When I started Peace Corps two years ago, I never thought I would face two infestations during my short time in South Africa. I should have known better. I had to move yet again at the end of November thanks to good old flying ants. It went something like this…
One happy sunny Saturday I was busy packing up some things to take with me to a training in Joburg that my organization was letting me attend. The day seemed normal for summer- hot, sunny, and dry. As I was just about to leave, I glanced toward my door to see the chickens swarming. I couldn’t figure out what they were doing, so I moved to the door only to see flying bugs everywhere. I panicked and closed the door, unclear as to what was happening. I quickly opened it and went out to see where the things were coming from, only to be terrified to see them hatching out of the walls of my hut. In every crack of the homemade poop plaster, there were flying bugs hatching and flying out. Each crack was also filled with larvae. The chickens were simply trying to eat the flying creatures as they pooped out of my wall. Disgusted and covered with goose bumps, I got my can of Doom bug killer and sprayed each crack until I was sure the things were dead. Then I grabbed my shit and left, telling my host sister my wall was pooping bugs and asking her to tell my host family so they could fill the cracks. It wasn’t until I was on my way that I realized that there were probably cracks on the inside of my hut as well, and if they were hatching on the outside from the cracks, they would probably do the same thing on the inside. At this point I was assuming they were termites.
Forward a week later, Friday night around 8pm. I had just gotten back from the training and my supervisor was driving me back to my village. As we entered the village, I noticed that there were a ton of bugs flying around, and the further in we drove, the worse it got, with the windshield wipers needing to be turned on to push them out of the way. My supervisor told me they were flying ants and that it happens every couple of years. Great! My fears of my hut being infested were creeping back up and as we pulled into my yard, I told my supervisor that she wasn’t allowed to leave until I checked (although I was still hoping that I was being paranoid). My light is on the other side of my hut from the door, so I opened up and walked in, crossing the room to turn on the light. Once on, I looked down and to my horror, my floor was covered in dead flying ants that I had just walked across. Thousands of dead flying ants. Guess I was right about those indoor cracks. So like the brave girl that I am, I ran screaming and crying from my room out into the bug infested night. I told my supervisor, she checked out, we told my host family, they apologized and started sweeping them up, and then I left, choosing to stay the night with my supervisor instead. I knew at that moment that I wasn’t going back there, especially since my fear of bugs has grown exponentially since I have had these infestations.
I called some exterminators to see if there was anything I could do, but they were in the dirt foundation and there aren’t many cheap options for taking care of this problem. Two weeks later, I was living at the community center in Emmaus, yet another village in yet another room.
Now the community center is pretty nice, has a shower/toilet block, so no more bucket bathing, and the woman who lives there is remarkable and speaks English well. The room I was put in was twice the size of my last room and had a ceiling and tiled floor, so the chance of another infestation was reduced simply because it is built properly. It used to be the old kitchen for the center, so before they moved me in, they decided to paint the room to make it new and fresh. What they didn’t tell me was that they decided to use the cheapest, most toxic oil based paint they could find. The first week after I moved in I figured the smell was just because it had been painted two weeks before, but after a month and then a month and a half of horrible toxic fumes, I was starting to wonder if the paint was normal. My breathing started to suffer, I had to sleep with a cloth covering my mouth, and I eventually bought an inhaler to help me breathe better.
Not one to sit by and take living in shit, I researched home remedies. I tried putting buckets of water around the room to absorb the smell, I chopped up plates of onions, I put out white vinegar in bowls, and I put cups of vanilla extract all around the room. Nothing helped!! If the windows were shut, it was like a death box of fumes and it was awful.
I decided, against my better judgment, to sleep with two windows open at night, even though I didn’t have bars. The smell was just that bad. One of the windows I kept open was by the head of my bed so that I could have fresh air while sleeping and hopefully not die in the night. I see now that this is where I went wrong. One night, roughly about 11pm, I was sound asleep and dreaming when something woke me up. I looked out the window and didn’t see anything, so I thought I was being paranoid again and tried to go back to sleep. About 20 minutes later I heard something again and as I lifted my head to look out the window, I came face to face with some guy, standing in the dark right outside my window. Great. Just great. Again, acting as all brave young women act, I screamed at the top of my lungs for as long as one breath allows and the dick ran off. I then went to get the others who live at the center to help me.
The next morning we discovered that someone had cut a hole in the fence surrounding the property and that is how they got into the yard and to my open window. They probably thought the room was empty, seeing as how the others were watching TV in the common room when everything happened. I guess it was good that I woke up and prevented the dick from stealing my things, but the scare it gave me lasted weeks and to this day I sometimes wake up to a noise at night with plans to scream.
All in all, it was a rocky first month at my new home, but now, a month (and vacation) later, I can say that I am settling in well. They put bars on the windows that open (although I don’t sleep with my windows open anymore) and the paint smell is better, although it is still there. I’m pretty sure I heard some gun shots a couple weekends back, but as long as they aren’t shooting in my yard, I’m not too concerned about it. And so far, nobody else has tried to break in, so that is a bonus!! The showers make up for the lack of feeling secure, except for when we run out of water and then have to wheelbarrow to the neighbors to fetch buckets again, old school style. I tell you what, I can’t wait to have constant running water again. That is what is bringing me home in July!!
Monday, January 25, 2010
Thursday, July 9, 2009
no, i have not become a lesbian.
i would like to rant to you all about some recent comments that people have made to me about my 'singleness,' both by americans and zulus. i will start with the african viewpoint, seeing as how it annoyes me less.
since i have arrived here in kwazulu natal, every young woman (and every young man, for that matter) that has met me asks me if i have a boyfriend. now from the guys it makes sense, seeing as how most of them want to date/marry/have sex with an umlungu (white person), and constant harassment from them is normal. from the women, however, it is simply a question to find out more about me. the funny thing is, i have never met a woman here who is single (at least not someone in her twenties, like me). so when i answer 'no, i don't have a boyfriend,' i am bombarded with a variety of questions, all basically wondering why. it seems as though being single here is unacceptable. me trying to explain that i haven't met anyone here that i click with, that most men in my village speak very limited english, or that the 40% HIV infection rate is a bit concerning seem to do nothing to wipe away the amazement that these young woman have towards my singleness. in the beginning, i just laughed it off and accepted it as part of the culture, but now that i have been here for a year and a half, it is starting to annoy me, not to mention the fact that it is giving people the wrong idea about me. some zulus that i am better friends with think that maybe, just maybe, i am into women (which i am not). others think it is simply that no man would want to date such a strong willed, outspoken woman. while driving around a village yesterday with my coworker, i asked her if she would come to my wedding in the us if i ever got married. her response said it all. she told me that she would DEFINITELY be there, even if she had to spend all of the money in her bank account to get there, just so that she could meet the man that would marry me. she would shake his hand and say 'good luck' and tell him that 'i had a good heart,' as if that was going to make up for my faults. she just couldn't imagine the type of man who would settle down with me. and this came from one of my best friends here. i know her opinion is shared by many women at my office, and it is the direct result of me being single this whole time. no matter how many times i tell them all that i would LOVE to meet a man here that i click with, their opinion remains the same.
now i probably could handle all of this if it weren't for recent comments made by american friends (and family) both here and back home. here, i am a white girl from a country far away who does strange things anyways. opinions will always be a little skewed. but when the response from friends and family to my 'no, still single, no guys i'm interested in' is 'well have you met any girls your into?' i start to get annoyed. i am not sure when being single for a long period of time meant that you had changed teams. and to top it off, i found out that some of the other pcvs here thought i was gay with one of my friends, just because we spent a lot of time together. does anyone take the time to think about what it is like for volunteers here? that having a friend you hang out with all the time is probably your way of staying sane? that not dating anyone probably has more to do with not being able to communicate or find someone who has ANY of the same interests as me within my VILLAGE? or maybe that my reasons for not jumping into the sack with some random guy could be because of my concern for AIDS and the fact that half of my coworkers are infected? just some thoughts...
anyways, stop asking me the same questions. i am still single and still straight, and if magically either of those two things change, i will let all of you know.
other than that, life here is same same. still working in the agriculture department. still can't stand my supervisor. still live in a village and bathe in a bucket. and i am still happier than i ever was in the usa.
see some of you next month on your side of the world. and hi julie ;-)
since i have arrived here in kwazulu natal, every young woman (and every young man, for that matter) that has met me asks me if i have a boyfriend. now from the guys it makes sense, seeing as how most of them want to date/marry/have sex with an umlungu (white person), and constant harassment from them is normal. from the women, however, it is simply a question to find out more about me. the funny thing is, i have never met a woman here who is single (at least not someone in her twenties, like me). so when i answer 'no, i don't have a boyfriend,' i am bombarded with a variety of questions, all basically wondering why. it seems as though being single here is unacceptable. me trying to explain that i haven't met anyone here that i click with, that most men in my village speak very limited english, or that the 40% HIV infection rate is a bit concerning seem to do nothing to wipe away the amazement that these young woman have towards my singleness. in the beginning, i just laughed it off and accepted it as part of the culture, but now that i have been here for a year and a half, it is starting to annoy me, not to mention the fact that it is giving people the wrong idea about me. some zulus that i am better friends with think that maybe, just maybe, i am into women (which i am not). others think it is simply that no man would want to date such a strong willed, outspoken woman. while driving around a village yesterday with my coworker, i asked her if she would come to my wedding in the us if i ever got married. her response said it all. she told me that she would DEFINITELY be there, even if she had to spend all of the money in her bank account to get there, just so that she could meet the man that would marry me. she would shake his hand and say 'good luck' and tell him that 'i had a good heart,' as if that was going to make up for my faults. she just couldn't imagine the type of man who would settle down with me. and this came from one of my best friends here. i know her opinion is shared by many women at my office, and it is the direct result of me being single this whole time. no matter how many times i tell them all that i would LOVE to meet a man here that i click with, their opinion remains the same.
now i probably could handle all of this if it weren't for recent comments made by american friends (and family) both here and back home. here, i am a white girl from a country far away who does strange things anyways. opinions will always be a little skewed. but when the response from friends and family to my 'no, still single, no guys i'm interested in' is 'well have you met any girls your into?' i start to get annoyed. i am not sure when being single for a long period of time meant that you had changed teams. and to top it off, i found out that some of the other pcvs here thought i was gay with one of my friends, just because we spent a lot of time together. does anyone take the time to think about what it is like for volunteers here? that having a friend you hang out with all the time is probably your way of staying sane? that not dating anyone probably has more to do with not being able to communicate or find someone who has ANY of the same interests as me within my VILLAGE? or maybe that my reasons for not jumping into the sack with some random guy could be because of my concern for AIDS and the fact that half of my coworkers are infected? just some thoughts...
anyways, stop asking me the same questions. i am still single and still straight, and if magically either of those two things change, i will let all of you know.
other than that, life here is same same. still working in the agriculture department. still can't stand my supervisor. still live in a village and bathe in a bucket. and i am still happier than i ever was in the usa.
see some of you next month on your side of the world. and hi julie ;-)
Friday, May 15, 2009
killing time in the peace corps
it has pretty much been forever since i updated you all on my life. let me make a list of things that i have done/have happened to elaborate on.
1. freshly ground concert in durban
2. world cup tickets
3. threw my back out for the 3 time
4. turned 24
5. mamello had her baby at the office
ok well that is all i can think of, so lets begin...
some time back (it has been too long now for me to remember) i attended a freshly ground concert at the durban botanical gardens. freshly ground is a south african band that plays afropop music and i love them. i first fell in love with them when i was in cape town in 2006 and this is the second time i have seen them in concert since i have been back down here. the concert was amazing and i proudly stood in the front row with 12 year olds, singing and dancing along. the concert was in the afternoon in the gardens, and everyone brought picnic lunches and wine. it was a good moment in my sa life. one day, i will post the sweet pictures i took... one day.
next- i found out a few weeks back that i got tickets to the 2010 world cup. i currently have tickets to 4 games: two with american/norwegian friends and 2 that i will be attending on my own. all of the games are in johannesburg because i have a coworker who lives there and will let me crash at her place for free. two of the games are in soweto, which for any of you that know anything about sa means something. even though it is still pretty far away, i am excited and mystified. this is like the time i went to the world series right before i left america. i am sure it will be an experience that i will never forget- a once in a lifetime thing. and i don't even like soccer that much! i will also be attending the confederations cup this june, where i have tickets to see brazil v usa and brazil v italy, both in pretoria. i am pretty excited about that as well.
in exciting health news, the disc in my back slipped out again and i spent a week in bed, hardly able to walk. i woke up one monday morning feeling fine, and then all of a sudden, my back was in horrible pain. i instantly laid down on my bed and called a coworker crying. she came out and we tried to get me out of bed, but it was impossible. the pain was so bad that i could not sit up and push myself out of bed. even after lots of pain meds, i was stuck. i had to pee in a bucket lying down cause i couldn't move. finally, a physio drove out to see me and after a bit of me protesting, they were able to yank me from my bed, screaming the whole way. once on my feet, they had to hold me up because my legs were shaking so badly. i was instantly covered in sweat and felt like i was going to be sick. they helped walk me to the car, and the world around me went gray. once in town, i had the doctor come out to the car and give me some shots in the back. i also picked up some different types of pain meds. then my coworker (and great friend) let me stay at her place in town, with running water and normalcy. it was the worst pain i had ever felt in my life, and the feeling that i couldn't walk or sit was horrible. staying in bed for a whole week was horrible too. but since then i have gotten a new mattress and a board for my bed, and that has helped with the healing process. unfortunately, i am at risk of having this happen for the rest of my life. yay!
a couple weeks back, i turned 24. i can honestly say it was one of the worst birthdays of my life. we had a peace corps training all day, which was, as usual, pretty boring. i was away from my site and most of my good friends, and i couldn't celebrate with anyone because there was nobody for me to celebrate with and no where for me to do it. i ate dinner, had to get some hep a shots, then went to bed early. my dad even forgot to call, and i had to remind him of what day it was. overall, it was miserable and i can honestly say i hope i never have a repeat birthday like that one. and now i am 24, which isn't old but isn't young young and there are lots of things that i haven't done that i feel like i should have by this point in my life... like say, fall in love with someone, even if it doesn't work out. but seeing as how my life is on hold until peace corps ends, i pretty much will just keep on keeping on as i have been.
finally, and perhaps the most exciting news of this long rant of a post, my coworker and very good friend mamello gave birth a few weeks back to her second son in her car at the office. now of course i miss it cause i am always late to the office, but other coworkers were there to help her deliver in her backseat. the doctor was out of the office and while contemplating the next move, the baby decided he had had enough. he was born healthy and happy, although he had 6 fingers on each hand (they tied the sixth one so it died and fell off). his name is cebo or bheki jr and he is adorable. i got to see him and hold him when he was one day old, and seeing as how that is the first baby i have ever held ever, it was pretty special. and in addition to her giving birth, she also left me in charge of the agriculture department at the office while she is on maternity leave. so now i am acting manager and trying to keep things afloat while she is on vaca for 3 months. it has been interesting so far...
well friends, that is about the extent of the excitement in my life. basically, i work and work and work and sometimes do fun things on the weekends. in august i am going home for a bit, so that is the next big thing i have to look forward to. that, and i only have 10 months left of service. looks like i just might be able to do this whole peace corps thing after all.
1. freshly ground concert in durban
2. world cup tickets
3. threw my back out for the 3 time
4. turned 24
5. mamello had her baby at the office
ok well that is all i can think of, so lets begin...
some time back (it has been too long now for me to remember) i attended a freshly ground concert at the durban botanical gardens. freshly ground is a south african band that plays afropop music and i love them. i first fell in love with them when i was in cape town in 2006 and this is the second time i have seen them in concert since i have been back down here. the concert was amazing and i proudly stood in the front row with 12 year olds, singing and dancing along. the concert was in the afternoon in the gardens, and everyone brought picnic lunches and wine. it was a good moment in my sa life. one day, i will post the sweet pictures i took... one day.
next- i found out a few weeks back that i got tickets to the 2010 world cup. i currently have tickets to 4 games: two with american/norwegian friends and 2 that i will be attending on my own. all of the games are in johannesburg because i have a coworker who lives there and will let me crash at her place for free. two of the games are in soweto, which for any of you that know anything about sa means something. even though it is still pretty far away, i am excited and mystified. this is like the time i went to the world series right before i left america. i am sure it will be an experience that i will never forget- a once in a lifetime thing. and i don't even like soccer that much! i will also be attending the confederations cup this june, where i have tickets to see brazil v usa and brazil v italy, both in pretoria. i am pretty excited about that as well.
in exciting health news, the disc in my back slipped out again and i spent a week in bed, hardly able to walk. i woke up one monday morning feeling fine, and then all of a sudden, my back was in horrible pain. i instantly laid down on my bed and called a coworker crying. she came out and we tried to get me out of bed, but it was impossible. the pain was so bad that i could not sit up and push myself out of bed. even after lots of pain meds, i was stuck. i had to pee in a bucket lying down cause i couldn't move. finally, a physio drove out to see me and after a bit of me protesting, they were able to yank me from my bed, screaming the whole way. once on my feet, they had to hold me up because my legs were shaking so badly. i was instantly covered in sweat and felt like i was going to be sick. they helped walk me to the car, and the world around me went gray. once in town, i had the doctor come out to the car and give me some shots in the back. i also picked up some different types of pain meds. then my coworker (and great friend) let me stay at her place in town, with running water and normalcy. it was the worst pain i had ever felt in my life, and the feeling that i couldn't walk or sit was horrible. staying in bed for a whole week was horrible too. but since then i have gotten a new mattress and a board for my bed, and that has helped with the healing process. unfortunately, i am at risk of having this happen for the rest of my life. yay!
a couple weeks back, i turned 24. i can honestly say it was one of the worst birthdays of my life. we had a peace corps training all day, which was, as usual, pretty boring. i was away from my site and most of my good friends, and i couldn't celebrate with anyone because there was nobody for me to celebrate with and no where for me to do it. i ate dinner, had to get some hep a shots, then went to bed early. my dad even forgot to call, and i had to remind him of what day it was. overall, it was miserable and i can honestly say i hope i never have a repeat birthday like that one. and now i am 24, which isn't old but isn't young young and there are lots of things that i haven't done that i feel like i should have by this point in my life... like say, fall in love with someone, even if it doesn't work out. but seeing as how my life is on hold until peace corps ends, i pretty much will just keep on keeping on as i have been.
finally, and perhaps the most exciting news of this long rant of a post, my coworker and very good friend mamello gave birth a few weeks back to her second son in her car at the office. now of course i miss it cause i am always late to the office, but other coworkers were there to help her deliver in her backseat. the doctor was out of the office and while contemplating the next move, the baby decided he had had enough. he was born healthy and happy, although he had 6 fingers on each hand (they tied the sixth one so it died and fell off). his name is cebo or bheki jr and he is adorable. i got to see him and hold him when he was one day old, and seeing as how that is the first baby i have ever held ever, it was pretty special. and in addition to her giving birth, she also left me in charge of the agriculture department at the office while she is on maternity leave. so now i am acting manager and trying to keep things afloat while she is on vaca for 3 months. it has been interesting so far...
well friends, that is about the extent of the excitement in my life. basically, i work and work and work and sometimes do fun things on the weekends. in august i am going home for a bit, so that is the next big thing i have to look forward to. that, and i only have 10 months left of service. looks like i just might be able to do this whole peace corps thing after all.
Wednesday, March 18, 2009
when fetching water can be dangerous...
lets just say when it rains in rookdale (my village), it pours.
yesterday afternoon, on my way home from work, it started to rain. luckily, the taxi drops me off at my gate, so i don't have such a long distance to travel to get safely inside my hut. i hopped off the taxi, popped open my umbrella (which broke into two pieces in my hands) then quickly scurried through the gate. i had my bag around my shoulder and my clean, ironed clothes that i had just picked up from the cleaner in a plastic bag in my hand. the first bit of my yard is dirt, so when it rains it turns into a mudslide. this makes maneuvering it quite difficult, but i was managing just fine, that is until the bottom of the plastic bag with the clean clothes ripped open and all of my clothes fell into the mud. now of course they couldn't fall in clump, sparing some from disaster but instead had to fall out evenly distributing themselves into the mud. AWESOME! i screamed out and hurried to get them off the ground, all while my younger host brother and 3 of his friends watched me from the safety of the house. i am annoyed, but i carry on across the yard, as the rain is still pounding down on my head.
once inside my hut, i quickly began trying to get the mud out of the clothes with the smallest amounts on them. i took a cloth and a container of water and began scrubbing. i managed to get about 5 items clean-ish and hung them up on the clothes line in my room. a few other articles of the whiter variety were too dirty to be saved with a mere cloth, so i through them into my big bucket and dumped the rest of my water bucket on top. sadly, it wasn't enough water, so i braved the rain and went to my tap to fill my bucket up again. i made it all the way back across the yard, right to my front door step when i biffed. i mean i really biffed- mother of all biffs biffed, and my body slammed down onto the tiny cement step, scraping up my arm and leg and covering my body in mud. now lets think about what happens when a person biffs with a 5L bucket of water in their hands...
i picked myself up, swearing and tearing up from the pain, and began the process of cleaning up 5L of water from my hut floor. that's right folks, the water bucket emptied onto the floor of my tiny room. luckily, my floor is dodgy and slanted and all the water rushed to one corner- the no mans land corner. this is the corner where i keep my cleaning supplies and such, where there is an ant hill and lots of bugs. i don't mess around back there, so over the months, it has accumulated a lot of dirt and dead bug bodies. i started mopping up the water, but i seemed to be getting nowhere, so i took the only two big momma shower towels i have and used them to soak up a tiny bit of water. then i moved all the shelves and buckets and started mopping up the rest. when i finally finished 30 mins later, my mop was dirty and covered with dead bug bodies that wouldn't come out. it took me another ten mins to clean the mop. then i headed back again to mop up the rest of the dirt and grime that had worked its way all over my floor.
with the floor finished, i went back outside to get my water bucket and realized that in the fall, the bucket received a fatal injury in the form of a giant hole in the bottom. angry, i dug out the one bucket i had left, which was also filled with dirt and bugs, and started cleaning that out, along with my mop and mopping bucket. the whole time it was still raining outside and i was still covered in mud, head to toe. once the cleaning of buckets was complete, i started the process of cleaning my door mat and gogo rug that i had on the floor when the water attacked. i had to hang them on the clothes line and dump buckets of water over them to clean the dirt off. then i started the process of cleaning the clothes that were covered in mud. now the things i take to the cleaner are the things that i find hard to wash by hand: big towels, jeans, sweatshirts, etc. lets just say i wasn't very happy trying to get the grim out of my bulky items.
when everything was said and done, i was soaking wet, the sort of clean clothes were on the clothes line (in the rain) and my floor was slowly drying. it was about 7:30pm and dark. Only 2+ hours of good cleaning to end a day! i sat down on my bed to watch an episode of scrubs on my computer when all of a sudden the screen went black. man, i have all the luck...
yesterday afternoon, on my way home from work, it started to rain. luckily, the taxi drops me off at my gate, so i don't have such a long distance to travel to get safely inside my hut. i hopped off the taxi, popped open my umbrella (which broke into two pieces in my hands) then quickly scurried through the gate. i had my bag around my shoulder and my clean, ironed clothes that i had just picked up from the cleaner in a plastic bag in my hand. the first bit of my yard is dirt, so when it rains it turns into a mudslide. this makes maneuvering it quite difficult, but i was managing just fine, that is until the bottom of the plastic bag with the clean clothes ripped open and all of my clothes fell into the mud. now of course they couldn't fall in clump, sparing some from disaster but instead had to fall out evenly distributing themselves into the mud. AWESOME! i screamed out and hurried to get them off the ground, all while my younger host brother and 3 of his friends watched me from the safety of the house. i am annoyed, but i carry on across the yard, as the rain is still pounding down on my head.
once inside my hut, i quickly began trying to get the mud out of the clothes with the smallest amounts on them. i took a cloth and a container of water and began scrubbing. i managed to get about 5 items clean-ish and hung them up on the clothes line in my room. a few other articles of the whiter variety were too dirty to be saved with a mere cloth, so i through them into my big bucket and dumped the rest of my water bucket on top. sadly, it wasn't enough water, so i braved the rain and went to my tap to fill my bucket up again. i made it all the way back across the yard, right to my front door step when i biffed. i mean i really biffed- mother of all biffs biffed, and my body slammed down onto the tiny cement step, scraping up my arm and leg and covering my body in mud. now lets think about what happens when a person biffs with a 5L bucket of water in their hands...
i picked myself up, swearing and tearing up from the pain, and began the process of cleaning up 5L of water from my hut floor. that's right folks, the water bucket emptied onto the floor of my tiny room. luckily, my floor is dodgy and slanted and all the water rushed to one corner- the no mans land corner. this is the corner where i keep my cleaning supplies and such, where there is an ant hill and lots of bugs. i don't mess around back there, so over the months, it has accumulated a lot of dirt and dead bug bodies. i started mopping up the water, but i seemed to be getting nowhere, so i took the only two big momma shower towels i have and used them to soak up a tiny bit of water. then i moved all the shelves and buckets and started mopping up the rest. when i finally finished 30 mins later, my mop was dirty and covered with dead bug bodies that wouldn't come out. it took me another ten mins to clean the mop. then i headed back again to mop up the rest of the dirt and grime that had worked its way all over my floor.
with the floor finished, i went back outside to get my water bucket and realized that in the fall, the bucket received a fatal injury in the form of a giant hole in the bottom. angry, i dug out the one bucket i had left, which was also filled with dirt and bugs, and started cleaning that out, along with my mop and mopping bucket. the whole time it was still raining outside and i was still covered in mud, head to toe. once the cleaning of buckets was complete, i started the process of cleaning my door mat and gogo rug that i had on the floor when the water attacked. i had to hang them on the clothes line and dump buckets of water over them to clean the dirt off. then i started the process of cleaning the clothes that were covered in mud. now the things i take to the cleaner are the things that i find hard to wash by hand: big towels, jeans, sweatshirts, etc. lets just say i wasn't very happy trying to get the grim out of my bulky items.
when everything was said and done, i was soaking wet, the sort of clean clothes were on the clothes line (in the rain) and my floor was slowly drying. it was about 7:30pm and dark. Only 2+ hours of good cleaning to end a day! i sat down on my bed to watch an episode of scrubs on my computer when all of a sudden the screen went black. man, i have all the luck...
Monday, March 2, 2009
how congolese get the 'sicky sicky': a story of sex with animals
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...
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...
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.
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