An Elephant in the City

A Day at Brooklyn Mall

2010-12-01T16:03:00.001+02:00

Yesterday, I spent over seven hours in a mall. And I loved every minute of it. True about an hour was just hanging out with my husband, about three hours was watching harry Potter and two hours Elvira’s baby shower (so many beautiful and vibrant Hispanic women!). The last hour I was alone doing some Christmas shopping. But still, it is disconcerting.

And this wasn’t just any mall. It was Brooklyn Mall, one of Pretoria’s fanciest, snobbiest places to be. My husband was the only black person in the theatre. He said that must be why they charge such a high price- to keep out the other “darkies.”

The boutiques in this mall are all fancy and snobby too, but somehow, to me, comforting. I found a beautiful local craft store and recognized much of the products as being from Ama Job Job. I passed a store called “Organics” which had modest manikins in the window draped with hemp and cotton fabrics. There was a Chinese Restaurant, cafes, all well lit and spacious. I think at some moments I could have been convinced to move in there, given the opportunity. Disconcerting...

Even more so given the supposition that I should be suffering from some level of reverse culture shock. In the morning, I woke up in a tiny house (probably the size of your living room) which I share with five other adults, one teenager and a baby. At least my husband and I are privileged enough to have one of the miniature bedrooms to ourselves. The other bedroom is occupied by my two sisters-in-law, the older one’s daughter and my mother-in-law. The other married couple sleeps in the lounge in the cramped space between the couches and the TV.
Our house is in Rabie Ridge, an upper-end township of Midrand, North of Johannesburg. The houses are sturdy, well-built and finished nicely. The only essential we lack is a kitchen sink, and that’s coming. The neighbourhood seems safe enough. But I am far from comfortable here, far from fitting in. I don’t know of any other white people living in the township, other than myself, though I’ve seen one or two strolling near the shops.

After getting ready, we take a free taxi to the rank in Ivory Park. On entering, the pavement is crumbling beneath the taxi’s wheels. Sewage runs in the gutters and street where a septic pipe has burst, filling the air with a thick aroma. Garbage is piled high on certain street corners, but is also scattered lazily everywhere. The houses and shops are no longer made of brick and concrete, but rather are constructed primarily of sheet metal scraps. Signs are hand painted, advertising wares and services. “John Glass Work,” “Phila Ngiphile” (Live so I live). The streets are full. Full of taxis, full of pedestrians, especially children. Last month we arrived at the rank just after an accident. A taxi had run into four people. I don’t know how many actually died, but when I saw them, they were all layed out, two on stretchers and two still on the pavement, completely still. A few weeks later the taxi association (Taxi Ass) released an apology posted in many of the taxis, regretting the loss of life that day. I always look both ways.

From one crowded, hot, sticky taxi to the other. We wait for it to fill up, wait for all eighteen passengers to cram into rows of four with two seated next to the driver. We try to avoid those front seats. Whoever sits there is responsible for collecting all the fare, distributing the correct change to all the passengers and giving the driver his share. Sometimes we do it wrong and have to make up the difference with our own money.

The first seat behind the driver is also undesirable. There you usually have to negotiate around shopping bags and toddlers, not to mention the engine seems set your shoes on fire from under you. We like the back rows, preferably one where you’ll have control of one of the sliding windows. Heaven help you if you get stuck in a taxi where no one else seems to notice the heat. Is it just me? I am melting and no one will even crack a window? Lately a steadily increasing sense of claustrophobia has been growing in me. I need more time alone in a room as each day passes. I feel crowded on the streets, on the sidewalks, in the house, in the shops and even in the school office, which is currently being shared by six people, not including the teachers and students who come through each day. I am crowded with too many bodies, too much litter and too many comments by strangers concerning this black man and white woman, a complete anomaly around here, this city which housed the architects of apartheid. I am crowded by merchants, pamphleteers and pastors. Mostly, I am crowded by eyes, which seem so magnetized towards us. Even sunlight makes me feel cramped, and I now prefer cloudy days with light or even thunderous rain. The showers seem to wash away some of the choking dust and misconceptions. Rain affects us all the same. The sun turns me red and peels my skin, without seeming to even touch my husband or others with his complexion. But in the rain, we all get wet.

My husband and I have created a ritual of reading out loud to each other on the taxis to Pretoria. We ignore everyone else, whether they are annoyed, amused or ambivalent, and slip into the world created by the current writer. Most days, I can only last a few chapters before the motion and heat of the taxi, in all its bumping and creaking, pull me into sleep. We arrive.
During the walk to the next taxi my lover befalls a tragedy, the drama of which leads us into quarrelling. Before we arrive, we have already understood one another, repented and forgiven. This is one of the primary sacraments of such a union. Afterwards, time together feels even sweeter, like icecream after chips and vinegar. The sour brings out the sweet.

And so our outing begins. We arrive at the mall and my tiny house, the open sewage of Ivory Park, and the balmy taxis all slip away inside this temple of light and luxury. Should I feel guilty for relaxing and breathing deeply in a palace built for consuming? I was told by a wise woman that our feelings are never wrong. So this place comforts me. So I appreciate the space and the light and the illusion of wealth. This must only be a reaction to my environment the rest of most days. And so I accept that I enjoyed a day at the mall.

This does, however, make me more grateful for the approaching changes. I’d wager that when I am living with my beloved in a house on a camp surrounded by fields, forests and lakes, that my place of refuge will no longer be a snobby mall in the suburbs.

Look Closely

2010-06-05T21:25:00.000+02:00

World Cup jitters

2010-06-03T17:53:00.003+02:00

Eita!

The World Cup is fast approaching and I'm using my last leave day to write this update before all the madness begins. Already the city is looking transformed. The City Hall is our next door neighbor and was the scene of both times I someone attempted to mug me. But now it is full of colorful flashing lights and full-sized beaded wire sculptures of soccer players. The other day the World Cup trophy was there and open for viewing.

Burgers Park is also seeing changes in preparation for the Better World Village (www.betterworld.org.za). A big screen is being installed to show all the matches as well as to support the events that will be happening daily and to show other information and films. The School of Creative Arts is preparing for the Art Village which will be running during Better World. It will host workshops in differnt kinds of dance, drama, visual arts and music and also will include a reflection space to provide a refuge from all the noise and activity.

This is evaluation and exam week at SoCA and then we will be closed for the duration of the World Cup, like most other schools in South Africa.

One of my main responsibilities for the Better World Village is the exhibition of the [re]branding homelessness contest. After much work and reasons to have low expectation of success I am thrilled at our winning entries, which you will soon be able to see exhibitted on our website, www.rebrandinghomelessness.org.za. The winning entry was designed by three students, who are going to provide a prototype for their hammock-like creation to be displayed during the Village.

Since the last time I wrote, I've been madly consuming my leave days, which have been accumulating all year. I've largely used them to prepare for whats coming next. There are still many mysteries, but I'm starting to feel less pannicked about the upcoming changes.

My boyfriend, Mandla and I have now begun the process to get him a visa to the U.S. I'm hoping we'll both be there sometime in September. I've also been working on job applications and countless other logistics.

I have gotten to spend some of my leave days more excitingly. Our good friends, Paul and Kellie arrived at the end of April and I was able to spend some time showing them around. It's been great having them! They are also volunteering, running the sports village at Better World. Robin and I love having new housemates. Our home is becoming the U.S. embassy here. A couple weeks ago Aaryn Shadlow arrived followed by Robin's boyfriend, Cameron this week. Now all our beds are full and the house is never quiet, but often full of laughter. After Aaryn arrived the five of us took a couple days off and drove (we rented a car!) to Busisa Farm in Kwa Zulu Natal. Its a Christian camp and is currently empty as camps will start next week. The camp is on farmlands and rolling hills between wild patches of jungley landscapes. We all fell in love with the place before we even got out of the car. Two large beautiful dogs greeted us with kisses as we unloaded our baggage into the cottage that was our home for the weekend.

We spent the next few days working, exploring the land and getting as cozy as possible in the increasingly cold weather. We cooked our meals by candlelight, since there was no electricity. We worked on projects during the days. I tiled part of a bathroom floor. The others worked mostly on painting and trail blazing. On our play day we trekked through the woods, saw a tree hyrax, zip lined 200 meters across a ravine, walked on a very loose bridge made from just two ropes, jumped off a seven meter water fall and I slipped and fell off various objects throughout the adventure.

We also saw sunsets and sunrises, cuddled with the dogs and built fires. It was great to be out of the city. The only downer was a flat tire on the way home. Following that I drove for the first time in ten months on the scariest stretch of road for 50km which felt like 200km.

Returning to the city has not been too hard since there have been so many exciting things happening. Yesterday, Mandla's niece (and his mother's first grandchild) was born to his sister, Edith. This weekend we'll have a baby shower and I'll get to give the blanket I've been working on for a month.

That's all for now. I'm sure there will be much more to tell soon.

some older pictures

2010-04-10T16:53:00.003+02:00

Botswana

2010-04-10T16:46:00.003+02:00

Botswana

2010-04-10T16:43:00.000+02:00

For Easter Robin and I visited her cousins (and my friends), Pete and Shelley and their two creative and highly entertaining kids. We originally had vague, but grand plans of visiting the Okavanga Delta or the Slat flats in the Northern parts of the country. But as soon as we got to Pete and Shelley’s house, we decided to stay. We both needed a restful vacation so badly!
During my brief return to Pretoria after Zimbabwe my discouragement with work and life in Pretoria was heightened as I received news that even more of my tentative plans were not working out. Without boring you with every detail, let me just say that I had been becoming increasingly disillusioned in my job and have been rethinking everything about what I will do after my internship is over at the end of July. I arrived in Botswana needing time to think, pray and play. And that is exactly what we did!
Robin and I loved playing with the kids, Malena and Caleb. We also enjoyed lots of laughs and storytelling with Pete and Shelley. We explored the town a bit, tasted an anthill, marvelled at the amazing array of baboons with deformities, hiked a hill overlooking the city and even visited a Game Reserve! I finally got to see giraffes, warthogs and different kinds of bok (deer). We also saw two hyenas and a cheetah, which were thankfully behind a fence. I now have an animal that I fear as much as racoons: hyenas. Creepiest animals I’ve ever seen.
At the end of the long weekend we returned to Pretoria with a renewed sense of purpose and vision for our time here and the energy to move forward.

Big Baobab

2010-04-10T16:40:00.004+02:00

Victoria Falls!

2010-04-10T16:33:00.002+02:00

the lake

2010-04-10T16:31:00.001+02:00

Rainbow Blaze friends

2010-04-10T16:23:00.002+02:00

Zimbabwe!

2010-04-10T16:20:00.001+02:00

The last two weeks of March I took leave and followed Mandla to Bulawayo, Zimbabwe, where he grew up. He had gone ahead to start sorting a few things out. We stayed in Tshabalala, a township just outside the city. This is where Mandla spent much of his childhood up until he moved to South Africa in 2003. I enjoyed meeting his old friends and family. I had especially been looking forward to meeting the members of Rainbow Blaze, the marimba group that Mandla helped start in 1998, I believe. They are all sweet guys and I enjoyed watching them rehearse together.
I loved staying in the township. The flats were mostly identical, originally built for the minors who came there to work. Each flat had four rooms, including a kitchen and usually a sitting room. They all had beautiful gardens and the second floor flats had verandas that overlooked the township, green and orange with trees and wildflowers. Daily power meant that if the power was on, everyone scrambled to get meals cooked and water heated. Everyday we walked to the little town center to get groceries. We often snacked on sweet cane between meals.
I was surprised by the many differences between Zimbabwe and South Africa. The most noticeable was how much safer it felt. I never once felt nervous around someone, even walking through the dark streets at night during power outs. Both in the township and the city I felt completely safe. In South Africa people look or even stare at me (and especially Mandla and I, when we're together) constantly. And much of the time those looks seem to be searching for some weakness or vulnerability that might be taken advantage of. In Zim people stared at me even more than in SA, but I never had the sense that their motives went beyond curiosity.
Also I noticed a huge difference in customer service. In SA, the word "serve" is more aptly used in the context of "you got SERVED!" I wonder if the fallen economy has created a more competitive atmosphere in business, thus improving customer service. But I also think people are just a bit nicer in Zimbabwe.
The economy has had a huge impact on the country in the past few years. Zimbabwe used to use, the Zim dollar. I've been told that at one point this was equal in worth to the British pound. I don't understand what all led to the hyperinflation of the past few years, but I heard lots of stories of how it affected people in their daily lives. One woman told us that the last salary she received in Zim dollars was just enough to buy one tomato and one onion. Most people said this really hard time began in 2006 and was at its worse in 2008 and 2009. I asked how people were able to survive and the response was often "by the grace of God." Practically speaking, this usually meant there was a relative in SA or another neighbouring country who was sending money or groceries to their family in Zim. During that time the stores were empty. I do remember in October or November hearing on the news that the situation in Zim was improving. When I asked a Zimbabwean friend of mine about it, he had said that yes, there was now food on the shelves, but still people did not have money to buy it. In Zim it was explained to me that store owners were selling their goods on the black market rather than in their stores. I think this was because the hyper inflation meant that money was really worth nothing, so merchants didn't want to accept it for goods. I was told that if a boy was walking down the street with a bag of maize meal, he would undoubtedly be robbed. The robber might throw money at him in return, but it could never be worth the value of the maize meal. I was also told that if you saw someone with maize meal, you would ask them where they bought it and the answer might be "the mortuary." It was in late 2009 that Zim switched to U.S. dollar and South African rand, which has begun to stabilize the economy. Now people seem to be doing fine. They're gaining weight again, they say. Of course, Zim is still economically unstable. I think almost everyone blames this on Mugabe. It seems the country is just waiting for him to die.
It took us awhile to adjust to the new monetary system while we were there. One day we paid with $10 for groceries and got back $5, 10 rand and 5 pula (from Botswana). We also received change in the form of candy fairly often. It was nearly impossible to spend any large bills.
Bulawayo is full of evidence of the recent history. It's obvious that the city was thriving and exciting not too long ago. People often speak about the glory days of the 80's and early 90's. The city was prosperous and lively with art and music. There are fancy malls and beautiful buildings down town. But everything seems to be just beginning to be revived after a long period of inactivity. The roads are not busy, but not empty either. Most grocery stores are full of food, but with very little selection. In the small grocery in Tshabalala the only canned foods were baked beans and tuna. We rarely found more than one brand of any given food or other commodity. I often had conversations like this, while reading a menu: "How much are your milkshakes?" "We don't have milkshakes." "What about your floats?" "We don't have those either." "What do you have?" "We have plain cones and cones dipped in chocolate or caramel." "Ok, I'll have the chocolate cone."

Though most of our time in town was spent in the passport office trying to get Mandla’s passport renewed, we did get to explore the city a bit. We visited the National Gallery of Art, which was clearly suffering from the recession. It did have a few nice exhibits, including one of paintings interpreting Ndebele proverbs. There were also several working studios there, where we met one woman who paints with her feet, due to a disability. I was impressed by the attitude of Zimbabweans to people with disabilities. I frequently saw slogans such as “differently abled” affirming the abilities rather than disabilities. We also visited the park, which was huge and overgrown and felt like a jungle.
The big highlight of the trip was our visit to Victoria Falls! We loved seeing the falls and even hearing them from our rest camp at night. We got soaking wet from the rain that falls continually. It seems to skip evaporation and precipitation and is instead propelled simply by the force of the falls and the gravity which brings the spray back down. But as much as I loved the falls, I also enjoyed lounging by the pool at our rest camp and having no responsibilities or things to do but relax. These last few months at the School of Creative Arts have been so hectic. It was nice to have a vacation.

Finally, a chance to breathe

2010-03-10T12:12:00.000+02:00

You haven’t heard from me in awhile and I’ll try to explain.

Generally speaking, I feel like I can handle my work load. I stay busy, but tend to get things done with enough room to do some exploring and dreaming as well. However, through January and February there were about eight weeks straight that I felt like I was constantly behind. There was just too much to do! And by the time I got home I was too exhausted to do much more than put dinner together and read or just hang out. So I’m sorry for being a bit out of touch, but things are at a much better pace now.

What was I so busy with at work? The new term supposedly started on February first, though due to serious complications we had to postpone a week and then things started slowly after that. Meanwhile we had to register all our students, a relatively new process. We were also busy renovating the flat that the school has been located in and our new flat which is now accommodating the fledgling Visual Arts Department. There is no way for me to communicate how complicated these things were. We originally pictured ourselves getting all the painting done over a weekend. In reality, with the help of several volunteers, it took a month. Procuring materials for all the renovations was also a mission. It nearly became my fulltime job for several weeks. One day I spent over 5 hours at one building supply store, getting yanked around because the check form TLF was for too high an amount and they refused to reimburse us the difference. And then there were issues with my ID, since I’m not South African. I’ve also spent countless hours phoning, faxing and visiting stores to get quotations for our finance department and then countless more hours hounding the finance department to release us the money.

Registration also was far more complicated than we anticipated. And this was made more complicated when one of our supporters, who has been providing instruments and facilitators for some of our music classes since 2006, suddenly decided to pull out a week before the scheduled start of classes. We’re still wrestling with obtaining our own instruments, but we did manage to find new facilitators for all the classes, actually increasing our capacity with ten new facilitators in total! Now classes are running smoothly and with plenty of fresh energy with our new team. The start of classes has also meant my return to teaching. I now facilitate painting class on Mondays and Wednesdays and am truly enjoying it.

During all this madness I was concurrently working on TLF’s [re]branding homelessness initiative. We launched our international design contest on February 1st. Please check it out at www.rebrandinghomelessness.org.za. It represents a lot of work and we’re excited to see the proposals in May. In the middle of last week I sat down in the office for a few hours and for the first time in two months, was caught up on work. Since then the pace has become manageable and I’ve even started to claim some of my overtime hours.

In my last blog I mentioned that Robin and I temporarily moved into our friends’ flat for December and then moved back to our old place in January. We liked moving so much we decided to do it again at the beginning of February. This time the move was just to the adjacent flat. Robin and I are thrilled to have our own space- a three bedroom flat with kitchen, bathroom, patio and outdoor toilet. The toilet was a bit of a struggle at first, since it didn’t lock. Our toilet paper was disappearing, so we started keeping it inside. Then we would find remnants of phone book pages, which were obviously someone’s replacement for the toile paper. Just yesterday we finally got a lock for the toilet. On facebook I posted a bunch of pictures of the renovations we did of our little flat. We painted, cleaned and really transformed the whole space.

In February, Robin’s step-Mom also came to visit. It was great to have her with us and Robin got some time to travel with her. Robin and Margit treated me to a trip to Jozi for an amazing play and a visit to the Apartheid Museum in Soweto. It was a beautiful little vacation. I think Margit got a taste of everything while she was here: wild animals in the reserve, city life, the arts, a run-in with the police and even a first hand experience with crime.

Which brings me to the next reason I haven’t been writing much. On Marit’s last night with us, someone apparently climbed through Robin’s window (between the bugler bars) and stole Robin’s computer. This has been devastating, since all Robin’s pictures, music and writings for the last four of five years were on that computer. It has also meant that we can no longer listen to music, watch DVD’s, do yoga (from our Rodney Yee videos) or write at home. That Monday night was the beginning of a week of crime in our area, culminating in a violent crime against one of our fellow volunteers. Since then there have been many new safety precautions put into place and I do feel safe again. I believe that all of these things have been a spiritual attack on us and what we are doing in this city. The hardest hit has been the anti-human trafficking coalition which lost much important information when Robin’s computer was stolen in the same week that another computer broke and an important notebook was lost. We really feel this is confirmation that our work here matters. Please pray for our safety and the success of these projects.

I have now officially requested two weeks of leave to travel in Zimbabwe with Mandla. The highlight of the trip will be visiting Victoria Falls, but I’m also excited to visit the place where he grew up and meet his old friends and family. Pray for our safety as we cross borders and navigate through the country.

Until next time!

Mandla and me

2010-02-14T13:39:00.000+02:00

My plaited hair

2010-01-17T17:55:00.002+02:00

Beautiful Lenasia

2010-01-17T17:54:00.000+02:00

The Kaunda family and me

2010-01-17T17:53:00.002+02:00

Christmas Eve Feast

2010-01-17T17:52:00.000+02:00

Mandla and Saskia performing at the Park

2010-01-17T17:51:00.000+02:00

Carols by candlight

2010-01-17T17:49:00.000+02:00

Fun at Christmas in the park

2010-01-17T17:48:00.001+02:00

View from our temporary home

2010-01-17T17:46:00.000+02:00

The family home

2010-01-17T17:44:00.000+02:00

Mandla's sister, Edith, Mandla, Naledi and me at the party

2010-01-17T17:40:00.002+02:00

Lizzy's birthday party

2010-01-17T17:39:00.000+02:00

Christmas in a Southern summer

2010-01-17T17:34:00.000+02:00

It’s now 2010, the year of the World Cup in South Africa. There are many promises of changes and newness. We are already stepping up efforts to address the crucial issues of human trafficking and homelessness in preparation for the big event.

But first, let me rewind a bit to update you on how the year ended on this side. December was hot and with classes closed for the holidays, I must admit I suffered from mild to extreme laziness. This seems to be a common malady at this time of year. Luckily there were two days off (Reconciliation Day and Christmas Day) and I had some over time saved up to accommodate my most lazy of days.

During that first week of December Robin and I temporarily moved into a flat down the street, house sitting for a couple friends of ours. It was refreshing to have our own space, though small. And the eighth floor offered a beautiful view of our city.

On Reconciliation Day I went with Mandla to his cousin’s birthday party in the township his family lives in, which is south of Soweto. It was a fun trip that started with a tense train ride. The train was completely packed. We almost didn’t find a place to sit. And I was the only white person on the whole, fifteen or so car train. I felt safe, but I later learned that Mandla had his head on a swivel the whole ride, watching out for any suspicious character who might be paying me too much attention.

In Jo-burg, we hopped into a taxi and after a long and peaceful ride, we arrived in Lenasia, a largely Indian township. We stopped by Mandla’s family’s home first. They rent a room in a small complex with a shared bathroom and outdoor water tap. They are awesome at utilizing space, managing to have areas for sleeping, cooking and chilling all in one room. We walked from there to the church where the party was hosted. I had never before been to a birthday party at which guests are handed programs upon entering. It was a sit-down occasion with speeches that sounded just like sermons. I truly enjoyed getting to spend some time with some of Mandla’s family and friends. Despite being the only white person around, I felt accepted and enjoyed some great conversations and stories. The time we spent in Lenasia felt like a retreat- so quiet and beautiful. We regretfully returned to Pretoria the following day.

That Sunday we sang Christmas carols by candlelight as the kick off for TLF’s Christmas in Park. What a beautiful way to the welcome the Christmas season! All week long we hosted a Christmas party from about nine in the morning to around one in the afternoon. It sounded like a lot of work to my still lazy self, but I soon found how worth-it it was. Pretoria, especially where we live in Central, is the kind of place that people aren’t from. If you live in Central, you’re probably from somewhere else and have found your way here for work or social services. Most people go home for the holidays, leaving the city quiet and the rest of us who can’t go home potentially feeling pretty lonely. So TLF puts on Christmas in the park every year as a gift for all those who are far from home over the holidays. The whole week was filled with games, music, conversations and new friends, all under the inviting shade of the trees in lovely Burgers Park. On Christmas Eve the finale included a gift give-away to all the children and a free meal provided by a local hotel. That night the international volunteers got together for Christmas Eve dinner. We had a magnificent vegetarian feast followed by Christmas carols and a gift exchange. Robin and I also had our own Christmas celebration the night before, after cooking dinner for our friend who lives at the nearby “old age home.” Christmas day I got up early grabbed a few of the cinnamon rolls Robin had baked and met up with Mandla and his brother to celebrate with their family back in Lenasia. We made full use of the yard outside their house for a braai as their beautiful mother cooked some delicious dishes. I made cinnamon rice as my contribution, which everyone loved. While the food was still cooking, we all gathered together to sing and dance. We formed a loose circle and people took turns leading songs, mostly in Zulu (thankfully I’d learned many of them already). The whole day was filled with laughter.

On Boxing Day Robin and the rest of the volunteers left for various excursions, most to Mozambique. From what I hear they had some great adventures. I stayed behind to work and save my money, but enjoyed a relaxing week. I spent New Years Eve walking about ten miles through the city and carrying furniture between Mandla’s old flat and where he’s staying now. Luckily it was only half a block away. We were too tired by evening to do much celebrating, though we did see fireworks from the window.

That first Saturday of the year I finally went to the salon to get my dreads fixed, which I’ve been considering doing for months. At the salon they washed my hair, twisted and beeswaxed it, then plaited it nicely on my head. I was told that after two weeks of not washing my hair and leaving it plaited, it would look beautiful. The experience itself was not as painful as I had imagined. But that evening I started getting a head ache. A couple days later when the headache had finally receded I started feeling stabbing pains all over my scalp. This eventually gave way to unbearable itchiness. After several sleepless nights, during which time I was also sick in bed, Robin finally helped me untie my hair. I was elated to have my hair free again, but angry once I found my dreads looking hardly any better than they had before. White people hair just requires different treatment. I’ll be doing my own dreads from now on.

The move back to Museums Park from the quiet little flat we’d been staying in was more of a shock than we expected. After a month of having our own space, we were suddenly back in a house that routinely had more than ten people trying to cook and eat separate meals at the same time. A couple days after our return Robin and I both decided it was finally time to move. We think we’ve found a place that could be our own flat in Museum Park. It would be great for when friends come to visit. We’re still working out the details, but hoping to be staying there by February.

Last weekend we had the sad opportunity to attend a funeral. One of the housemothers at the Potters House (shelter for women in crisis) had been sick the last couple years with blood cancer. She passed away at TLF’s Rivoningo hospice center on Christmas day. I am thankful that I had the opportunity to get to know Bongi and hear her story. She first got involved with TLF through the Potters House prison outreach. She was serving time after committing some car-jackings in Jo-burg. Once she was out of prison she came to live at the Potters House. She showed responsibility and was soon filling in for the housemother and within a few months was given a job there. Bongi truly turned her life around. She was a committed believer and a helpful and loving woman. Her funeral was a celebration of her life, though filled with tears. It was surprisingly like most funerals I’ve been to, except for the music. Even on the bus ride to the church, women were singing powerful, mournful songs full of life and soul. After the memorial we all climbed back into the bus for the graveside service. Once the coffin was lowered into the ground, all the men were called on to come and help bury the body, while the women continued to sing. At first I felt like it was just too much, too quickly to watch her body’s last home covered with earth. But it was also beautiful, as the community of people who loved her worked together to take back to dust the body she has inhabited.

The last couple weeks have been work as usual. I’ve finally shaken off the last remnants of my laziness, but am still struggling to get back into healthy exercise habits and my other daily routines.

Hopefully next time I’ll be writing from a new home, telling you about our new visual arts studio where I should be teaching painting by then. Keep us in your prayers. There are lots of decisions to be made for the future and I need guidance and open doors. I hope you all had a beautiful Christmas and a great start to this year.

Sala kahle (“Stay well”)

Snow!!!!!!!!!!! Sort of.

2009-12-08T10:49:00.002+02:00

Thanksgiving!

2009-12-08T10:45:00.001+02:00

Thanksgiving!

2009-12-08T10:39:00.001+02:00

Performing with Zee at the TLF retreat

2009-12-08T10:36:00.001+02:00

Redemption Song

SoCA facilitator retreat

2009-12-08T10:32:00.002+02:00

Art Factory: Green on Earth performing

2009-12-08T10:19:00.002+02:00

Rhythm

2009-12-08T10:13:00.001+02:00

I’m beginning to find patterns of movement here that are making life seem more… comfortable isn’t exactly the right word. But more manageable. I’m finding a rhythm. No doubt I will hit another wall of cultural confusion soon and take several steps back. I think that’s how adjusting to a new culture works: in layers.

The School of Creative Arts has been keeping me happily busy. We have finally hit a lull after the last wave of events before the Christmas season. I did almost nothing at work today. It was great.

The frenzy started with the week leading up to the SoCA facilitator retreat and our first Art Factory since the Feast of the Clowns in August. Art Factory is the platform that Zee dreamed up for our students to perform what they’re learning. It serves as the practical side of their studies and an incentive as an opportunity to perform. Because Art Factory is free, it also is a way that we can provide performances to the community, especially to those who might not be able to afford paying for access to the arts. We also bring in at least one professional act so that we can draw the community in and allow the students to share a stage with artists they respect.

Initially, the only thing I was responsible for with the Art Factory was helping to design the poster. But due partly to one of the other volunteers unexpectedly leaving and to the chaotic way things generally get done here, my role increased as the event drew nearer. One of our big problems was that the students had somehow not been informed about the event until a week before. This meant planning last minute rehearsal time and trying to dole out “transport” money for students to come to school on days they don’t have classes. I spent most of that week on the phone with facilitators and students trying to make sure everyone knew where to be when and how they were getting there. The school was a bustle of activity all week long, filled with students getting ready for the show. One of the things I am learning is that just because things get postponed till the last minute, doesn’t mean they won’t happen. In the end the Art Factory was a success, despite torrential rain that kept some of our audience away. And we, as a team, learned some important lessons for next time.

The Art Factory was on a Friday night and Saturday Zee and I were planning on putting together the agenda for the day long retreat/planning session with our facilitators, taking place Sunday. Unfortunately, Zee got sick and ended up having to stay home for a week. So instead of planning the agenda leisurely over “cold drinks”, I met Zee at her home and we went through all the points while she huddled under the covers of her bed. And since I would now be facilitating the planning session, I had to understand all the points much more clearly. I also needed to prepare for the braii, which I wasn’t expecting to do. Thankfully, my friend Mandla came to the rescue, helping me buy the meat and other supplies at the only super market still open on a Saturday night, carry it across town to my house and then marinate it for the next day.

Miraculously, the retreat went well. I am impressed by all our facilitators; they’re dedication to our students and their creative ideas on better ways to engage them and our community. It was also nice for us all to get to hang out, since we’re never all at SoCA at the same time.

The following week was equally hectic, since Saskia (the other remaining volunteer) and I were running everything with Zee still sick. That weekend was the retreat for all of TLF, around 200 people. And I was put in charge of art. In the end we had some places for people to respond to questions relating to our theme of abundance, a table full of art supplies available for people to express their ideas about the theme and a slideshow of images to provide a back drop for the communion and celebration dinner. I enjoyed taking on some responsibility in the larger setting. The retreat itself was a great mix of fun, relaxation and good dialogue with coworkers.

Once Zee was back, we had so much catching up to do and two more events for the week. Some of our students were performing on Monday and on Wednesday we hosted a Christmas lunch for all our most dedicated students. This ended up being a much bigger endeavor than we initially expected. Once again I was constantly on the phone with facilitators, students and performers. The idea for the lunch was to reward our consistent students with a nice meal, a small gift and quality performances in the different disciplines we teach from people outside the school. Once again, everything came together at the last minute and the lunch was a huge success. Our star performer for the day even offered to become our official patron. The students enjoyed the show and I think were really encouraged by seeing artists who are excelling in their fields.

In case all these events weren’t enough, Robin and I decided to host a Thanksgiving dinner the Thursday after the actual holiday. We ended up with 26 people around one huge table, which included people from South Africa, Germany, the U.S. and Zimbabwe. We were locals, foreigners, refugees, middles class, struggling, unemployed, volunteers, professionals, educated, students, uneducated, singles and families with different abilities, family back grounds and financial statuses. Robin pointed out that the table was a physical example of the abundance we had been speaking about all weekend at the retreat. It was also great to share this beloved holiday with people who were mostly celebrating it for the first time.

Since then I have basically crashed. I’ve been making up my overtime hours accumulated in all the madness by working short days (or taking days off). This weekend was gloriously uneventful. Except that we also were introduced to a new holiday tradition: Saint Nicholaus Day. Saturday night we all put one shoe outside of our bedroom doors and in the morning they were filled with sweets and goodies. In Germany (and apparently in Museum Park) Santa comes on December 6th. I like this better because then Santa gets to do his thing without taking away from the birth of Christ. And that same evening, there was a ridiculous hail storm that turned the ground white, as if with snow.

This week the school is quiet as many of our students have gone home for the holidays. I’m looking forward to rest and to celebrating Christmas for the first time on this half of the globe.

Chris

2009-11-19T08:26:00.002+02:00

The hour between 6:30 and 7:30am Friday morning was the probably the most important hour since I arrived here over three months ago. I think about the meetings I’ve been in with influential people, the planning sessions and decisions that have been made. These things are good. But sometimes it’s the spontaneous moments and the opportunities to share the Words of life that are far more important.

Thursday evening I was walking home with my friend Rebecca, who volunteers at Akhanani, PCM’s homeless ministry. We passed Chris, a homeless man who spends most days on Minaar street, a couple blocks from our flat. Usually Chris is lying on the bench with his head in the lap of Jenny, who has been his woman for the last ten years. I remember that on my very first day working at the Potters House, I was with some of my coworkers as we passed Chris and Jenny walking together. He was helping her along, as she was at the time using crutches. And she was guiding him, since he’s blind. One of my coworkers expressed benign jealousy regarding the kind of love they have for one another. After that I frequently saw Chris and Jenny together at Akhanani’s temporary headquarters at PCM. I was surprised one morning to find Jenny there alone, with a black eye. Love is complicated. She and I talked for awhile about her options and she explained that she needed to get away from Chris. I was both surprised and disappointed to see them back together not long after. I often said a short prayer as I greeted them. As I’ve gotten to know more of the homeless people in our neighborhood, I’ve heard different stories which have made me aware that there are other sides to the story of their relationship. And I even started to admire the way they look after one another.

But for the past week or two Chris has been alone on the bench. Some told me stories of Jenny stealing from Chris and running off. Regardless of the situation, Chris has not been doing well. Thursday, walking home in the rain, I told Chris he was looking a little better and he responded by demonstrating how much weight he’d lost and explaining to us that he hadn’t eaten in eleven days. We asked how we could help and talked about shelters, but he only wanted to was wait to die. He swore to me that he would never eat again. Not knowing what I could offer someone in this situation, I asked if I could pray for him. When he refused, I told him simply that I would pray for him on my own.

When Chris told me he didn’t want to live, I was at a loss. I felt powerless. The next morning I felt compelled to find Chris, check on him and offer the only hope that I know. After some searching I found a man helping Chris across a street. Chris took my arm and we walked to his usual bench. I asked if I could read him some poetry. I read Psalm 40 aloud, with verse 12 especially on my heart for him. It was that verse that he asked me to repeat. When I had finished reading, he remarked at the poem’s beauty and asked me to read it again. We talked awhile and then I read Psalm 62 as well. He asked me to pray for him and for Jenny. We prayed together holding hands and I watched passersby stare at us. I thanked God for the beauty of his creation and his love for us. Chris wiped away tears as he thanked me. I continued to sit with him as he told me about Jenny and about his children. He spoke of rejection and being unwanted. But he also spoke of hope. He said he believed things were going to get better. And he took the granola bars I offered him. Then he asked me to leave so he could drink, not wanting to drink in front of me.

Monday morning Chris asked me to read Psalm 40 again to him and the friend sitting with him. He also told me that after talking with Robin the other day he got down on his knees and prayed, “Here I am. Take me as I am.” And he said that God did.

I need to get Chris a Bible. He asked me for one so he could read Psalm 40 to Jenny when she comes back. I also told him I would find the nearest AA meetings for him to attend. And I’m hoping to get him enrolled in our poetry class at SoCA. I don’t know what will happen to Chris, if his life will change or not. But God has been challenging me to believe that He is powerful to redeem lives and even cities. So I will continue to pray for Chris and Jenny. And I will continue to lean into learning the importance of slowing down and making space for interruptions. I am finding that on most days I am becoming more willing to stop what I’m doing and talk or just sit with someone. I’m still working on being present with people in the office at SoCA. Students and facilitators alike often remark about how busy I am there. I’m trying to find the balance between productivity and presence. Presence. That’s the word Chris used when he thanked me for being with him that morning. It’s also a word I’ve been using in thanks to God and in prayers for this city.

Please pray with me for Chris and for Jenny, that they would feel and embrace God’s presence with them and that they would be freed from what entangles them. Pray also for me, that I will continue to learn to see my neighbors and be present.

Work and ish

2009-11-17T09:41:00.001+02:00

There are some exciting things happening at the School of Creative Arts (SoCA). The school was started in 2005 and has been providing free arts classes to members of the community. They focus on vulnerable people, like those living in shelters, but anyone is welcome. Up until now all the classes have been performing arts: poetry, music, voice and drama. So now I'm starting to develop a visual arts program for the school. We're also making a lot changes with the way the school is run to provide more commitment and consistency among the students and volunteer facilitators.

I've been working pretty hard lately at making connections with other visual artists and people who are doing similar things (teaching workshops, etc...) in Pretoria. We're getting quite a network of people together. This means that we have many more resources available to us. For instance, I've met some artists who may be willing to facilitate classes at the school.

We also get to plan some pretty cool events. Right now we're working on some events leading up to World AIDS day on Dec 1st. This Friday we're having an Art Factory, which is our platform for our performing arts students and a free venue for community members. The theme will be HIV/AIDS. The following week we'll have a series of workshops addressing AIDS awareness through different art disciplines. I'm especially excited about this, because I'll get to facilitate a painting workshop. I really enjoy working with my supervisor, Zee. When we brainstorm together, our ideas just build on one another and we work so well together! She’s also very patient with me through cultural and other misunderstandings.

I'm also teaching two outreach classes per week. I go to two different shelters to teach sculpture. It's pretty chaotic, but I'm learning a lot. It’s given me a good chance to prepare for the coming term at the end of January, when I’ll hopefully be able to begin teaching oil painting.

In addition to my work at SoCA, I’m also working on a few other projects with TLF. I’m on the design committee for the anti-human trafficking campaign leading up to the World Cup in June and July. I’ve also been spending a lot of time working on the web based contest inviting artists and designers to submit project proposals for the [re] branding homelessness initiative. The idea is to create a new language and new images surrounding homelessness in order to encourage a new kind of awareness and sense of responsibility for making a healthier community for everyone. I’ll post the website once it’s completed.

So work is busy, but I love it. I am amazed at how much I’m learning and also how much opportunity there is for me to get real work done here. After several years of jobs which I don’t think have really fit me, it feels like a miracle to be doing meaningful things that I truly love and feel like I’m good at.

In other news...

2009-11-17T09:40:00.000+02:00

I still love it here, but relationships are getting more complicated and I feel my foreignness more and more. I'm so thankful Robin is here. Otherwise I might be getting lonely. I love my job, but am very tired at the end of each day. I often want to be alone and quiet, but I live in a duplex of flats with about 13 to 15 people staying here and it is almost never quiet. If I lay down for a nap I will likely be woken up by blaring music. Just recently I’ve started to have a sense of rhythm here. I think it’s helped that I’ve started saying “no” to more events and excursions and have been taking more time to do art and little projects on my own.

I feel completely off with the seasons however. It’s strange to see Christmas decorations in the department stores when it’s simultaneously getting hotter every day. I had to do something to celebrate Halloween. Its one of my favorite holidays precisely because it is completely meaningless to me outside of the silly traditions we’ve built around it. So I bought candy and made caramel apples. Robin made cider. I also bought little gem squashes and butternut squashes for people to paint and carve. Many of the other volunteers came over and we invited a few local friends as well. It was fun and relaxed. There was no drinking and no drama. I was in bed by 10:30pm. But I went to sleep a little closer to believing that the following day would be November.

In other news, I’ve started to learn to play the marimbas! They’re African style xylophones and are super fun to play. The students in the marimba class are all really great guys. They’re definitely among our most dedicated students and perform at pretty much any show we put on. Most of the students stay on the streets or in shelters. But they continue to play their hearts out on the marimbas day after day and even volunteer to clean the school once a week. The star player is my age, also stays in a shelter and is the most talented and dedicated student. We recently threw him a surprise birthday party- first birthday party he’s ever had. Lately I’ve been jamming with them when the instructor’s not around. I taught them a melody from a duet my mom and I used to play called, “Pink Elephant.” It was fun to hear them spice it up with their African jazz flare. My friend Mandla also showed me how to play the base line for “you are my sunshine, my only sunshine...” as well as “La Bamba” and some music from the Buena Vista Social Club. I like playing with these guys because they’re so good that they make me feel like I’m part of creating something beautiful, even though I don’t really know what I’m doing.

Robin and I are reading through Isaiah and it's like I've never read it before. It seems like a newspaper at times, how close it hits home. I sometimes feel like Isaiah was writing with Pretoria in mind. I've been learning a lot of God's justice and how it's an integral part of his love. God used to seem so mean to me in books like Isaiah. But now I see it as Him advocating for the powerless, pursuing justice in situations of oppression. Robin has made me aware that God is unrelenting in how He strips our pride away. So much of the book is about God taking away what people take pride in. And I'm now seeing that as love as well. God wants us to know and rely on Him, because that is all that really works. Isaiah is also helping me pray for the city.

Durban

2009-11-17T09:38:00.000+02:00

Robin and I went to Durban for five days in October. Durban is a beach town and has a similar feel to San Diego in places. Swimming in the ocean there was ridiculous. I wore my swim suit all day for two days straight and didn’t even get into the water because it wasn’t hot outside. So on the third day I wore a dress... and then went swimming. The waves completely thrashed us. And we nearly had the beach to ourselves that day, so I didn’t have to worry too much about flashing people each time a wave tumbled me over. We also got to tour the largest mosque in the Southern hemisphere, which we couldn’t find from the outside. We explored the Victorian market where you can find all sorts of Indian and African merchandise. We spent our last day at Ushaka World, which is much like Sea World. I especially enjoyed the seal show and lunch at a very creatively styled restaurant- decorated largely with debris from the ocean. We also made some friends with whom we explored the suburbs and played mini golf and night bowling. We were constantly confronted by the difference between the classes and largely, the races here. We kept comparing our lifestyle in Pretoria with the lives of the well off white people with their huge and beautiful homes. I hope the cultural shock I continue to experience here will lessen the reverse culture I’ll experience when I return home.

Other than seeing the ocean, we also wanted to visit the friends I made last time I was in South Africa in nearby Tugela Ferry. Unfortunately my friends backed out at the last minute due to transportation, so we didn’t get to visit them. That was a bit disappointing. I don’t know if I’ll have money to go in that direction again.

I'll post a few pictures soon.

Fellowship

2009-11-14T15:29:00.001+02:00

Robin and I have started to get involved with a very small Free Methodist Church that some of our co-workers go to. Some of them have a Bible study on Friday nights just a couple blocks from our house. The group is a real mix of couples, singles, kids and people from different cultures (though we’re the only whites). It’s nice to have some fellowship with other adults who are committed with their faith.

Possibly my favorite thing about the church is the children and how they pretty much run wild during the services. They crawl around under the chairs, shout out during the songs and will walk up to anyone to be picked up and danced with. There’s one little boy, Frank, about five years old, who I’m starting to develop a special bond with. One Sunday he got my attention during the singing and told me, “your skin is white!” I responded affirmatively, to which he replied, “who changed it?” I told him God did, but he wasn’t buying it, “You’re lying! The doctor did it!” The next time I saw this boy he asked again about my skin and when I tried to explain that I was born this way he said he knew I’d had a surgery like Michael Jackson. I guess there’s no fooling him!

One of the other kids, Togozo, is about a year and a half old. He and Frank provide endless distraction during Bible studies, which are very thoughtful and interesting. But how can you listen to someone’s story when alittle boy is growling in your face or shouting “Amen! Amen!” I wonder if this was Togozo’s first word, because it’s definitely his favorite. When he’s not shouting it, he’s generally making dinosaur noises and jumping until he falls down on his diaper padded little butt.

2009-11-14T15:20:00.003+02:00

View from the Union Buildings, where President Zuma works and where Nelson Mandela once worked. . The building with the dome a little to the right of the middle is the City Hall. We live across the street from there.

2009-11-14T15:09:00.003+02:00

This city from Win's roof top.

2009-11-14T15:04:00.001+02:00

Jacaranda petals litter the sidewalk

2009-11-14T14:54:00.003+02:00

Ngwako and his guests of honor. (what? white people at the Taliban?)

2009-11-14T14:40:00.001+02:00

Posing outside the Taliban

2009-11-04T17:08:00.002+02:00

The sign mispelled his name, which is really "Ngwako."

True Stories

2009-11-04T08:33:00.000+02:00

“Hey Mama!” I hear that a lot. Or its “Mami” or “Rasta” or even “Lungu” (meaning white person). I’ve started telling the guys whom I see daily that my name is Rasta UmLungu, so that’s become common as well. Yesterday I was walking through an area of town I don’t frequent as often and I heard a woman shout from a 2nd story, “Hey white one! How are you?” I responded, “Good! How are you, Lumthomyama?” (which means black person in Zulu).

Robin and I just got back from spending the day with a 75 or so year old British South African woman. Her name is Winn and she has been involved with TLF since its birth. She’s an amazing woman who has chosen to live and shop and be in the city even though most white people have fled to the suburbs due to the influx of black people into the city center. She picked us up from our flat and took us to the “old age home” where she lives. We had a nice lunch there in the dining area and then she took us on a tour of the city. She showed us all the best places to see the glorious flowering jacaranda trees and bought us “cold drinks” (in this case, ginger beer) at a tea house over looking a lake and bird sanctuary. Then she drove us to the Union Buildings where President Zuma works, and where Nelson Mandela once held office. Afterwards we went back to her place for a swim and then she brought us home. A beautiful day! It was great to spend time with an older person, especially as most of our house mates and friends are younger than us. It was really cool to talk with her about the transitions since democracy began here and other things like dreads, tattoos and aging. Next time we hang out we’re gonna join her and a friend for bingo night.

A couple weeks ago Robin, a volunteer and her newly acquired “coloured” boyfriend and myself went with our friend Ngwako (some of you may remember a story about him from my first weeks here) to see his African Jazz Mood band play at a bar called The Taliban in one of the “locations” (or “townships”). We arrived early so Ngwako could get set up. He bought Robin and I Amarulas, a baileys-like African liqour (delicious!). He also introduced us to the owner, of whom we asked about the bar’s name. He told us that they were building the place as they watched news about Sept 11th on the TV and one of his friends said that the place they were building looked like the Taliban and the name just stuck. You may be wondering how a bar could look like a group of Muslim extremists.... So am I.

The show was amazing. I’ll try to post one of the videos on the blog. Pretoria was once known as a city of jazz and there are still some places where you can find that legacy. Ngwako is actually a fairly well renowned performer, having had a record produced by the nationally (and internationally?) celebrated Hugh Masekela. We also had a good time hanging out with his band mates.

After the show we all piled back into Ngwako’s little car with one extra person, Ngwako’s guitarist. I was sitting on laps in the back seat when we got pulled over. We all started joking nervously about what the cops must be thinking of three white girls crammed into a car with three black men. We squeezed out of the car and were told there had been a car jacking, so they were just checking. Once they saw Ngwako’s license and registration (and I’m sure were assured that the three of us hadn’t been drugged or kidnapped), we were free to go. Luckily there aren’t seat belt laws here, at least not enforced.

Why I love my job

2009-10-18T21:37:00.000+02:00

Every Friday morning all TLF staff (are supposed to) meet for devotions. I was surprised at the relatively good turn out a few weeks ago considering it was following a public holiday celebrating Heritage Day. To honor our heritage Pastor Joel asked the fifty or so of us who were in the room to list the languages we spoke. The list came to about twenty as follows:

Afrikaans
Swati
Tswana
Zulu
English
German
Venda
Tsonga
Pedi
Shona
Rwandis
French
Ndebele
Dutch
Serbian
Spanish
Rastafarian (language?)
Thai
Tsotsi (street vernacular)
Swahili
Xhosa

We then proceeded to speak TLF’s vision in all the languages. I got to do Thai, which solictied quite a few laughs and some high fives. In English the vision is:
We see healthy and vibrant communities flourishing in God’s presence.

Have I mentioned that I love it here?

At our volunteer orientation last month, the founder and director, Stefan, spoke about what TLF’s doing and their methods. He talked about not saving people, but rather creating spaces (for people to be reconciled, trained, empowered, etc...). I love the theology behind what they do and am excited to grow in it. The next day his wife, Wilna spoke about TLF’s vision and values. I have never been a part of something that had such a solid set of values that range from valuing the resurrection (including the potential for the resurrection for this city) to valuing simple living and embracing an alternative lifestyle. Other values include risk, Biblical teachings, justice, truth, brokenness and confession. And the way they carry these values out in each of their projects is nothing less than inspiring.

My role at TLF has changed over these past few weeks. I was starting to get stretched really thin with all the projects I was getting involved with. We decided that I would become a full time volunteer with the School of Creative Arts, but continue to participate in two of the outreaches with the Potters House as a SoCA representative. So on Wednesdays we visit women in the prison, which is always a highlight for my week. And on Thursday evenings we visit with women living on the streets in an area called Marabastad. I’ll write more about the outreaches another time.

My job now is primarily to develop the visual arts program, which has not existed up until this point at SoCA. I’ve already begun teaching sculpture classes at two different shelters as part of SoCA’s outreach program. This in itself is amazing to me because I am getting to use art to encourage people through healing and hopefully, reconciliation. I also have two great mentors who are helping me think through what it looks like to truly empower people.

I’m also overseeing some of the transitions SoCA will go through leading up to next term as we strive to turn it into a more structured school where students and facilitators are committed to the classes and students have the opportunity to earn college credit. This is exciting because I see now that God is using my experience at FLC and Bates Technical High School, where I sat through meetings discussing many similar issues regarding turning a home school or independent program into a real school.

I’m also involved with the planning of Art Factory, which is a performance platform for SoCA students who demonstrate outstanding skills and for established community artists as well. These events are free to the community, creating a place for anyone, regardless of race, income or status, to enjoy the arts.

My other responsibilities at SoCA include coordinating visual art workshops, helping with registration for classes and other office duties and I will also be SoCA’s representative to the Re-branding Homelessness initiative. This is a city wide attempt to be proactive in advocating for the homeless as the 2010 games pressure authorities to find ways to “clean up the streets” by pushing homeless people out. Hopefully I will be helping organize a web-based contest inviting submissions from artists, architects and designers of projects that will help to shift the public perception of homeless people and bring the issue to the foreground.

The last couple weeks I have spent a lot of time meeting people and making connections that will help us develop the arts in the community. Probably the most important connection so far is that with Ama Job Job. Please check them out! They are an organization that empowers people through job creation with the arts. Working with them is expanding my vision. I actually feel growing pains when I’m with them because I have so much to learn there! I’ve also been meeting with local artists and hanging out at the art museum.

God is opening so many doors for me, I feel like I can’t go through them all at once, but I want to!

Observations

2009-10-13T15:02:00.000+02:00

We live in Pretoria Central. Under apartheid this was a white city surrounded by various townships or “locations” where Black, Coloured and Indian people lived in their own designated communities. Since the official end of apartheid fifteen years ago there have been many changes, probably the most visible being the shift in demographics. Pretoria Central is now roughly 85% black. Indian and East Asians own many shops in the area, but rarely live here. Most whites who live here are junkies and homeless people. You’ll see white government and business people walking around, but I doubt many of them live in town. This means that Robin, myself and the other volunteers largely stick out like palm trees in the snow. Before we got here I once wondered out loud to Robin if many of the staff at TLF would be black. I believe the staff is something like 72 black to 24 white and 74 women to 22 men. More on why TLF is awesome to come.

Race still matters. Things are getting better, but of course there is still a ways to go. We citizens of the U.S. shouldn’t be surprised since we are still battling the long lasting effects of slavery and institutional racism. Some of my more realistic coworkers use the diversity at TLF for their advantage. More than once I’ve been asked to make a phone call or accompany someone to a meeting because my presence as a white person might shift the power dynamic in our direction (and sadly, it works). I don’t like how this works, but I don’t know what to do about it. I’m thinking through how my power as a white person might be used to give power to others, rather than perpetuate the system. Let me know if you have any ideas.

There is always music. There’s one flat between my home and work I can usually count on providing me with my daily dose of Bob Marley. Our flat is transformed into a club several nights a week. Sometimes there are guests to enjoy it, and sometimes its just Stephens lounging in his room blaring Seal, Boyz II Men, Mozart or Celine Dionne. On the rare occasions there isn’t a speaker providing the back drop, someone is bound to be singing, humming or whistling their own melody. And wherever people get together there is more singing in Zulu, English, Tswana, Afrikaans and other languages I have yet to be able to distinguish. I would like to dispel one common myth about “Africa” (which according to some of my friends is not where we are). Not everyone sings well. And its not so uncommon for singing to be off key. Sometimes one person will lead off and then the keyboard will join in with a different key and then half the people follow the leader and half follow the keyboard until everyone eventually gives up and starts over. Africans are not musically infallible.

Eleven official languages. And that’s not counting the languages brought in by various refugees and immigrants. And its not counting German, which is the most common language spoken among the volunteers at Museum Park. Sometimes I’ll ask people what language they’re speaking and invariably the answer will be something like “Sotho and Tswana” or “Zulu and Xhosa.” I’m trying to learn Zulu, but sometimes my tutors aren’t sure which word is Zulu and which work is Xhosa. At least the languages come in families. So once you’ve mastered one, you’ve got a good chance of understanding a couple more.

There are currently fifteen international volunteers working at TLF. One is from Colombia (her husband has a paying gig with TLF), two are from the U.S. (That’s Robin and me) and the rest are German. I’m trying to break the habit of referring to them as “Ze Germans” (think Snatch). Germany has an interesting relationship with South Africa. They pay for students to come here and volunteer for six months or a year. Everyone here is shocked that the U.S. isn’t paying for us to do this. Most people assume Robin and I are German, if they’ve already figured out that we’re not Afrikaans. And people do try to speak Afrikaans and German to us. Stupid Americans. You only speak one language? I’ve met one other American so far. He’s from the Bakke Graduate Institute in Seattle. In two minutes both Robin and I discovered different mutual friends with him. We told our South African friends that’s just how small the U.S. is. We can find mutual friends with any American we meet. I think I heard an American talking in a workshop. I didn’t figure out till she was already gone why she sounded so funny. Our American accents are so exotic.

And finally, a few notes for those whose knowledge of Africa has come largely from National Geographic:
• Most of my younger black African friends either have a college education or are in the process of getting one.
• I’ve seen no big bugs yet.
• I don’t live in the jungle.
• I am not at risk for malaria

Hiking

2009-10-01T14:11:00.000+02:00

Hiking in the Magaleisburg mountains.

marimba

2009-10-01T14:09:00.000+02:00

Me and the marimba class at School of Creative Arts

Museum

2009-10-01T14:06:00.000+02:00

Beautiful jewelry! And a glimpse of the Treason Trial exhibit in Museum Africa. They had little books you could write in about each of the hundreds of defendents. You could write information about their life, if you knew the personally, or write them a message. Very powerful.

Jo-burg

2009-10-01T14:01:00.000+02:00

This is Backpacker Ritz, where we stayed in Jo-burg and a view of the mini-bus taxi home.

Carnival

2009-10-01T13:53:00.000+02:00

Carnival Round Two

2009-09-30T18:06:00.000+02:00

This was back when I had the pig flu and was supposed to where a mask around people. In the end no one else got sick. Take that, piggy!

2009-09-30T18:03:00.000+02:00

Robin and I in front of the Opera Theatre

2009-09-30T17:59:00.000+02:00

Me at the state theatre when we watched the German youth orchestra perform. Sorry these pictures belong a few posts back.

Wild

2009-09-30T17:46:00.000+02:00

A Visit to the Wild

Last Thursday was Heritage day, which was a public holiday. Robin spent the day hiking with one of our fellow volunteers, Maren. They had such a great time, they convinced their respective roommates (myself and Nora) to head back for a weekend backpacking trip.

I was so excited that I woke up before 5:30am and started making last minute preparations for our trip to the Rustonburg Nature Reserve. The night before we had set up the tent and lit Robin’s stove, just to make sure our gear was in order. Everything else was pretty make-shift. No homemade beef jerky this time.

By 8am the four of us were on our way to the taxi rank, where you can catch a min-bus taxi to just about anywhere from only a few blocks from our house. When you find the right mini-bus taxi (a trial and error, ask around process), you climb on board and wait for it to fill up. Once it’s filled, it’s departure time. We only had to wait about fifteen minutes from when we crammed our four bodies and backpacks into the back seat and were heading to Rustonburg. An hour and a half full of great conversations and we were once again looking for the right mini-bus taxi that would take us to the Nature Reserve.

Once we got to the entrance we had to get creative. You’re only allowed to enter the park if you’re in a vehicle for some reason. And our ride was already heading back into town. We also learned you have to have reservations to spend the night. After some negotiating we were allowed to enter the park standing in the bed of a pick up truck belonging to a family heading in to do some mountain biking. The stress of travel and ridiculous regulations evaporated with the heat as we coasted around curves in the dry and wide open landscape of the Magaleisburg “mountains” (whoever named this place has never been to the Great Northwest).

We hiked all day long, stopping as often as we wanted to take pictures and marvel at the beauty of the red earth and deep blue sky, stretching to the horizon. And no buildings or smog to block our view! We were all keeping our eyes open for zebras, as Robin and Maren had seen some on their previous trip. But the first big animals we saw did not look like zebras. What a funny walk that animal has.... It’s a baboon! None of us knew much about how dangerous baboons are. And sadly, Dad, all your drilling me on what to do if I ever run into bears or cougars in the wild, was no help to me here. We decided to keep a safe distance and marveled as the whole pack (herd? posse?) moved slowly up the hill ahead of us. We eventually did see zebras, springbok and other antelope as well.

We stopped for lunch in a group camping site that was bumping some serious tunes out the back of an SUV. Then we meandered through another empty camping ground (“Sorry, we’re full. You need reservations”) and finally found what we thought was the right trail. When we had bush wacked our way to the top of a steep hill, I realized I no longer had my camera. I decided to go back alone while the other girls napped. On my way down the hill, I suddenly saw in front of me a giant deer. I felt like a lilliputian (the same way I feel when I’m with my brother’s in-laws). Even the baby deer following the massive doe wasn’t so small. I continued on and soon ran into two male deerzillas. I then recognized them as the elands that were in our little guide book. After a few pictures with Robin’s phone (which she’d given me in case I got lost), I continued my search. I reminded myself of what my parents always told me whenever I broke or lost something, or carelessly left something out to be stolen (all of which happened frequently when I was a kid). “It’s just a thing. What matters is that you’re safe.” Thanks Mom and Dad. In the end I did find the camera sitting on the picnic table where we’d examined our map. There wouldn’t be any baboons playing paparazzi this time.

Once I joined the others we walked awhile and then hitched a ride to the river, where there was said to be a waterfall. We stepped around the “No Entry” sign and were soon swimming in the pools created by the clear river that had beat the red rocks into perfect places to lay out and dry in the sun. After an hour or so we reluctantly got dressed and walked and then hitched our way back to a camp ground, which was filled with car campers. Some of these people had brought their entire homes with them, by the looks of it. We were definitely the lightest packed. After a delicious dinner of beef-chicken-tuna stew, we watched the sun set and the stars appear. I can’t wait to learn more about these constellations. It feels like being on another planet, looking up and not recognizing the stars.

We only had two sleeping bags and two blankets. It didn’t work out as well as we’d hoped. It gets cold at night! If it hadn’t been for the bumpy ground uncushioned by any sleeping pads or the gnawing cold, I might have slept through our late night visit. At first the metal banging noise was just a part of my dream. But then I opened my eyes and saw that Nora’s face registered a confused expression that told me I wasn’t the only one hearing it. We both shot up to look out the tent window to see what animal was ransacking our trash can. Nora saw it first. Zebra! We couldn’t believe it. I had no idea zebras were scavengers. It was hard to get back to sleep after that.

We were all up, breakfasted and on the trail by 7:30am. By 9am we’d already hiked up and down ridges and found the mushroom rocks we’d seen in our little pamphlet. We decided to head back to the river to enjoy some more swimming before heading home. So we walked back across the park again and found an even better (though colder) swimming pool than before. We also found the waterfall we’d been told about. By the time we hitched a ride out of the park and back to Rustonburg we figured we’d walked around 25km over the two days. Not bad, hey?

We returned home feeling tired, but renewed. I love the city, but it is so good to get out and see beyond the next street once in awhile. I also think it was good for my whole respiratory system to breathe a bit of fresh air. And I won’t soon forget the sight of a zebra licking our tuna cans clean.

Current Events

2009-09-24T21:11:00.000+02:00

Carnival Round Two

The weekend of the 12th-13th Robin and I went to Johannesburg (aka Jozi)! There was an open invitation to anyone at TLF who wished to participate in the Gauteng Province Carnival as representatives from the City of Tshwane’s Feast of the Clowns Festival. We signed up, donned our clown costumes and were up at 5:15am so we could catch the 6am bus that was arranged to pick us and our fellow clowns up for the hour drive. Robin and I decided that while we were there we might as well stick around and explore the city a bit. Robin found a hostel and we had a few places we wanted to check out. The day of I wasn’t really feeling up to it, still recovering from a week in bed with the swine flu. But I figured we’d just jet down there, march in a parade and be on our way to swim in the pool at our hostel.

So here’s what really happened. The bus did not come at 6am. Or 6:30. Or 7am. I was in a pretty horrible mood by the time we boarded the bus at 7:30am. I did enjoy the screaming middle schoolers who joined us at the next stop. They were quizzing each other with questions like, “How many States are in the USA?” (Correct answer: 37) and “Who’s the ugliest president?” (Answer: Mugabe). After a couple hours of driving, getting lost, stopping, circling and then waiting in a ridiculous line for the parking lot, we jumped off and walked to the parade’s starting place.

We painted each other’s faces while we waited for things to get started. Then we missed our cue and ended up at the end of the parade instead of the beginning. At this point I was the least enthused clown you’ve ever seen. I shuffled along with the parade while holding a sign that had me tied to Robin, who couldn’t for the life of her remember that if she suddenly darted after Stephens to spray him with water, I would either fall down or be yanked in her direction. The sun was beating and the parade was stopping every 50 meters for ten to fifteen minutes at a time. And I forgot to wear sun screen. Agreeing to this misadventure was quickly becoming my first regret here. We were entertained by various dance performances throughout, but that couldn’t quite make up for my increasing fatigue and desire to be anywhere without face paint dripping into my eyes. I should also mention that there were no spectators for this parade, unless you count the annoyed motorists forced to stop while we crossed usually-busy intersections. Why were we there? At the end of the parade we found out: a dance competition. Yep, that’s right. This whole time we’d been waiting in line to compete in a Province-wide dance competition. Did we have a dance? Of course not. So we snuck around the competition and cursed the organizers of this ridiculous “carnival” as we made our way to the park where we’d been promised food. In the end, Robin and I just turned around and headed to a Chinese restaurant where we began our real Jozi experience.

Jo-burg

The rest of the trip was great. We both needed a get away from Pretoria and we found the perfect one in the suburbs of Johannesburg. We stayed in a little hostel north of town that boasted a swimming pool (too cold, but at least we could sit by it), a tv room (hadn’t seen a tv since we got here) and a very informative host. We stayed in, ordered pizza and went to bed early. The next day we explored a bit. We enjoyed a great bakery and an art supply store (!!!) and then took a taxi into town to explore Newtown. We checked out the very interesting, if not well kept up Museum Africa and had drinks and worms (on purpose, served in a tasty sauce) before walking through downtown to catch our taxi home. A great introduction to the city, which I’m sure we’ll get to know better over the year.
Last week our house mate Alexa returned to Germany. There were many tearful good byes at all three of the parties we had for her (Sunday, Monday and Tuesday nights). It was great to have all her friends over. Every night there were sing alongs of Bob Marley songs and South African and American favorites. I’m so glad Alexa has shared her friends with us. I feel like we’ve inherited some pretty great people from her.

In Other News

Last weekend Robin and I decided to explore our own city a little more. I think we could both navigate Central pretty well blind folded by now, but we’ve barely left this neighborhood. So on Saturday we caught a taxi to Laudium, the old Indian township, still a predominantly Indian part of town. We enjoyed a delicious meal of paneer and roti with sweet lassi. Then we explored, checked out the Hindu temple, picked up some groceries (soy sauce!), browsed a Muslim book store and beautiful Indian dresses. I know we’ll be back.

Lest you think all I do is play, let me tell you about my first sculpture class! On Monday SoCA had its first official outreach by sending me to teach sculpture at the Potters House. I know I said I was done teaching, but this is different. I’m teaching adults (all women right now), focusing on art as a healing process. Maybe you’ve heard me mention how I want to use art to bring people together, for reconciliation? Well, I think that’s what this is! I start teaching the same class at the shelter for girls tomorrow. More on why I love my job here to come.

pictures

2009-09-17T08:27:00.000+02:00

German youth Orchestra

Rebecca, Robin and I

Quinton, Brian, Rebecca, Robin and I

PigsPaintPotters

2009-09-08T11:49:00.000+02:00

Pigs, Paint and Potters

I’ve been here a month today! It’s hard to believe how much can happen in one month!

We’re settling into our respective programs. I’m working in the mornings at the Potters’s House, which is a shelter for women in crisis. Still getting settle in there as workshops and orientations have kept me from spending very much time there. I have loved going to the prison to have church with the women there. We sing together and have great conversations surrounding scripture and our lives, we pray together and take messages from them to their loved ones. The fellowship there is beautiful and I look forward to going every week. My other responsibilities at the Potters House will eventually include hospitality with the women who are staying either short term or long term, and I think a bit of advocacy on their behalf as well. I have been surprised at times by how curtly they are treated in their times of need. I’ve decided I want to be the welcoming arms as they come to the Potters House. And its great that my mentor and coordinator is very open for me to do whatever I feel I might be drawn to do. There’s a lot of freedom and empowerment here at TLF.

My other job is at the School of Creative Arts (SOCA). I am really excited about where this year is going to take us. I should be starting to teach a sculpture class soon, which will be the first (I believe) visual arts class they’ve had. It will also differ from the other classes, as it will be taught at the women’s shelters instead of the school. I’m excited to use art to address issues of pain and healing. And my coordinator, Zee, is a great mentor in this area. It seems that my dream to use art for reconciliation in a community center is not so impossible.

It’s been a challenge to get used to the pace of things here. I might spend the whole day talking with my coworkers and not feeling like I’ve actually gotten anything done. But I’m realizing how much these relationships are the work. And I love my coworkers. I’ve mentioned Zee and there’s a picture below of Sandile, who also volunteers with SOCA. And last week the new volunteers arrived, primarily from Germany. Saskia, the other SOCA volunteer is actually from Switzerland. She’s great and I’m excited to work with here more. The women at the Potters House are teaching me a lot by their examples. I think this sharing between the Potters House and SOCA is going to be a perfect fit.

I mentioned the new volunteers have arrived, which means our living situation has changed. We now have two young German women sharing a room in our flat and I don’t know how many German men and women sharing the flat below us. I don’t know everyone yet, but they seem like a good bunch. Robin and I are trying to find a good balance between including them and not getting sucked into some weird and exclusive volunteer clique. So far I think it’s going well.

I have to admit that it feels a little funny talking about work since I haven’t hardly been there lately. Tuesday I started feeling sick and didn’t get out of bed Wednesday until I was taken to the hospital, where I was tested and given a drip to bring my temperature down. I was given several prescriptions and told to stay away from people for five days. The first day home after that I didn’t care whether people were around or not, I was just so tired. But being alone at home eventually wore on me. I’m still alone at home, which is why I have time to write this, but I feel 90% better. I did eventually find out I had the swine flu (or “piggy flu” as my house mates so affectionately refer to it and to me). I have been very well taken care of by my friends here and the doctor. Being sick is usually a good way to find out how you really stand in a place. And I have felt fine to be here. I feel cared about, comfortable and I know I’ll be fine.

Not everyone has reacted so calmly to my sickness however. This has actually highlighted what Robin and I have noticed as a spirit of fear here in Pretoria. There are scary things here, as in any city, and every part of the world. But there are also very simple precautions that can deal effectively with those dangers. And yet so many people spend much of their time fretting and worrying about all of this. Robin and I are praying for freedom from fear for this city.

There continue to be fun events I’ve been able to participate in. Within one week I saw an amazing musical called “100 Years of Music” featuring Hugh Masekela (South Africa’s most famous trumpet player and an activist during apartheid), the youth orchestra from Germany perform with opera singers in a beautiful opera theatre and an opening exhibition for a poet/painter named Lefifi Tladi, who was also an activist and influential leader.

I continue to enjoy my friends here and am excited to see relationships deepening. I am thankful for Robin. Having a good friend here changes everything. And I am confident I am exactly where I need to be for now.

I’ll try to include some more funny anecdotes in the next one, but this is already too long.

peace

2009-08-18T21:36:00.000+02:00

Robin, Sandile and I at the end of the festival

2009-08-18T21:21:00.001+02:00

Robin facing off with an ostrich

Me and my new city!

Two crazy clowns!

Some of my handywork at the festival

A clown parading in front of the Palace of Justice (where Nelson Mandela and others were tried for treason)

2009-08-18T20:47:00.000+02:00

This is our room!
This is the balcony where Robin and I eat most of our meals and watch the sun rise and set.

These are my housemates, Priscilla and Stevens. We're eating something that sounds like "sparkle" at the kiosk where Priscilla works.

And here's the kiosk in Burgers Park.

Our first protest! It was pretty tame. We waltzed right through.

I told the flamingos at the zoo to do something silly and this is what happened.

Clowns

2009-08-18T20:38:00.000+02:00

Feast of the Clowns Festival

This past week was the Tshwane Leadership Foundation’s eleventh annual Feast of the Clowns Festival, which I”ve been told is the biggest festival in Pretoria. It began last Monday with a series of free performances in the park organized by t Art Factory. Art Factory is a part of the TLF’s School of Creative Arts (SOCA), which I will now be working with! After some confusion I found out that I will working at the Potter’s House in the mornings and SOCA in the afternoons. More on that once my internship has really gotten under way.

Zee, who runs SOCA asked me to make fliers for the show, which I did happily. Later Robin and I had fun passing them out to everyone in the park. I was amazed at how eager people were to take a flier. If I handed one to someone in a group, every other person wanted one as well. I feel like people here are pretty game to participate in whatever’s happening.

The performances were amazing! There was poetry, music, hip hop with marimba (yeah, awesome), drama and vocal performances. Many of the participants were students at SOCA. Monday was also a holiday to celebrate Women’s Day, which is a part of women’s month. This meant that the park was packed with people, even more than usual. Anyone know why we don’t have Women’s Day in the U.S.? Let’s get on that.

Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday both SOCA and the Policy and Advocacy Unit of TLF held workshops. Robin and I helped Zee with last minute details (of which there always seem to be plenty) and held down the fort for the workshops that were held at one of the many museums nearby. There were percussion, poetry, pantsula dancing (which is one of the most amazing things I’ve ever seen. I’ll try to upload a video), keyboard, guitar and clowning. They hired a professional clown to come in and show us how it’s done, since we’d all be clowns on Saturday. Let me just say that my fear of clowns has only increased since that workshop. Wednesday morning Robin and I attended the Re-branding homelessness workshop as well. There were people from all over the city with many different connections to homelessness, including some people who are currently homeless. It was mostly a brainstorming session to talk about how to deal with the government’s efforts to clean up the streets for the 2010 World Cup and how to creatively address the stereotypes of homeless people and bring a new awareness to the general public of the issues facing these people. I learned a lot and am excited to find a way to be a part of it.

The highlight of the Feast for me was the evening performances. They were all held at the State Theater in the slightly fancier part of Central Pretoria. A group of us walked to and from together, laughing and playing the whole way. Have I mentioned I already have some really great friends? Rebecca works with Stevens (our housemate) at the TLF’s homeless program. She is amazing and tons of fun. Then there’s Quentin and Brian who practically live at our house, considering how much time they spend here. And Sandile, whois such a sweetheart. I’ll be working with him at SOCA. So the group of us skipped, danced and ran to and from the concerts, which were all amazing. Tuesday two bands performed: Kwani Experience, who had been touring on the theme of Living without Fear, and the Four Seasons, a young and talented jazz band. I will buy a Kwani Experience CD as soon as I can. They were amazing! I danced until my side ached! Wednesday was the Soweto Gospel Choir, who performed at the Academy Awards this year. There are no words to describe how amazing they are! Colorful costumes, powerful voices, lively dancing. They sang songs in many languages and closed with “Oh Happy Day.” Please check them out on You Tube. You will be amazed. I decided I want to become a part of the choir someday. So afterward I asked a few of them how I could join and they said there are auditions. I then gave them a little demonstration of some of my dance moves, making a complete fool of myself. We then continued dancing our way home. Thurday night SOCA students performed “Blinding Sight,” a play addressing issues of homelessness, family issues, violence and race. We were all sad when it was over that we didn’t have another event to go to the next night.

Friday was spent mostly preparing for the Feast. Robin and I spent a lot of time with this great couple, making the posters for the parade. The husband is from the Netherlands and the wife from Columbia. We already have a date to play games one night. When there aren’t events to go to every night, the evenings can get kinda long and boring since walking around at night’s not too safe.

Saturday was the Feast itself. We arrived at 6:30am with our clown costumes on. I painted staff members’ faces all morning. Then the parade! We clowns led the parade holding our signs that had blind-folded clowns and had slogans like “Am I a foreigner?” “Am I HIV+?” “Am I a woman?” They were meant to confront people with the labels they put on others and question the appropriateness of those labels. We were followed by marching bands, groups of students from all sorts of schools and programs, all dancing and making tons of noise. I hear there were about three thousand people in the parade, which marched from Burgers Park to Church Square and back. Once the parade ended, the festival really began. The park was full of people eating from the many food stands, playing games, listening to music and other performances at four different stages. And of course there was face painting! Face painting always is crazy when you offer it freely to hoards of children, but this was at times out of control. As fun as the day was, it was also a glimpse of reality. There were some incidents that made us realize the real threat of crime and the importance of being careful with guys. By the time I was done face painting at 5pm, I was ready to go home. But we all stayed through the evening performances and cleaned up afterwards. 10pm felt like 2am. We were supposed to go out with some friends afterwards, but Robin and I both decided we were just too tired. I have realized how different the rhythm here is. It’s going to take some getting used to this mix of hurry up and wait.

mail

2009-08-18T17:48:00.000+02:00

my mailing address is:
Siri Tiger
P.O. Box 11047
The Tram Shed
Pretoria
0126
South Africa

2009-08-12T08:55:00.000+02:00

Pretoria

2009-08-12T08:51:00.000+02:00

Welcome to Pretoria!

This is Museum Park, a little complex, which used to be a fire “brigade” station (gotta love the British English), and is now a million different things. There is a larger courtyard with a giant tower in the middle. Robin’s guess is that it was used for fire fighting practice. The buildings surrounding the courtyard serve a variety of purposes, from housing volunteers and staff to being the home for the School of Creative Arts. PCM (Pretoria Community Ministries, internationally known as TLF or Tshwane Leadership Foundation) doesn’t own the place, but seems to have the run of it. The other day a group came to practice fencing in the engine house where there are still fire old trucks! There’s always something happening here.

When you cross the courtyard, you unlock one of the gates leading to quite a few stairs and then a hallway. To the left is the room where, on my first morning I heard beautiful singing echoing. When I went to check it out I found a group of young people running in circles and doing singing exercises. To the right is our dining room/living room. It has white and baby blue walls with mostly orange furniture. Perfect. Across the room you go through a little outdoor hallway that leads either to the patio, where I have eaten nearly every meal since arriving here, or the kitchen. From the stairs if you don’t turn into the dining/living room, you will find another hallway.

The first occupied door is Stevens’ room. He is my new brother. He’s 24 years old, staff at PCM, loves dancing and plays very loud music (mostly Whitney Houston). The next door is Priscilla’s. She is our “house mother.” She’s in her late 40's, early 50's, has a few grown boys and is also staff at PCM. She runs the catering business for TLF, which means there is always something delicious being baked or cooked in our kitchen. She has the gift of hospitality like no one else I have ever met. Yesterday she was preparing lunch for the group of largely low income and homeless youth who have been practicing for a play (sometimes very loudly at night). Not only did she make them a delicious meal, but she set the tables with candles and folded the napkins into the glasses. One of the girls began to cry, expressing how wonderful it was to have such amazing and lovingly prepared home cooked meals. This is how Priscilla lives everyday.

The next door is the room Robin and I share. It has high ceilings and looks out into the city. The sun rises over the clock tower in City Hall that is directly in front of our tall window. The last door is Alexa’s, but I haven’t met her yet as she’s in Mozambique (which is just a bus ride away!). We make up a pretty diverse group since Stevens is Tswana/Zulu, Priscilla is “colored,” which is what people of mixed race are called here. When we were all talking about Obama the other day, Stevens remarked, “so he’s colored?” Robin and I said in the U.S. we would call him “mixed.” He and Priscilla laughed pretty heartily at that. Robin and I are the only Americans I’ve met so far. Alexa has come from Germany, but I believe is originally from somewhere else.

This place feels like home already. I sometime have to remind myself I’m in a different country. I am surprised, though, by how few white people we’ve seen. But it’s nice that people don’t always know right away that we’re foreigners. We could just be white South Africans. People are very friendly, especially men. But Robin and I are both being smart and careful. I”m so glad Robin’s here! It’s amazing to have someone who’s game to explore and also happy to just hang out. I wouldn’t want to walk around all the time by myself. It’s also great to cook again, to settle into a place I know I’ll be for awhile.

They’ve given us a few days off before we start working, which has been great. We’ve done a lot of walking around, finding the internet cafe’s, fruit stands and parks. Priscilla and Stevens took us to the mall one day. Apparently malls are popping up everywhere, perhaps in preparation for next year’s World Cup. Sunday morning Robin and I checked out one of the closest churches, Doxa. I don’t understand how people’s voices can be so powerful. I felt like there were at least ten times as many people in that sanctuary, belting out the beautiful choruses. And the pastor was both entertaining and thoughtful. He talked about coming back to Pretoria after a weekend away and mentioned his nose getting instantly stuffed up as he entered the city. I can definitely vouch for that.

Probably the most exciting thing that has happened so far is that Robin and I went to the zoo! We spent the whole afternoon marveling at the amazing creatures, many of which we’d never heard of. God is so creative!

We walked home from the zoo, smelling the crisp air that seems like fall, though it is actually now closer to Spring. Jacarandas trees line the sidewalks with their golden leaves giving everything a glow. The sidewalks are full of people selling fruit, veggies, snacks and grilled meat on a stick. We walk through Church square, outside the Palace of Justice where Nelson Mandela was tried for treason. We think the president works in one of these buildings too. People are hanging out in front of the scary statue of Paul Kruger. My other favorite spot so far is Burgers Park, where Priscilla runs the catering business from the “kiosk” and PCM headquarters are just across the street. People are hanging out everywhere, just chillin, playing soccer, cuddling on a park bench, napping in the grass.

Sunday was Women’s Day, so most people have the day off today. The School of the Arts’ Art Factory is putting on performances in the park, kicking off the Feast of the Clowns Festival that PCM is putting on. I’m looking forward to another beautiful day.

Pictures

2009-07-30T17:38:00.000+02:00

The new MMF building, where I've been volunteering
The trees we were getting ready to plant and my friend Maitri, monkeying around in the jungle

Kids at the Burmese Refugee Learning Center MMF has helped found

Toei playing by the sala

Lunch

Did I mention I'm considering becoming a vegetarian?

ChiangRai

2009-07-30T16:47:00.000+02:00

My plan was to write often, so I wouldn't overwhelm all of you (thanks for the idea, Vern!). In case that doesn’t go so well, feel free to skim.

I'll post some pictures here on the blog, but I'll be posting many more on facebook. I know, I know. And I hate pressuring anyone to join facebook, but if you want to see the pictures, you'll have to join, cause I only make my pictures available to my "friends."

Alright, with those disclaimers out of the way...

Sawatdi kha!

Returning to Thailand has been... complicated, as is any homecoming, I believe. Whenever you return to a place that was once home, but isn't anymore, there are going to be complications. Some things change: people move away, new people come and buildings are built or torn down. Also, you forget things. Like what side of the car is the passenger's side, how to work the showers or that you’re not supposed to hug people of the opposite sex. Or even how normal everything seems, no matter how exotic it seems back home. It comes back quickly, but it’s disarming when you first realize you've forgotten. Then there are things that seem so crystal clear in your memory, it seems you were never gone at all. The smells, the voices of good friends, roads you walked and on hundreds of times and being told you have a “big body” everyday. Even the blind man singing at the market.

At first it feels like you've come home. Then it feels like you’ve gone back in time. You’re stepping into memories. But as you walk through them you see the changes, the absence of people who should be there. You feel like a tourist in your own town.

The most surreal moments were walking into the Coats’ house, driving up to Baan Athitaan Church and driving by where I used to live with the Franny family. These are the times past and present seemed to collide. At times I’ve almost felt nauseous with anticipation.

Mekong Minority Foundation

I was relieved to begin work at the MMF office. After the first hellos, everything felt so normal. Monday mornings we have worship with the staff- a perfect way to start the week. I found I could still read along to sing in Thai- at least during the slow songs. And of course Pi Nit had already prepared work for me to get started on.

Being back at MMF has reminded me why I’m doing this internship at Tshwane Leadership Foundation. I love the work they do! And I’m hopeful I will have similar experiences in Pretoria.

There are many things I could say about MMF’s work in Northern Thailand. I could tell you about their new program focusing on environmental issues or their agricultural training they give farmers, teaching them how to make organic fertilizers and produce a better crop. But instead I’ll tell you about the sponsorship program.

When I was here three years ago I visited one Mien (a minority hilltribe) village twice and got along really well with the youth there. I was impressed with their faith and their many talents. They came from a poor, Mien-speaking village with few prospects. But through an organization called Milagros, several of these young men have been sponsored to go to University and pursue ministry opportunities as well. I’ve seen a few of them coming in and out of the MMF office volunteering and at my church here, Baan Athitaan. What impresses me is how MMF has come along side these highly capable young men with much potential, but few resources and provided them the opportunities to pursue their dreams. That’s what I love about MMF.

Tree planting on “haunted” mountain

One day the whole Coats family and MMF staff drove up to a nearby “mountain” (we’d call it a hill in the Northwest) to plant some trees that were once indigenous, but are no longer growing on the mountain. The mountain is actually named after these trees. It was actually a challenging hike, considering we were all wearing flip flops! At the top of the mountain one of the staff explained how Buddhists and other non-Christians don’t climb the mountain because it is said to be haunted. We also saw the whole where people had dug for the amulet said to have been hidden under the ancient temple that is no longer there.

Fishing!

Pi Muu invited me to her house for the weekend. It was great to be with her and Pi Gung, and Gung’s seven year old son, Toei. What a sweet kid. Saturday we went fishing, the kind they only do once or twice a year. It’s actually pretty involved. We went out to Gung’s family’s rice paddy, where Gung’s Dad was already busy hooking up the tractor to a pipe that started pumping water out of a long and deep trench into the nearby paddy. Gung told Toei and I to hang out in the sala (hut with no walls) while she and her Dad started fishing. From the sala all I saw was them wondering through the paddy, occasionally picking something out of the water.

Toei and I played. He talked a lot, unaware of how little I understood. We walked through the paddies and he found giant snails to toss through the tunnel of water flowing from one of the adjacent paddies into the trench Gung’s Dad was emptying. Eventually, Toei and I noticed that there were fish in the trench, trying to climb out back up into the paddy. As the water drained, there were more and more fish, clambering around in the trench. Soon Gung, her Dad and Muu, who joined us were at the far end of the trench with nets.

It wasn’t till the water was a little lower that they invited Toei and me to join them. We put on boots and gloves and were handed nets. Then we began scooping up the fish and thowing them in buckets. It was surprisingly easy. I was a little nervous, cause they kept using words like “bite” and “hurt” in long, fast sentences I couldn’t quite understand. Then I noticed what Gung’s Dad was doing. He was carrying to long metal poles and had a pack of gasoline on his back. He would go up to a fish with the two poles and a buzzing noise would precede the fish’s collapse or twitching. He was shocking them so they would be easier to catch! It wasn’t too long before I couldn’t find more fish and was sweating like mad in the heat. So I stripped back down to my shorts and tank top and rested in the sala.

Soon afterwards we had lunch- fish, of course! Muu skewered the fish onto bamboo sticks she’d just carved, even as they were still wriggling! Blood dripped everywhere and I attempted not to lose my appetite. I found out later the fish didn’t agree with me much anyway. I confess I mostly filled up on dragon fruit. After lunch they kept fishing for a couple hours. I don’t know how they kept finding more! I’m sure they had thousands! Meanwhile I napped and stared up and the beautiful sky. I watched as Gung’s Dad first plugged the tunnels draining into the trench and later opened them up again when they were nearly done. He then laid long sticks across the trench as it began filling up and then started spreading some fertilizer across his paddy by hand.

Gung, Muu and the rest of the family spent most of the evening cleaning fish while I rode Toei’s bike (actually the same bike I borrowed from the Franny’s three years ago) around the village, to the amusement of all the villagers. I decided to venture to the market to get out on my own a bit, after being at the rice paddy all day long. All went well until the ride home. I was carrying a sweet coconut drink served in 4 little plastic baggies, to share with my friends. I was proud of myself for being able to manage them with riding. Then a car slowed in front of me, as if to turn left. Since I was on the left, I was afraid that if I kept going straight, the car would turn into me. But I didn’t have time to go around on the right and I had already noticed my brakes didn’t really work. I swerved and caught my tire on the soft shoulder and the next thing I knew I was on the pavement with my four drinks spilling everywhere. I jumped up, assuring the (amused and not concerned) driver that I was ok. I dusted myself off and got back on my bike. I soon realized there was no way I was going to tell my friends this story, already feeling like the stupid farang who doesn’t understand anything. So I tossed out all the half spilled drinks at the next trash can, cleaned myself up a bit and rode back, being careful not to let them see the little scrape on my knee.

Just hanging out

It’s been great to see so many friends! My boss at MMF and good friend Pi Nit has continually welcomed me into her home, where I get to play with her two young boys, Us and Am. Scott and Pi Tan are of course always great hosts and it’s fun to be their family- watching McGuiver (sp?) and eating delicious home cooking. I’ve gotten to stop by FLC, the school I worked at before, seeing a few friends like Pi Muu and Pi Jo (and her adorable baby boy!). I’ve had bubble tea at Baandu Market, shopped at the Night Bazaar and Big C, and have hung out at the church with friends there.

I also got to go with my good friend, Gift to another friend’s house to pick fruit and then check out the market at the University. This girl’s family has a giant back yard you have to get to by crossing a rickety bamboo bridge. It’s full of pineapple bushes (?), papaya trees, banana trees, rambutan trees and a fruit I only know as “grathon.” It’s not very sweet, so you eat it with fish sauce, salt and chillies.

The plan from here is to hang out in Chiang Rai a few more days, head to the beach on Tuesday and then fly to South Africa on Thursday! As much as I’m enjoying my time here, I’m excited to begin my year in Pretoria.