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.
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