Week 4

This week in numbers:

(1): Number of dead mambas - this time shot(!) by the police.

(5): Number of hours sat through the Zulu Easter mass between 8 and 1 in the morning on Saturday night…and we left early…

(11): Number of rhinos spotted while visiting Hluhluwe-Imfolozi game park on Sunday

(Countless): It's a tie between the number of chocolate eggs I've eaten this week and the hours during which the local Shembe* music (a distinct sound that I've isolated as a cross between a bagpipe, a didgeridoo and a vacuum cleaner), played at the all-weekend prayer service in honor of Easter weekend held at the local high school.

That's the thing about Nkandla – if anyone, anywhere in the valley is listening to music, playing music or carrying about in anyway, you know. Someone should really study the acoustics of this village – when they're playing soccer (as they were last weekend), it's like you're in the stands when you're 100s of meters away on the trail between the center and the convent. And when the local Tuckshop (which until recently had a bit of tape manipulating the first letter) is playing music, you KNOW it - whether you're in bed, on a walk, in church – wherever – you can hear it!

A quick Easter recap: Yes, a five and a half hour mass was celebrated Saturday before last. Three of our children were baptized – though they had to sit through four hours of service before it was time, at midnight, for them to become full-fledged Catholics. They were absolute troopers and I was amazed at their patience – especially given that they are three of our sickest girls. At one a.m. I finally gave up guessing when the mass would end and insisted it was time to take the girls to bed – which thankfully everyone agreed with. The next day I went to a birthday party for one of our caregiver's daughters with a cake the size of the four year old it celebrated and 15 or so of the happiest kids I think I've ever come across. We sang birthday songs, ate, opened presents and then had a total dance off before I was asked to say a closing prayer. One thing that I've learned about South Africa is it is an incredibly religious place – though not necessarily in the way you might associate religion in the states. Prayer is incorporated into just about every social or group setting – whether at work or at home – and it's really a way of life. Back to the party: I was picked up afterwards by the caregiver's father for a ride home. It ended up being one of the most entertaining/terrifying rides of my life – for as we exited the house down the mud driveway, I noticed the car listing to the left, and was a bit shocked to see the driver turning the steering wheel frantically to the right. Then, as the car slowly drifted to the right, he started violently turning the wheel to the left – and the car continued to the right. This process was repeated as we went down the driveway, and it occurred to me that the steering column seemed to have very little to do with the direction of the car, and yet there we were somehow turning left, onto a different road than that which we'd arrived on, meaning we were taking the so-called "shortcut" the driver who'd brought me to the party (in a fully functioning truck) had avoided due to recent rain. For the next 15 minutes my driver continued with what reminded me of video-game driving (you know, where it seems as if what you do on your controller has nothing to do with the car you see on the screen?) and I tried as much as I could to make small talk while praying my heart out (like a true local!) – and of course trying to admire the scenery (though the steep slopes to my left were more nerve-wracking than pretty, and don't get me started on the cows - one of which was at one point directly in front of me, staring me in the eye as if to challenge us to hit him – it's like he knew the crazy vehicle we were in didn't have the slightest chance of continuing in a straight line). I finally arrived at the convent just in time for dinner, clutching a plastic bag full of remains of the world's largest birthday cake and thanking my lucky stars for the expertise of a driver who has clearly had his truck for a long, long time.

The gender training teams I'm working with had their first trainings last week and I was able to visit both locations. It's really exciting to see young people feel empowered to share such a positive message and they're really doing a great job. Both locations managed to get over 30 people, and they all felt good about the trainings as a whole (though challenges like rain, transit and pension day interceded to cut one training short). Next week they'll be breaking into teams of two and each will outreach to another target of 30-40 men. Today (Monday) I traveled to one of the sites which is in Mandaba – an extremely rural area past Nkandla with horrible roads but absolutely breathtaking views. On our way back I had a chance to visit a couple of our families as we dropped off extra food, one of which is a child-headed family of four – the oldest of which can't be older than 14. I think the attached picture can say more about the reality of child-headed families than I could possibly convey with words.

This past weekend was great fun as on Saturday we finally went at the one of the Easter Pinatas (much hilarity ensued!) and then Benjamin, Ryan and I headed off to Hluhluwe to celebrate my birthday at a great back packers lodge where I had my first proper South African Braais ( a.k.a. BBQ) and the world's largest cocktail-refered-to-as a Mai Tai but which in reality tasted more like Red Bull and tonic. On Sunday we visited our first craft market and promptly made plans to return as it was too big to take on and we needed to get to the game park. The game parks in South Africa are quite neat – many cost a reasonable fee to enter (as a resident/volunteers in South Africa we paid 40 rand – about $6) and then you simply drive around in your own vehicle looking for animals. We didn't see much at first, but as the day continued we managed to rack up the sightings, and the final count was the afore mentioned 11 rhinos (this is the best spot in the world to see rhinos and responsible for removing the white rhino from the conservation lists), 3 elephants, numerous giraffe/zebra/warthogs/impalas/wildebeest/buffalo/baboons/vervet monkeys and one antelope I forget the name of. So no great cats yet, but I have at least one safari to go once my friends arrive – so I'm in good shape!

Today I had my first big group tutoring session with the 4-6 graders. It's a challenge to keep them focused, but some of them are really bright (we were going through the alphabet today and everyone had to say a word that started with the letters in sequence and one of them came up with "Economics" – I was impressed!). I am really driven to get their brains going and see if I can get the more advanced English speakers to take an interest in those that are struggling to learn. Teaching has always been really challenging and intimidating for me but I'm enjoying an opportunity to take it on with children I have a truly vested interest in.

On that note, one of our kids is back in the hospital with pretty bleak prospects and her case has opened my eyes to some of the policy issues that can mean life or death for some of the most vulnerable children here. In order to start ARV treatment people need to have CD4 counts of 200 or below – and while we know this child is positive, we don't know her CD4 count. One of the doctors who has recently left the hospital, however, advised me today that a CD4 count isn't necessary if a child has been in the hospital 3 or more times in a given amount of time – which this child has. So she should be on treatment already, but the doctors who have attended to her have not pushed it as they wait for the CD4 count. While I attempt to balance my observations here and the knowledge that I'm just catching a sliver of what's going on and what the challenges are – I can't help but have my blood boil at something like this. I think that's party of why this experience is so valuable for me – the reminder of the sanctity of all human life – no matter how big, or how small – becomes so easy to overlook in widespread crises like the HIV/AIDS situation here. I am reminded of the example set by Sister Theresa, and more recently by the Sr. Ann, the nun we lost a few weeks ago in a local convent who entered a burning building to save hospice patients who were struggling with terminal illnesses. All life is sacred – there's simply no way to fight this if you don't believe that.

Of course when I do get down, someone comes along to cheer me up or make me laugh. Today it was one of the older boys who came into my room and saw one of my drawers opened. He picked up a bag of tampons and said, "My mom used to have these at home. I thought they were candy and tried to eat one once." I just about lost it as he sat there holding the bag up at face level – clearly still in the dark as to what the funny little cotton things are for. I decided to let things lie as I'm sure I would have had the bag hurled at me had I explained their actual purpose and he realized what he had in his hand.

I think I thought as my time went on my updates would get shorter, that I'd have gradually filled everyone in on the basics and would just mention the fun or unique things I was doing. The more I'm here the more I realize that I could write page upon page about what I'm seeing – each day amazes me with the stories that unfold, the people that enter in and the perspective it brings. I had a feeling before I came that this trip would simply be a first visit – and this is confirmed daily as I recognize work I would like to do, places I would like to visit – things I would like to follow up on. I've applied for a Rotary scholarship to return for a year in 2008 – it's a long shot but I'm throwing whatever opportunities I can out there.

Until next week, with much much love from the heart of Nkandla,

Megan


*Shembe is a widely popular religion that started when the Zulus wanted to embrace Christianity but also wanted to hold on to various Zulu traditions. It's a sort of Zulu Christianity, one could say.