this may be the most bizarre blog post to date. last week i decided to accompany two of my coworkers to the local hair salon. i wanted to see exactly what they had done to their hair. i must admit, the salon was quite sad- a couple random chairs, a bucket in the sink they filled to wash your hair, some old nasty towels. the experience was interesting as i watched how my coworkers had their hair washed with a couple different products then had their hair covered in yellow gunk and placed under the dryers for 30 mins. now the staff of this salon consisted of two zulu women and one women from the congo (who spoke very little english and zulu). with 30 mins to kill, the congolese woman decided to chat in the best way she knew how, and tell us stories of her homeland.
she first started by admiring my piercings and visible tattoos with a look of horror. she kept asking me "nice? nice?" which i think was her way of wondering if they hurt. she then told me "jesus no like you. no like tattoos" to which i responded that it was fine, jesus and i didn't have a relationship anyways. from there, clearly not off of her tattoo rant yet, she told us all how women in the congo get their boyfriends name tattooed across their breast and then they break up with said boyfriend, meet a new man, marry him without telling him of the tattoo and then on the honeymoon, when the new man finally sees the tattoo, he gets upset, goes to priest and then they get divorced. i think this happened to her sister, but it could have just been her way of saying woman... i am not quite sure.
now all of this was done in very broken english with random french words thrown in. it was entertaining and it killed the time while we all sat there (this was during work by the way). but then suddenly, our friendly congolese friend started talking about horses (she used the french word until we figured out what it meant) and doing absurd hand and hip gestures. it took me a while to catch on but finally i realized that she was talking about having sex with a horse. from there, the story went something like this:
woman: people *hip thrust* inyama but inyama sicky sicky then people get sicky sicky
me: so they get the sicky sicky from the animals, the horses?
woman: yes, animal sicky sicky, man sicky sicky then *hip thrust* woman. woman get sicky sicky (all of this was hand signaled with her grabbing her crotch and saying sicky sicky and then grabbing the imaginary crotch of someone else and saying sicky sicky-thus the transfer)
woman: get sicky sicky congo, no medicine, just kufa, kufa (followed by her acting dead)
woman: horse big for human
me: oh i didn't need to know that. where does this happen?
woman: congo and here. everywhere.
me: i see
by this point i was laughing in a stunned sort of way. she was so serious and she just kept repeating herself and her hip thrusts over and over to get her point across. then she continued:
woman: mulungu get fat woman, give money, money
me: wait, white people? me?
woman: yes, no you, mulungu in congo
me: ok good
woman: mulungu get fat woman, give money, give ruff ruff
all of us: dog?
woman: yes give dog, woman *hip thurst* dog. dog sicky sicky, woman sicky sicky. no medicine. woman kufa.
at this point i am wondering if she is saying she blames white people for the sicky sicky, which i take to mean HIV & AIDS. i don't ask her this question or any others for that matter.
after 2o mins of the animal sex conversation, my coworker had had enough and kindly demanded that she wash the crap out of her hair and finish the process. my other coworker said this woman hardly ever spoke when they were normally in there, and blamed me for her random (and disturbing) outbursts.
their hair was washed again, dried and then carefully combed into the style in which it will remain for weeks to come. then the three of us got up and left, laughing as soon as we exited.
lets just say that sicky sicky has become a part of our vocabulary now...
Monday, March 2, 2009
Thursday, January 22, 2009
A Long Time Gone
Hello world- I’m back! It has been quite awhile since I posted about my life, but with vacation ending (and sending me into a downward spiral of depression) and my stomach attacking me so viciously, I didn’t have much desire to put my thoughts into words. But now, with Obama as president and my stomach finally returning to a somewhat normal state, I feel inclined to tell you all about my vacation- the good AND the bad. So you will find below two blog posts about what I did with my 25 days of rest in southern Africa.
But before you get to that, I just want to quickly thank a couple people who didn’t forget about me over the holidays. Thanks to Melanie and Julie for sending me packages of love that made me smile, laugh, and do a little inward jig. Thanks to Becca, who sent me an awesome postcard from Ireland, where she partied with friends that I miss dearly. And thanks to Nina, who probably never reads this, but who sent me a lovely Norwegian Christmas card that truly made me smile. Thanks for remembering me here in Africa guys!!
But before you get to that, I just want to quickly thank a couple people who didn’t forget about me over the holidays. Thanks to Melanie and Julie for sending me packages of love that made me smile, laugh, and do a little inward jig. Thanks to Becca, who sent me an awesome postcard from Ireland, where she partied with friends that I miss dearly. And thanks to Nina, who probably never reads this, but who sent me a lovely Norwegian Christmas card that truly made me smile. Thanks for remembering me here in Africa guys!!
Remember That Time In Mozambique When It Rained?
Mozambique is where vacations go to die… at least if you are an O’Neil. But I am getting ahead of myself a bit. Our vacation didn’t start off in shambles.
My brother Tom finally left America for the first time in his life to come and visit his sister in a faraway land called Africa. He left the cold and snow of northern Michigan to join me in the dead of summer in South Africa, to spend 25 days aimlessly wandering around. Somehow, Tom managed to get into a car accident on the way to the airport and miss his flight to Johannesburg, and yet somehow he still managed to make it over the big blue ocean and to Durban, where our travels began.
Now the start of the vacation was typical, with a busy itinerary of activities that anyone visiting southern Africa should partake in. My brother saw the Indian Ocean for the first time, went on a safari in a game reserve where he saw all the significant animals that one should see (except cats), took a proper ghetto taxi around Durban, one of SA’s biggest cities, went to a craft market filled with traditional South African goods that were probably made in China, and went on a hippo and croc boat tour that brought us within feet of the friendly creatures. All in all, the start of the vacation went well and it seemed like Tom was enjoying himself in Africa. I certainly didn’t have many complaints. I got to spend my Christmas day on the beach, working on a sweet tan. No snow or Christmas tree or presents for this Michigan girl. It was great!
Then three days after Christmas, early in the morning, the five of us traveling together decided to board a bus to Maputo, Mozambique. I personally was excited to get out of SA, see another country in the world, and spend even more time on some beautiful beaches. The bus ride went off without a hitch, and we made it to Maputo around 6 in the evening. It was raining, which was a concern since we were supposed to camp, but we were in Mozambique and that somehow made things better. Now if any of us had been smart and looked at the signs that were all around us as soon as we got off the bus, we would have all been better prepared for the ‘fun’ that was about to begin. The hostel that was supposed to pick us up (for free!) forgot about us and none of us had cell phones that worked. After sitting around for a bit, the woman who worked at the bus company borrowed us her phone so we could call and find out what happened to our ride. 30 minutes later, a car finally showed up (after the woman called the hostel back about 2 times) and took us to Fatima’s, our home away from… well, South Africa. The hostel was packed as everyone flocks to Moz for the holiday. By this time it was getting dark and raining harder, and we still had to set out tents up. Luckily for us, we were camping on the cement roof of the building, totally exposed to the elements and with puddles of water surrounding us since there was nowhere for it to go. We all felt a little broken down, but seeing as how we had no choice, we set up shop, cooked some dinner, bought some expensive beers, and then braved the rain one last time to climb into our soaked tents.
The next morning we woke up to more rain, which was a bit distressing. In addition to the weather not cooperating, the hostel sucked horribly. The bathrooms were disgusting and the toilets magically didn’t flush. It was worse than my pit toilet in my village, which is saying a lot. The staff at the hostel was less than helpful, not telling us of a single entertaining thing to do in Maputo and giving us no help with directions. Fed up, we left in search of food, sights, and money.
I must admit that that day we spent wandering around Maputo was one of the worst days of the whole vacation. We walked for what seemed like forever, the rain stopped but in its place came humidity so think it felt like I was dying, and once we had seen the three sights that a travel book recommended, we were out of things to do to entertain us. I couldn’t wait to get out of the city and back to the beach. That evening, we decided to upgrade and move into a dorm. We packed up our wet tents, paid (or should I say overpaid) for the shuttle the next day to Tofo, and called it a night.
Bright and early the next morning we boarded the shuttle bus to Fatima’s in Tofo. The bus, which was very expensive, was so packed full of people that is was miserable. Tom had to sit in a seat where he couldn’t lean back and where he had a person essentially wedged in between his legs. My seat was better, although I too had a person sitting in my lap. It was very hot, the aircon didn’t work, and for some reason, the people sitting by the windows (which were of course not us) decided to keep their windows closed. I sat there, sweating in my dress, wishing the miserable trip was over. Unfortunately, it had just started and we had 7+ hours left. Luckily we had a driver from hell that put the pedal to the metal and, risking all of our lives, got us to Tofo in a decent amount time. We only had to stop for a blown out tire once and for airtime for the drive about 10 times!
Once in Tofo, we set up camp next to the hundreds of other campers in the designated camping area that this time was on sand. I must admit that the next couple of days that we spent in Tofo were not all that bad. It was hot and sticky, and it rained all of New Years Eve, but the place was better, the ocean was amazing, and all in all things were ok. Not great, but not horrible. The only problem was that all of our clothes were wet and the constant rain every night never allowed anything to dry. Around this time, my clothes started to get moldy.
The morning we were planning on leaving Tofo to head even further north, it was raining- again! We still had to pack our tents up and by this point the 5 of us were so fed up with the rain that we considered just going back to Maputo so we could leave Moz forever. After some arguing, however, we decided to give it a shot and work our way north. The rain let up, so we moved quickly and managed to catch a bus from Tofo to Inhambane. In Inhambane we got directions to take a dhow across the bay to Maxixe. From there, we made the decision (a very poor one we later found out) to take a taxi from Maxixe to Vilankulo, our destination. After waiting for about an hour to fill, and after no more people could be squished in, we left. After about 30 minutes of driving, it started to rain again (surprise, surprise) and the road turned into complete shit. The potholes made it impossible to drive, but somehow our taxi driver was unfazed and carried on at an impressive 120km/hour clip. So it was raining, he was driving too fast, swerving from side to side and almost flipping us, and there we were, crammed in the taxi that leaked. Jeff, one of the lucky five of us, was fortunate enough to have a Mozambican puke on him in the taxi. That, for me, was a first.
When we finally made it to Vilankulo, it was still raining and we had yet to walk to our hostel. A small local boy came up and offered to guide us to our destination, which we gladly accepted. Once there, we opted for beds in a dorm, seeing as how all of us were so SICK of camping in the rain that we needed a much deserved break. Now Vilankulo is known for the islands that are just off the shore, and when the weather is nice, you can take boats out to the islands and explore. Of course for the 3 days that we were there, it never stopped raining long enough for us to make it out to the islands. Instead, we sat around under whatever covering we could get and chatted, read, or acted bored out of our minds. During the short periods of time that the rain let up, we walked to the market to buy food or walked along the beach (which wasn’t really meant for swimming but was filled with fishing boats). Some of the people that stayed at the hostel were cool, and their company helped brighten the days. At night, the rain would stop, so one night we went to a bar in town and another night was spent sitting on the beach in an impromptu drum circle. The days we spent in Vilankulo were probably the most relaxing, but were still a disappointment.
After 3 days of rain, the 5 of us finally gave up and decided to head back to Maputo early so we could get the hell out of Moz. We took yet another horrible bus ride to Maptuo, where I again sweated off my weight in water. Once in Maputo, we headed back to the same horrible hostel and planned for our evacuation of Moz. But of course, the busses back to SA were full and we would have to spend one more entire day in the country that had broken our spirits. Determined to make the best of it, we decided to switch hostels and spend some more time exploring the city. If I am going to be honest, this extra day that none of us wanted turned out to be a good thing. The weather was better, the new hostel was nicer, and the time we had gave us a chance to change our opinions of Maputo. I still don’t love the city, but I do have a new appreciation for it.
Finally, the morning came where we could go back to SA. We parted ways at this point and 4 of us went back to Durban and 1 went to Jo’burg. Excited for the bus ride and the aircon, we gladly boarded the bus and were on our way. We should have known that this wouldn’t be as nice as we had hoped. About 2 hours into our trip, the aircon stopped working and this bus didn’t even have windows that can open. Again, we were melting on the bus and could do nothing but suffer through the 8 hour ride back to SA. It was quite a fitting end to the Moz debacle!
The time I spent in Moz definitely gave me a whole new appreciation for South Africa. I don’t think I can express how happy I was to finally make it back to Durban and back to a country that felt comfortable and friendly to me. We were all exhausted and disappointed, and I am positive that my brother never wants to travel in a developing country again. But we had made it in and out of Moz in one piece, and we now knew what amazing things we had available to us in SA.
My brother Tom finally left America for the first time in his life to come and visit his sister in a faraway land called Africa. He left the cold and snow of northern Michigan to join me in the dead of summer in South Africa, to spend 25 days aimlessly wandering around. Somehow, Tom managed to get into a car accident on the way to the airport and miss his flight to Johannesburg, and yet somehow he still managed to make it over the big blue ocean and to Durban, where our travels began.
Now the start of the vacation was typical, with a busy itinerary of activities that anyone visiting southern Africa should partake in. My brother saw the Indian Ocean for the first time, went on a safari in a game reserve where he saw all the significant animals that one should see (except cats), took a proper ghetto taxi around Durban, one of SA’s biggest cities, went to a craft market filled with traditional South African goods that were probably made in China, and went on a hippo and croc boat tour that brought us within feet of the friendly creatures. All in all, the start of the vacation went well and it seemed like Tom was enjoying himself in Africa. I certainly didn’t have many complaints. I got to spend my Christmas day on the beach, working on a sweet tan. No snow or Christmas tree or presents for this Michigan girl. It was great!
Then three days after Christmas, early in the morning, the five of us traveling together decided to board a bus to Maputo, Mozambique. I personally was excited to get out of SA, see another country in the world, and spend even more time on some beautiful beaches. The bus ride went off without a hitch, and we made it to Maputo around 6 in the evening. It was raining, which was a concern since we were supposed to camp, but we were in Mozambique and that somehow made things better. Now if any of us had been smart and looked at the signs that were all around us as soon as we got off the bus, we would have all been better prepared for the ‘fun’ that was about to begin. The hostel that was supposed to pick us up (for free!) forgot about us and none of us had cell phones that worked. After sitting around for a bit, the woman who worked at the bus company borrowed us her phone so we could call and find out what happened to our ride. 30 minutes later, a car finally showed up (after the woman called the hostel back about 2 times) and took us to Fatima’s, our home away from… well, South Africa. The hostel was packed as everyone flocks to Moz for the holiday. By this time it was getting dark and raining harder, and we still had to set out tents up. Luckily for us, we were camping on the cement roof of the building, totally exposed to the elements and with puddles of water surrounding us since there was nowhere for it to go. We all felt a little broken down, but seeing as how we had no choice, we set up shop, cooked some dinner, bought some expensive beers, and then braved the rain one last time to climb into our soaked tents.
The next morning we woke up to more rain, which was a bit distressing. In addition to the weather not cooperating, the hostel sucked horribly. The bathrooms were disgusting and the toilets magically didn’t flush. It was worse than my pit toilet in my village, which is saying a lot. The staff at the hostel was less than helpful, not telling us of a single entertaining thing to do in Maputo and giving us no help with directions. Fed up, we left in search of food, sights, and money.
I must admit that that day we spent wandering around Maputo was one of the worst days of the whole vacation. We walked for what seemed like forever, the rain stopped but in its place came humidity so think it felt like I was dying, and once we had seen the three sights that a travel book recommended, we were out of things to do to entertain us. I couldn’t wait to get out of the city and back to the beach. That evening, we decided to upgrade and move into a dorm. We packed up our wet tents, paid (or should I say overpaid) for the shuttle the next day to Tofo, and called it a night.
Bright and early the next morning we boarded the shuttle bus to Fatima’s in Tofo. The bus, which was very expensive, was so packed full of people that is was miserable. Tom had to sit in a seat where he couldn’t lean back and where he had a person essentially wedged in between his legs. My seat was better, although I too had a person sitting in my lap. It was very hot, the aircon didn’t work, and for some reason, the people sitting by the windows (which were of course not us) decided to keep their windows closed. I sat there, sweating in my dress, wishing the miserable trip was over. Unfortunately, it had just started and we had 7+ hours left. Luckily we had a driver from hell that put the pedal to the metal and, risking all of our lives, got us to Tofo in a decent amount time. We only had to stop for a blown out tire once and for airtime for the drive about 10 times!
Once in Tofo, we set up camp next to the hundreds of other campers in the designated camping area that this time was on sand. I must admit that the next couple of days that we spent in Tofo were not all that bad. It was hot and sticky, and it rained all of New Years Eve, but the place was better, the ocean was amazing, and all in all things were ok. Not great, but not horrible. The only problem was that all of our clothes were wet and the constant rain every night never allowed anything to dry. Around this time, my clothes started to get moldy.
The morning we were planning on leaving Tofo to head even further north, it was raining- again! We still had to pack our tents up and by this point the 5 of us were so fed up with the rain that we considered just going back to Maputo so we could leave Moz forever. After some arguing, however, we decided to give it a shot and work our way north. The rain let up, so we moved quickly and managed to catch a bus from Tofo to Inhambane. In Inhambane we got directions to take a dhow across the bay to Maxixe. From there, we made the decision (a very poor one we later found out) to take a taxi from Maxixe to Vilankulo, our destination. After waiting for about an hour to fill, and after no more people could be squished in, we left. After about 30 minutes of driving, it started to rain again (surprise, surprise) and the road turned into complete shit. The potholes made it impossible to drive, but somehow our taxi driver was unfazed and carried on at an impressive 120km/hour clip. So it was raining, he was driving too fast, swerving from side to side and almost flipping us, and there we were, crammed in the taxi that leaked. Jeff, one of the lucky five of us, was fortunate enough to have a Mozambican puke on him in the taxi. That, for me, was a first.
When we finally made it to Vilankulo, it was still raining and we had yet to walk to our hostel. A small local boy came up and offered to guide us to our destination, which we gladly accepted. Once there, we opted for beds in a dorm, seeing as how all of us were so SICK of camping in the rain that we needed a much deserved break. Now Vilankulo is known for the islands that are just off the shore, and when the weather is nice, you can take boats out to the islands and explore. Of course for the 3 days that we were there, it never stopped raining long enough for us to make it out to the islands. Instead, we sat around under whatever covering we could get and chatted, read, or acted bored out of our minds. During the short periods of time that the rain let up, we walked to the market to buy food or walked along the beach (which wasn’t really meant for swimming but was filled with fishing boats). Some of the people that stayed at the hostel were cool, and their company helped brighten the days. At night, the rain would stop, so one night we went to a bar in town and another night was spent sitting on the beach in an impromptu drum circle. The days we spent in Vilankulo were probably the most relaxing, but were still a disappointment.
After 3 days of rain, the 5 of us finally gave up and decided to head back to Maputo early so we could get the hell out of Moz. We took yet another horrible bus ride to Maptuo, where I again sweated off my weight in water. Once in Maputo, we headed back to the same horrible hostel and planned for our evacuation of Moz. But of course, the busses back to SA were full and we would have to spend one more entire day in the country that had broken our spirits. Determined to make the best of it, we decided to switch hostels and spend some more time exploring the city. If I am going to be honest, this extra day that none of us wanted turned out to be a good thing. The weather was better, the new hostel was nicer, and the time we had gave us a chance to change our opinions of Maputo. I still don’t love the city, but I do have a new appreciation for it.
Finally, the morning came where we could go back to SA. We parted ways at this point and 4 of us went back to Durban and 1 went to Jo’burg. Excited for the bus ride and the aircon, we gladly boarded the bus and were on our way. We should have known that this wouldn’t be as nice as we had hoped. About 2 hours into our trip, the aircon stopped working and this bus didn’t even have windows that can open. Again, we were melting on the bus and could do nothing but suffer through the 8 hour ride back to SA. It was quite a fitting end to the Moz debacle!
The time I spent in Moz definitely gave me a whole new appreciation for South Africa. I don’t think I can express how happy I was to finally make it back to Durban and back to a country that felt comfortable and friendly to me. We were all exhausted and disappointed, and I am positive that my brother never wants to travel in a developing country again. But we had made it in and out of Moz in one piece, and we now knew what amazing things we had available to us in SA.
The Beautiful Mountains
I finally hiked to the top of Sentinel- something I doubted I ever would do. Although the hike is not that difficult and not supposed to take that long, hiking to the ‘summit’ of any mountain is a daunting task. My brother and I set out early to drive the hour and a half to the start of the hike. Little did we know, the last stretch of road to get to the car park is horrible and covered in jagged rocks that were just waiting to puncture our tire. Now it was a an impressive feat in itself that my brother and I had made it there, seeing as how neither one of us really knew how to drive a manual, especially on the wrong side of the road and the wrong side of the car. But somehow, we managed to make it to the start of the road from hell, and at that point nothing was going to deter us. As we inched along, wondering the whole time whether or not we were on the right road, we climbed higher and higher. The view from there was spectacular. When we finally made it to the car park, we got the first glimpse of the trail that was ahead of us and the peak we were meant to reach.
At 8am we started the trek up the mountain. The path wasn’t too steep but did have tons of rocks and obstacles to maneuver. After about 2 hours of hiking, we stopped to take a quick water break and decided to eat some peanuts. Unfortunately for me, the break lasted a bit too long and when we got moving again, I felt funny. I was all of a sudden really dizzy and tired, and easily could have lied down to take a nap. I pushed forward, but stumbled a bit as we rounded the corner to the chain ladders.
After watching three others climb the two ladders up the side of the cliff (and taking a little snooze on the rocks), I pulled myself together enough to start my climb. Once I was up, I called down for my brother to join me and the two of us successfully made it to the top of the peak (which was really a plateau). You could see for miles and miles and the view was amazing. All around us there were mountains and hills and lakes. We decided to continue on, climbing up one last set of rocks to start the 30 min walk across the plateau to see Tugela Falls, the second tallest waterfall in the world. I slowly made my way across the flat rocky surface until we made it to the edge on the other side. The waterfall wasn’t spectacular, but we had made it and that was exciting. We sat and had lunch and the break seemed to help my body recover from the altitude, which was the only thing that I could think of that was causing me to feel sick.
We took in the view, had a mini photo shoot, and then decided that we needed to get on back down the mountain we just climbed. Of course, as soon as we got moving, it started to rain (you could call it the theme of our vacation). This wasn’t too big of a deal except we had to climb back down the very long chain ladders. The metal was slippery and the task was daunting, but I managed to make it down one and then the other. If I would have slipped, I would have died, it was that high up. My brother, who was the second one down, had trouble keeping his body from shaking and said it was one of the scariest things he had ever done. Once safely back on the lower mountain, we started our trek back down the mountain, going back and forth, back and forth across the side. I was exhausted and sore, but seeing as how my brother had a flight to catch the next day, I kept moving. The rain came and went, leaving us wet and with puddles that we had to dodge. When we finally made it back down, it was 2:45 and almost 7 hours had passed. I was tired but happy, and I think both of us were glad that we did the hike. We then started the long drive back to Bergville that would lead to the end of my brother’s time in South Africa. It was a fitting ending, seeing the whole country from the top of the mountain. I just wish I wouldn’t have gotten a horrible fever from the altitude and have to spend my brother’s last night in bed, trying to recover.
At 8am we started the trek up the mountain. The path wasn’t too steep but did have tons of rocks and obstacles to maneuver. After about 2 hours of hiking, we stopped to take a quick water break and decided to eat some peanuts. Unfortunately for me, the break lasted a bit too long and when we got moving again, I felt funny. I was all of a sudden really dizzy and tired, and easily could have lied down to take a nap. I pushed forward, but stumbled a bit as we rounded the corner to the chain ladders.
After watching three others climb the two ladders up the side of the cliff (and taking a little snooze on the rocks), I pulled myself together enough to start my climb. Once I was up, I called down for my brother to join me and the two of us successfully made it to the top of the peak (which was really a plateau). You could see for miles and miles and the view was amazing. All around us there were mountains and hills and lakes. We decided to continue on, climbing up one last set of rocks to start the 30 min walk across the plateau to see Tugela Falls, the second tallest waterfall in the world. I slowly made my way across the flat rocky surface until we made it to the edge on the other side. The waterfall wasn’t spectacular, but we had made it and that was exciting. We sat and had lunch and the break seemed to help my body recover from the altitude, which was the only thing that I could think of that was causing me to feel sick.
We took in the view, had a mini photo shoot, and then decided that we needed to get on back down the mountain we just climbed. Of course, as soon as we got moving, it started to rain (you could call it the theme of our vacation). This wasn’t too big of a deal except we had to climb back down the very long chain ladders. The metal was slippery and the task was daunting, but I managed to make it down one and then the other. If I would have slipped, I would have died, it was that high up. My brother, who was the second one down, had trouble keeping his body from shaking and said it was one of the scariest things he had ever done. Once safely back on the lower mountain, we started our trek back down the mountain, going back and forth, back and forth across the side. I was exhausted and sore, but seeing as how my brother had a flight to catch the next day, I kept moving. The rain came and went, leaving us wet and with puddles that we had to dodge. When we finally made it back down, it was 2:45 and almost 7 hours had passed. I was tired but happy, and I think both of us were glad that we did the hike. We then started the long drive back to Bergville that would lead to the end of my brother’s time in South Africa. It was a fitting ending, seeing the whole country from the top of the mountain. I just wish I wouldn’t have gotten a horrible fever from the altitude and have to spend my brother’s last night in bed, trying to recover.
Thursday, December 11, 2008
A stolen camera and a turkey dinner…
It was Tuesday evening and I was packing for my week and a half thanksgiving/life skills training vacation when I realized that my camera, which I keep in a drawer by the side of my bed, was missing. Now I had not used my camera for about a month so at first I thought maybe I moved it somewhere else or let someone borrow it. I searched my room (which takes about 5 minutes to do, thanks to its size) and called some friends, and after nothing turned up, I realized that my 14 year old host brother had taken it. Why, might you ask, would I automatically assume it was him? Well…
First off, my host family told me he steals. They warned me a couple days after I moved in, which was great news to me, as you can imagine. Second, the kid likes to creep around my hut. My host family has caught him lingering around my home a couple times and I have seen him peeping in my windows, one time getting a full on naked view (poor kid!) Finally, the morning that my camera went missing, I noticed that when I came back from the outhouse someone had been in my room. It had rained the night before so there were footprints on my straw mat that were bigger than my flip flop size. I figured it was him and I quickly checked to see if anything was missing, but my money, phone and laptop were all sitting out and were all still there, so I thought I was safe. Thought I scared him off before he could do any damage. Guess I was wrong.
That night, once I realized what had happened, I ran next door to my family’s house in the pouring rain to tell my grandma what I thought happened. She told me he probably did take it, said sorry a few times and then asked me what I would do. Nothing. What could I do? He is 14 and clearly has issues so….
The next morning at 5 am my grandma woke me up to give me back my camera. She was standing there with my host brother and a neighbor (I still don’t know why he was there). I later found out (from my grandma) that my host brother had stolen money from his grandfather, disappeared for the weekend, came back with neighbors following him claiming their things were missing, ended up in the police station for the night, was beat by the police (best part of the story considering my host grandma doesn’t speak much English and this whole thing involved hand signals), and then returned to the house were he immediately stole from me. Glad to see he learned his lesson with that beating and all.
I am never having children- especially not a boy.
The next day, my life improved greatly as I headed off to meet the other 11 PCVs in KZN to celebrate thanksgiving. We all stayed at an Italian villa that someone’s supervisors own. It came complete with a pool, DSTV, enough bedrooms to house 15, and wonderful running water.
We spent thanksgiving swimming, cooking and drinking and I can say that a) thanksgiving is much better when it is with friends instead of family (no offense family) and b) after hardly eating meat (or good food) for about 10 months, I had a new love for turkey and stuffing, two things I normally hate. See, I am changing and growing. Thanks Peace Corps.
We then spent the next day chilling at the beach, eating leftovers and swimming in the Indian Ocean. For a girl from Michigan, such post-Thanksgiving day activities are unheard of. No snow- it is a miracle!!
First off, my host family told me he steals. They warned me a couple days after I moved in, which was great news to me, as you can imagine. Second, the kid likes to creep around my hut. My host family has caught him lingering around my home a couple times and I have seen him peeping in my windows, one time getting a full on naked view (poor kid!) Finally, the morning that my camera went missing, I noticed that when I came back from the outhouse someone had been in my room. It had rained the night before so there were footprints on my straw mat that were bigger than my flip flop size. I figured it was him and I quickly checked to see if anything was missing, but my money, phone and laptop were all sitting out and were all still there, so I thought I was safe. Thought I scared him off before he could do any damage. Guess I was wrong.
That night, once I realized what had happened, I ran next door to my family’s house in the pouring rain to tell my grandma what I thought happened. She told me he probably did take it, said sorry a few times and then asked me what I would do. Nothing. What could I do? He is 14 and clearly has issues so….
The next morning at 5 am my grandma woke me up to give me back my camera. She was standing there with my host brother and a neighbor (I still don’t know why he was there). I later found out (from my grandma) that my host brother had stolen money from his grandfather, disappeared for the weekend, came back with neighbors following him claiming their things were missing, ended up in the police station for the night, was beat by the police (best part of the story considering my host grandma doesn’t speak much English and this whole thing involved hand signals), and then returned to the house were he immediately stole from me. Glad to see he learned his lesson with that beating and all.
I am never having children- especially not a boy.
The next day, my life improved greatly as I headed off to meet the other 11 PCVs in KZN to celebrate thanksgiving. We all stayed at an Italian villa that someone’s supervisors own. It came complete with a pool, DSTV, enough bedrooms to house 15, and wonderful running water.
We spent thanksgiving swimming, cooking and drinking and I can say that a) thanksgiving is much better when it is with friends instead of family (no offense family) and b) after hardly eating meat (or good food) for about 10 months, I had a new love for turkey and stuffing, two things I normally hate. See, I am changing and growing. Thanks Peace Corps.
We then spent the next day chilling at the beach, eating leftovers and swimming in the Indian Ocean. For a girl from Michigan, such post-Thanksgiving day activities are unheard of. No snow- it is a miracle!!
Thursday, November 20, 2008
is it time for a change?
i want to start off by saying that yesterday was my brother's 22nd birthday. i cannot believe that is has been a full year since i helped my brother celebrate 21 in chicago. i don't think it was what he had in mind for his 21st, but we had fun and hit up some sites together and to be honest, it was the last time that we really spent time together before i left (not sure what went down over xmas). anyways, HAPPY BIRTHDAY LITTLE BROTHER!! it seems as though both of us are now at the point in our lives where our next 'big birthday' is 30. how scary is that.
moving on to things pertaining to my life, i got my dear little cat shobi shobi castrated yesterday. poor little guy is no longer a man. now the reason i am sharing this with the few people that read my blog is not because my cat is the only thing i have to talk about but because the process of me taking my cat to the vet both entertained and annoyed me greatly. as you may know, i cannot drive while i am here so i depend fully on public transportation aka the taxis. every morning i walk about ten minutes to get to the place where i catch a taxi in the morning. yesterday, shobi shobi accompanied me on the walk, stuffed nicely in his plastic lunch basket i bought as his carrier. as one would expect, he was angry at what i was doing to him, so he meowed and meowed from his little cage. when it was time to get on the taxi, he had a little fit in the basket and made everyone in the taxi stare at me with disgust (mind you he is inside a contained area and not really bothering anyone). i apologize and take a seat in the back, putting the basket on my lap. the entire 20 minute ride into town, people kept turning around and glaring at my cat. i was able to calm him down by petting him and he meowed maybe 5 times during the ride, but each time some person sitting in front of me turned and glared. now i know that most zulus don't like cats but lets not pretend like this is the first animal they have seen on a taxi. it is very common for chickens to be in boxes or bags, squawking and flapping in their containers, angry at the world. and i have even had friends who have had goats on their taxis, leading me to believe that animals are not off limits. what bothered me about this whole situation is that most people in my village know me, so the mistakes and strange things i do usually don't get the look of hate but instead that kind look of silly umlungu. but no, they were not forgiving at all about my cat and it pissed me off. if i had any other choice, i would not have taken a damn taxi!!
hours later, when i brought poor shobi shobi home, he was still drugged up and resembled a drunk person. he would wobble when he walked, fall over, then get up and wobble some more. then he peed on my bed and puked on the floor. don't know about you but all of those things have happened to me at one time or another while intoxicated...
moving on, the title of this blog comes from my current attempt at a site change. basically, i am fed up with my back/knee problems and want to be closer to a physical therapist. i also want running water so i can stop carrying water altogether, which is heavy even in smaller quantities. and to be honest, i have been at my current site for almost 8 months and i don't see myself fitting in here in any sort of role other than that of administrative assistant, which is not what i came here to do. most of the problem is me and not knowing really what i want to do. however, i feel as though too much time has passed now and i cannot break out of the role that i have been shoved in. most days i still spend doing nothing and it drives me nuts. basically, i have had enough...
i am looking into an organization in durban called the aids foundation. i have contacted them and plan to meet them sometime over the next couple of weeks. if they decide they want me (which they may not) i would move to durban and work under their director of research. the idea of all of this excites me so much that i really hope it works out. finally, i might have work that entertains me or at least makes me think. and i would be living in a city which is what i wanted all along. i also could see a physical therapist without having to take an hour taxi ride to the next city. wouldn't it be lovely!?!?!
lets hope it works out. for your sake and mine!
moving on to things pertaining to my life, i got my dear little cat shobi shobi castrated yesterday. poor little guy is no longer a man. now the reason i am sharing this with the few people that read my blog is not because my cat is the only thing i have to talk about but because the process of me taking my cat to the vet both entertained and annoyed me greatly. as you may know, i cannot drive while i am here so i depend fully on public transportation aka the taxis. every morning i walk about ten minutes to get to the place where i catch a taxi in the morning. yesterday, shobi shobi accompanied me on the walk, stuffed nicely in his plastic lunch basket i bought as his carrier. as one would expect, he was angry at what i was doing to him, so he meowed and meowed from his little cage. when it was time to get on the taxi, he had a little fit in the basket and made everyone in the taxi stare at me with disgust (mind you he is inside a contained area and not really bothering anyone). i apologize and take a seat in the back, putting the basket on my lap. the entire 20 minute ride into town, people kept turning around and glaring at my cat. i was able to calm him down by petting him and he meowed maybe 5 times during the ride, but each time some person sitting in front of me turned and glared. now i know that most zulus don't like cats but lets not pretend like this is the first animal they have seen on a taxi. it is very common for chickens to be in boxes or bags, squawking and flapping in their containers, angry at the world. and i have even had friends who have had goats on their taxis, leading me to believe that animals are not off limits. what bothered me about this whole situation is that most people in my village know me, so the mistakes and strange things i do usually don't get the look of hate but instead that kind look of silly umlungu. but no, they were not forgiving at all about my cat and it pissed me off. if i had any other choice, i would not have taken a damn taxi!!
hours later, when i brought poor shobi shobi home, he was still drugged up and resembled a drunk person. he would wobble when he walked, fall over, then get up and wobble some more. then he peed on my bed and puked on the floor. don't know about you but all of those things have happened to me at one time or another while intoxicated...
moving on, the title of this blog comes from my current attempt at a site change. basically, i am fed up with my back/knee problems and want to be closer to a physical therapist. i also want running water so i can stop carrying water altogether, which is heavy even in smaller quantities. and to be honest, i have been at my current site for almost 8 months and i don't see myself fitting in here in any sort of role other than that of administrative assistant, which is not what i came here to do. most of the problem is me and not knowing really what i want to do. however, i feel as though too much time has passed now and i cannot break out of the role that i have been shoved in. most days i still spend doing nothing and it drives me nuts. basically, i have had enough...
i am looking into an organization in durban called the aids foundation. i have contacted them and plan to meet them sometime over the next couple of weeks. if they decide they want me (which they may not) i would move to durban and work under their director of research. the idea of all of this excites me so much that i really hope it works out. finally, i might have work that entertains me or at least makes me think. and i would be living in a city which is what i wanted all along. i also could see a physical therapist without having to take an hour taxi ride to the next city. wouldn't it be lovely!?!?!
lets hope it works out. for your sake and mine!
Tuesday, November 4, 2008
the view from outside the US...
i realized today how interesting it is to be outside the US on an election day. the news this morning was all about the election (understandably) but what fascinated me most was not the random interviews with americans living in south africa but was instead the news clips on election activity occuring in other african countries. there were parties and celebrations in kenya (again, not surprising) but they also discussed musicals/plays that have been made about barack obamas life. and in nigeria, they showed cars driving around with barack obama bumper stickers, exactly the same as the ones in america. i suppose an election like this is a rare occurance. not all presidential nominees are half black. not all have relatives that live in africa. but to see the excitement of africans for our potential future president makes me smile and proves to me just how global this world is... even on this continent that so many people see as dark and underdeveloped. it is not often that a majority of the world gets excited about an election.
i would go on to other, more personal topics now but i find that nothing exciting is going on in my life these days. i am still alive however, and i suppose that is the most important part.
i also have a new tattoo. that makes five.
i would go on to other, more personal topics now but i find that nothing exciting is going on in my life these days. i am still alive however, and i suppose that is the most important part.
i also have a new tattoo. that makes five.
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