Tragedy meets Harmony.

        

       My sincere apologies for not writing sooner.  There are no legitimate excuses for me not writing lately.. other than the rain and my laziness.  However, that means that I will have a lot to say in this post.  

First, I am going to start by the rough morning that kicked my day off today.  I woke up with an email of a response to one of my postings on my blog, from a person who does not seem happy with my opinions and experiences.  The only thing that I have to say is, I am sorry for leading to the generalization of ‘Africa’ to one country...I know that there are many countries that make up the continent.  I refer to Africans a lot, and Africa a lot... when I should be referring to South Africa and South Africans.  However, this judgmental person that left me a rude comment in implying that he/she is not happy with my opinions and experiences in SOUTH AFRICA.  I have nothing that I feel is necessary to explain to this person other than:  if you don’t like my writing, my viewpoints and experiences, then don’t follow along and read my blog.  That’s the only thing I can offer, because I am going to continue to write, and express MY opinions and experiences.  I am a person from a different country... different world.  Trying to live life, work and experience culture here..on my own. I have not meant to offend anyone intentionally, and I would never...my parents have raised me better than that.  

Second... I also woke up to a lot of messages from my mom, implying that something was very wrong.  I got out of the shower and she was already calling me on Skype.  So...even as annoyed as I was to be greeted in the morning with such presence, I answered because I knew something wasn’t right.  My mom informed me that a very close family friend, mentor, teacher, and most importantly... family member, had passed away.  Completely shocked and unexpected, and still in a towel... I don’t think I was awake enough to process this kind of news.  My mom told me to just go out and do what I do today, and let it sink in later.... Well, I tried to do just that.  But how do I put something so serious, on the back burner for an entire day?  I still can’t believe how shocked I am.  On the bus this morning, I was attempting to register what had all happened... and how I am going to cope with all of this?  How do I register that this person is gone?  

This person that helped me through some of the toughest times in my teenage years.

This person that never once judged me for my struggles and taught me how to live in the moment. 

This person that sacrificed her free time after school to stay with me when I needed someone to understand, listen, and cry to.  

This person is now gone. 

And I’m thousands of miles away.   

I’m typically the person that holds everything in until my ‘breaking’ point... but I can’t do that here.  When I’m half way around the world, and my family isn’t here to comfort me when it happens.  So I have to force myself to talk.  Tell someone what’s bothering me.  However, I’m unsure of how I’m going to tackle that.  

Alright.  Now to tackle everything that has happened in the past week-ish.  

-Last Thursday-  

I had an amazing day at work.  We have been planning the foster children’s “Holiday Program” (they are on a 3 week holiday break from school). We also got a new intern.  His name is Professor, and he is from Zimbabwe just like Lindi.  He also never fails to amaze me.  (will talk more about them later).

  Thursday night, my friends and I decided to go out to this bar called “boogie.”  Boogie is an 80’s kinda bar.  It was a very very fun night.... but “boogie” got the best of most of us.  

-Friday Morning-

I woke up in my bed... utterly confused as to where I was (I was sleeping on the wrong side of my bed) and probably still a little bit tipsy.  Once I thought I new where I was, I rolled over, put my arm around and cuddled right up to a sleeping body.  My sudden realization that this person is NOT Chris, and I am NOT at home in the states, shot me like a ton of bricks... I flipped over, pulled the blanket back.. and found sweet little Caitlyn snuggled way underneath the covers.  What a relief!  For those of you that don’t know... Caitlyn lives in the same house as me... and it’s winter here.. COLD at night.  and no heater.  So we use body heat when it’s really cold.  Marissa, Caitlyn and myself usually all snuggle in my bed.  I sighed, and my hangover hit me like a wet slap in the face.  Yep.  Back to bed I go.  

--Weekend-- 

Well, the rest of the weekend was pretty chill.  It was raining and cold most days, so we went exploring and adventuring around Cape Town.  Visited some museums, aquariums, and ate a lot of food.. and no more alcohol cause boogie got the best of my booty.  

-Monday and Tuesday-

Monday,I slept the entire bus ride to work.  I was exhausted for reason I am still unsure of.  At work, the ladies greeted me like usual... and we had meetings ALL DAY.  Not that that’s a bad thing.  We are planning for a very big week that’s coming up.  Professor, Lindi and myself had many discussions about work, religion (my most hated subject up until this point), and life.  

Patrick picked me up on Monday and I said I would like to get my hair done after work.  He offered to take me to drop me off at the hair place, which he did.  Such a nice man :)  However, it took three and a half hours.... and the salon stayed open 2 hours later just for me.  The people were unbelievable.  Again, completely treated like family.  They wanted to get to know me, and when I told them I work in Khayelitsha doing therapy/social work for foster homes and the terminally ill... their jaws all hit the floor.  The three of them, Zacharia..the owner, his mother.. and the lady finishing up my hair, were all in disbelief of what I said.  They are all from the Congo and all three of them said they are afraid to go into the townships and that I must be a blessed young lady because I am capable of doing that.  I paid for my hair, and asked about paying for the spray I had to buy (for my ohhhh so sore scalp!).. and Zacharia gave it to me as a present and then offered to drive me home, and I accepted.  Sometimes I don’t know how to handle being treated so well by people I didn’t even know.  

Tuesday I walked into work, and the ladies we in complete shock to see my new hair... “Buppah, you look soooooooo beautiful, you are now one of us... you can never go back home now you know...” We all laughed.. and continued on with our mornings.  More planning and organizing for next week when the children come.  Plan. Plan. Plan.  Lindi put Professor and I in charge of organizing the days and activities for the children.. which is actually a lot of work.  Because neither one of us speaks Xhosa... (Professor understands, but he’s from Zim remember).  

Organizing and strategic planning is a bit of a struggle with the ladies at work.  There’s a lot of miss communication sometimes, so it takes a while to get set in stone. Professor and I worked so hard together, and got so many good ideas planned right away.  After that moment, Lindi looked at me differently... like, with a little more respect in a sense.  While we were walking back to the office, she says to me “Haley... I am going to miss you when you go home to the states, I will probably cry. On your last day, I won’t say goodbye because that makes it real.  I’m just going to shoo you out the door.”  

-Today-

I wasn’t sure how this day was going to go.... after everything that had already happened in the morning... the day was already discombobulated.  I got to work, and received my hugs and love.. and felt comforted.  Professor and I were already given an assignment and had to finish up our planning for the children’s holiday program.  We managed to finish at 11am, and then had time.  Time to do a whole lotta nothin’.  Lindi and another lady from work had to go out into the community to personally deliver invites to the holiday program, so Professor and I... well... We got a little bored.  My mind started to go crazy... thinking about Judy.. thinking about Bill.  Their family.  How awful this situation is.  Thinking about my mom and sister, and how they are handling this tragic loss.  I felt my eyes start to welt up, and I started to panic.  I started to think... “Oh my god.  I can’t cry... don’t cry. Haley...You don’t cry. Think of something else... anything else...Oh god Judy.  Please give me a sign and let me know that you’re at peace up there...”  So- I walked outside with my camera to take pictures of the beautiful gardens and flowers outside of my work.  I captured a beautiful picture of a flower.  Immediately my mind went “Judy. Pictures. Flowers.  She loves flowers.”  Again... I started to get choked up.  I walked up the stairs and Professor was walking out. 

         I think he realized that something wasn’t right with me, and we started walking.... walking with no place in mind, in a community that neither one of us is familiar with.  Walking and communicating with very little words.  We heard the sounds of children playing around the corner at the park.  We walked into the park... I sat on the bench, and Professor hopped right onto the merry-go-round.  The kids literally flocked over once he sat down, and wanted to be pushed... they wanted to play with us.  It was like a dream.  So much fun.  I suddenly wasn’t feeling anxious, sad or overwhelmed with all my thoughts, there was no weight on me. I felt like I was floating on air.  There was a young boy... eating an orange, and sharing with all of the other kids. The kids were crawling all over us and just wanted to play. We played.  Like I was 5 years old again.  Running around the park... spinning on the merry-go-round.  Laughing.  The kids were playing with my hair... holding my hands.  We couldn’t speak to each other because of the language.. but we needed no words. The sun peaked it’s head out of the monsoon clouds that have been terrorizing us the past couple days.  I was in a dream.  I had to be.  Judy.  Thank you for letting me know your at peace.  Thank you.  

Just one smile, can change the world.

Alright.  Where to begin.  Well, I didn’t blog yesterday because one of my South African roommates decided to have a party from 2am-6am.  So I was a little tired, and I’m still a little sick, so I was a little cranky. 

So, to recap my day yesterday... I walked into our 2nd day of foster parent training looking like a complete zombie.  All the ladies continued to hug and kiss me, there were new faces as well, which jumped right on the bandwagon and hugged me away.  Sister Vivianne, the Directer of Umtha Welanga, re-introduced me to the group and told them that I have a Masters Degree in Art Therapy and a lot of experience in counseling... and all of a sudden, it was like the women had epiphanies.  They all were looking at me different, like I was some kind of angel.  After that, they started referring to me as Ms. Haley Psychologist.  I tried to correct them over and over again, but the always replied with “To you, you are different.  To us, you are Psychologist.”  There was no sense in arguing with them at this point.  Sister Vivianne then started the day of training by leading a prayer in Xhosa.  I didn’t know what to expect... but I bowed my head and closed my eyes, and then felt the women next to me grabbing my hands, and the sweet sounds of whispers filled the room. It almost felt like I had all these voices in my head, but it was so beautiful to listen... even though I didn’t understand what was being said, I didn’t need to.  I could feel the compassion running through my blood and into my soul, and that was all I needed.  We all sat down, and the first half was all in Xhosa.  

I tried to keep my eyes from getting heavy and crossing.. so I tried thinking about anything... anything to come to mind.  I started thinking about the bus ride this morning, and Patrick of course.  He told me on the way to work, that he wishes he could take me to the home affairs building, so we could marry each other.  He said that we could have a nice house in Khayelitsha, and we would survive by the love we have for each other.  I just have to giggle at him, because I really don’t know what else to say to him.  Patrick then proceeded to tell me that I would be fine living in Khayelitsha because I don’t act like the typical ‘white’ person and that I have a lot of compassion for people.  Compliment?  Yes....  Soon, I lost my train of thought, and was in my own little world for quite a while.  I noticed the foster mother sitting next to me.  How high she held her head...but I couldn’t help but notice the hairs on her chin.  And..it wasn’t just hairs, it was more of a bearded chin... to put it nicely.  Lindi must of noticed me looking at it, because when it was time for “tea time” she came to me and told me that in their culture, African women that have hair on their chins are looked at to be very wise.  So here, it’s an honor to be able to grow hair on your chin.  In America, you would be harassed and people would assume there is something wrong with you.  After “tea time”  we had to come back and do an ice breaker.  I think it was mainly because Lindi noticed I was getting all bobble headed before.  So....I’ve never really been a fan of ice breakers.  I understand them, and their ‘importance’ but the pressure was on me, since I’m the odd duck out in the room.  Nolita says “everyone get a partner, and turn your singing voice on!”... Oh great.  I could feel my armpits start to sweat, cause if there’s one thing that makes me more uncomfortable than praying in a group... is singing in a group....without alcohol.  Lindi grabbed me and said, “it’s easy, you’ll learn fast... stop being scared.”-- I swear this woman can read me better than anyone else.  “I love you, god loves you..this is the way should be!  God loves you, I love you... This is the way should be!  We gonna dance together dance together, this is the way should be! EYYYYYY!”  It was so entertaining and fun, that I didn’t even notice I was singing and dancing around in the room with complete strangers.  

When it was time to come back from dancing wonderland, and to reality... I finally snapped out of it, I realized that all the women were working on group projects... and I noticed one of the ladies holding her camera phone up.... aiming at me.  I looked around to see if there was anyone behind me (in hopes that she was aiming at someone else)... and she said “no no sisi, I like you.”  So she took a picture of me.  Then wanted a picture with me.  Then all of a sudden the room grew quiet... and everyone slowly walked towards me, asking for their picture with me.  I’m pretty awkward in situations like this..cause I really don’t like to be the center of attention in an unfamiliar setting, or where there’s no alcohol involved.  Mama Theresa said “we appreciate you sisi, you come across the world, with no money... and no family here... to learn and adapt to a new lifestyle, and help wherever you can.”  I suddenly felt my eyes start to tear, and my heart suddenly felt warm.  I wasn’t being pressured, or overwhelmed.  I was being loved.  I realized where I was, and what I was really learning, and most importantly... why I am here.  I was put into this internship at Umtha Welanga, standing as an Art Therapist.  But I am here, and I’m doing everything but that... as of now.  And I’m completely ok with that.  Lindi explained to me the other day that then need social workers.  Social workers work for the children.  Even when there is no funding.. they still work.  Which means, they aren’t getting paid.  So right now, I’m learning the ropes of social work... counseling while I can, and waiting for the children to be on their holiday break (starting next week) so we can do some art and dancing...and most importantly, I’m learning more about myself, life, and love.. than I ever thought imaginable.  I am  now more confident with what I want out of my life.... and what I definitely don’t want.  

  Today, I walked into the last day of training with my head held high.. and no anxiety.  I greeted the women with hugs and kisses, and they hugged me back harder than they have hugged me yet.  Nolita (one of the home care workers I work with), says to me “helloo buppah, I need you to do something today.  We want you to say some nice words at the end of training.  How it affected you, and words of wisdom..”  Nothing like starting the day with an unplanned speech ahead of me.  Well, I pulled up my pants and said “Ok” with a smile, and she then hugged and kissed my forehead.  The entire day was so emotional for all of the mama’s.  They shared all their personal experiences (in Xhosa... I really have to learn this language) tears were shed, and emotions were at an all time high.  Then, it was time for me to say my speech.  I started off by saying that I had no idea what anyone said before, but this is what I have to say... and then went into my own personal experiences and then what I really thought of all of them.  The speech went a lot longer than I had planned, and I really surprised myself.  When I ended, all the women clapped so hard, and I noticed almost all of them were crying.  How in the world do I have such an impact on all of them?  I’m still trying to figure that out.  I wish they knew how much they have impacted me.  They are teaching me how to love everyone.  Give everyone a chance.  Recapping the love they have shared, I thought to myself... you know how many people would cringe if someone with no teeth smiled at them?  You know how many people would turn and whisper to their friends when they see a person wearing something that they wouldn’t consider “normal”?  You know how many people turn away from innocent children and adults who have been affected/infected with HIV/AIDS?  You know how many people look into these townships and can hardly see past all the trash and poverty... to see the true beauty?  Do you know how many of these ‘black‘ people are terrified of the ‘whites‘ because of all of the racism and segregation that still goes on here?  Did you know that if you show them love, they will love you back with every ounce they have to give, even if that means giving you the only orange they have.  Did you know that in the bad townships, the children get one sandwich at lunch time and most of the time, it’s their only meal of the day?  Did you know that these children are always happy, playing, dancing, being imaginative and active no matter how bad their lives are at home.  Did you know that these women and families have made me feel so beautiful, more than I have ever felt, just by the gestures they give me?  Well... I know.  I see all of this everyday.  EVERY. DAY.  It’s time to take a moment and reflect on all the things we have in our lives.  Be thankful.  Try to thank as many people as you can.  Try not to sweat the small things.  Try not to complain.  Giving people that have HIV/AIDS hugs, will not give you HIV.  Remember,  we are all alive... and well.    

I walked out of this training today with more love, happiness, and encouragement than any time I can remember in my life.  Lately, I have been struggling with understanding the concept that I am broke... and all of my friends are going on all of these cool trips, experiencing Africa, and I am not planning on anything because... I have no money.  So, yes... I have been having (somewhat) of a pity party for myself.  On the bus ride home, I was thinking about how fabulous the last 3 days were and how I can’t wipe my silly smile off my face, and how I am so excited to work with all the children next week.  Then.. it hit me.  I didn’t come to Africa to go on Safari’s, or swim with whales... or wine taste every weekend.  I came to Africa to do what I can... to help and have an impact, to love with every molecule in my body, and to smile at everyone.  I came here to experience Africa.  The real Africa.  The people.  And that is what I am doing.  I wouldn’t have it any other way.  

That's right... I'm not just a 'white' girl.

          I had another wonderful weekend in South Africa.  Friday we hiked to the Cape of Good Hope, the very very very tip of Africa.  Beautiful doesn't even come close to explaining it.

          On Sunday, we went to the famous Mzoli's.  Mzoli's is in a township called Guguletu.  It's a gem of a place, let me tell you. It's a pretty popular place on weekends and is world-wide known for it's delicious meat and butchery.. (except if you're a vegetarian like me ;)).  It's quite the place to hang out and make friends and has a bit of a reputation amongst the locals for drunkeness and disorderly behavior.  Of course.  I learned the difference between blacks, whites, and coloreds.  Which, I have been having a difficult time figuring out anyway.  Black townships, white areas... I haven't really been able to sort it all out.  What I gathered is that blacks, well... are black.  Pure black through the generations.  Whites, well... are the same.  Pure and white.  Coloreds are a mixed race, or people of Hispanic, Asian, or Indian decent.  I think my brain has been reprogramed to understand and accept some of the words that they use here to explain each other... or maybe it's that I've been driven around Cape Town enough times to understand the segregation that is here.  As interesting as it was, again... we met some really really reaaaaaaaally amazing people and families, that took us in as their own.

         And today....back to Monday, Monday.  Work was a little bit different today.  This week we have foster parent training for the foster parents in Khayelitsha.  It was quite the learning experience, let me tell you.  The training opened up with us all introducing each other, hugs and kisses, and lots of looks of confusion... as I was a white girl standing in the middle of the room, yet again.  After all the women met me, we opened up with a prayer.  A beautiful prayer that the women all sang together in Xhosa.  I've never really been one to participate in prayers and such, but the sound of these women and how passionate they were about prayer...was not simply about God but the fact that they were praying for each other.  Vivianne, the director of Umtha Welanga, opened up the training by saying how important it is that we are ONE family.  We are all here for each other, and not to judge each other.... and then the room suddenly felt warm.  The discussion then moved to what a foster parent is.  Here in South Africa, foster parenting is not the same as foster homes in the states.  Between the discussion being half in Xhosa and half in English, I learned how passionate these women are about helping children, and helping each other.  Foster parenting here is run by grants, however... these mothers receive next to nothing for the children they provide for.  They take these kids into their homes, treat and love them like their own, and then if their biological families want them back, they have no choice but to hand them over and let them go.  During this part of the training, Vivianne put more emphasis on the word love and family more than anything else.  You could see in all the woman's faces, how much they want to help and love these children.  Then, we had to discuss the forbidden word...abuse.  The discussion was open for the foster mothers to talk about... yet hardly anyone was saying a peep.  Finally, they started talking about verbal, physical, emotional, neglect, and then just barely touched on sexual abuse... the most common type of abuse that these children suffer from.  Vivianne could tell that all the women were hesitant, and the tension in the room was almost making me want to pull my hair out.  Finally, it was my turn to talk.  Vivianne wanted me to introduce the way the United States deals with Foster Care, and abuse.  I chose to talk about sexual abuse last, because I knew that the women were going to feel mortified.  I talked... and the body language that the women had was actually making me feel a bit uncomfortable.  After I was done talking, I could see that the women had a new respect for me... I wasn't just the white girl sitting in the middle of the room anymore.  Then, I began to ponder about how I was going to blog about all of this tonight. I started realizing all the things that I don't really talk about in my blog, and started writing them down......

• I haven't mentioned that 1 in 4 men here is a rapist. 
• I haven't talked about the "coloreds" --simply because that word pains me. 
• 75% of South African households have Domestic Violence as a "regular feature" of daily life. 
• 5% of African babies die before their first birthday. 
• I haven't talked about racism here. 
• I haven't talked about getting thrown into a house with 9 other people, and suddenly they are your family. 
• I havent talked about the South African men and their wandering eyes. 
• I haven't really mentioned the music here... and how beautiful it is to me.  Which seems to slide into my ears, which goes to my heart... and then into my soul. 
• I haven't really talked about how much I really do miss my family...especially Chris. 
• I haven't talked about how the wind sounds like airplanes at night, and makes our entire house shake. 
• I haven't really talked about how I secretly practice the different types of Xhosa 'clicks' when I'm alone in my room at night. 
• I haven't really talked about all the simple pleasures back home that I seem to take for granted.  Like a nice hot shower and warm house... not having to rely on public transportation, and my safety.  
• I have not talked about the incredible amount of trash there is here.  

And........I probably won't talk about these things.   I have no idea how to start a post about the racism here.  Each one of these issues is in my face every. single. day.  The energy that it would take to write a post on these things I have to deal with, is just too much for me.  So I will continue to do what I do best-- Help people, and show them love.

          The next list I seemed to have come up with, are the things that I have learned about South Africa, and living half way around the world.

• I learned that in the townships, in the food stands that sell chicken's feet and sheep's heads... yes... you read right... are their favorite foods. And they call Sheep's heads smilies because when the head is roasted, the corners of the mouths pull up into a smile.  Yuck.  
• I have learned that they call traffic lights robots.  
• I have learned that it is still almost impossible for me to cross the street.  Look right, left, right left right left... run foooooo yooooooo lifeeeeeee! look right and left again. 
• I have learned, and still kind of am learning to ignore how closely Patrick (my bus driver) follows the vehicles in front of us.  At home we call it tailgating, here... they call it good driving. 
• I have learned to be patient.  More patient than I ever thought possible.  Africa time is really getting a hold on me... The meeting will eventually start.... the bus will eventually be here.  Eventually it always happens. 
• I have learned that it doesn't rain here.  It monsoons.  
• I have learned that American's are considered to be intelligent and smart, but South African's are wise, and can speak 5 or more languages... fluently.  
• I have learned that it's not Cape Town that I am in love with... it's the real people that I meet in Cape Town.  The city is beautiful... but the people are more beautiful, who see no difference in me because I am white.  
• I have learned, while working in the townships, that there is a difference between good and bad people.
• I have learned that I don't need 'things' to be happy.  I need people.  Good people.  
• I have learned and experienced the true meaning of family.   

Well.  That's all I can gander right now.  Until we meet again.  Cheers! 

Mzoli's Meat!  Yuck.  

Some of our new friends :) 

Caitlyn, Marissa, me and Amy standing on the point of the continent!  Well, pretty close anyway.  Next available land mass--- Antarctica!  :)

       

Another day.. learning a lifetime worth of knowledge.

Patrick was on time this morning, in fact.. he was there before any of us were.  He greeted me like normal, with his explosive personality and African Jams.  He must of seen that we were all tired and groggy this morning because he jumped out of the van and started dancing around on the sidewalk next to the parked bus.  I guess it was a good way to start off the day. The bus ride seemed extremely long this morning for some reason.  Even though Patrick was on time to pick us up, it was 9:35 by the time I actually got to work.  Walking through the door, the ladies did their normal greeting, “Eyyyyyyyyyy Sissy, you see us early!”  When I finally got settled at my desk, I wasn’t sure of what this day was going to bring me.  We have our inspection, and organizing for foster parent training today, which is all in Xhosa... So I just sat kind of comfortably at my desk, and pondered about how I was going to write today and what I could understand through their half Xhosa half English speaking they were using. 

Makhaza.  Makhaza is a township outside of Khayelitsha, it is entirely made and built upon shack houses and extreme poverty.  In the center of the township, there is a playground area where all the kids run to after school.  The housing shacks that are around the playground have grills set up outside their fencing preparing to braai (what they call BBQ here).  I started browsing around and noticed that there were actually sheep heads on the grills, and huge tubs full of chicken feet.  Before I could turn around to look the other way, I saw the ladies getting in line to get some chicken feet.  They know I’m a vegetarian so they started laughing and saying “we sorry sissy, we just loooooooove chicken feets!”  At least the smell was ok...  While they were waiting, I noticed some giggling behind me and turned to see a whole line of children wearing their school uniforms behind me.  “Hey sissy, hey sissy!!”, they were yelling at me.  The ladies said, “The children want to play with you buppah, they don’t see people like you often.”  People like me often?  I thought about it for a bit, then realized they said that because I was white.  Their chicken feet were done and we started walking down the street as they munched on the boney-braaied feet and spit the bones out.  I was still thinking about the white girl comment, so I asked them... “do these children ever get to the city?  Like Cape Town?”.  They then told me that there really is never a need to go to town, that they have everything they want and desire in their townships.  I’m figuring out that their still is a lot of unsettled racism between the townships and white people.  The Affrikan’s are snobbish and not very nice to the people from the townships.  It’s unfortunate, but I guess that’s society for you.  Anyway, strolling along... the ladies then began to explain Makhaza to me.  Here is where the unfortunate happens.  Child molestation, rape and even murder occurs here more often than not.  They even have a cemetery that is for children that fall victim to these horrible crimes.  It hurts my soul to see that these innocent children, who are free spirited and loving, who know how to use their bright imaginations and play.... are falling victim to such awful circumstances.  Umtha Welanga is affiliated with this township because there are children that need to be taken out of homes and placed in ‘safe houses’ (foster houses).  The children get out of school early here, and don’t always go straight home.  It’s not a requirement for teachers to see their students onto buses... there is no such thing as school buses here.  The children walk home, and of course they end up playing on playgrounds, harassing the people who have food stands, and doing anything but going home.  Most of these children’s parents are not home when they get out of school, and do not get home until late due to working, farming and trying to scrape as much money as they can to support their families, in any way that they can.  We reached our destination, and found no one to be home.  The door was open, and you could see where the roof wasn’t all the way attached to the home... a big enough gap that a bird could fly in.  I suddenly didn’t feel sorry for myself for freezing every night that I sleep here, where I get to sleep in an actual bed with a blanket, and roof that completely covers my head, and they don’t.  

We had to take a taxi to our next stop, because it was too far to walk.  When we got into the bus, I noticed a little girl sitting in the first row of seats by herself... wearing her school uniform.  She couldn’t have been older than 7, yet she had to take a taxi bus to her home after school, by herself.  She got dropped off before we did, and I got to see where she lives.  The ladies didn’t think anything of it, as they were singing and belting out the song that was playing on the radio.  So it’s rather normal I guess for kids, young kids, to use the public transportation by themselves.  We reached our destination and got dropped off in the section of houses where our next stop was, and began to look around.  Here, the houses are numbered by who buys first... not in a row.  We were in section J looking for J4, which should of been easy.. but it wasn’t due to there being over 100 houses in section J.  Finally we found it.  It was our visit with MvuMvu.  MvuMvu is an older lady, probably in her mid 60‘s, who has beautiful curly hair and white whiskers off of her chin...she is currently housing 6 foster children by herself.  We got up to her patio to sit down and talk with her, she stood right up off the bucket she was sitting on and hugged me and kissed my cheek.  She then offered her bucket for me to sit on, and  here, it’s rude to turn things away when they are offered to you... so I sat on her bucket.  MvuMvu (or mama, as everyone on the block calls her) started talking Xhosa with the ladies and I noticed a little baby poking her head out of the curtain and smiling at me.  The baby didn’t look more than a year old, but then came running around the corner and hid behind MvuMvu’s leg.  I instantly noticed that there was something wrong with this baby.  Her legs were bowed so badly that I could of rolled a bowling ball between them when she stands.  Nono then explained to me that the two babies that are in the house, are not her foster children.  They are the children of one of the foster children in the house.  She continues to tell me that one of her foster girls, who has just turned 15, is the mother of these two babies, who are hardly a year apart.  She gave birth to both children in the middle of the night, with no one even knowing she was pregnant. MvuMvu then begged me for help, to help her help this child because she doesn’t listen and keeps running off with her ‘boyfriend’ and leaving the babies behind on occasion.  After our discussion was over, MvuMvu came out of the house with a large plastic bucket... filled with fresh homemade croissants.  She tells me,  “I made these fresh this morning and I want you ladies to take them and share them at work.”  Again, here we go with the whole ‘giving with nothing to give‘ gesture.  It never ceases to amaze me. As we left, she hugged us and kissed my cheek and patted me on the bum as I walked out.  

Our arrival back at the office was a little chaotic, as the kids were just arriving for the after school care program and singing and dancing in the street. The kids are using their imagination and creativity, and having a beautiful time.. without technology, video games, computers, iphones and tv’s, which is more beautiful than anyone could imagine.  

I’m running out of time, but will post again as soon as possible!  :)  Peace, love and Africa!  XOXO   

Sometimes oranges make a wonderful gift.

Good morning.  The bus driver was late this morning... again.  When I got to my drop off spot for work he told me he was going to propose to me.  Weird I know, but I spend a lot of time with Patrick in the mornings, cause I’m the last to get dropped off.  He calls me angel eyes, blows me kisses everyday and says that I am going to have 8 of his children one day. He’s serious.. but he knows that I have a serious relationship and a ‘man’ waiting for me in the states.  I just laughed at him because between his English and the baby making music he was blaring,  I can never really understand what he’s saying. I get a kick out of it at least.  Since I was an hour late, the ladies greeted me with their normal hugs and kisses and chuckled, “Sissy, you is always late!” and then rambled something in Xhosa and started laughing.  I always walk in with a smile anyway, and this morning with an orange in my hand. They get a rise out of teasing me because I can’t understand them, but they always hug me and kiss me on the head afterwards like I’m one of their children.  Which all in reality, I kind of am.  They treat me just like their family here, open doors and open arms kinda policy.  I was kind of shy about it at first, but the more time I have spent with them, the more I adapt to their culture.  They never argue with each other... ever.. well, about anything serious at least..HA.  It truly is a tight little family.  Maybe if more people in the states adapted to this culture, there wouldn’t be so many issues at businesses and such with sexual harassment, harassment in general, and of course... who could forget those awkward moments where everyone is in that awkward position because someone knows something that someone else doesn’t and everything seems sneaky and fishy that leads to those awkward moments of silence in the lunch room.  

Although these ladies take me into their arms like I’m one of their own, there is a lot of awful things that happen here in the community.  It’s not all sweet and dandy all of the time, outside of work there are huge problems with rape and armed crime due to the poverty and all of the illness.  Crime because people are looking for all the money that they can to support their families, and keep their sick ones alive..1 in 4 people in South Africa are HIV+.  There are millions of people that live here, millions.  Almost everyone that is HIV+ also has TB, or vise versa.  That’s completely unheard of in the states, only because of education.  The USA is a great place to live because of all the resources and education we have, but we don’t have the kindness, loyalty, open arms, and happiness like Africa does.  It’s unfortunate that Africa is a little behind... or maybe a lot behind, because this country is so beautiful, filled with beautiful people who are dying everyday, most before they reach the age of 50.  Lindi has taught me that Africa is slow because of their laid-back type of living.  People here enjoy everyday, even with all the crime, poverty and illness.  Lindi says that it’s a blessing as well as a sickness because people here enjoy life no matter what, but that’s how illness happens and that’s hard to gain control of.  After Patrick dropped me off and I was walking down the street,  there was this little old lady trying to push a grocery cart up a curb across my street who was visually ill. I almost pretended like I didn’t see it and kept walking, because it is a little scary walking around by yourself. Then I thought about it, what if that was me?? If there is something that I can take home with me that I have learned here, it’s being kind and generous.  I stopped in my tracks, pondered for a moment, and turned around to walk over to her. She looked at me like I was going to mug her and backed off, I pushed the cart up the curb, she touched my face and smiled and handed me an orange. It was beautiful, even though you can see that she is critically ill due to her sunken face, no teeth and skin discoloration, you could see the beauty through her gestures and how thankful she was.  She said something in Xhosa that I couldn’t understand, I must of had a look of confusion on my face because she then said “thank you”.  I smiled at her and said “no, thank you for this beautiful orange”  and then I continued onto my walk to work.  

This morning was entirely full of meetings that all happened to be in Xhosa, so I had a lot of thinking and brainstorming time.  I had my little notebook and markers, so I jotted down a couple things that weren’t work related... since I have nooooo idea what they are talking about.  I started thinking about what I was going to write in my blog today, jotted a couple ideas down.... and then I found myself staring at the map of the world that is posted on the wall.  I have been a lot of places in the states, mexico and some parts of canada... now, I’m in Africa.  Learning a completely new way to live.  Half way around the world, meeting new people everyday that have left impressions on my heart and soul.  I started writing down all the other countries I would like to visit... Ethiopia, Kenya, Zimbabwe, Thailand, India, Bali... and so many others.  If it was possible to become a professional backpacker for a year or two and make a living, possibly writing stories and experiences... I’d do it in a heartbeat.  Yes, I’d become a professional backpacker.  Living only with what I can carry, and an orange in hand.  If people around me can live in shacks, without water supply, without iphones and apple computers, without gyms and fitness worries, without designer clothes and accessories, and have absolutely no money and scarcity on food... yet, can still hand over an orange to give away as a gift to a complete stranger, and be beaming with real happiness, I can do it too.  I don’t need ‘things’ to be truly happy.  I need people... Good people. That’s happiness.  However, I have priorities that I can’t just toss away and a home with wonderful people that love me and need me.  Wonderful good people. That do make me happy. One day my travels will happen, even if they are short lived... with an orange in hand.  

After my day dreaming session, the four ladies that I work with that are home based care givers start saying to me “Sissy, you must come with us today.  You must see the terminally ill and offer them your services.  Our foster homes need you too.”  Before I could give them a response they were pushing me out the door and telling me I can’t bring a thing with me because I’m a target for getting mugged.  So I casually go along as they all talk in Xhosa and I catch myself staring into peoples houses... again.  Of course I got scolded, and Lindi wasn’t with today.  We walked for what seems like forever, into the base of the township.  Before I realized where I was, one of the ladies Nono (I’m not sure how to spell it...it has clucking in it and that’s how it’s pronounced haha),  grabbed my hand and said “You must see this place, look around.  It’s our training center and life skills.  You learn everything you need to know here.”  We walked around and they lead me to one of the doors (the building was like a storage building) and I looked inside, three old men were sitting there making art.  The most beautiful homemade art I have ever seen.  They didn’t even look up when I walked in (which is completely abnormal, given that I’m the only white girl, remember?).  The ladies say, “this is special place for you, you need to come spend some time from these men and learn from them.”  And, I do.. and I will.  

Since this blog is starting to get long, I’m only going to talk about one of the visits I did today. Maybe I’ll touch on the others tomorrow.  The first, Tembeka.  Tembeka is a 25 year old terminally ill HIV+ mother of two babies and her ARV’s (medication for AIDS) has stopped working. When we were approaching the house, Nono says “Sissy, you must go to the door and ask.  You need to get over your fears.”  So, without any hesitation.. I walked up to their door (which is wide open remember, open door policies in Africa) to find a chubby little baby sitting in the shade of the door... in a milk crate.  The babies little nook fell out of his mouth in awe, and then reached for me to pick him up. Since I was unsure of what’s acceptable here, one of the ladies behind me gave me a little shove in the door so she could pinch his cheeks.  Nono told me to sit on the couch and wait.  Tembeka came out and my heart instantly sank.  She is my age... has two babies, and is visually terminally sick.  I then realized how good I have it back home.  Tembeka does not speak English, but when the ladies offered my services to her, she said yes, yes.. with absolutely no hesitation and she reached for my hand to hold.  As she held my hand, she informed the ladies, who translated to me that she said “My youngest is negative, and my other will go in for his two year check up next week and will be tested.”  Tembeka informed me that she was positive during both her pregnancies, which has made her youngest baby abnormally large, and her older baby has a significant clef lip due to being positive during the pregnancies.  Soon it was time to go, and Tembeka stood her fragile self up to hug me and said something in Xhosa to her sister, who then brought me an orange.  Coincidence?  I think not.  To be continued......... 

I get by with a little help from my frie..ughhhh...Lindi.

        

            The bus was a half hour late this morning.  Apparently we got two more riders to pick up, which makes the bus ride longer for me.  The bumpy ride started out with some jumpin’ African jams that I was actually grooving to.  I found myself daydreaming while staring out the window-instead of my normal head bobbing/drooling on myself.  The sun was much brighter than normal because of the bus driver being late, and it was completely blinding me most of the ride.  In between the sun blinding me and random forms of shade, I could see families waking up, children playing in the streets, women washing and beating clothes the old fashioned way and hanging them up on a line, and then...... I saw a woman walking down the trailish-looking sidewalk carrying a 5 gallon bucket of water balancing on her head.  I couldn’t believe what I was seeing.  Of course I’ve seen stuff like that on TV, but when you’re in reality... it’s a little different.  When I realized that my hands were plastered on the window and my mouth hanging open, I pondered... how in the hell does she not break her neck?  Or how does she not suffer from an awful headache?  Then it hit me... I am the complete American Idiot that we are portrayed as here in the townships.  This morning, I was just complaining about how I had a headache because of the headband I had on, and sometimes I’m a little winey about the 5 blocks I have to walk with my stupid backpack to where the bus drops me off and picks me up everyday... yet, these women are carrying 5 gallon buckets of water on their heads and have babies and toddlers tied to their back?  Reality check??  Yes.  

When I was finally arriving at work...still in complete awe of my epiphany that I had, I was strolling down the block to my building when I heard small footsteps pattering behind me.  As fast as I could look, I felt a grab on my hand and looked down to see a young boy that was probably 4 or 5ish.... before I could say a word, he smiled and kissed my hand and then ran back home.  I continued to walk, thinking about all the crazy things I have managed to get into this morning, while rockin’ a big cheesy smile on my face.  I marched up the stairs to my office and was greeted by all the women I work with... “Goot mourning Halley-buppah, why is you late?”, one of the ladies asked.  I told them that my bus driver was late and they all replied with laughter because they know how the transportation works here.  I sat in my office, still pondering... and grabbed a text book, and yes... like the stupid American that I am, tried to walk around with it balanced on my head.  Just as I was taking a step, Linda (Lindi, as I call her) walked in and caught me... “Wut are you doing miss?”, she says.  I had to laugh and before I could even explain and she blurts out: “You’re American, your head is too big and too round.” and then she slightly chuckles at me.  Linda, (Lindi).. is the social worker at Umtha Welanga.  She is my age and she is from Zimbabwe and also very intelligent, and I swear she knows more about the politics in America than the average American does.  Her favorite thing to do is study and learn, and ask me thousands of questions about America and the trends.  Lindi makes sure I know what it feels like to be the minority, in a protective/awkward kind-of-sort-of manner.  She often calls me out on my struggles and the awkward American traits I seem to have, but without her... struggle wouldn’t even begin to describe my day at work.  She teaches me everything I need to know, and what is acceptable and what is not acceptable in this township and culture.  

Yesterday, at work.. Lindi was frustrated because we had an inspection from their government and it delayed everything she has to do for the week.  So when lunch rolled around, she looks at me and says “Alright, come on.  We have to go to the transportation office and I want you to see what it’s like...... oh, and don’t bring anything with you... we don’t want you getting mugged.” My response...well, I couldn’t even respond and just followed her out the door.  As we were walking, she told me that a lot of people are going to try to get my attention and not to listen to them unless we want to be followed all over the place.  It was hard not to look around at the people everywhere, and the little booths (that somewhat resemble carnival food stands and little shacks) that are their shops and stores, for example: “Get your passport here”.. and “Funeral services here”.  I was beginning to realize I was completely out of my element, but with Lindi by my side... I was safe.  We managed to make it to the transportation office, which is their form of a DMV.  Lindi needs to get her drivers license so she doesn’t have to use the unsafe public transportation every day.  Their building looked like a train station, with 3 different box cars in a row that are for applying, eye test, and then the driving test.  It was incredibly awkward and entertaining... as it became apparent that I was the only white girl within a 15 mile radius because of all the looks I was receiving.  After Lindi applied, we moved over to the box car where she was supposed to take the eye exam.  There was a lot of people in there and of course there were only two chairs open, and they were not next to each other.  She looks at me and points at the chair for me to sit.  I sat down and immediately, I realized how bad the room stinks.  I was sitting closest to the open door, so I tried to make it look sneaky that I was taking gulps of fresh air and then when I turned my head I’d have to hold my breath.  Now, to explain the smell without sounding like a complete arrogant American... water here is scarce.  Especially in the shacks in the townships.  They don’t have running water in their homes so they have to walk to the water stand (hence, the lady carrying the 5 gallon bucket..).  Since this is difficult, showers and bathing only happen once a week or so.  So..... you can use your imagination.  The waiting seemed to be longer and longer and we were running out of time on our ‘lunch break’, so Lindi said that we should probably head back and she will have to try again later.  On the way home, it was starting to get a little busy, as kids were getting home from school. As we were strolling along, we started hearing shouts from all the men, “Hey Melanie!” and another man would shout, “Hey Amanda!”.. Lindi starts laughing and I ask, “Who are they talking to?”  She gives me a chuckle like, really Haley??  “They are talking at chu white girl, Melanie is a white name..”  I give an awkward laugh and she told me to just not pay attention to them.  Yeah, that works real well with me!  The conversation died and I found myself to be looking around the neighborhood, or so I thought.  All of a sudden I feel a slap/grab on my arm and look over to Lindi saying “Halley, you are staring into peoples houses! Stop doing that!”  I didn’t even realize I was until she grabbed me.  In Africa it’s a trend to leave your doors completely wide open during the day, especially when the sun is out.  So yeah... I’m guilty as charged and called out.  I was staring into peoples houses.  Sometimes I don’t know what I would do without Lindi here to save me every day.  

We arrived back at work and before I knew it, my bus driver was knocking at the door telling me it was time to leave.  I know right, me loosing track of time?? Who would of thunk.  I said my goodbyes to everyone and they all hugged me, even my bus driver.  Weird.  The bus ride back went faster than the speed of lightening, as I was trying to register my day and still adjusting to the life style of Khayelitsha.  How did I ever get to be so lucky?  To be able to experience all of this and learn so much, and be the minority for once?  I’m still trying to figure that all out with a big smile on my face.  I’m doing something that makes me happy.  and I will do it until I die.  

Well, until we meet again.... Usale ngoxolo!  (good bye ;) !)  

YOLO! I should probably blog everyyyyday.

Khayelitsha! 

         

          So... I'm not entirely sure where to start.  My first week in Cape Town has probably been one of the craziest weeks of my life, and probably one of the most memorable.  Since I have a lot to talk about I'll sum everything up as best as I can.
         First I'm gonna touch on all my entertaining struggles living here.  I'm living in Cape Town, one of the most beautiful places in the world, literally.  Yet, I'm living here during their "Winter."  Now, their winter is nothing like our winter, however it does get pretty chilly here at night which has lead to sleep overs in mine and my roommates rooms attempting to stay warm.  For real.  Haha.  Winter means rainy season here, but to me it means monsoon season.  I have seriously never seen it rain this hard in my life.  Although it's amazing to see and experience, it's not fun being wet ALL the time.  So if anyone would like to donate some rainboots my direction, that would be awesome.  I shouldn't say I'm wet all the time, because it does go back and forth from sunny and hot to a minute later it's completely down pouring.  Next....my attempts at crossing the road are near to impossible.  In South Africa, they drive on the wrong side of the road, along with the wrong side in the car.... and they drive absolutely bleeping insane and do not stop for pedestrians.  So trying to cross the road is like a game of frogger.  Run for yoooooooooo liiiiiiiiiiife!  Going out into public is pretty intense as well.  Walking alone and night is not really an option unless you want to get mugged.  Robbery here happens so often that in order to get into your houses, you have unlock 3 or 4 gates.  Not to mention our house is completely enclosed by a huge fence and then electric fence on top of it.  Pick pocketing happens so often that you literally have to keep your purse in the safety of your arms when your out.  However, my new friends and I stick together and keep an eye on each other.  There is a new struggle every day so I'm sure I will have more to talk about soon.  OH... how can I forget the electricity....  You have to go to the store and buy electricity.  No such thing as an "electric bill."  We have an electricity meter in our house and occasionally, it runs out.  And we are stuck in the dark.  But we make a good time of it anyway.
         My job.  I finally started my job last week.  I can't even begin how to explain my daily routine. Every morning I get picked up by a 'minibus' down the road by our local grocery store.  We have to be there at about 7:45 because the bus is scheduled to leave at 8am.  Buuuuut, the luxury of South Africans is that they don't necessarily work by the clock.  So we might not get picked up until 8:30....8:45.  Ya, it happens.  Sometimes they are on time, but if your not there and getting on the bus at 8, you're getting left behind.  I have an hour ride to work, listening to crazy African rap the ENTIRE time, and I'm the lucky one because I am the last to get dropped off.
            The ride to work is always a complete eye opener.  I work in the 'township' called Khayelitsha, one of the worst and biggest townships in the Cape Town area.  Every day I see thousands of stray dogs running the streets, trash everywhere, literally... kids running around, busy traffic, and thousands and thousands of shacks for homes.  Despite all the bad things I see... I see a lot of amazing things as well.  Like the people.  Neighbors care for each other, watch each others kids... and majority of them are extremely happy with the little that they have.

Khayelitsha woman and baby

          When I get to work, all the ladies that I work with greet me with hugs.  I'm not usually a huggy person, especially with people I don't know very well (and don't speak the language!)..but here it's just so warm and loving.  The ladies are all from the area and they speak Xhosa.  They do speak English, but they tend to mix the two together, and generally... I have no idea what they are talking about half of the time.  Xhosa is the native language to this area, and yes... it's the clicking clucking language, and I sound like a complete idiot when I have to speak it.  Which, I do.. well, trying.  The day starts off with the hugs, then we have to go around talking about our evening and if we are in an ok mood today or not.  It's really silly and weird, but I'm getting used to it... and honestly it's nice to tell them that I'm tired before they witness me drooling on myself while I'm trying to keep myself awake during the paperwork time.  The organization I work for is called Umtha Welanga (omp-tah wally-ahn-gah).  My job duties thus far include:  going to the foster homes for inspections (yes... in the homes), going to the homes of the terminally ill and bathing them, making sure they are taking their meds and eating... and then lastly, the best part, working with the kids in our after school program (the foster kids that have been orphaned).  We get to dance in the streets to loud African music while they show me up with their African dance moves, and also... I get to do art therapy with them.  Best part of my day everrrrrrrrrrrrr.  These kids are so entertaining.. and so free spirited.  I just keep learning so much by the people I meet.
         Anyway, I'm going to post this long thing... I'll try to be better at blogging more frequently.  I have to blog about my experience I had today walking around the township (being the only white girl within a 15 mile radius), and of course my experience mountain climbing and hiking, and SHARK DIVING! Ah!! So much to talk about.  So many awesome amazing people in my life!!! Good night from South Africa!!! YOLO! (you.only.live.once.) xoxo

Wine Tasting on Friday afternoon :) 

Hiking Lions Head with my new buds :) 

Living Half Way Around The World..

               

             So it begins.  The next chapter of my life.  I took a long journey by myself to the other side of the world to be able to experience life in a different way, to learn about myself, and to make a difference.  The start of my journey started May 19th, 2012 when I graduated with my masters degree.  I sat and shook the entire day, because... that was it.  It was the end of my college career.  I was scared because all I've ever known the past 7 years was somehow related to school.  It felt so surreal walking across that stage..in fact, it still feels surreal.  I'm sure it will hit me when this fall rolls around and I'm moving half way across the country and not getting ready for another year in school.  After graduation, I took two weeks off to just relax, get healthy.. and spend time with my family before my journey half way across the world.  Two weeks went by faster than I could ever imagine, it was like the flip of a light switch and then... there I was... sitting in the Chicago O'hare airport saying goodbye to Chris while holding back my tears, but nearly peeing my pants in excitement.  Surprisingly, I made it to all my flights on time.. and met some really interesting people along the way.  Traveling by yourself is something everyone should do at least once.  The sense of freedom and independence can change your entire perspective on yourself.  Finally, I was in Cape Town.... walking out of the terminal looking like a bum, probably smelling like one too..(after 26 hours of being on planes) and looking for a man holding a sign with my name on it.  Then there he was... it all happened so fast and within a blink of an eye, I was unlocking 3 gates to this beautiful orange house where I would be living and calling home for the next two months, with 9 other people.
               My first weekend in Cape Town was filled with so many emotions and excitement.  Since I haven't started my internship yet, I have been touring the city and adapting to the culture here.  It was tough getting used to the money difference, but I think I have a handle on it now.  It has also been difficult learning military time, as that is what they use here.  It's bizarre and I'm horrible at time anyway, so I just kind of gave up and went with the flow...and still kind of am.  Surprisingly.  That's the other cool thing about living in Africa... the people here are not slaves to the clock.  They all live in the moment and everyone is so happy, even the bums.  It's completely different from back home, and way more relaxing.  Oh and I can't forget to mention the plug ins here... they are not the same as at home, and I nearly blew my head off when I attempted to blow dry my hair for the first time. Thank god I have roommates that are locals and have kindly helped my dumb american ass figure out how to use things around here.  Anyway, after taking all of that in... I decided to go shark cage diving with all of my new friends.  Now, for those of you that know me know that a.) I'm absolutely obsessed with sharks and b.)  I'm terrified of puking and especially people puking in front of me.  For most normal people, I think those two things would be switched around.  Not I.  I was like a little kid in a candy store, practically peeing my pants when 12 or so great white sharks were circling our boat.  It was the most amazing thing I have ever been apart of.  And then, once we had all been in the cage and experienced being in the water with these enormous dinosaurs.... people started getting sea sick.  Now... I bet most of you that read this would know that me in my normal state would start screaming and run in the complete opposite direction.... but instead, I handed over my towel and helped everyone that was hurling over the side of the boat.  I think Cape Town has completely changed me!!  Not to mention, I've been out and partying a lot more than normal... it feels good to act like I'm 21 again... well it does when I'm out.  But of course the next morning is always rough for me.  Not to mention that the morning we went shark cage diving I woke up with an awful hang over.  Yay me.  Anyway... my first two days this week included drinking all over Cape Town with my new friends while doing the most touristy thing you can do...riding the red bus tour.. looking like a fool.  Haaaaa.  And then also my orientation.  Later this afternoon I have a meeting with Umtha Welagna, where my internship is at.  So Until then, I'm sitting on my couch on the porch... typing this... and enjoying the beautiful sun.  Tomorrow is my first day of work and to say I'm excited would be a complete understatement.  More updates to come.  Until then.... as they say in Xhosa  "Usale ngoxolo!"