Adjustment or Re-adjustment?

           I just need quiet.  I need me time.  I need think time.  So... I'm stuck in a blog.  Don't get me wrong, I am overly excited to see my family.  I have missed them tremendously... however, it's hard when you aren't sure up from down...
          The trip home was long.  It was more than long.  It was 40 overwhelming.. exhausting..hours.  I think higher powers were sending me a sign and trying to ease me back into the American life.  I thought a lot.  I journaled a lot.  I met a lot of really interesting people.. and I got to do a lot of studying the people around me.  It was almost unnerving to watch the people in JFK.  I didn't know what to think, aside from my delirious behavior, overwhelmed is a complete understatement.  Cell phones ringing... people talking about nonsense celebrity gossip... and the TV stations all showing the olympics and god forsaken celebrity this and that.  It was like hearing trains and screams... horror... completely unbearable.  How is it that celebrities get so much attention, while no one seems to care about how many starving children there are in the world, or genocides that no one knows about... yet, the news is plastered with talk about Kate and Tom Cruise's breakup, or whatever.  Who really cares?  Why do people spend so much money just to know the secrets of other peoples lives?  It's utterly and completely disgusting.  I guess I am a little sour coming back to America.
           My worries started to consume me, and still are a tid-bit.  I am trying to keep myself as positive as I can, and by using my knowledge and experience to "Africa Time" and pushing myself to live in the moment, not having a cell phone is probably one of the best decisions I have ever made in my life.  It's hard to put into my head that I need to fight for peoples attention here because the technology is overwhelming everyone's brains... it's like everyone is under a spell.  I almost wish I didn't have to get a cell phone again.  I guess I can't really say that I am any better, because here I sit at my computer... writing to everyone... checking facebook, how to you run away from it?  I guess you don't.  I feel like I'm young again and just want to run to my parents arms and snuggle with them.  But who am I kidding?  I am almost 25 years old and I can't even run to my boyfriends arms.  I guess I am just stuck in this funny isolated rut.  I will climb out and be ok.. but it's going to take some time.
         The hardest part about being back?  Being completely bombarded with questions from everyone... asking about Africa.. how my life was there.. what my favorite experience was there.  I understand that people want to know... I would be the same way if I was on the other side of the fence. But really?  How am I supposed to sum up my experience in a conversation with people?  I don't really know how... and the attention that people keep bombarding me with is making me want to run and hide under a rock. Probably sounds terrible, but I don't know how to explain it any other way.  I suppose it was a good idea that I wrote a lot of my experiences down, as well as put them into my blog so that people could read them.  However, not everyone wants to read my blog.... a lot of people go online for other things, and the last thing they want to read about is someones personal experiences living across the world.  They want to read about our corrupt media... how it goes into celebrities personal lives... our idiotic politicians making fools of themselves... world news that is completely misinforming the united states as to what is really going on around the world.  It saddens me... but that's the world we live in.
       Now that I've been back for almost a week... I've gotten better.. but I still have my moments.  My mom understands what I am going through, and she never once bombarded me with anything.  I love that about my mom... she knows me inside and out.  She knows when I need time by myself... she knows when to ask me how I am doing, and when to just let me be.  I think if anyone else would of picked me up from the airport, I probably would have had a hernia due to my brain contracting from all the chaos.
       I have now been at Chris' house since Sunday.  It has been nice.. quiet.. and also tough.  He knows that I need time and space, and he knows how I hate having the spot light turned onto me.. because frankly, he's the same way.  However, it's hard getting back into our normal routine.  The workout... the healthy diet... again, fighting for attention because of the obsession with looking good and body image.  Knowing that he'd rather read about kettlebell workouts and diets rather than reading my blog...or looking at my African experience.  I guess it's a boy thing.  Sometimes I just want to cry, but remind myself of how silly it would be. Will I ever adjust to my normal "American lifestyle?"  Probably not.  But I will know how to live happily with what I have learned about myself while living halfway across the world.  My life has changed forever.  In a good way.  And I am excited to start over with everything I have come to knowledge with.

Farewell my Afrika.

      I'm not entirely sure how to start this post.  I really don't like saying goodbye to people, and honestly... I have never felt so many emotions at once.  It's more than overwhelming.  

       I said goodbye to Marissa last Saturday.  By this point, I think my body was numb to the thought of her leaving.. me leaving.  I think I was in denial.  She came into my room before she left for her trip... in tears.  I comforted her this time.  I held myself strong, and hugged her as hard as I could.  Then.. she was gone. 

      I went out during the day on Saturday to get my hair redone by one of Lindi's friends.  Professor came with as well, and we had such a good time together.  My hair ended up taking 10 hours, and Professor had to leave before I was done, as well as Lindi.  I was alone with Lindi's friend Lisa.  Lisa is 23 years old and from Zimbabwe, only been living in Cape Town for 3 months... and got married 1 year ago.  Lisa is a very soft spoken young woman... she is incredibly bright, and has big dreams.  Lisa would like to open up her own hair salon.. which she should.  She is more than fantastic at doing hair.  While we were left alone, we talked about life.. love... and bonded.  Her husband was in and out of the house, making sure I had a cold beer every time he came back.  He is a very very nice man as well.  However, Lisa opened up to me about her home life.  "I love my husband... but you have no idea how hard it is being a black woman that is a house wife."  She says to me.  I know that Africa is a little behind when it comes to men and woman standards, however... she gave me a full view.  "My husband went out to the bar last night with his friends.. and never came home... he never came back.  and this isn't the first time he has done this... and when he got home this morning, I am not allowed to ask him where he has been."  As she was telling me this, I could hear her emotions through her voice.  My heart hurt for her.  "Haley my love, may I show you something?  Something that I have never showed anyone else before?"  I looked at her and said "You can show me anything you want, anytime you want.  I am here for you."  She pulled out this little notebook... with poems she wrote.  The poems were so in depth.  So beautiful.  I felt like crying... crying for her.  She tells me "Haley, I want to write a story... a story about a young black woman... being married in Africa.  The story of married Black women in Africa."  I told her that she should... because America, as well as other countries... have no idea about the standards here. 

Lisa working on my hair.

Professor working on my hair :)

One of Lisa's poems.

            Lisa loves her husband.  And it is apparent that he loves her as well.  But most married relationships here, have more to worry about than their husbands not returning home after a night of drinking.  I encouraged Lisa to keep writing.  I showed her how to start a blog, and I gave her my email.  I will do everything I can to help her out... she is not writing this just for herself, but the community of women that have worse worries in their marriages.  When my hair was all done, she hugged me tightly, and whispered in my ear "thank you sisi."  I looked at her and said "no.  Thank you for giving me light."  She smiled... I smiled... she kissed me goodbye, and I was off.  Off to do some more thinking.  Some more preparation for my farewells.  And reminding myself, how damn lucky I am.  


          It was time for my farewell with Carter.  Carter.  He has been my roommate.  My brother.  One of my best friends.  Carter and I are very.. very.. different.  But I have had a relationship with him like none I've experienced in my life.   I love him dearly.  Like my brother... my blood brother.  Carter and I have shared stories with each other, bonded.. and had the sibling sort of relationship that I have had with my own brother.  I watched him grow into a new person throughout this trip.. and I am so proud of him being able to overcome many life struggles throughout his stay here. It was time for the farewell dinner... and I had been out in the sun all day before hand.  I wasn't ready to say goodbye.  I have had so many emotions... so many thoughts.  My mind was racing.  I suddenly felt dizzy while we were sitting at the dinner table.  I excused myself from the group and attempted to walk to the bathroom... However, I didn't make it there.  The next thing I know... I am laying on the concrete... with Carter kneeling down next to me, holding my hand... my face... asking me if I was alright.  I had no idea what happened.  I had a cold rag on my forehead... and as I came to the realization what had happened, I realized how bad my face hurt.  Carter, and my friends Kate and Rachel sat with me until I was able to get enough strength to stand.  Carter walked me home before he could eat his dinner... and then there we were.  He was tucking me into my bed just like he has on my drunken nights... but this time it was goodbye.  Our last night.  I held onto him and said goodbye... and sobbed into his shoulder.  

Carter and his girls :) 

             Now.  now it's my time to say goodbye.  I am sitting on the couch on our porch... watching the morning greet me, for my last morning in Cape Town.  It's a bittersweet feeling.  I am so excited to see my family... but I am terribly sad to leave my home here.. and terrified to adjusting back into American life and standards, and to not forget how I lived here.  To say that this trip has changed me, is an understatement.  I have spent my days with the most amazing people.... and seen things that most people will never been able to see.  I have learned how to live with little... and not be a slave to the clock.  I have learned to enjoy life... every hour.. every second... minute.  Enjoy it all.  I can appreciate more, and I know what I can live with, and live without.  I now know what I want in my life... and I know how I am going to live it.  And that, that... I will be forever thankful for because most people have no idea what they want.  I want to help people... I want to help heal people.  When someone thanks you for helping them, even if you feel like you have done nothing... it is the greatest high one could experience in life.  And that, I will do until the day that I die.  

Cheers my Afrika.  I shall return.  

                                                            

How time flies.

“Bathande Bonke Okoko”

("to love them all forever")

How am I supposed to do it?  How do I prepare myself for these goodbyes.  To walk into my work.. my home.... my family.  How do you say goodbye to these people, knowing how you have impacted each others lives, with the possibility of never seeing them again?  

I had one last time to see the children, and say good bye to everyone. The children came at 3, and I got picked up from work at 3:45.  The minute they walked into the door at 3, they ran to me with excitement... fighting over who got to hug and kiss me first.  Olwethu... wearing the same outfit I always see her in.  Red jeans.  Her purple sweatshirt.  and her typical runny, crusty nose.  Immediately in my lap, squeezing me so hard.. I could feel my insides squish.  Then Nolwethu.  Then Yanda.  All the children.  Before I came to South Africa, I would run at the glance of a runny-nosed child jumping into my lap and kissing me all over my face.  I WOULD think twice about children, who wear the same clothing day to day.. jumping into my lap and kissing me all over my face.  Now... now I can’t wait for them to hug me. Show me their love.  and I am going to miss it more than anyone could ever know.  I think that one of the biggest problems and diseases of people suffering within this universe is the disease of people feeling unloved... not welcomed... and unappreciated for who they are, sickness or not.  I know that I can give all my love, appreciation and happiness to a child... adult.. anyone. for 30 seconds.. a minute.. an hour.  I CAN give.  and I will give.  I am happy to do that, and I want to do that.  These children deserve love.  Adults deserve love.  Everyone deserves love.  

Olwethu and I.

All day I ran around the office... staying busy... coughing my lungs up because I am still sick... and driving the office ladies batty because I couldn’t sit in one spot long enough.  Everyone was talking about my last day, and how no one wants me to leave.  Yet, they were all still smiling... implying that they know I will be back next year.  Despite my “keeping-busy-so-I don’t-have-to-think-about-it- being-my-last-day-mood”...I ended up getting a lot done.  An article I wrote will be published online for Umtha Welanga, as well as other networking companies that are involved in the social services and treatment for children.  And... I am proud of myself.  Doesn’t mean I’m ready to leave it all behind.  I will be back.  I had long talks with Lindi .. and neither one of us brought up the whole “last day” shebang..because neither one of us wants to.  I also talked a lot with Amenia, whom I haven’t mentioned in my blog.  Amenia is living in Cape Town, and she is a traditional muslim woman.  Very kind hearted, and very beautiful.  Inside and out.  She smiled at me all day, and just repeated to me “Haley, you know you belong here... you know your heart is here”.  All with a smirkish smile on her face.  

There were a couple times where I found myself wandering around outside at work.  Overlooking things.  Looking at the view of the beautiful mountains in the background.  I glanced over at the puppy that the old man downstairs owns.  He’s always tied on such a short leash, but he’s a puppy.  And his owner loves him.  Every morning on my way into the office I stop and talk to the pup, pet him and play with him.. and he usually leaves my hands and myself smelling like wet trash and puppy.  I never cared.  And I can’t tell you how many times I’ve stepped in his dog pooh.  I won’t miss that.  But I will miss having my conversations with the pup... and maybe even the smell he left all over me.    That smell consumes most of Khayelitsha.  The city that I’ve related with... the city that has scared the piss out of me once or twice.. and the city that has taught me what kind of person I am.  Khayelitsha...The Xhosa word for “New Home”.  Ironic?  Possibly.  I won’t ever live here.  But I will visit.  And I will remember the home that it was to me during my time here.  Lindi walked over to me... and said, “Come on Haley... let’s go sit and talk.”  So we did.  

  We talked about politics.. and the corruption that goes on in my country.. hers... all over the world.  No country is perfect.  But it takes the people to come together.. to become one.  And that needs to happen in a lot of countries. 

We talked about marriage and union.  Love.  How it is accepted and not accepted in our countries.  Between man and woman... woman and woman. man and man.  Love.  Love needs to happen in more countries. Not intimacy.  But love.   

Blood diamonds.  We talked about blood diamonds.  War diamonds.  It still happens.  and it is sad.  it is sad what people do for money.  It is sad what people think they need to do for money.  I think a lot more people on this planet wouldn’t buy diamonds if they knew that it costed someone their life.. their hand.. their innocent children.  And still, illegal diamonds are being imported into the United States, and other countries around the world.  I’ve never been one for bling-bling-ritzy-things... and I never will be.  

We talked about our futures.  What is in the view ahead of us?  Lindi has told me a secret that I can’t put into my online words for a long time.  But it will happen.  I told her a secret of mine.  And we have been sworn to secrecy with each other.  

Hope came into the room.  We both looked at Hope.  Her beaming smile that she always wears... with her bouncing blond hair as she hops along the room in her uncoordinated manner.  We still tease Hope about her marriage.  But she laughs at us.  Hope talked about her wedding as both Lindi and I make jokes about her being such a young buppah (baby).  Lindi has a long term boyfriend.. who she will marry.  And I have a long term boyfriend that I will marry.  They both exchanged their wedding fantasies.. and I sat there.  Lindi says “Alright miss I-don’t-talk, tell us about your wedding.”  I had to ponder for a moment.  I thought about everything I have learned here, and how that will effect my home life.  I simply stated, “I don’t want a wedding.”  Both of them looked at me like they weren’t surprised.  Everyday I see people living with next to nothing... and sometimes even just nothing.  Why on earth would I want to spend thousands of US dollars on a wedding, that happens for only a day?  I don’t want that.  I just want it to be Chris and I.  We love each other... and that’s all we need.  But of course a party with our families... to celebrate the love we share.  Lindi then looked at me like she was proud of me.

The pup at my work. :)

Some of the ladies and I on my last day. Right before we said goodbye. 

Cake that Hope made me.  "U Haley"- a nickname i picked up here.. pronounced Ooo Haley.

Lindi and I.  I don't know if I would of survived like I did without the help of my friend.   A connection like none other. 

It was time to say goodbye.  Patrick was here to pick us up.  We didn’t tell the children that this was goodbye for good, because it would be too hard.  My anxiety flew through the roof in fear that I was going to cry in front of everyone.  I kept telling myself.. “I don’t cry.  Haley.. don’t cry.  You can do this.  Stay strong.”  Sis Viv insisted that we take pictures, so my mind was occupied for a moment.  Everyone hugged me... hugged me so tight and kissed me.  Showing me how much they love me.  Lindi said "Haley I am not hugging you.  I will see you this weekend... and hugs make it official, that you won't be here monday morning to greet me with your usual smile."  Sis Viv whispered in my ear “Haley my dear, you will go far in this life.  You have no idea what you have done for Umtha Welanga.. and if I could keep you here, I would.  Now go change the world.”  She hugged me so tight, and a tear rolled down my cheek.  Amenia kissed my forehead and told me to keep doing wonderful things.  NqoNqo has been a mother to me during my time here.  Her children love me, and I love them.  She held onto me tightly... and then on the back of my head.  She says to me “Buppah you get out of here and go change more lives....”  Before I could say anything back, she was “Shoo-ing” me out the door by patting my behind and saying “Go! Go now before you make me cry.”  I took one last look around the room, and all the faces that were smiling with tears sitting in their eyes. I ran down the stairs, and climbed into the bus... and jumped right into Marissa’s arms.  It was uncontrollable.  The tears ran down my face like a river, and Marissa was there to hold me.  I realized that I was crying in front of people... our entire bus of people... but I was ok. I was comfortable. and I had Marissa.  For a little while at least.    

A friendship that will last a lifetime.  Marissa and I.  My first friend in Cape Town. 

I LOVE America. But.. I LOVE the world more.

        

          Why do people form judgment upon others due to cultural differences?  This is a question I can hardly answer, it wasn't until recently that I really started to open doors to cultural differences myself.  Over the past couple months, I have been learning more and more and being more wise about my choice of words, although this blog post may cause some controversy....I've noticed that it really bothers me when people aren't willing to understand why people are the way that they are due to cultural beliefs...ie. Religion, Language, Gestures & Body Language.  Everyone is brought up in a specific culture, that doesn't mean that everyone follows it. Everyone deserves a chance.        
         Most people don't realize that this country was completely formed by immigrants.  Duh.  I bet that was a lightbulb wasn't it?  The founding fathers of the United States were Christian.. but they did not create to conform our country based on Christianity but rather the freedom to Religion, and that is why America isn't based on just ONE Religion.  Many of the different immigrants that came to our country did so because they were able to practice whatever they believed in.
        Although in America we speak English and it's the most prominent language here, we do not have a "National Language".  Since our country is pretty much made up of immigrants (like I said above..) that does not make the English language "ours".  Also, once upon a time... the southern states were all connected to Mexico and most of the people that lived there, spoke Spanish.. and still do today.  American's are given the choice to learn other languages when we force upon immigrants to learn the English Language.  The HARDEST language to learn.  Kudos to you.  The world is a small small place, and sooner or later.. even if you hide, you will encounter different types of people and different languages.  No matter where you go or travel, there will be people that don't look like you, don't talk like you, don't gesture like you and don't think the way that you do.
        Culture is so valuable that it has been kept and passed on for thousands and thousands of years and bits and pieces from different cultures make us who we are today.  Ignorance is bliss, people.  Different countries & different cultures should be respected more because they have enlightened us with such traditions to bring our families up.  Different cultures and lifestyles are so important that it is more than its distinct visible features.  If we extend this aspect to the inner-self of a person, to members within a society, or rather an entire community... maybe, just maybe you can find some answers to how he/she...they... are affected by culture.
             Knowledge is the key to understanding different cultures.  I'm no wisdom goddess, and I don't know everything, but what I do know is that I had good parents who raised me to be more open minded and teach me about culture as a whole...in the world.  The world would be a better place if we could all learn to accept each other. 

67 minutes... & then some.

Today is Mandela’s birthday.  It’s a holiday here.  More so than president’s day, or any kind of day like that back in the states.  Everyone celebrates and does the honor of taking 67 minutes out of their day to ‘give back’ or do some kind of community service.  And EVERYONE does it.  I participated in making a garden at SANCLA last friday evening which is a clinic in one of the townships that does visits to the homes to give the ill their medications and bathe them... and such.  Gardening was more than just ‘gardening’.  It was picking up trash.. and by trash I mean ‘popped balloons’... dirty diapers.. human poop.  GARBAGE.  Although it was absolutely disgusting... we did it with smiles and laughter and... we did it.  It turned out beautiful, and it looked so clean and fresh.  We planted flowers and trees, and put life back into their front yard.  It was beautiful.  And the ladies loved it.  

I have officially ran out of money.  With two weeks left in South Africa.  I completely underestimated my living expenses and having no income for 3 months. But... for the first time in my life... I am not stressed, crying.. or freaking out about being broke.  For the second part of my community service, I have decided to give Umtha Welanga my art materials for the children, my warm clothes that I had to purchase here, my extra food I have, and anything else that I don’t ‘need’ when I go home.  Because... I don’t need it.  And they do.  Simply that. These are all things that I spent my money on here because I thought I needed it to survive..could I have made it throughout my stay without buying these things?  Probably.  But that’s why I am giving back.  Did I spend my money irresponsibly?  Probably.  And probably not.  Did I need to go out to eat with my friends?  Probably not.  Did I need to buy tickets to the rugby games? Probably not.  Did I need to go shark cage diving?  Probably not.  Did I need to go off adventuring?  Probably not.  Did I need to buy all these things that I really don’t need?  Probably not.  But... Would I look back, and what to change any of it?  Absolutely not.  Without all of these ‘things’ I wouldn’t have all of these memories.  I wouldn’t have my amazing “South-African-American” family.  I wouldn’t have all of these stories to tell the ladies at my work on monday mornings and listen to their laughter roar.  I wouldn’t have this incredible bond with everyone I work with, including the foster children.. mothers and the sick.  I wouldn’t have my best friend & sister Lindi.  I wouldn’t have any of it.  And that... that would be a sad sad time in South Africa.  

And although I am going to have to bail myself out of a world of hurt with my bills... surviving in the states... and moving, all of this was worth it.  These are memories  to cherish and hold close to me for a lifetime.  It’s these memories that are worth tattooing on my body, forever on my skin.  I have (over time) adapted to living without the plastic things in life.  Without the high maintenance  American living.  And although it  took half of my trip for me to experience this ‘happiness’.. I know what I am going to bring home with me back to the states.  I know how to survive without the expensive American standards.  When I really open my eyes here, through all of the poverty... crime... rape..  I can see happiness.  I see song.  I see laughter.. the REAL laughter in children.  I see real people.  I see survival.  I see struggle.  I see the love of a mother to a child.  And sometimes when I look home to America... I see a lot of chaos.  Run run run.  Slaving to the clocks.  Work work work.  Money money money.  All to buy things that we don’t really ‘need’ to be happy and healthy.  To stay in the competition of ‘nice things’ with your fellow American brother and sisters.  I see people stressing themselves crazy to pay their bills for the nice things they have... and blaming the economy because they can’t afford their nice new car, or iphone... house payment... cable tv.  Vacations.  Is that really what this world has come to?  Sadly... Yes.  Is it changeable?  Yes.  One person at a time.  An eye for an eye, remember?  

So... am I stressing out about surviving without money?  No.  Because I have experienced life.  I have experienced love.  I have found what makes me happy.  And through that... I know that “higher powers” have a plan for me, and everything will work out and be ok in the end.  And if it’s not... then it’s not the end.  

I am not trying to shame or bash the American lifestyle... If that’s what really makes one happy, then so be it.  However, I have experienced something in my life here that is unexplainable.  Unimaginable.  but most of all... beautiful.  And I get to take that home with me, to live my life... raise my children one day... and to be a teacher, provider and supporter.  And to love everyone forever.  Unconditionally.  

"Bathande Bonke Okoko"

--To love them all forever--

Xhosa

There's hope for my patience.

The past week has been pretty quiet.  I haven’t been sleeping very well because I have come down with a cold... or something.  Work isn’t the same without the children and Professor.  I think the ladies are noticing that I need a little quiet time.  Lindi has especially noticed.  It’s nice because Lindi is kind of like me in that sense.  When it’s apparent that we need quiet time, we both just know.. like it’s a second sense.  The ladies are a little different, they are always loud and laughing.. which is ok.  Because it does make me laugh too... even when I’m feeling a little down.  We did our usual monday morning check-in today to see how we were all doing.. I was feeling quiet and tired, and my voice is gone again.. so I was kind of stuck in a self pity-party at first.  Sisi Pumla talked first... and she said her weekend was not alright. Pumla said that her cousin called her this weekend and said that her son had been stoned to death by the community members for being accused of robbery.  Here in Khayelitsha.. family is important no matter how extended they are because family is all that they have.  Pumla was very upset for her cousin.  Since it was the members of the community that stoned him (this happens very often in the communities actually), there is no evidence of who did what, because no one will speak... and it was the community members who killed him.  He was only 15 years old.. and was never given the chance to speak.. even with the police.  Pumla said that it was most likely because his best friend has been getting in trouble with stealing lately, and the wrong person caught him with his friend.. and that was the end.  The police can’t do anything about it... and no one knows what happened because... he’s dead.  So the case is closed.  And he wasn’t even 16 yet.  My stomach turned upside down.  Sisi Nqo-Nqo spoke next.. and said that she had an awful weekend as well because the pipe broke in her toilet so her yard is flooding with feces.  She said the smell is awful... and it’s embarrassing because all her neighbors can see and smell it. Nqo-Nqo is a single mother of two boys.  She works very hard and hardly has any money.  She has no money right now to fix her pipes, which will only cost R200.00.  In US dollars... that’s 25 bucks.  She had to ask her neighbors for money, but they are charging her R300.00 in interest.  Completely ripping her off.  But she said she had no other choice.. and probably didn’t.  After hearing their stories, I’m not sure I’d be able to keep my composure like they did if I were in their shoes.  Strong... strong women.  

Throughout all the chaos that has been going on over the past two weeks, and my self-pity party I was having this morning...  I forgot to introduce the newest member to the team in my blog.  Hope.  Hope is a volunteer from Ohio, coming here to learn about social work.  She is 19 years old, was home schooled..engaged... and starting college in January... I believe?  Anyway.... Hope started a week ago.  She is something else.  She is young.. in love... very smart...and hasn’t really experienced the bad things that happen in this world.  If that makes sense.  At first, I was a little worried with her arrival.  She has a heart that is far too big for her little petite body.  Not that that’s a bad thing... it isn’t.  But she has a lot to learn about the community we work in.  For everyone that knows me, knows that I am not usually a person to ‘babysit’ someone else... I usually do my own thing.  My personality and Hope’s personality is like oil in water.  They don’t mix.. but for some weird circumstance, it’s working.  She has taught me so much about patience... and what it feels like to be young and naive.  In a good sort of way.  She reminds me a lot of who I once was when I was 19.  I was young, naive... and had a lot to learn about this world.  Looking back, I wish I would of been more like Hope when I was 19, because I think I would of been able to see things differently later on.  However, that’s wishful thinking... and we are here in the present... and living and working in a community where being naive could be a bit of a problem.  So I keep my eye on her.  Like a hawk watches a mouse in a field.  Sometimes I think she thinks that I’m being bossy and telling her everything she shouldn’t do... but, I think once she’s been here for a while, and I’m not here anymore to watch her... she will thank me for what I have taught her, or helped teach her. Hope has given me hope for my patience.  Literally.  I am usually extremely short fused when it comes to situations like this and sometimes I can’t believe the things that come out of her mouth...  However, she has taught me to literally laugh it off...and she will learn more.  Over time.  This experience will be an eye opening and life changing experience for her.  Just like it was for me.  

Linda has been telling me that she’s been feeling ill lately, and she has been vomiting a lot.  Oh goodie... not.  I hate hate hate when people tell me that. But I feel bad for her because she has soooo much work to do, and already not enough time to do it.  And she didn’t come to work today. I had to go out with the ladies last week and do home visits.  We walked... and walked... and walked some more.  Which took forever because it was a LONG walk... and remember... Africa time.  The women take their sweet time walking.  Which is totally fine by me.  It gives me the opportunity to really take in my surroundings, and see what really goes on in the community.  I started noticing all the shacks, and garbage.. and children running around bare foot where the broken glass shimmers like stars in the sun.  The children kick around soccer balls that are made out of plastic bags and rubber bands... and play cricket with make-shift bats and balls.  The men all stare at me like I am some movie star strolling down the street.  Soon, we arrived at the section where we needed to be for the first house.  We were surrounded by shacks.. shacks made out of merely tin and cardboard.  It was like walking through a maze to get to the shack we needed to be at.  The path we had to take was narrow, wet... and smelled like feces and garbage.  The children were playing in the dirty sand and mud, barefoot... and unaware of the filth they were in.  My first instinct was to run over and pick them up.. but I reminded myself that here... this is normal.  I am adapting to their culture and not vise versa.  We continued to stroll on our narrow path mazing in and out..around the shacks.  I had to constantly watch my feet because there were feces, mud, trash... and dirty condoms everywhere I looked.  I had to keep telling myself that I can’t make a scene.. or faces with what I was having to trek through because it would be disrespectful and only prove to the community members on their thoughts about white people.  So I sucked it up and pretended like everything was fine and normal for me.  We arrived at the foster house, the very very tiny house.  Sisi Nqo-Nqo told me that we are making this visit to see why the foster children haven’t been showing up at after school care and did not attend our holiday program.  We walked in the door and the foster mother welcomed me with a hug  and then kicked the 3 children (one of which was rocking a newborn to sleep) out of this tiny chair they were squeezed in so I could sit down.  The children all stared at me like I was a ghost... like they haven’t seen a white person before.  And they probably haven’t.  The shack was made up of two rooms, one being the kitchen/living room and the other was the bedroom.  One bedroom.  For the foster mother, her daughter... her granddaughters... and the foster children.  I was unsure of how many foster children were there, but I know the ‘rule’ is that one foster mother can only have 6.  While we were sitting, the foster mother made us some tea while she called the oldest foster child in from outside so we could talk to her about not coming to our program.  She came inside, all smiles and looking so happy.  It’s almost her 16th birthday.  The ladies were talking to her in Xhosa, and she kept smiling.  The ton of the conversation turned a little, and even though I couldn’t understand.. I could put together what was happening.  The reason why she wasn’t coming to the program was because that newborn baby her foster sister was rocking to sleep... was hers.  The baby then was being passed around the room, and two more children came into the house and sat on the floor... then another...then another..and another.  Soon there were 11 children, the foster mother and her oldest daughter... all in this tiny room with the 3 of us from Umtha.  11 children?? in a two bedroom shack?  How does that even happen?  All of a sudden there were two toddlers crawling in my lap, getting boogers all over me from their runny noses... but I couldn’t help but smile. Then I found out the mother doesn’t even collect the grants for the foster children... which means she barely makes it by feeding all these mouths.  That’s a whole-hearted person if you ask me.  Remind me why us American’s can be so greedy?  yikes.  

Soon, we were off to the next house.  Again... truckin’ along the paths and mazes... jumping over puddles and walking across bricks in big puddles.  The words ‘used condoms’ absolutely makes me want to gag.  So I will now refer to them as popped balloons... but I saw so many ‘popped balloons’ laying around that you could of made enough tires for an 18 wheeler.  Seriously.  However, it’s good to know that people are using them I guess.  Walk.  Walk. Walk.  we made it to the next house..then the next house... and soon our day was over.  On the way home, I realized I only have 15 days left here.  15 days.  My close friends are leaving left and right...My time here has went by way too fast... and although I’m ready to see my family.. see Chris... and the warm sunshine.. I am not sure that I have fulfilled everything I needed to fulfill here? I have two more weeks to figure that out.  

Funny the way it is.

Smelly Markers :) 

[Monday] 

Monday came fast... thank god.  I woke up to good news and my glow of happiness returned.  I tried to nap on the way to work, but I was so excited to get there and see the children after having such a long weekend.  When I got to work, I was instantly greeted with hugs and welcomes from the ladies.  The children started to show up one by one, and ran to me like they haven’t seen me in ages.  Monday was another day of monsoon rain so a lot of the children didn’t come because they have a far walk.  It’s unfortunate... but funny the way it is, some children take the bus to school while some have to walk 10 miles.  I sat on the floor with all the children, and they noticed I had two different socks on...the giggles roared in the room, because the white lady who is supposed to be rich, has two completely ass backwards socks on.  It was kind of funny... considering I’m almost 25 and I do that EVERY day.  Not just when I need to do laundry.  Funny the way it is.  After they got over my socks, they noticed that my legs had shimmery stuff on them.  I have lotion that is supposed to be for after sun (however I’m not getting much sun here) and it has glittery crap in it.  It was almost as if they children thought that I had stars in my legs... they repeatedly rubbed my legs and saw the shimmer, then rubbed it on their faces.  Soon, all I could hear was “magic...MAGIC... She’s magic!!!”  I had to laugh... it’s the little things in life.  Honestly.  Time was running short and just as I had my doubts that I wouldn’t ever see Nolwethu again, she walked in the door... in her pink jacket and a beautiful smile.  Her eyes lit up like christmas lights when she saw me.  I opened up my arms and she plowed into me, almost knocking me over...and then repeatedly kissing my face.  As overwhelming as it was, I felt the same way.  I was so happy and so relieved to see her.  I asked her where she had been and her tiny little face let a frown.  She had been in the hospital with her mother, who is terminally ill.  My heart immediately sank.  I hugged her and held her in my arms... and she stuck to my side the rest of the day, just like my shadow does.  

The day started out with recapping what the children learned about HIV/AIDS and surprisingly, they retained so much of the information from last week.  It absolutely blows my mind when these children are 7,8,9 years old... and they have to learn about healthy sex, sex partners, and everything that an average American child doesn’t even think about until middle school or later.  Professor ended up having to go downstairs to work with the older kids, so I was on my own.  My agenda for the day was to try and somehow communicate with them not using many words considering they have no idea what I’m saying.  I had to teach them about healthy role models and who/what they want to be when they grow up.  I managed to get the subject across them.  They worked so hard and so quietly, I started peeking around to the children’s art and noticed that about 3 of them were drawing pictures of me.  I was so happy, and so sad at the same time.  I love that they want to be like me, because a lot of these children don’t make it through school.. and have higher rates of not being as successful.  However, I was saddened because it was a reminder that I will have to leave these children soon and I think they have impacted my life more than I have theirs.  

After we took our lunch break, I had the kids make thank you cards for Sis Viv (the director of Umtha Welanga) for having the children’s holiday program for them.  Again, they worked so hard on these cards and they turned out so beautiful.  The kids are fascinated with using my markers... it’s refreshing to see children getting excited to do children things and using their imaginations.. rather than playing video games and rotting their brains with garbage tv.  It was time for the children to hand their cards into me so I could give them to Sis Viv.  Before I put them on her desk, I peeked at them... and ALL of them snuck the words “I love Haley” somewhere on the inside of their cards.  My heart melted, and I let out a giggle.  

[TUESDAY]-- Last day with the children and Professor’s last day... :( 

Well.  I woke up in the morning, 10 minutes late because I couldn’t get my fat-beer-rear outta bed.  It wasn’t that I was too tired... I realized later on that I was preparing myself for a day that I did not want to come.  It was the last day that I get to spend with the children... and my last day with Professor.  Although my time has been short with them, I have this connection that I can’t explain.  Professor, he is like my long lost best friend/brother.  I honestly love the crap outta him... and I am sad to see us part our different ways.  He has taught me so much about life... love... has helped me restore my faith in humanity...and myself.. and even though we are completely different, we fit together like a glove.  The children.  I don’t even know.  They have completely opened my eyes to a new life.  They have helped me realize how beautiful life is.  How to cherish and love all of the little things in life.  How to live more frugally and still be happy.  How to not freak out when snot gets rubbed all over me... how to be more thankful for everyone in my life because you never know when it will be your last day with them.  This list could go on for FOREVER.  Literally.  I dragged myself to the bus... and we started off late.. again.  In the mornings, I either a.) stare out the window the whole ride to work.. or b.) immediately pass out.  Well... today, I plugged in my ipod (because I am SO sick of listening to Celine Dion... Boys to men.. and this crazy Xhosa song that’s about facebook.. all on repeat)..and took out my journal, and the only marker I have left in my bag, a gray one.  And just started to draw.  I drew and wrote the entire ride, and before I knew it... it was time to hop off the bus and start my day.  The morning seemed to pass very quick because all of a sudden all the children were there and fighting over who got to sit in my lap.  We started off the morning with our usual prayer... and then recapped... again.  However, this morning it was a little different.  When they were talking about everything that they learned, it was always “Miss Haley and Professor taught us....”  and then they started talking about how I taught them to draw, and use markers, and crayons.  Again.. the tears in my eyes started.  I never knew that I could touch someone’s life with just using markers... crayons..computer paper... and love.  I have never been so proud of myself, in all of my accomplishments in life.. this wins by thousands of miles.  Just to know how I have impacted the kids, impacts me thousands.  The first activity I did with the children was making HIV/AIDS posters to hang up in Umtha Welanga... and again, majority of the posters the kids made stated that “Professor and Haley taught us...”.  I now know how important I feel when my name is written with crayola marker.  Honestly.  The day seemed to pass by so incredibly fast.  Funny the way it is, when you want days to go by fast..they don’t.  And when you don’t want them to go by fast.. they do.  How do you stop the clock?  I wish I knew. 

It was time for my dreaded moment.  Patrick showed up an hour early... of course.  And I didn’t even know how to start.  The children knew that it was time to say goodbye... and one by one, and very patiently (patiently doesn’t really happen with these kids.. it’s usually a fight to get to me first)... they lined up to give me hugs and kisses.  They all hugged me so tight and kissed my cheeks.  After I stood up to put my backpack on... I noticed a couple tears running down some of their cheeks.  How in the world did this happen?  How did we bond so closely in just 5 days?  I wish I knew because maybe it would of been easier for me to say goodbye.  Maybe I can plan a yearly trip in September every year, to work with them for two weeks.  I don’t know how I am going to do it.. but I know it will happen.  Because I have to.  I have to come back.  That’s something I know.  I know I have to come home and live my life... see my family... get a job... move across the country with the person I love the most in this world.  But it’s hard.  It’s hard knowing what and who I leave behind here.  How do you go home, back to America.. where everything is so fast paced.  Where American’s are slaves to the clock and have little time to enjoy themselves and time with their families.. who are happy and healthy.  Where cell phones, computers and television run the world.  How do you go back to that?  Well... I do know one more thing.  I know what I will be taking home with me.  

The entire bus ride back home.. I laid down... and shut my eyes.  Just to visually dream about my journey with these children.  Although it’s been hard to leave... I do miss my family.  I miss Chris.  And oh my god do I love him.  I am so thankful for him and sticking by me all these years, the thick and thin... He really understands me, like no one else in this world.  And I know that he can see the things that I’ve seen here, and be as impacted just as I have been.  And that... that my friends, is worth thousands and thousands of lightyears beyond this Universe.  

<3