. She also is one of the five founding members of my host organisation, Fanang Diatla Self-Help Project, where she still works today. Paulina has seven children, four of whom currently live with her.

The eldest of the children still living at home is Vynand, my 28-year-old host brother. Vynand works as a machinist in one of the areas largest platinum mines, but many of the mines have suspended operations due to the decline in global demand for platinum. The next eldest of Paulina's children is Leah. She is 24 years old and works in many different administrative capacities at Fanang Diatla. Leah has a two-year-old daughter named Jessica, who is a strong contender for the title of World's Most Adorable Child. Next eldest is Kedibone, who is 22 and currently stays home to take care of Jessica and help run the household, a task which is much more demanding than in the States. The youngest of Paulina's daughters is Tumelo, who is currently on a three-week break from school between terms.

That's all for now, but expect more soon.

Back to the Beginning…

It’s now been two months since I arrived in Philadelphia to commence a new stage in my life as a Peace Corps Trainee (PCT), but I thought I’d start with a flashback to those first few days since leaving the comfort of Durham, North Carolina.

After nearly losing my cell phone in the airport shuttle van, sitting through several ice-breakers and information sessions, getting my second yellow fever vaccination in less than a year, and spending an evening of dinner and conversation with my fellow trainees (and my old college roommate, Chris), I boarded a charter bus with my new colleagues on the morning of February 3rd bound for snowy JFK. Twenty-five eventful, sleepless (at least for me) hours later, we landed safely at Oliver Tambo International Airport in Johannesburg to surprisingly cool weather and cloudy skies.

Staff from Peace Corps South Africa graciously welcomed us just outside customs, whereupon we loaded our many bags into a long trailer and piled into a couple brand new official Peace Corps khumbies (mini-bus/van taxis). Nearly three hours later, we arrived at our training site in northwestern Mpumulanga province (see map from November 22 post) to a spread of pap (mashed-potatoesque corn-meal porridge), fried chicken, beetroot, cabbage, and, of course, singing and dancing.

O tla di bona
Di shebane ka
Matlhong ga di
Lwana di poo, di poo.
Dialla di poo…

The song is a Setswana song about bulls staring each another in the eyes when they fight, and the dance involves bending at the waist and staring another person in the eyes as you gyrate your hips and lock ‘horns’ (i.e. your arms, bent like a pair of parentheses in front of you). Even two months in, ‘Di Poo’ remains my favorite traditional South African song and dance of all those I’ve heard since my arrival.

After an incredible dinner and a round of introductions to local Peace Corps staff, we prepared to move our luggage into the dorms in which we’d be staying for a few nights. Heavy rains during the preceding week, however, had flooded the area in front of the dorms. To earn our credentials as Peace Corps Volunteers-to-be, we rolled up our dress slacks and braved the mud to pass our damp luggage from the trailer to the dorms. As further introduction to Peace Corps Training logistics, we then had to stand in deeper mud and push the truck out of the quagmire. Needless to say, I was incredibly grateful for the Gore-Tex boots given to me as a Christmas present days before my departure (thanks, Kristin!).

I was asleep before my head even hit the pillow.

Hello from Mpumalanga, en route to Limpopo

Hello all! I know it's been a long time since my last post (nearly four months, actually), but I should now be able to post more regularly as training is nearly over.

For the last five and a half weeks, I've been living in a large village of about 17,000 people in the northwestern corner of Mpumalanga Province, South Africa (see map from last post). Tomorrow, I'll be heading to Rustenburg in the Northwest Province to a workshop where I'll be meeting the person who will be my 'counterpart' here in South Africa for the next two years. As I learned Friday afternoon, I will soon be moving from my training village here in Mpumalanga to Ga-Mathabatha in Limpopo Province, the northernmost province of South Africa. Limpopo is home to most of the country's Sepedi-speaking (also known as 'Nothern Sotho') population. I've spent much of the last five weeks learning and practicing Sepedi despite living in a predominantly Setswana-speaking area, but the languages are so closely related that I have been able to practice speaking Sepedi with my Setswana-speaking host family (of which I'll write more later).

My next two weeks are likely to be quite busy. After a two-day training workshop in Rustenburg, I'll be traveling with my counterpart for a four-day site visit to Ga-Mathabatha, where I'll get to meet the people that will be my coworkers for the next two years. I'll be in a fairly unique circumstance of working in a fairly large organization that is already hosting a Peace Corps Volunteer, who arrived nearly a year-and-a-half ago and will be departing back to the States in July. Following in the footsteps of another volunteer should prove to have a number of benefits as well as challenges. I'm also hoping for a chance to visit a few of the local schools, the local chief, and other key figures and institutions in my village.

After my four days in Ga-Mathabatha, I'll be returning to my training site for nearly a week, where I'll be concentrating on refining my language skills ahead of my Language Proficiency Interview, which is the test that will ascribe a label to my ability to speak Sepedi and determine whether I'll need to hire a language tutor in Ga-Mathabatha and retest in three months. Following the test, on April 2nd, will be our swearing-in ceremony, where my training group will officially become Peace Corps Volunteers (as opposed to the current appellation - Peace Corps Trainee).

Well, I have to get to training, but please feel free to post comments about things you'd like me to write about in future posts.