I don't know what it is, but it just went under the bed.

Back to School

Around the end of August I began to realize that I wasn't going back to Auburn High. In my mind's eye I could see the staff returning for the annual, "I guess summer's over" meetings, indoctrinating us back into the institutional environment that we so lovingly call, "school". I will truly miss AHS, the faculty and its students. I will, however, not miss grading lab books over these coming two years.

South Africa's schools reopened this week to begin their fourth term. In this term it is the countdown to the fated "Matric" Exam taken by grade 12 learners. This exam makes the anxiety that students feel for the WASL (Washington Assessment of Student Learning) look down right silly. Learners must pass the exam, which most are unprepared for, in order to graduate or "matric," as they call it here. Many learners do not pass and therefore must return to grade 12, time and time again, until they either pass or drop out. Ah yes, this does sound like a possible WASL scenario after all.

Alright enough Ed-speak. For primary schools in SA, where I have been placed, from grade R (kindergarten) up to grade 7, the learners all sit for internal exams at the end of the term. Therefore much of term 4, if not all, is spent focusing on review and testing.

My goals in the schools start quite simple: (1) Get to know the educators at both of my schools (13 at Abbot's Poort Upper Primary and 24 at Jacob Langa Lower Primary), build a relationship and gain trust; (2) Scope out areas where I can use my skills to provide help in real ways for both the educators and learners. After the first three months I should have a sufficient plan of action and be able to move forward (or at least that is Peace Corps's hope.)

Last week I had the opportunity to spend most of the week with Mokgadi (Susie) at Abbot's Poort Home Based Care, meeting and greeting the wilily women that comprise its staff. This week Mokgadi joined me at the schools on Wednesday and Friday. It was fabulous. I didn't know that it would be this way, but I have found for myself that I get fairly quiet when I am in a new place with new people who primarily speak a language in which I have only limited experience. (Who knew?) Mokgadi, however, has quite a knack for striking up meaningful conversations that she and others enjoy. This made finding connections with the barutisi (teachers) much easier. Thanks, Suz. We are also taking pictures of all of the staff and attaching them to a "Getting to Know You" questionnaire for later reference.

This week I am finding my way into classrooms to observe the goings-on. I also am taking on a personal project to get some computers up and running that have been in the staff room at Jacob Langa for the past three years. You see, a company donated them to the school but didn't do any software clean-up inside. They were still loaded with Windows 2000 NT and all were password protected. The company did not want to give the school the passwords, for then the teachers would be privy to all their corporate documents stored within. Hmm… one final not-so-nice donation hic-up: They didn't donate power cords for the monitors or CPUs. I did manage to find two sets of power cables, but no more. The software problem was solved when I asked if the Department of Education ever gave out software for school use. The answer to this question came in the form of a bundle of installation CDs from Microsoft about 3 inches thick. There were no product keys, but the paperwork that accompanied the disks had a phone number for a Microsoft Call Centre. I called and Microsoft has an agreement with Rural Schools in SA, so the product codes were emailed to me as we spoke on the phone. So now, one by one, I am installing Windows XP Pro and Office XP Pro on all of the machines. Eventually with sets of power cords, these machines that have sat idle for 3 years as mammoth paperweights will be used for their intended purpose - education.

A view of Abbot's Poort Upper Primary School over break. (Notice the absence of children.)

And Jacob Langa with children after the break.

DRIP, DRIP, DROP, LITTLE OCTOBER SHOWERS

I think there are a few two many syllables in that title; oh well, I'm sure you can make it work. October has come and with it, more rain! We have been told, many a time, that the rain has come early this year and that it has come in greater quantities than it did last year, entirely. We don't mind this one bit. In fact, it sprinkled, again, today, off-and-on. When it rains it is definitely cooler, however, I am still here typing away in my shorts and sandals with the door to our little place wide open. We bought a fan in town last weekend (a large oscillating one) and yesterday, when it didn't rain, I was stripped down, laying on the bed with the fan blowing on me as I finished up my Robert Ludlum Novel. Oh, did I mention that all of the South Africans that we meet here in Limpopo look at us and shake their head, saying, "It gets too hot around here." You know if they are saying it gets too hot… We are enjoying the rain while it lasts. Last week we were out-and-about with our host brother, Moricho, contacting people with automobiles for emergency get-away purposes, when it began to rain. (When I say, "rain," I should really say a "downpour" - buckets from heaven). We rain for it… well, at least Moricho did and I followed his lead. Mokgadi, on the other hand, looked up into the dark clouds with both arms outstretched and let the rain rinse all of her cares away. We Washingtonians do love the rain! While Moricho dove for cover, I came back to join Mokgadi and we chose to meander our way home through the gigantic drops of liquid sunshine. By the time we reached our house, after walking around the soccer field a bit, we were, shall we say, a bit wet. We put our coats and bags into the storeroom next to our two-room humble abode, and walked back out into the cascade. The roof provided a true waterfall, so Suz jumped inside to get her shampoo and we took advantage of the natural shower … beats a bucket bath any day. Addendum - Suz would like me to mention that at no points in the above stories was I alluding to nudity, public or otherwise.

I DON'T KNOW WHAT IT IS, BUT IT JUST WENT UNDER THE BED

One evening, last week, I was in the bedroom, minding my own business and typing away on the laptop, when I heard the pitter patter of little feet skittering across the floor. I didn't remember having a pet, so I turned around to see what was the matter. I must have made a noise, because Suz came into the room while brushing her teeth and spotted something - much larger than it should have been - run under the bed. Its body was the size of a field mouse and its legs spanned maybe 9 cm. Suz left to spit out her toothpaste, so I decided to get my headlamp from the desk drawer to try to see where our newly acquired roommate had gone. Upon getting down on the floor and peering under the bed, I saw the darn thing charge out with its two front legs raised in a rather threatening manor. Somehow I blinked and found myself miraculously on top of the bed (I think it was magic), shining the headlamp down on the roving ottoman on the floor. It didn't seem all that friendly, really, so I didn't try to catch it, but rather used the closest blunt object, my shoe, to squash the not-so-little bugger. (I hoped that it wouldn't grab the shoe and fight back.) It had moved across the room, making its way to the door to the kitchen/dining room, when I moved off the bed, working my way forward with my shoe raised for the kill. Sensing my presence, it turned and charged, front legs once again raised like miniature horns of a stampeding bull. It took 5 hits for the thing to go down. That was, by far, the largest wolf spider I have ever encountered. (We looked up the spider in our South Africa wildlife book, even though the mangled remains were a bit hard to identify appropriately.)

DEATH IS A PART OF LIFE

Yesterday, Mokgadi and I got up early to attend a funeral for a gentleman who lived just across the soccer field from us. He was a police officer and was well known and liked, so the funeral was highly attended, maybe 500 or so. In SA it is my understanding that preparation for the funeral and events take place the entire week leading up to the day of the burial. The night before the funeral, people stay up until 4am, preparing food (the family serves everybody a full meal after the service.) The cooks get 2 hours sleep and then are up, again, at 6am. We joined the funeral gathering at 6:30 for the service at a large army-style tent. Many spoke and much singing was done by all. The coffin was taken to the hearse and then the masses headed out for the cemetery. Some fit into automobiles, inside or crammed into the back of pick-up trucks, while the majority walked the half mile down the main tar road. Once there, more spoke and choirs sang. The police force was there to honor their fellow man and a trumpeter played what sounded like the SA version of taps. Eventually the coffin was lowered into the ground and the men lined up to take the shovel, each one throwing a shovel-full of dirt to cover their comrade. This proceeded until the mound of dirt that had been taken from the earth had once again been replaced in its rightful space. Words were said, songs were sung, and tears were shed, then the masses returned down the tar road to the tents to begin the feast. We headed for home, at this point, but would have been welcome to stay and eat. Death is truly a present part of life around here, and the whole community joins in to support. On the night before the funeral, there was a terrible car accident that killed four and put four others in the hospital in critical condition. This means that next weekend there will be another procession down the tar road to the far too often used burial ground.

The sunset as seen on our walk to the river. There are many sunsets in our lives and each can be a beautiful event.

ALL THE PARTY PEOPLE SAY… HA LA LA… HA LA LA

Back at the NGO… The home-based care-givers, known as "carers," had recently completed a year-long training, so their "transport man" (a local taxi driver) suggested that the NGO throw them a party. So, that's exactly what they did! The day before the party, Mokgadi and I loaded up their refrigerator with cold drink (soda pop), beer, and hard cider that the admin staff had purchased. Mokgadi and the women borrowed the brie-stand (BBQ Grill) from our Majadibodu family and the party was ready to go. It was scheduled to start at 1pm, but in true SA style, it didn't get going until around 3:30pm. I had a staff meeting to attend at Abbot's Poort Primary at 2pm, so Mokgadi and I headed down to the school. By the time we returned at 4 o'clock, the party was in full swing. A table had been set under a nearby tree and the carers, a few board members, and admin staff were gathered 'round, singing and dancing. Many speeches were given, to which the croud replied, "Ha La La, Ha La La." Mokgadi and I made a speech, sang one song with guitar accompaniment and many without. After the speeches came the meal. The sky turned dark and lightning began to give us quite a show. After helping to clean up, we headed home, but the rest of the group partied until 9pm. We had stalked the fridge with an enormous amount of drinks, but by the next day, it was gone. I'm thinking a good time was had by all.

Ha La La Abbot's Poort Home Based Care, Ha La La

On request, one more picture of the inside of our place. On the left is a neighbor who asked for a little help with her school project over break, and on the right is our host sister's daughter, Happy.

Sending much love out to all of our family and friends (lapa le bagwera),

Tiro le Modgadi