I have started my second project which is to construct a park/playground/sports field on every campus of the 6 schools (2 high school, 4 primary). I have experienced nothing but success on this project and haven't been presented with any real challenges.
I spoke with the Chief and he said he will grant me permission to use the land (because it is tribal land I need his permission) if I get letters of support from the principals of each school. They have given me verbal support but they need to have their School Governing Body (SGB) approve the measure before writing a letter. They will also provide me with a list of what they want on their campus (i.e., types of sports fields, park structures, what size playground) so designing will be much easier. Since I want to expose the children to as many new sports as possible I am going to encourage them to diversify so they don't all have a soccer field; one principal has expressed interest in a cricket field.
Since I would like my projects that are being done for the community to be done by the community I have recruited 11 students to help me. The team is mixed-gender (6 boys, 5 girls) drawing 4 from one school and 7 from the other to give them the experience of working on this type of team because it is what they are going to encounter in the workplace. Having a design team works four-fold: I will gain experience leading a team on a project; the students will learn how to do a project and work on multiple other important life skills; the work load will be spread out; and the community will see it as some of their own stepping up and improving their community instead of an outsider coming in and giving them something.
I met with the 4-person team on Tuesday and the 7-person team today. During the first meeting, I introduced myself and then I gave them a presentation on how to run a project; this was very important since none of them had ever done a project before. I did a much better job with the second presentation (practice makes perfect) because I involved an activity requiring the students, plus two faculty, to follow the procedure I was explaining to them and apply it to a garbage clean-up project. They seemed to enjoy it a lot and I think it made the whole thing a lot clearer. Then I introduced them to the design process and how that works and how it ties into the project that we are doing. We finished the session by applying the design process to planning what will be constructed at their school. As they were leaving I thanked them for coming out to the meeting and joining the design team. One of the students said, "No, we should be the ones thanking you. You came all the way here and you are helping us improve ourselves and our community". That was the nicest thing I've heard someone say to me since I've been here. It was a refreshing change to people asking me for money.
I am going to bring them together for the first time tomorrow so we can figure out the strategy we are going to use to complete this project. I am going to suggest half of them do the designing and planning of three schools and the other half do the other three. I can see some flaws with this strategy (i.e. having to design the structures twice), so I am hoping that they will think about it and come up with a better suggestion. Most students here don't question their teachers but I have faith in these ones that they will.
I know that this project will succeed because there is so much support and desire for it to happen. I am sure that we are going to encounter some challenges along the way but we shall prevail. Hopefully on top of having pride in contributing to their community the students will have learned a lot which can only benefit them at university and in life. Maybe I will have created an army of 11 community service-oriented leaders who can help me with other projects and take the reins on their own initiatives.
Thursday, October 30, 2008
Thursday, October 23, 2008
My First Project
My first project started at the beginning of last week. I was talking with the counterpart who I was co-teaching with about some of the problems he was having controlling his students. I told him that they are so unfocused and unwilling to do the work because they sit in the same class all day and only get a break during lunch. He was also complaining that there was no room in the faculty room since it is also shared with the Head of Department (HoD), the principal, and the clerk. I noticed that educators were always late and unprepared. They wouldn’t have the right materials or a “duster” and would have to wait for a student to go get one from the faculty room and office. I had always thought that the educators should remain in the same room and the students should move but now was the time to propose the idea since I had plenty of reasons why it would be a good idea.
I wrote a 5-page proposal last week Monday night and presented it to my counterpart and he took a whole day to read it and examine it. The next day he told me how much he liked it and that we should move forward with it. I asked the HoD how to approach it and she agreed with getting the support of all the educators before approaching the principal since the idea had been shot down before. I made copies with the last page having an “I agree with the contents of this document” section where the educators signed. I had all of the signatures by yesterday afternoon and was ready to go talk to the principal.
Yesterday she called me into the office and was disturbed. She felt that I kind of went behind her back in showing the entire faculty before even approaching her. I had planned on presenting it to her at a School Management Team (SMT) meeting; the SMT is composed of the HoD from Foundation Phase (R-3) and Intermediate Phase (4-6) and the principal. The Foundation Phase HoD said the idea had been shot down before so it would be good to get the signatures before presenting it to her. My father had always told me, “Don’t come to me with a problem unless you have a possible solution to work with”, so I figured a proposal with faculty support would make it even more convincing.
Well, she didn’t think so. She requested that I present it to the SMT, like I had already planned anyways. After about an hour discussion we all agreed that it was an excellent idea and are planning on trying the student movement in November before the end of the year and a 6-month trial run at the beginning of next year. I was kind of confused when she said we “can see which one works better”. I was thinking to myself, “You mean the proposed one that works in every school in which it is used? Or the dysfunctional one that is now in place?”. Hopefully the transition goes smoothly so that there is no doubt that this is going to work. I was very encouraged when my counterpart said to me with assertion, "It will work".
There are also two other parts I added to the proposal which will improve its functioning overall. The educators will be assigned to teach subjects that they are qualified to teach. This will mean the educator knows the material well and will do a better job of teaching it since they are more enthusiastic about the subject. This will be determined at a faculty meeting tomorrow after school and at very latest Monday afternoon.
The other change will be to switch from 9 half hour periods per day to 3 one hour and 1 hour and a half period so the students will only have at most 4 subjects of homework due a night and will only have to move 3 times a day. Also, a longer period allows for more teaching time. 10 minutes of settling down at the beginning of the period would mean every class would have 50 minutes of teaching. The other option is 40 minutes of teaching in 2 20-minute sessions which makes holding discussions after presenting notes difficult. After the subjects are assigned I will be working up a possible schedule that will be used during the November trial run. I believe there will also be many other projects that will arise from this change too.
Last night our office was broken into which is actually convenient. It showed that the office isn't as secure as everyone thought and gave me an opportunity to show the police commissioner that our school needs some serious renovation. Unfortunately, most people in South Africa watch a soap opera called "Generations" instead of CSI or Law and Order so they cleaned up the rooms before they could be examined thus contaminating the crime scene. Now, hopefully, the Department of Education will be more willing to deliver on the renovations that they promised. If not, the school will have to resort to taking them to court like all of the other area schools do. If only they would do their job then there wouldn't be so many problems.
I wrote a 5-page proposal last week Monday night and presented it to my counterpart and he took a whole day to read it and examine it. The next day he told me how much he liked it and that we should move forward with it. I asked the HoD how to approach it and she agreed with getting the support of all the educators before approaching the principal since the idea had been shot down before. I made copies with the last page having an “I agree with the contents of this document” section where the educators signed. I had all of the signatures by yesterday afternoon and was ready to go talk to the principal.
Yesterday she called me into the office and was disturbed. She felt that I kind of went behind her back in showing the entire faculty before even approaching her. I had planned on presenting it to her at a School Management Team (SMT) meeting; the SMT is composed of the HoD from Foundation Phase (R-3) and Intermediate Phase (4-6) and the principal. The Foundation Phase HoD said the idea had been shot down before so it would be good to get the signatures before presenting it to her. My father had always told me, “Don’t come to me with a problem unless you have a possible solution to work with”, so I figured a proposal with faculty support would make it even more convincing.
Well, she didn’t think so. She requested that I present it to the SMT, like I had already planned anyways. After about an hour discussion we all agreed that it was an excellent idea and are planning on trying the student movement in November before the end of the year and a 6-month trial run at the beginning of next year. I was kind of confused when she said we “can see which one works better”. I was thinking to myself, “You mean the proposed one that works in every school in which it is used? Or the dysfunctional one that is now in place?”. Hopefully the transition goes smoothly so that there is no doubt that this is going to work. I was very encouraged when my counterpart said to me with assertion, "It will work".
There are also two other parts I added to the proposal which will improve its functioning overall. The educators will be assigned to teach subjects that they are qualified to teach. This will mean the educator knows the material well and will do a better job of teaching it since they are more enthusiastic about the subject. This will be determined at a faculty meeting tomorrow after school and at very latest Monday afternoon.
The other change will be to switch from 9 half hour periods per day to 3 one hour and 1 hour and a half period so the students will only have at most 4 subjects of homework due a night and will only have to move 3 times a day. Also, a longer period allows for more teaching time. 10 minutes of settling down at the beginning of the period would mean every class would have 50 minutes of teaching. The other option is 40 minutes of teaching in 2 20-minute sessions which makes holding discussions after presenting notes difficult. After the subjects are assigned I will be working up a possible schedule that will be used during the November trial run. I believe there will also be many other projects that will arise from this change too.
Last night our office was broken into which is actually convenient. It showed that the office isn't as secure as everyone thought and gave me an opportunity to show the police commissioner that our school needs some serious renovation. Unfortunately, most people in South Africa watch a soap opera called "Generations" instead of CSI or Law and Order so they cleaned up the rooms before they could be examined thus contaminating the crime scene. Now, hopefully, the Department of Education will be more willing to deliver on the renovations that they promised. If not, the school will have to resort to taking them to court like all of the other area schools do. If only they would do their job then there wouldn't be so many problems.
Tuesday, October 21, 2008
My Village
No shock here but I am the only white person who lives in my village. I am becoming better known but I still get looks of awe, shock, and sometimes hostility. These are all turned into satisfaction after I explain who I am, where I’m from, and why I’m here all in isiNdebele.
When I walk down the street, children who don’t know me shout, “khuwa! Khuwa!” (means “white person” or “European”); I am not sure if they are intrigued or if they are alerting their parents of the danger I present to them. The children who know me from school or just from me introducing myself to them shout, “Jabu!” (shortened version of my name, “Jabulani”). This gives me a sense of satisfaction that kids know me and are happy to see me. However, this semi-celebrity status requires me to look every single child in the eyes and shout, “yebo!” (means “yes” and is the response to hello) or give them a thumbs up; doesn’t matter if there is one child 5 feet away or 20 children 500 feet away. The most disheartening thing is when a young child starts bawling because they are terrified at the site of me; I can understand why since they have probably never been approached by a white person before.
This daily experience makes me empathize with celebrities who live their entire lives like this. It is nice to be recognized and welcomed but greeting everyone becomes tiresome and more than doubles the amount of time it takes me to get from one place to another.
A huge part of South African culture is Ubuntu, meaning “people”, which places much more emphasis on people than on getting things done. As a result, things often take a lot longer to get done. This is why, no matter if I’m late, I am obligated to acknowledge everyone. Since it seems to make everyone’s day a little better I will continue to do it.
Since I have plenty of free time in the afternoon and on weekends I take that time to walk around and talk to people. I say hello to everyone who bothers to make eye contact with me. If the person recognizes me or wants to talk to me I’ll sit down with them for a while. These conversations have resulted in meeting some interesting people who I think will prove to be valuable resources in the near future. I talked to a group of 4 old men who were sitting on some wooden benches surrounded by a fence made from corrugated tin roofing material. One spoke only Sotho and another was so drunk from utjwala (I advise against this), the traditional South African beer, that he kept falling off the bench; I was unable to communicate with either. One of the men belonged to my host father’s church and all 4 were landscapers. On top of finding out more about my village, I convinced one of the men to talk to his supplier to see about getting trees donated for a park project. Talking to everyone has also resulted in meeting a well-respected police trainee, the director of an orphaned child organization, and two men who coach a boys’ soccer team and might help me start a league or a boy’s club.
It makes me wonder, how different would life in America be like if we would just take a little more time to stop and get to know our neighbors?
Thursday, October 16, 2008
My Home
My room was supposed to be ready, fully furnished with a bed, wardrobe, table, and two chairs when I arrived at my site on September 12th. For the first 3 weeks I was staying in a room with a wardrobe I couldn’t use and a bed that was loaned to me by my principal. The branch of the Department of Education that was responsible for delivering them told me on 5 different days that my furniture would be coming so I stayed home those days and the furniture never came. They never called me to tell me it wasn’t coming that day so I wasted that time waiting that could have been put to much better use. They finally delivered the furniture 2 weeks ago while I wasn’t here. I returned home and they had only delivered a bed and a broken wardrobe. I called them about the missing chairs and table and they said they “forgot” to order them and they “were working on it”. I also mentioned that the wardrobe leg was broken. I realized they would never come to fix the broken leg so on Saturday I flipped the wardrobe over and fixed it myself. I went to pick up my wardrobe key on Monday to ask them about the table and chairs they were supposed to provide for me. They told me, “oh, yeah, the schools are supposed to provide those to you. So since the school is part of the Department of Education, by extension, the Department of Education is providing you with a table and two chairs”. Then they called my supervisor at my village and the table and chairs were delivered to me the next day.
Thursday, October 9, 2008
Swearing-In Ceremony
After 8 weeks of training I finally got to swear-in and now I am officially a volunteer with the U.S. Peace Corps!!! It was a bittersweet farewell. I was leaving my first home in South Africa to start afresh in another place. It actually kind of felt like graduating from high school and then going to a junior college only it happened faster. I graduated, there was a short celebration, then I was swept off to where I was going to spend the next two years of my life only an hour and a half away from home.
U.S. Ambassador Bost attended the ceremony and gave an excellent congratulatory speech/warning lecture and then had to leave promptly due to a crisis with a U.S. citizen in-country. He said how honorable it was to "give up" two years of our lives to volunteer and how much more valuable that is than money. Then he reminded us that we represented the United States of America and that we are all U.S. ambassadors; he followed that up by pointing out that he is the big ambassador and we are just tiny ambassadors. He stressed many times throughout the speech that we are here serving our country so our country will protect us if something goes wrong. The main point he was driving home was "DON'T MESS UP!". Then he left.
The rest of the ceremony was filled with speeches by the volunteers in the languages they learned, traditional song and dance, and then a feast of traditional food. I took a few pictures with my beloved Ndebele group and then said goodbye to my trainers and then my supervisor whisked me away to my site.
U.S. Ambassador Bost attended the ceremony and gave an excellent congratulatory speech/warning lecture and then had to leave promptly due to a crisis with a U.S. citizen in-country. He said how honorable it was to "give up" two years of our lives to volunteer and how much more valuable that is than money. Then he reminded us that we represented the United States of America and that we are all U.S. ambassadors; he followed that up by pointing out that he is the big ambassador and we are just tiny ambassadors. He stressed many times throughout the speech that we are here serving our country so our country will protect us if something goes wrong. The main point he was driving home was "DON'T MESS UP!". Then he left.
The rest of the ceremony was filled with speeches by the volunteers in the languages they learned, traditional song and dance, and then a feast of traditional food. I took a few pictures with my beloved Ndebele group and then said goodbye to my trainers and then my supervisor whisked me away to my site.
On the Death of Jonas Mnguni
I stayed at Jonas Mnguni's house for the first 8 weeks of my stay in South Africa. He was born in 1935 on a rural farm in South Africa. He helped raise 3 children while growing vegetables and livestock. I was born in 1983 in the U.S. and I traveled thousands of miles from my home to help improve a South African village and its schools. We were from two totally different times and worlds.
He spent most of his days while I was there sitting in the tin shack behind the house where they maintained a fire so that they would always have hot water. I would return from my classes at the end of the day and find him sitting in the corner of the smoke-filled shack and greet him by removing my hat and saying "Lotjhani". In their culture, you show respect for a man by removing your hat when entering his home. It really didn't seem like much to me but my host sister said her father told her that he really appreciated it because he could tell I understand his culture and respect him.
To spend time with him I would enter the shack and find him sitting in a chair, barely moving with his eyes glazed over from the smoke. I would sit on one of the homemade straw mats, not out of respect but because my eyes would dry out and start burning. I would try to use some of my new vocab by saying "Ninjani?", "Ngilambile" ("How are you?", "I'm hungry"). Although it was menial, if he wasn't impressed he was at least amused.
One night I decided to grill chicken on that fire in the shack for the family. He sat there the whole time not saying much, just watching. We (98 year-old grandma, mother, father, sister, two brothers) were sitting around the fire and I wanted to try to flex my isiNdebele skills so I said "Ngibawa Ngifuna Fakwa" because the I needed a dish cloth to remove a pot from the fire. The first time I said it, no one responded. I said it two more times to no response. So I asked "can I have a dishcloth please?". "Fakwa" when said with my American accent sounded like "Phaka" (pronounced "Paga") which means "Everybody, please put in" (confusing thing to say to a bunch of people sitting around a fire). My sister Betty, who speaks the best English of them all pointed out that I meant to say "faduku" meaning "dish cloth" and explained what I was trying to say in isiNdebele. I have never seen my father or any of them laugh that hard for that long over my linguistic blunder. I couldn't tell if I was crying from the laughter, the smoke, or the onions I just cut. It was one of those odd moments where I realized how unique this situation was and how lucky I am to be here.
At the beginning I noticed how his health seemed to be declining and he seemed to be getting sicker. I asked Betty if he was okay and she would just reply with "he has the flu". "Has the flu" is code for being having any illness ranging from a cold to being about to die. He would go to the clinic and get a "vaccination" and then be chipper and moving around well but then he'd get sick again soon after. Due to his continuous decline in health, I was not surprised when I got the news that he died neither was I particularly saddened.
On the day before the funeral they slaughtered a bull to be eaten at the gathering following the burial the next day. They explained that when an Ndebele man dies they kill a bull and a cow when a woman dies. They cornered it in a small pen and then wrapped a rope around its head then tightly around a post until the bull could barely move. The experienced elder took a small knife and thrust it into the back of its head right below the base of the skull severing the spine. The bull fell to its knees as they slit it's throat. It laid on the ground thrashing and struggling to breathe and it made me wonder if that is what it is like to die slowly of a sickness. Just sitting around waiting for your body to give in. As they slaughtered it using a variety of knives and axes I had a quick thought of how uncivilized it seemed. Then I quickly realized that the only difference between having a steak dinner in honor of someone's death and this is that they do the dirty work. The way that the men from the village came together to slaughter the cow was an amazing display of tradition.
The funeral was the next day and began with a lot of chanting, singing, and readings from the bible at the house. We proceeded to the graveyard for the burial and then there was more chanting, singing, reading, and family and important people saying a few words about him. Since I am not a blood relative and just moved to the community I was shocked when they asked me to say a few words. I spoke about how different we were and how grateful I was that he let me live at his house for a while and hoped that he would be looked after in the after-life. Those few words were more significant than I realized since the master of ceremonies approached me later and told me he was trying his hardest not to cry.
After all words were said and songs were sung they lowered the body into the grave, my host mom, a slew of other people, and I dropped the ceremonious handful of dirt into the grave. I was shocked to see that instead of everyone leaving right then all of the able-bodied men in the community used shovels and filled the grave in with the dirt and then piled rocks on top; it made it seem much more like the community had lost a family member, not just my host family. Then we silently left the graveyard and walked back to the house and cleansed our hands on the way into the front gate to cleanse ourselves from the ceremony. I did not cry at the ceremony or at the reception that followed. I was looking forward to leaving since we were attending a farewell function at the college that I was missing the beginning.
I arrived shortly before they began the celebration. We sang the South African and American National Anthems and then the volunteers stood up front for a singing of "Shosholoza", which is the story of South Africans coming together to support their team in sporting events. A strange thing happened during the song. The whole week I had returned from site I would tell people who offered their condolences that I was fine since I wasn't shocked that he had died. In the middle of the song I started to get teary-eyed and had to sit down. I cried a little after that which I found odd since I never cry at funerals and I didn't think I had bonded with him as much. I'm not sure if I had grown closer to him than I expected or if I had a better understanding of death as an adult.
Certificates of appreciation were being passed out and everybody was happy and enjoying the moment. When my family was announced I solemnly stood up and said that my family was unable to attend since they were at my father's funeral and then sat down. One of the language trainers asked everyone to stand up and we bowed our heads and we honored Jonas with a moment of silence. I appreciated that gesture and I think it was the last bit of closure that I needed.
May he rest in peace.
He spent most of his days while I was there sitting in the tin shack behind the house where they maintained a fire so that they would always have hot water. I would return from my classes at the end of the day and find him sitting in the corner of the smoke-filled shack and greet him by removing my hat and saying "Lotjhani". In their culture, you show respect for a man by removing your hat when entering his home. It really didn't seem like much to me but my host sister said her father told her that he really appreciated it because he could tell I understand his culture and respect him.
To spend time with him I would enter the shack and find him sitting in a chair, barely moving with his eyes glazed over from the smoke. I would sit on one of the homemade straw mats, not out of respect but because my eyes would dry out and start burning. I would try to use some of my new vocab by saying "Ninjani?", "Ngilambile" ("How are you?", "I'm hungry"). Although it was menial, if he wasn't impressed he was at least amused.
One night I decided to grill chicken on that fire in the shack for the family. He sat there the whole time not saying much, just watching. We (98 year-old grandma, mother, father, sister, two brothers) were sitting around the fire and I wanted to try to flex my isiNdebele skills so I said "Ngibawa Ngifuna Fakwa" because the I needed a dish cloth to remove a pot from the fire. The first time I said it, no one responded. I said it two more times to no response. So I asked "can I have a dishcloth please?". "Fakwa" when said with my American accent sounded like "Phaka" (pronounced "Paga") which means "Everybody, please put in" (confusing thing to say to a bunch of people sitting around a fire). My sister Betty, who speaks the best English of them all pointed out that I meant to say "faduku" meaning "dish cloth" and explained what I was trying to say in isiNdebele. I have never seen my father or any of them laugh that hard for that long over my linguistic blunder. I couldn't tell if I was crying from the laughter, the smoke, or the onions I just cut. It was one of those odd moments where I realized how unique this situation was and how lucky I am to be here.
At the beginning I noticed how his health seemed to be declining and he seemed to be getting sicker. I asked Betty if he was okay and she would just reply with "he has the flu". "Has the flu" is code for being having any illness ranging from a cold to being about to die. He would go to the clinic and get a "vaccination" and then be chipper and moving around well but then he'd get sick again soon after. Due to his continuous decline in health, I was not surprised when I got the news that he died neither was I particularly saddened.
On the day before the funeral they slaughtered a bull to be eaten at the gathering following the burial the next day. They explained that when an Ndebele man dies they kill a bull and a cow when a woman dies. They cornered it in a small pen and then wrapped a rope around its head then tightly around a post until the bull could barely move. The experienced elder took a small knife and thrust it into the back of its head right below the base of the skull severing the spine. The bull fell to its knees as they slit it's throat. It laid on the ground thrashing and struggling to breathe and it made me wonder if that is what it is like to die slowly of a sickness. Just sitting around waiting for your body to give in. As they slaughtered it using a variety of knives and axes I had a quick thought of how uncivilized it seemed. Then I quickly realized that the only difference between having a steak dinner in honor of someone's death and this is that they do the dirty work. The way that the men from the village came together to slaughter the cow was an amazing display of tradition.
The funeral was the next day and began with a lot of chanting, singing, and readings from the bible at the house. We proceeded to the graveyard for the burial and then there was more chanting, singing, reading, and family and important people saying a few words about him. Since I am not a blood relative and just moved to the community I was shocked when they asked me to say a few words. I spoke about how different we were and how grateful I was that he let me live at his house for a while and hoped that he would be looked after in the after-life. Those few words were more significant than I realized since the master of ceremonies approached me later and told me he was trying his hardest not to cry.
After all words were said and songs were sung they lowered the body into the grave, my host mom, a slew of other people, and I dropped the ceremonious handful of dirt into the grave. I was shocked to see that instead of everyone leaving right then all of the able-bodied men in the community used shovels and filled the grave in with the dirt and then piled rocks on top; it made it seem much more like the community had lost a family member, not just my host family. Then we silently left the graveyard and walked back to the house and cleansed our hands on the way into the front gate to cleanse ourselves from the ceremony. I did not cry at the ceremony or at the reception that followed. I was looking forward to leaving since we were attending a farewell function at the college that I was missing the beginning.
I arrived shortly before they began the celebration. We sang the South African and American National Anthems and then the volunteers stood up front for a singing of "Shosholoza", which is the story of South Africans coming together to support their team in sporting events. A strange thing happened during the song. The whole week I had returned from site I would tell people who offered their condolences that I was fine since I wasn't shocked that he had died. In the middle of the song I started to get teary-eyed and had to sit down. I cried a little after that which I found odd since I never cry at funerals and I didn't think I had bonded with him as much. I'm not sure if I had grown closer to him than I expected or if I had a better understanding of death as an adult.
Certificates of appreciation were being passed out and everybody was happy and enjoying the moment. When my family was announced I solemnly stood up and said that my family was unable to attend since they were at my father's funeral and then sat down. One of the language trainers asked everyone to stand up and we bowed our heads and we honored Jonas with a moment of silence. I appreciated that gesture and I think it was the last bit of closure that I needed.
May he rest in peace.
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