Mzoli’s vs. Argue, Round 2

Today marked a series of completely unimportant victories in my life. First, I now have a 12 game winning streak in Free Cell. My overall stats are still lame, since I get bored and close the game, thus resigning it. There is no real attempt to have a streak, but I definitely think it’s the longest that I’ve ever had. Secondly, we played two games of Settlers of Catan tonight and I won both. This does give cause to a little bit of excitement in my heart, because Ryan and Sanford never play anything short of fully competitive, so I know that it will never happen again, but also because Ryan likes to pull these come-from-behind sneak attacks and just as I think that I’m about to win, BOOM! Ryan slaughters me. But the third and real victory today was mastering Mzoli’s.

For those of you who have been following my blog this summer, you may remember early in our stay here, we went out to Mzoli’s and were served a large plate of meat with some gummy white bread. Well—today was round two. Sanford has wanted to go back to Mzoli’s, but honestly, I was a little less than excited. However, my urge to “participate” far outweighs most reservations that I have about a situation, and so heading to Mzoli’s today, I was prepared. I made broccoli salad and Seychelle made potato salad. We brought paper plates, paper towels, spoons and forks, and plenty of water. Yes, I won round two of Mzoli’s. I was far more comfortable both in the environment and with what I was eating. A lovely outing on a warm, sunny day.

Always,

Sarah

P.S. I should also mention that Mzoli’s is actually a butcher shop, not a restaurant, and it ‘just happens’ to have chairs outside for customers to enjoy the meat that they’ve purchased. I don’t think Mzoli’s would pass the health inspectors even in Arkansas!

Kirstenbosch National Gardens

After our intense Friday afternoon hike, we decided to take Saturday easy. With that thought in mind, we woke up late, had a nice brunch at Obz Café watching the Springboks pull off a tight victory over the New Zealand All Blacks, and headed to the Kirstenbosch National Gardens to enjoy an afternoon in the sun. Kirstenbosch has existed as long as Cape Town has and originally served as a protective barrier for the colony. Later, under apartheid, the land blocked the view of the townships from the city. It now is a beautiful garden designed exclusively with fauna from South Africa. The garden was a beautiful setting for a beautiful day.

Always,

Sarah

New Button!

Hello All!

A new button has appeared on my blog (see to the right). With this button I invite all who can to make a small contribution to the efforts at SAEP. The goal: $1000 in the next month.

For the last two months, you have been reading of my adventures here in South Africa. I admit, many of these adventures have not been SAEP related, but I assure you that in between these weekend jaunts, much work has been happening in the creches. I have now interviewed over half of our principals, I have a working format for the final evaluation that I will submit, and more importantly, I have witnessed with my own eyes the difference that SAEP has made in the townships.

If 10 people give $100, we can reach our goal. If 25 people give $40, we can reach our goal. If 50 people give $20, we can reach our goal. And if 100 people give $10, we can reach our goal. Any small amount will make a huge difference, so should you feel able, please make a small contribution to this very worthwhile organization.

Always,

Sarah

P.S. Three new posts coming in the next 24 hours -- it was a VERY busy week!

My Inner Troll

Some people have an inner billy goat. They hope around with sure footing, never really scared of falling off of anything. Others of us, however, have an inner troll. These trolls are low-lying creatures that prefer to be close to sea level (preferably at a beach with a margarita!) Thus my inner troll was challenged as we climbed Lion’s Head Friday afternoon.

There are two philosophies at the core of this tale. One, I do not see the point in rushing through nature. Seriously, what is the point of being outdoors, if you don’t take the time to enjoy them?! And two, have I ever mentioned how much I *don’t* like heights?! As a kid, I would force myself to climb to the top of the bleachers at my dad’s baseball games to try to get over it. I did eventually learn coping strategies and a certain minimal tolerance, but I don’t do things that involve the potential of falling to my death. Period. Bunging jumping, no interest. Sky diving, I’d like to see someone try to get me to do that. Rock climbing, I don’t care how buff it makes you, NO.

The “hike” that was presented to me as Lion’s Head was supposed to be a “light” “45 minutes.” BALONEY! I interpreted this information prepared for a slightly more strenuous Pinnacle. HA! I had to climb a chain. I walked on ledges that dropped off in sheer cliffs inches from where I was stepping. I scrambled up rocks holding on for dear life. Now, to put my poor parents’ minds at ease, the likelihood that I was ever actually in real danger was pretty low, but I was totally freaked out and the only way to go was up. So I did. And I made it. Upon reaching the top, however, I sat myself down and didn’t go anywhere near the edge—an edge that was probably ok, but following the climbing was *not* going to be in the picture!

The views were incredible through the whole climb and we even got to see a double rainbow. The sunset was incredible as well, simply amazing. Had fear not taken my breath away, the sights certainly would have. I’m glad I did it, but it will be a long minute before my feet go up another mountain!

Always,

Sarah

Noncedo Educare Center

The history of the Early Childhood Development side of SAEP is only 1/3 as long as the rest of the program. Its conception is a rather beautiful tale of relationships and connections, as well as responding to a need. In 2003, a young man who was enrolled in the SAEP high school tutoring program turned to Norton and Jane for help with his mother’s crèche. The crèche had been open for many years, but was still housed in a leaky shack, was receiving no state subsidy, and the principal and her husband more often than not were purchasing food for the children out of their own pockets. At that time, the fees were R30 per month (about $4) and, in spite of the relatively low cost, many parents frequently couldn’t pay them.

The difference that SAEP has made for this crèche in just five years is remarkable. Very soon after beginning their journey together, SAEP was able to obtain two containers (large metal shipping containers) for Noncedo. Within the year, a new building was constructed. Now, this once small shack is a sprawling educare center with a permanent structure divided into two rooms, and the two containers serving as additional classrooms. Noncedo hasn’t completed its journey, but its progress is significant and remarkable.

On Wednesday, I had the pleasure of interviewing Mama Bolesi and hearing her story first hand. Again, the most noteworthy element of this interview was not the physical improvements to the crèche, but the sense of pride and self-confidence that Mama Bolesi had in her crèche. Part of my interview is about the relationship between SAEP and the individual crèches. I set up this part of the interview by describing SAEP and the crèches as friends—most of the time, things go smoothly with your friends, that’s why they are friends, but sometime there are challenges and difficulties in a relationship. I ask the principals to think carefully about both aspects of their relationship with SAEP and offer constructive feedback. Mama Bolesi absolutely refused to say anything the least bit critical of SAEP. She said that SAEP was more of a sister and that she loved her sister. I replied that even siblings could be frustrating or annoying sometimes, but it was no use, she wouldn’t say anything that wasn’t glowing. C’est la vie!

Prior to Mama Bolesi’s arrival at the crèche, I got to play with the little bitties (one to two year-olds). Two in particular were very affectionate and I got my first kiss from a child, her name is Angel. Oh how we played! See, everybody needs little ones to play with!

I should also add that there is a new (two-week) addition to the SAEP family. Her name is Nina, and I’m quite impressed. Nina works at NYU in fundraising and she is sharing her expertise with SAEP. She spent the morning with me observing and collecting data. I’ve had a very nice time getting to know her and thinking about extended fundraising efforts for SAEP. [See my New Button! post—she is directly responsible and for that matter, you can see her blog as well under Additional Blogs!]

Another lovely day at work for SAEP! I will also add that I was in a far better mood after my brilliant layering decisions in the morning. I wore (and have subsequently worn each day since) my pajama pants under my pants, a long sleeve t-shirt, a short sleeve t-shirt, a sweatshirt, and my Springbok zip-up sweatshirt. Four layers on top and an addition flannel layer on bottom have finally kept me comfortable in spite of the weather. Hooray!

Always,

Sarah

Green Village is the Place to Be

Mondays are always hard. It’s hard to wake up; it’s hard to get back in the swing of work; and it’s hard to pick up where Friday ended. Especially when it’s wicked cold. This Monday was no different. South Africa has officially gotten cold, and although the actual temperatures are no worse than Arkansas, our buildings have heating, these (our houses and offices) do not. The only heating that I have is from my body and the one less-than-sufficient blanket that I own. (I really do wish now that I had gone ahead and purchased the bigger blanket, at least then I could double it up!)

This weekend was FANTASTIC. We kicked it off with a Fourth of July celebration, which began with ribs with the SAEP crew. Ribs apparently are a Johnson family tradition. My family traditions involve the beach, hamburgers, and fireworks, but ribs will do. An exceptionally fun addition to this Fourth of July celebration were Celeste and Michael, Jane’s niece and nephew. In honor of their new American friends (go Team America!), they decided to endorse all things American for the day. Michael, all of his ten years, ordered a full rack of ribs, which he did quite well in putting down, drank enough Coke for a small army, and mastered many of Sanford’s quintessentially (Southern) American phrases. We also sang every patriotic song we could think of, including the national anthem with harmony. Considering how much I was missing my family All Day Long, it was an amazing Fourth.

Saturday was a pretty quiet day, the highlight seeing the new Dreamworks film, Kung Fu Panda. Quite Good. Skidush is the new word of the house… from Sanford. You’ll all hear it, I’m sure. Sunday was Ryan’s birthday. The dream was to climb Table Mountain, but the rain, clouds, and temperature prohibited it. Instead we settled in at one o favorite haunts, Mimi’s, and play Settlers of Catan Cities & Knights for approximately four hours. Ryan won in a sneak victory. I was only two points away, and SKIDUSH (see how it works?!), he knocked me out. Painful loss, but it was his birthday after all!

Thus my Monday morning ended a beautiful weekend and I was less than enthusiastic about waking up to the cold and heading back to the grind. (It’s not the grind… I’m really enjoying what I’m doing, but at some level, work is work.) Green Village was my crèche of choice. The principal is very shy and rarely utters a word in the forum meetings. However, I was delightfully surprised by the strength of her interview. She had quite a bit to share and, without an audience, was happy to share. She is my first college educated principal, originally trained to be a secondary teacher, but turned to working in a crèche when she couldn’t find a position. She was promoted to principal several years ago, following the departure of the original principal. This crèche is also unique because of its building. From the beginning, this crèche has had a nice space because of its location in a church building built by Korean missionaries. It has a perfectly suitable kitchen (with running hot water—the things that I will never take for granted again), an office and storage space, and a large room for the children. It still gets cold, but the room is tight, so no dripping water or breezes, and the heat that is generated from the paraffin lamps stays in the room.

Following our interview, the children were basically turned over to me. I certainly hadn’t intended this, but the teachers were enthusiastically willing to let me lead. (I don’t criticize them for this, but it did enable them to circle around the heater, while I entertained 30 children.) Following Winter School, I was thinking about teaching with a new perspective, but once I was back with the little ones, I completely reverted back to my love for them. We began by singing songs. I usually start with “Head and Shoulders” because I like it as a teaching song. Then they sang me a song, which felt like a success for me, because I’ve been trying to get children to share songs with me since I got here. I like for it to feel like an exchange, rather than my simply dropping new songs on them. Then we sang, “If You’re Happy and You Know It,” which they knew! I got one little boy to lead it while we sang along. Good Times, Good Times. Then they moved into “Kumbaya,” and we shared another moment, when they were sharing a song that I knew and could join in. They were surprised, but I learned well at good ol’ PHUMC!

Following our song and dance routine, a teacher took out a book and we proceeded to read it in English and Xhosa. I would read a page and point to pictures on the page, and then she would tell the story and words in Xhosa. Having had some ELL (English Language Learners) training in Boston, I was excited to be able to co-teach in a way that felt productive.

By this time, I had had the children for almost an hour, so I told the teacher that I didn’t want to interrupt their regular routine, and asked what was normally scheduled. She told me that there were too few Grade R children to conduct class, but that usually they would do Writing at that time. A couple of things: 1. A teacher can never have too few children—the fewer the children, the more opportunities for learning! And 2. I have no idea what Writing was supposed to be. I suggested that we do numbers. In the less than 30 seconds that I thought about this, I thought that we could run around the room counting things. The lesson, and I do feel like it was a lesson, ended up being far different.

After my suggestion, the teacher instructed the children to count to ten for me, which they did. Following this, I began holding up my fingers as numbers, only I was holding my fingers in a way that was comfortable, not necessarily what they were accustomed to seeing. I had an epiphany when I held up the number 7; five fingers on one hand and two, the second and third fingers, on the second hand. The children yelled out, “Eight!” and I realized that they were looking at the last finger on my hand, not counting what was up! So then I got them to count the individual fingers and starting making combinations of the same number with different amounts of fingers on each hand. What started as a counting activity evolved into a strong addition lesson, and I really felt like the children took something from it.

I enjoyed teaching high school last week. I really did. But there is NOTHING to the feeling that comes from first time learning from those small, smiling faces. They were having fun and we were laughing and they were proud of their successes. I tried being funny for the high schoolers, but my humor really works so much better with little ones. You can’t tickle a sixteen year-old. I had an amazing time, and the children that hung in there beginning to end (I didn’t try to keep the one and two year-olds attentive), seemed so excited when they answered correctly. If only their enthusiasm could be reached everyday and those successes built on routinely to ensure their achievement throughout school. Realistically, I know that it won’t happen tomorrow or the day after, but I do truly believe that SAEP will make a difference for these children over the long run.

Always,

Sarah

Meandering Thoughts…. No Real Focus

It’s been a week since I’ve posted anything and honestly, without the daily emails from my mom asking what’s going on, I’ve been a little lax… I guess that’s what happens when your largest reading population goes on vacation to the beach!

All has been… well, been, in South Africa this week. Team USA caught the plague and took turns fighting the stuffy nose, nausea, fever flu. Sanford has basically had a ‘cold’ since Amanda got here, but has finally decided to get some good old American prescription drugs sent over. I started feeling the cold portion over the weekend, which then moved into the nausea, feverish portion by Monday morning. Consequently, I missed the first day of Winter School, but they survived without me. Ryan was feeling sick Monday, as well, but managed to fight the good fight and make it to Winter School. He punked out Tuesday (just kidding, really, in the year that I’ve known Ryan, I haven’t seen him look this green or smile this little). We are finally starting to feel a little better, which was clearly indicated in the epic Cities & Knights battle which took place yesterday afternoon. The Argue Blue came through in a stunning victory, leaving the Lewis Red and Johnson Green speechless. (Oh Yeah, Baby!)

Moving on… Winter School is a program being put on by the SAEP High School Program. Ryan and Sanford were deep in the planning, etc., but I was recruited solely as a teacher (thank goodness). So the last week I’ve been teaching twelfth grade economics. It has been both rewarding and terrifying. The rewarding part is that high school students, unlike elementary school students, can carry on a far more interesting conversation about the world. It also feels pretty damn good to have a high school student come up after class, admit that they need a little more review, and then get it. The personal feeling of accomplishment is a bit bigger when you are explaining more difficult topics, I’ve found. The terrifying part is seeing just how far behind some of the students are. I found myself explaining a topic this morning that was early fourth grade math curriculum… My take home message from the experience is that it is absolutely critical that the cycle of non-education. How can these students possibly pass, much less get ahead, if their teachers aren’t much more educated than they are? I don’t know a whole lot about Sanford’s Teach South Africa project, but I can vouch firsthand how important it is.

An update on my project: Going great! I’ve interviewed half of my principals and I feel really good about the progress that I’m making and the information that I’m collecting. I confess that the task seemed daunting at first, to be doing on my own, but hey, look at me, I’m making it happen! I guess I’ve learned something the last year! I’ve been really impressed with the thoughtfulness of many of our crèche principals. These certainly are not women that just opened their crèches on a whim or to create a job for themselves. Many have much grander visions and it is so inspiring to hear them talk about those visions. The favorite message that I’ve heard isn’t something that I can quantify for my evaluation, but is nonetheless as important in the larger community development role of the crèches: several of the principals that I have interviewed have expressed pride and self-confidence in themselves and what they can accomplish. This is good for their crèches, but even better for the community. Empowerment. It starts with a voice.

And as a last note for Russ: Boots is doing well and has made herself securely at home. So much so, that she has special spots that she likes to sleep now… my face, Ryan’s backpack, my face, under the covers, my face, on my computer, and did I mention, the cat likes to sleep right on my FACE?! Yeah, she’s a fantastically cuddly cat. If I could bring her home, I would.

Always,

Sarah

Signal Hill Sunset

Signal Hill = Very Pretty Views. ‘Nough said.

We had a very nice picnic in the sun this afternoon while enjoying the views from Signal Hill and studying for the SAEP Winter School. Lovely afternoon.

Always,

Sarah

South African Springboks

Yesterday, I experienced my first live rugby game. It was phenomenal. First off, rugby is easy to watch. There really aren’t so many rules or strategies that you can’t follow the game on your first try. Secondly, South Africa is a particularly good place to start a fascination with rugby, for two reasons. One, they are damn good. They won the Rugby World Cup last year and have a long history of having a strong team. Two, (please forgive me, but it’s so true) the South African Rugby team is the most attractive group of men in one place I’ve ever seen. Really. They kept me focused on the game rather than talking through the whole thing. Those of you who know me well can appreciate this.

I’m certainly not going to bother giving a play-by-play of the whole game, but the highlights are:

1. We beat Italy 26-0. Woo Hoo!

2. There was a player nicknamed “The Beast” and when he scored, everyone yelled, “BEEEEAAAST!” Sanford now runs around the house doing this…

3. We watched most of the game in the pouring rain. Not a light drizzle—hard, heavy, cold rain. Thank god for L.L. Bean. My vital organs stayed plenty dry and I really wasn’t all that cold. However, my jeans were completely drenched and denim gets heavy when it’s wet!

4. We saw a guy get Knocked Out Cold. The other players were coming after him and we saw his head snap back. I was seriously worried he was dead. Sanford is going to assault me for saying this, but American football really does look like a bunch of wimps out there with all of that padding after seeing this. Also having said that, I will not have a son that participates in either sport. Period. I thought the guy was dead.

5. We met two very nice gentlemen from South Africa who taught us a lot about the history of the sport in South Africa and the personalities of the players. It was a very nice chat, and I am reminded so much of the motto of the Fulbright program: The best way to destroy prejudice and stereotypes is to be a positive ambassador from your home country. I feel safe is saying that we have been good ambassadors for the USA, in spite of our current leadership.

I guess that wraps it about up!

Always,

Sarah

You Can Send Me Mail!

I haven't bothered giving anyone my address, because I thought that anything would take too long to get here. Well, it turns out that it only takes months to be delivered if so much is shipped that it has to go through customs! So I can receive mail (it takes about a week)!

To mail to our house, the address is:

Sarah Argue
12 Cambridge Road
Observatory 7935
Cape Town, South Africa

To mail to SAEP (a little more safe), the address is:

Sarah Argue
c/o Jane Keen
10 Surbiton Road
Rosebank 7700
Cape Town, South Africa

Always,

Sarah

The Medical Miracles of Dr. Ryan Lewis

This would be a far more interesting post if I had before and after pictures, but it will suffice to say: Ryan Lewis is the man of medical miracles here in South Africa. Quite seriously, he can work some magic with a first aid kit!

So all the story is, is that I had a wicked bad hangnail that got really sore. Some fluid built around it, so I tried to perform home surgery on it with some scissors. That did not really help the situation. So this evening, Ryan did his own brand of surgery with the kitchen knife and some tweezers (everything was sterilized and disinfected with alcohol, I promise.) First he punctured the blister and then dug the hangnail out. I am now healing quite nicely and will be able to keep my finger.

I should also give a shout out to his very helpful staff, Mr. and Mrs. Sanford Johnson. With all the interest this hangnail generated, you would have actually thought that we were performing surgery in our bathroom. If we can get by with this being our only medical emergency, I think this trip will be a success!

Always,

Sarah

The True Story of Boots or How I Adopted a Cat in South Africa

I have two cats. They are fantastic. Their names are Harriet and Millifred, but they go by Harry and Millie. Harry and Millie are my babies and I am very protective and slightly irrational when it comes to them… it is a true test of friendship whether or not one makes a good faith effort to tell them apart. I miss them terribly, mostly at night when the wind is howling and I’m cold. Two cats can keep you very warm. Trust me.

As I have previously posted, we have adopted a cat at our house on Cambridge Road. We’ve named her Boots, in spite of a tag that says otherwise. Today I learned the true story of Boots and have officially adopted her and begun the process of finding her a home for when we leave.

Her story is this:

Once upon a time, Boots lived in the little house at 12 Cambridge Street in Cape Town, South Africa. She was loved and well cared for by a little boy who lived there. The boy played with Boots and rubbed her belly when she would roll over. He scratched her under her chin and behind the ears until she purred.

Then one day the little boy got terrible news. He had to move from 12 Cambridge Street and could not bring Boots with him! The little boy cried to his mom and dad, but alas the decision had already been made. So the boy set about finding a new home for Boots. After many doors had been knocked and bells rung, the little boy’s neighbors across the street (with the freaky monkey gargoyle-uck!) agreed to adopt Boots. The little boy was so relieved and trusted that his sweet and wonderful cat would be well looked after.

But the little boy was wrong! The neighbors disguised as kind hearted folk were really quite thoughtless and uncaring! Shortly after the boy moved, the neighbors went on a long journey. They would be gone for six months! They left instructions for their housekeeper to leave a bowl of food for Boots once a week, but made no provisions for her to be loved!

Boots was sad. She loved the little boy and missed her nice warm house where she was protected from the cold and rain. She was confused and distressed. Then one day three Americans moved into the house. Two of these Americans were quite fond of cats; the third accidentally stepped on her with his big Mississippi feet. Soon the Americans grew fond of Boots and allowed her in the house when they were home and even sleep overnight when the weather was really bad. Boots had hope that when these Americans left, they would leave her in the hands of someone who would love her as much as the little boy had. Until then, she would snuggle deep under the covers and keep the girl American’s feet warm at night.

And that is the true story of Boots of Cambridge Road.

Always,

Sarah

Constantia & Robben Island

This weekend was yet another one filled with fun adventures. Our original plan for Saturday was to climb Table Mountain, but the weather forecast threatened rain. We’ve been warned to only climb Table Mountain when the forecast is good, because the weather can change very suddenly and become dangerous. This left us with a wide open agenda for the day. After much debate and a little hand wringing, we decided to have lunch at the restaurant at Kalk Bay that we’d wanted to have lunch the week before. It was so good. Ryan and I are both prepared to go back for the mussels… we were both staring down the gentleman at a table near ours who had ordered them. I’m sure that he thought we were nuts, but those mussels looked so good!

Following lunch, as a very sleepy and sedate crew, we headed to Constantia, where the oldest winery in the “New World” can be found. This vineyard first began in 1685 and is particularly famous in the annals of time as the producer of Napoleon Bonaparte’s favorite sweet wine, which he had shipped to St. Helena’s during his exile. These wines were quite popular during the nineteenth century among the aristocracy and very wealthy, and for just R22 (~$3) we got to taste five of them! They were really quite good and I was introduced to a new kind of wine, the blanc de noir. It’s kind of a white wine weight with a red wine flavor. I also really liked the dessert wines, although I could never drink them regularly… simply too sweet!

The vineyards were beautiful, even in their dormant winter state. I was reminded of how beautiful I thought the vineyards were in Italy and it made me really want to see the vineyards in Napa. There is something so peaceful about the rows and rows of vines. I imagine sitting on a porch in warm sunshine with the sun going down and a nice glass of wine… yep, that would be nice. I thought this vineyard was especially nice with the mountains rising behind it. Do mountains and vineyards go together? Is there something about mountains that make them good for growing grapes? Hmm, must research…

Sunday, we headed to the waterfront to go to Robben Island, where Nelson Mandela was imprisoned for eighteen of his twenty-seven years of captivity. The island is about 10 kilometers off the coast of Cape Town and the ferry ride is about thirty minutes, from coast to coast. We arrived at the launching off site with plenty of time to read the history of the island from its prehistoric days to its present, which some of us did more thoroughly than others.

Of all the various tidbits of history (outside of the political prison history) that we learned, two stand out: First, for many years, Robben Island was a lepers colony that housed several thousand people with the disease. In the 1930’s, when the ‘hospital’ was finally closed, they burned all of the buildings except the church for fear of the buildings being contagious. Secondly, during World War II, the island was fortified with cannons, only the cannons weren’t finished until after the war was over!

Clearly, the greatest significance of the island is its use during apartheid as a political prison. Beginning in 1959, the island was used as a maximum security prison. Over its thirty year history, the prison housed over 3,000 prisoners in harsh, violent conditions. The cells for men identified as ‘leaders’, of the ANC or merely listened to in the court yards, were cramped and isolated in an attempt to break the spirit of the strong. As a more than six foot tall man, Nelson Mandela could never fully stretch in his small cell. The island is now a World Historical site and the Robben Island Museum provides tours of the island and prison throughout the year. These tours are all given by men who were incarcerated on the island.

We had two tour guides; one on the bus that drove around the island and one for the prison itself. Our bus tour guide was a rather gifted story teller and was able to bring to life the full history of the island. The gentleman that gave our prison tour, however, truly kept me spell-bound. His commentary was both personal and political. He began with a discourse on language. There are eleven national languages of South Africa, all given, in theory, equal weight. Our guide made this observation: when someone asks what languages you speak and you begin with Xhosa, Zulu, Sotho, or Swati, peoples’ eyes start to glaze over as they nod, ok ok, but if you begin with French, Dutch, German, English, all of a sudden you are remarkable. In truth, many South Africans have many languages in which they are fluent and it is certainly not the case that they are all treated equally. As an American with no viable second language in spite of five years of French and four college-semesters of Italian, I am constantly amazed by the ability of those able to keep multiple languages in their heads. It is a shame that this is not more celebrated, but as I understood our guide’s point, it is our responsibility especially as English speakers to respect equally the cultural background that language represents. For me personally, I know that I respect language, and I know that it is tied to greater cultural meaning, but I am also aware that I secretly hope everyone can speak English. Not because I don’t want to learn other languages, but because I’m SO bad at learning them myself! (I’ll sometime talk more about Xhosa—THE most difficult language I’ve EVER tried to speak!)

Once we got into the prison, our guide began to tell us his personal story from Robben Island. He was arrested for involvement in youth protests and he was imprisoned at 16. He was released shortly after his 19^th birthday. In the three years that he spent on Robben Island, this young man was tortured and brutally beaten on several occasions. The cruelty that this man described was no less horrific than the Nazi concentration camps. And yet, this man spoke of nonviolence, of reconciliation, and of peace. I have thought a lot about nonviolent movements since I’ve been in South Africa and their power and influence—more on this later.

All in all, another eventful weekend full of thought provoking and beautiful experiences.

Always,

Sarah

This one’s for you, Mom!

Of all the interesting and exciting adventures that I have been having, every other email from my mother asks for the details of my existence here in South Africa, so here goes. I make no promises for riveting stories or amazing insights… merely a description of my daily life on the opposite side of the world from home. I love you, Mom!

I live in a house. It’s a little one story abode with five bedrooms, a bath, and a kitchen. If I were feeling generous, I would include the bathroom out the back, but I’m not. It’s just a toilet with a light bulb and the “shower” is a faucet out of the wall with a tree stump to stand on. I’ve been here two and a half weeks and I have yet to go to the bathroom out there. My plan is to make it another eight weeks! We each have our own bedrooms, which are virtually identical. Sanford’s is just a titch larger, but that’s because Amanda will be here for two weeks. (I say, with all love for Amanda, she brought more luggage for two weeks than any of us did for ten, so Sanford was probably smart getting the larger room!) We have comfortable beds, although we had no sheets initially, and the shower—one of the best I’ve had in the world, bar none. We have very hot water, I’ve actually scalded myself, and terrific water pressure. I am in shower heaven! The kitchen has all of the necessary appliances for us to cook our own food, which has been terrific. We are eating well… and generally pretty healthy. We also have a cat, Boots, who loves Ryan to death and is keeping me from being totally lost without my kitties.

Our house is in an area of Cape Town known as Observatory. In 1820, the Royal Observatory was built in this area of Cape Town, hence the name. We are very close to the University of Cape Town and consequently, the area has always been known as a “gray,” in which all races have commonly mixed. Obs is generally a pretty safe part of town, and our street is nice in particular. There are, however, four layers of locks between the street and our bedrooms: a locked, exterior gate/wall, a gate on the front door, the front door, and our bedroom doors all lock. I’ll post another time regarding our experiences with security… It’s been interesting.

We shop at a pretty common grocery store… It is arranged differently and, of course, all of the brands are different, but we can usually find, eventually, what we are looking for. We do our laundry at a laundromat up the street on Mondays. And there are a variety of other shops pretty close by. In addition, the Porter House office in Rodebosch is in the middle of a business district. I work at the Rosebank office, which is actually Jane and Norton’s house, but I can walk pretty quickly from one office to the other if I need anything.

I am posting pictures of our house, but I don’t have pictures of either office or the city, yet, but I will put them in this set of pictures, so check back again if you are curious.

Always,

Sarah

The Universal Language of Babies

Today was a big day at the ECD office. This morning Isabel and I and two of the new volunteers went to the Forres School in Rosebank, where we met with a class of seventh graders. The Forres School is a small, private (by our definition) primary and middle school located not too far from our office. Forres and SAEP were teamed up by a fluke of nature. One day at the beginning of the year, a teacher, Anita, came across a brochure talking about Early Childhood Development, while cleaning out an office at the school. The brochure mentioned SAEP’s involvement in the township crèches. She contacted Isabel, who put together a list of needs for one of the new crèches, Kiddies EduCare. Since then each class has collected a different item that the crèche needs and then donated it to the center. Forres School is also raising funds for a new building for Kiddies and in the meantime a group of dads are making repairs to the existing structure. It’s a wonderful partnership.

Upon meeting the Forres School students, we drove out to Phillipi and met Margaret at Kiddies. I love Margaret. She is so lively and funny and happy. When we first went into the crèche, the Forres School students went to one side and stood there awkwardly looking at the little children. The children at Kiddies range from probably six months to four years. Eventually, the Forres School students began interacting with the Kiddies children. They drew with them, rolled the ball, read… a variety of activities. I was really quite impressed at how well these seventh graders played with the babies. There was one boy who must have younger siblings. He read and held a baby and generally kept a captive audience.

Not long after our entrance (a bunch of tall, white, non-Xhosa speaking new people), this one little baby girl began crying. One of the crèche teachers picked her up for a little while, but then had to put her down to take care of another child. The little girl began crying again. So I squatted down next to her, talking very softly. I’m pretty sure that she didn’t know what to think of me… and I don’t blame her. Eventually, I picked her up and started bouncing her very softly and the teacher gave her a small bottle of milk. She stopped crying, but she wasn’t very relaxed. She finally locked her eyes on me and stared hard. It was pretty amazing to watch a little tiny child, no more than a year old, considering me and whether or not I should be trusted. But hence the title of the post, babies don’t have language. Communication occurs through sight and touch, tone and volume. Tender touches, smiles, coos… they send the message of love without a single word. After checking me out, she decided that I was ok and promptly tucked her head under my chin and fell asleep. For the next forty-five minutes, she snored softly in my arms.

We were only at Kiddies about an hour, but it was quality time and I think everyone enjoyed it immensely. Unfortunately, I was not able to participate in the conversation that the teacher had with her student after our visit, but I wish that I could have been a fly on the wall. What was the message that this teacher wanted her students to get? What discussion were they having about the bigger issues of poverty, segregation, and rights? As we were leaving, I heard students asking if they could take “one” home. I don’t think that they meant it disrespectfully, but it was. These children are not puppies at a shelter. Did the teacher discuss with them respecting human dignity and its importance at any age? I don’t know, but I do know that it is important to start having these conversations at an early age, and I hope that she did.

Again, I was reminded today of how beautiful children are. I don’t miss the bureaucracy and bull of teaching, but I do miss my kids. I miss feeling like I have an influence and the trust that only someone who truly depends on you can have. I miss the world where a smile or hug really can make the whole difference in a day. And I miss every day being new. It would take a lot for me to overcome the negativity that I left my school with, but if I thought that I really could enter a new school in a new district with a clean mental slate, I might look harder at teaching again. But until I am confident that my slate is clean, I will always be seeking out opportunities to interact with children (even if it’s only being the best ever aunt and pseudo-aunt!)

Always,

Sarah

Mzoli’s Meats

My official membership of the Little Rock BBQ club may have been revoked Sunday. I love BBQ, don’t get me wrong, but when I saw the tray of greasy meat piled high, I nearly yakked. Full force. My inner vegetarian was screaming for vegetables, or *something*, other than beer, to balance the meat. This may in fact have more to do with the chronic stomach ache that I’ve had for the last two weeks than the actual food, but the quantity of meat was insane! (And it had only been two days since the African Salad that gave me a stomach ache so badly that I cried—I was a little gun shy…) Mzoli’s was amazing though… it had its little corner of the street, but the atmosphere and jubilation expanded by four blocks. The sun was brilliant all afternoon, keeping us warm and relaxed and turning the more fair of our group an attractive shade of pink.

The day went like this: Heloise and Pauline came to pick us up to be at the Porter House office by 10:30am. As we arrived, promptly at 10:30am I might add, we got a call from Asanda who informed us that he was running late and could we meet at 11:30am. Say what?! We were already up and out, so we went to an Italian restaurant across the street and had lattes and croissants. Then around 11:30am, Asanda called to ask if we could meet him out in the township instead of at the office. So we did. We finally arrived at Mzoli’s at 12:30pm and at this point, I thought it was crowded. Little did I know—by the time we left it was hundreds of people. Fortunately, we were able to get a nice big table, where we kicked back long enough to sit down and send the boys right back inside for MEAT! They also went for beer. I’ll be honest… I have no idea how much beer we went through, but it was a lot. A whole lot.

And thus went the afternoon: beer and meat and more beer and meat. We finally headed home around 4:30pm all in a food coma. What I learned from this adventure: meat, beer, and friends make for a beautiful Sunday afternoon! (Not a big surprise, is it?! : )

Always,

Sarah

The Flat Family

I knew Pauline and Heloise were special friends just based on how quickly they adopted us, but tonight, to my surprise and delight, I found out that they are one of us! Sanford and I decided that we needed Flat Heloise and Flat Pauline to accompany our Flats (which, btw, why do we call them Flats when the little boy’s name is Stanley? I’ve always wondered this…) So after dinner, thinking that this would be a quick project before they all went out for a Saturday night in Observatory (I was beat), I introduced Flat Stanley and the Flat Clinton School Crew to Pauline and Heloise. Not only did they enthusiastically participate, they made really super cute Flats!

Don’t we make an adorable little group?!

Muizenberg—Kalk Bay—Simon’s Town

You know how the Eskimos have like 100 words for snow? Well, I need 1,000 words for beautiful to describe the Cape of South Africa. Today, Sanford, Ryan, and I went with Heloise and Pauline to Muizenberg, Kalk Bay, and Simon’s Town. These three towns curve around towards the Cape of Good Hope and we got within 45 minutes of this historical geographic point.

We headed to Muizenberg about noon. It was a gorgeous, warm day with a slight breeze. I had completely failed to notice Muizenberg in any of my reading of the area because one key word failed to grab my attention: surfing. However, our beach bum Ryan (oh, how I hate giving up that title, but it’s just so true!) had been talking about wanting to go since we were waiting on our flight in Little Rock. So off we went. It was breath taking. We went down on the beach and walked and talked for a long time. I didn’t take off my shoes this time, though, because I didn’t relish the idea of an entire day of sandy feet. Nonetheless, I was able to enjoy the surf and the warmth and the view and even a few surfers!

On the beach, there were these really brightly colored houses. It took me a minute to figure out what they were, but it was really quite simple! They were public changing houses. Very Victorian, only I didn’t expect them to be red and green and yellow. Muizenberg is home to Surfer’s Corner, which claims to be the birthplace of South African surfing. I have no idea if it’s true, but there were definitely surfers out there. It was a nice day, but not so warm I would have gotten in the water.

This is where the sad (at least to me) news comes in. As soon, and I mean the minute, we got to Muizenberg, my camera died. It gave me no warning and really disappointed me. Fortunately, Sanford had his camera and he let me take pictures with it—only it died too. So we went and got some more batteries. Two packs in fact. But they barely squeezed out three photos. When I told Sanford that I’d bought them for R6.95 (less than a dollar), he laughed at me and told me that I should have known better. I suppose it’s true. Anyway, for the next two parts of the trip I have only a hand full of pictures. I’ve been promised that we’ll at least return to Simon’s Town (you’ll understand why when I tell why we were there.)

Following Muizenberg, we went to Kalk Bay for lunch. Pauline and Heloise had been to a restaurant previously that they said was super, super good. It was full. Tease. So instead we went to a place that had fabulous ambience… and that was all. It’s name is Cape to Cuba and it was all old furniture and nick-nacks that the owners had brought from Cuba (this was a little strange to me until I realized, oh yeah, I’m in South Africa, and they can probably travel there!) It was outdoors and the floor was sand. There weren’t really tables, they were little thatch huts with benches around the edges with a small table in the center. Very beachy feel. Fun, but a) there was no staff and the bar tender was an ass, he labeled our tab “foreigners”, and we had to go collect our own food, and b)the food really was NOT as good as it was priced, although I did eat my first mussel, which was far better tasting than I anticipated and not nearly as slimy. I didn’t really mind the having to take care of ourselves, but all together, more expensive than good.

NOW!! We went to Simon’s Town. What is so special about Simon’s Town you ask?! PENGUINS!!!! Real, live, waddling penguins! I nearly wet my pants, but I only got ONE picture. I could have cried. But I still got to see them and laugh as Sanford waddled behind them. They were really cute, and didn’t smell all that bad, and they burrowed down into any hole or gap that the rocks made, so their little heads would just poke out. Once I got way too close to one, because I just didn’t see him. Lord, the noise that animal made. I’ve heard monkeys in heat at the zoo, and they had nothing on this sound.

We had a wonderful beautiful day and I appreciate our new friends so much for taking us out and showing us all of this beauty. I never would have guessed that I would go half way around the world and make such good new friends this fast! We are incredibly lucky.

Always,

Sarah

The Abundance of Salsa

No, not the delicious food that you eat with chips, silly, the dancing! As previously mentioned, Isabel is quite the dancer. If I have the story correct, Isabel has danced a variety of other dances in the past and salsa is her newest craze. In the fashion of a true diehard, she is working on converting us as well. She has succeeded with Sanford. His plan is to sweep Amanda off her feet when she gets here. Ryan and I are still a little more skeptical. For me, it’s a matter of no coordination and a body that just doesn’t move like that. When I was a kid in ballet class, I was always the girl in the middle (because I was tall) moving like a robot. I think given the right dance partner Ryan could be convinced… [insert Sanford] Gigidy.

Wednesday night was yet another night of entertainment at Chez d’UACS IPSP. It started out a simple dinner party. We kept inviting Isabel to have dinner with us and the girls, but she always had plans. So this time, we planned a little more in advance. The plan was that Isabel would come and make a white sauce, the boys and I were to cook pasta and make a salad, and the girls were supposed to bring apéritif. Well, all that happened, but we also had Mark and Seychelle, other SAEP volunteers, Isaac and Lira, Isabel’s friends (pictured below), and Antoine, our 21-year-old French housemate. The eleven of us ate and drank and made merriment… and then Isabel and Isaac proceeded to give us a salsa lesson! Fortunately, by that point we all had had a sufficient amount of wine to enthusiastically participate.

Guys, it was incredible having all of these people in the same room! American, French, German, English, South African. The languages and accents were amazing. The salsa was fun, but what I’ll remember is the global diversity in our kitchen.

The Wednesday night salsa lesson was really just a preview for the real Thursday night salsa lesson at the Red Velvet Club (oh yes, that’s really the name and the walls really were covered in red velvet). Isabel’s friend John teaches the lessons and in all seriousness, he was really quite good. We were trying to learn this turn thing. Let’s preview the situation: I am five feet ten inches tall, uncoordinated, have no rhythm, and am generally uncomfortable being touched by anyone whom I do not know well. Yeah. Let’s just leave it at: no-one should be hit in the head as many times in one night as I was Thursday night. The way it worked was that the women lined up in three lines and then the men moved down the lines. It meant that there was really no choosing your partner and I was *so* relieved when Ryan, Sanford, or Antoine showed up in front of me. They didn’t hit me in the head.

We had a good time though. Who would have thought that I’d go to South Africa to learn salsa? Wouldn’t South America have been more appropriate?!

Last night we returned to Fiesta. I was excited because of the tapas, Sanford was excited about the salsa, and Ryan wanted to go to another bar (kidding… sorta). As was true last week, the tapas were delicious! This time, we did dinner in the true family-style tapas tradition (My girls—this place is totally competitive with Cuci Cuci). We each ordered two dishes and shared. It was so yummy!

I confess that I never got up and danced… two mojitos and I was still perfectly content to sit and watch. As usual, Sanford made friends and practiced his moves on the dance floor. He did a nice job, although I’m not sure if his “bucket” (6 beers in a bucket of ice and he and Ryan went through two) helped or hindered his performance. For the first time we also got to watch Isabel dance and she did such a good job. There is something to be said for this dance… I think it’s just said for petite people! :) I think that we’ll hold off on anymore salsa for a while, but it’s been a fun excursion this week!

Always,

Sarah

Here's looking at you, kid

Crèche means Pre-school

Today, I went out to the crèches for the first time. Currently, SAEP is working with thirteen crèches in the township Phillipi outside of Cape Town. Phillipi is a black township established in the eighties after violence in a nearby township force residents out. Approximately, 110,000 people live in this relatively small area of land. You can read more about Phillipi and see a few pictures of the township at http://www.saep.org/TownshipConnection/index.htm. For those of you a little more number curious, like me, 2001 census statistics are at http://www.capetown.gov.za/en/stats/2001census/Documents/Philippi.htm. You can see that 60% of the township is unemployed and the vast majority of them live on less than R1600 per month, with an exchange rate of 7:1, that’s less than US$230.

Not all crèches are formal, registered pre-schools. Of the ones that SAEP works with, three are not yet registered with all of the different departments necessary to receive government subsidies. Thus, SAEP is working with these crèches to meet the necessary obligations to become registered. The rest of the crèches are registered, but face a variety of different issues from structural to personnel to supplies.

For all of the crèches, SAEP supplies E-pap, a highly nutritious porridge-like meal. It comes in a variety of flavors, including vanilla, strawberry, and banana. Most importantly, the children really like it. They eat it every morning for breakfast and then the crèche provides a lunch, which is supposed to include some fresh veggies.

This morning, we went to five of the crèches. Two are brand new to the program and are in the process of meeting the requirements to become registered. The others have been in the program longer, and one has grown and improved significantly.

The first crèche that we visited was Thandolwetu. This is a brand new crèche. It only has one room and one staff person, the principal. I don’t have any pictures of the structure, because the women that were there didn’t speak any English and I didn’t want to seem intrusive. The structure was very bare, not more than 10 by 5 feet, with a worn rug in the center of a concrete floor. There were a few toys. The principle was not there and she has no other staff, so there were two mothers watching the six children. There seemed to be no organized activity and essentially it was a babysitting facility. I make no judgment in this comment; it is made simply as a fact to show the different levels at which the crèches are. South Africa has Early Childhood Development standards, but at this point, at least in the townships, they are more like goals. Some crèches are better able to meet these standards, and part of what SAEP is hoping to do is facilitate the growth of these crèches so that they are really places of learning and not just babysitting.

The second facility was Qhama. It had two rooms into which the babies (0-2) and the older children (3-5) were divided. Immediately upon walking into the room with the younger children, I was swarmed and the children were saying a word that sounded like shäp, which is an informal hello, and grabbing my hand palm-to-palm and snapping our thumbs. While the younger children seemed to just be playing, the older children did seem to be engaged in an organized activity, which stopped when I entered the room. SAEP has been working with Qhama for awhile and has seen a few improvements. When the toilet at Qhama was first installed, it was just a toilet in the ground. Later the shack was built around it. The Qhama structure, like many crèches, is a large, used shipping container. When I say large, I mean the size of a mobile home. Qhama is two containers L-shaped, another crèche that we visited today, Noluthando, is two containers side-by-side, like a double-wide. SAEP has had some success in securing these containers to use as crèches, and hopefully, some of the new crèches will also be able to obtain them.

Kiddies Educare was the third crèche that we visited and it is also one of the new crèches. It was in much better condition than Thandolwetu, although the container that it is housed in has some roof leaking problems and was just the one room. I had the pleasure of meeting Margaret, the principal, and was very impressed with the conversation that she had with Isabel. She seemed very aware and able to express herself and her desires for her crèche. Kiddies also has had the good fortune of being adopted by the Forest School in Rosebank. The Forest School has collected donation items to give to Kiddies, as well as teamed a group of dads to go out to Phillipi to do some construction. Currently, they are in the planning and budgeting phase, but hopefully before too long they will be able to get some projects going.

The fourth crèche that we visited is the crèche that best exemplifies what SAEP is able to do when the principal is organized and motivated. Originally, this crèche, Qhamani, was a one room structure much like the other that we visited. But through the fundraising and coordinating efforts of SAEP, it is now a permanent brick-faced, two-story structure. The site that Qhamani is located now is the same site that the original structure stood. While their new building was being built, a temporary structure was built from the old building materials onto the back of the principal’s home. Two weeks ago, the children moved into the new building! The exterior and structural components are complete, but the inside is still pretty raw. Isabel is working on the fundraising to get the walls plastered and tiles on the floor now. Baby steps, it takes baby steps.

Finally, we went to Nolutando. Nolutando is the double-wide crèche, which used to be two containers pushed together. SAEP coordinated efforts to get the gap sealed so that it didn’t leak when it rained. Nolutando is also an example of why a motivated principal is such a critical element to the success of the crèche. At Nolutando, SAEP has had a difficult time getting the principal to engage, and so there has been far less improvement.

There were so many things going through my mind this morning as we visited these crèches. First, I kept looking at these beautiful children with their bright eyes and happy smiles, listening to their laughter, and wondering how any leader, any adult for that matter, could live a selfish life when there are children among us. If there are angels out there, I believe that they are in the souls of children. I wanted to hug each and every one of them and tell them that I would spend my life making it a better world for them. It’s not just poverty, although that is a desperate issue, but the face of the world in general. Greed. Corruption. Hatred. Violence. It will take all I’ve got and getting everyone I know involved too, but damn it, I’m going to leave this world better than when I came into it.

Second, I was thinking about the things I *really* do take for granted. Like toilets. It’s one thing to go camping, but an entirely different thing to not have access to one on a regular basis. It is going to be so important that I remember that there are no assumptions as I go through this evaluation process. Having toilets, a solid roof, space to play are assets for these crèches because they are certainly not guaranteed.

It was a beautiful, wonderful day and I can’t wait to head back out to Phillipi and really play with these darling children. I know that everyone is really excited about their projects, but I just can’t believe that you are going to have more fun that I will getting to play with babies!

I will close this post with an apology: I am sorry that these are so long, but it’s my record as well of my thoughts, reactions, and experiences. Please feel free to stop reading when you get bored.

Always,

Sarah