Stranded

Ihave made it home for Christmas! I'm enjoying a little time in Birmingham before returning to Murfreesboro for the holiday season. I have to admit that I've been remiss in keeping up the blog. Sorry about that! I am planning to have a little more time on my hands, though, and I will work on doing some processing both on my own and through this blog.

Many of you are not aware that I spent some time before I left South Africa in Cape Town visiting friends of mine who are living there. I was really excited to get a chance to see the Mother City again, as it was one of my favorite places to visit in South Africa, and I had only one goal for the week--to see the city from the top of Table Mountain. For those of you who are not South Africa officionados by now (I can't imagine, but I'll indulge you nonetheless), Table Mountain is iconic in South Africa. EVERYONE knows what it is, where it is, and what it looks like. If you go to Cape Town, it is imperative that you travel up the mountain to see the vista that awaits. This is why it seemed criminal to me that I had visited Cape Town thrice and never seen the city from the mountain. Just so that you can get an idea of the role of the mountain in the life of Capetonians, here's a picture:

As you can tell, anywhere you are in the city, you can see the mountain. So, obviously, I had to go up the mountain. I told my friend Elliot that I wanted to go, no matter what else we did in the week, and he agreed, but suggested that we not take the cableway since it's expensive and he had done it multiple times during the year. So we decided to make the climb up the mountain. We would then look around the top, take the necessary tourist photos, and then ascend via the cableway. Our friend Emily would pick us up at the bottom and ferry us back to the flat in order to get ready for a night at the theater.

We knew it would take us 3-4 hours to reach the summit, and so we started off, snacks and Energade (think Gatorade) in hand...backpack. We had brought jackets with us because the guidebooks all warn about the possible winds on the top of the mountain. We began hiking around 1pm, and it was a beautiful day. Probably 80 degrees Fahrenheit and sunny. Perfect for hiking. So we set off up Skeleton Gorge, which is a relatively strenuous climb, but nothing too dangerous. It is really a lovely ascent and we were enjoying it to the full.

As we reached the first plateau, it began to get cloudy. Now, I was none too pleased about this development, but we kept on the sunny side (if you will) and suggested that it would likely blow over when we reached the top, allowing us to have a wonderful view, but not get too hot while reaching the top. Since there was no longer tree cover, we were happy to have a few clouds.

The clouds didn't clear, though. In fact, as we hiked across the top of the mountain, it got cloudier, and windier, and foggier, and colder. Scroll back up to that picture for a moment. Do you see how long the flat part of the mountain is? We started somewhere on the right...and hiked all the way to the left. In the fog, not sure of how far we still had to go. About an hour was the answer. All the time, the weather is getting worse and worse. At some point on that trek, Elliot says, "I don't want to be the bearer of bad news, but I doubt that they're running the cable car. It's getting way too windy." I chose to ignore that one, as my thighs were asking me not to climb down the mountain as well.

At this point, I began to be really grateful for the mittens sitting in my pocket. Like a good mom, my mother always made me keep mittens in my pocket--and I still do! Never so grateful in my life. As we continued walking, Elliot was cold, but I was freezing. So, I was really, really happy when we reached the paved area, and I knew that we were near the cableway station. As we neared the "inhabited" area, we realized that it was not inhabited at all. In fact, it was a ghost town. Complete with wispy clouds swirling about your head. The restrooms were locked, the restaurant deserted and the cableway station completely empty.

Plan B: Call Elliot's friend who knows the mountain well and inquire as to what is the best choice for our descent--on foot. He suggested that we hike down the front of the mountain. Thepath began at the same point as did the path we walked in on, so we should be able to find it easily. It should be stated at this point that it is so windy by now that my body is moving without my volition and that is NOT fun for me. And I am still freezing. And so is Elliot at this point, so I know it's genuinely cold. We return to where we walked in...and we can only see about nine feet in front of us...and we can't find the trail...the one we JUST walked in on. In order to keep from walking off of a precipice, we turn around and head back to the cableway station. At the station, I had observed a pay phone with the number for mountain rescue, and we decide that we are now at the point that mountain rescue is a necessary addition to our adventure.

So while I use the restroom (the natural one--remember that the actual restroom is locked, so imagine how cold I am at this moment), Elliot calls mountain rescue. The conversation goes something like this:

"Hello. My name is Elliot. I hiked up Table Mountain earlier today, back when it was a nice day. Now we're at the top of the mountain and it's not so nice and the cable car isn't running, so we need some advice on what to do."

"Are you lost?"

"No, I know exactly where I am--I'm at the payphone at the cableway station at the top of the mountain, but I need to know what to do now."

"Table Mountain....Cape Town! Please hold."

So while I'm huddled nearby shivering uncontrollably, Elliot is on hold listening to a recording in all 11 of the national languages playing on a loop. Eventually, another guy gets on the line, asks for our cell phone numbers, asks our ages, how we came up the mountain, and what supplies we have with us, then tells us that he will call us back with a plan. Meanwhile, we find an alcove in the building where we can huddle together and keep a little more warm. Keep in mind, we are in shorts, windbreakers, and I have mittens. Otherwise, we're pretty exposed, and by now I would guess that it's around 40 degrees Fahrenheit on the top of the mountain. We agree that if the phone hasn't rung in 10 minutes, we'll call back. After nine minutes, my phone rings.

"Hello."

"Hi, I am calling back because I hear you're stuck on the top of the mountain."

"Yes sir," I respond, puzzled at how campy and chatty this guy is.

"Ok, I need you to take down some numbers. Do you have a pen and paper?"

"Um, NO."

"Ok, well, you need to remember these numbers."

"No problem. Elliot, take down these numbers on your phone." Elliot attempts to take down the numbers, but is unable to move his frozen fingers fast enough to unlock his phone. He's useless, so I ask the guy what the numbers are for. Turns out they're for the code to the men's toilet. So, I walk there (slowly due to the gale force winds) and put the code into the lock and open the door. A rush of warm air overcomes us. Now the man is giving me a code to the cupboard in the room. I open the closet and there are blankets, a kettle, and supplies to make coffee! Score! I tell him thank you and he says:

"Ok, the first cablecar will be down in the morning, and we'll see you then."

"Are you kidding?!"

"Nope. Can I get your names?"

At this point, the phone cuts out. Elliot and I laugh and begin to prepare for a night in the mens toilet. Supplies: eight blankets, four small and four large, plenty of coffee, two bags of almonds, four Energades, and one bag of dried mangoes. We are now regretting the choice to leave Newsweek in the car. Activities: 20 questions, which I actually hate due to long car rides with my family in which my six-year-old brother would insist on playing unlimited questions. Seriously. Apparently, I'm also not that good at choosing 20 questions, nor guessing. Whatever. Discussing our theses. Planning our lives for the next year. Freezing.

Remember how I said it was warm earlier? Apparently that was just because we were so cold. Those of you who know me well, also know that I am extremely cold natured. So being that cold is BAD in my book. The only time that I'm warm the entire night is when Elliot is sleeping with his head on my feet. That's also almost the only time that I can sleep. We don't sleep much. I think that goes without saying. An important detail in the coldness factor is that Elliot is convinced that at some point during the night it will clear and we will be able to go outside and see the sunset, the stars, or the sunrise as the only people on Table Mountain. I am not so hopeful. But because of his hopes, Elliot is led to open the door, letting in a rush of cold air, every hour on the hour. This is closely followed by his quick retreat back to the "comforts" of the mens toilet and the bubbling of the kettle to make more warm drinks. He's a silly kid.

We do finally get a little sleep from 5-7am. When we awaken at 7, Elliot emerges from the restroom to see if he can get cell phone reception and to check out the cableway station. Sure enough, the top of the mountain is still abandoned. Elliot does get reception, though, and calls back the mountain rescue guy. He cheerfully responds and Elliot asks if he should be concerned that the first cablecar is posted to leave at 7am and it is now 7:30 and still deserted. Mountain rescue guy promises to call back momentarily with an answer to that query.

He calls back directly to inform Elliot that there is good news and bad news. The bad news is that the cablecar isn't running because the wind is still too high. The good news is that they think they can run it for a rescue mission! He instructs us to remain in the restroom and someone will be up to get us shortly. We procede to have a breakfast of almonds and mango slices and not twenty minutes later, we hear a lovely sound: a knock on the door of the toilet! Our saviors, two mountain rescue guys in the flesh, are here to ferry us down the mountain to warmth! And so while they regale us with stories of daring, dashing mountain rescues, I strain to see the view, and Elliot calls Emily to request a pick-up, we descend on the cableway, free of charge!

When we finally reach the ground, it is as if our experience on the top of the mountain was a dream. It is a warm, sunny day in Cape Town. Emily later tells us that it has been the entire time we were on the mountain, though it was quite windy during the night. And once we returned to the flat, had showers, and a bit of a nap, it began to seem more and more like a dream. Thank goodness!

Total time spent in the men's toilet on the top of Table Mountain: 14 hours.

Winding Down

Well, I suppose many of you know that my academic career in South Africa has come to a close. I have finished my final project, handed it in, defended it, and now I'm done! I will leave my res on Wednesday (they kick you out here immediately when exams end) and move in for a while with Lynne and Peter. I'm trying to wrap up the final things I need to accomplish in Jo'burg and then I'll head out on the 3rd for a trip to Cape Town. You should see me back home around the 12th of December!



So, I'm debating what to write to you about right now. I'm going to try to write something once per day until I leave for Cape Town so that I can process what I'm feeling and you can know some of what's going on with me. In the meantime, here are some pictures which I have been remiss in posting until now.



Can't wait to see you all in person!



From my weekend getaway with Lynne, Peter and Tamlynn at Lynne and Peter's and then on a lunch cruis on the Vaal River:

A real Southern breakfast! They loved the grits and hash browns!

The turkey at Stonehaven on Vaal that we considered stealing for our Thanksgiving meal

A friend of his, for my mom

Lunch on the boatThe Vaal River and the South African flag

Long Time Gone

The Dixie Chicks song doesn't really do justice to the content of this post, but I like it and I have been gone a long time, let's be honest.

So, I thought I'd catch you up a little. First, I will do a post about my recent trip to Lesotho because I know that's what you're all interested in. Later this week, I'll do a good catch-up blog so that we can be up to date. Quickly, though, let me fill you in on the relevant details: I have finished all of my academic responsibilities, so I am officially FINISHED! So, I will be updating this a few extra times in the next few weeks and then taking a bit of a holiday before coming home...

Now, LESOTHO!

My friend Ursula and I decided to spend a weekend with some friends who live in the Kingdom of Lesotho in order to see the country a bit. Lesotho is about a 4 hour drive from Jo'burg through the Free State province and it is beautiful! Sadly, Ursula and I saw very little of the beauty on the way down because of the incessant rain. Nonetheless, we made it and then proceeded to stay up half of the night with Jeff and Anu. Jeff and Anu are pediatricians at the Baylor School of Medicine Pediatric AIDS Unit in Maseru, the country's capital. Yes, that's Baylor Med from Texas. The unit provides pediatricians for the country of 2.3 million. Without the Baylor docs, there is only 1 pediatrician in the entire country. As a country with an extremely high HIV/AIDS prevalence, this is extremely concerning!

In case you're wondering which country is Lesotho, it's the one that's the little land-locked hole in the eastern side of South Africa. Yes, it's a kingdom, but it has a Constitution and Parliament. Regardless, the king is beloved, King Moshoeshoe II (pronounced mo-shway-shway). People in Lesotho speak SeSotho (remember, I studied SeSotho for a few months) and are called Basotho. They are known in SA by the blankets which they wear around their shoulders in the winter. We saw a few while we were there. Here's a picture, if you're interested. Funny story about how these blankets became popular: Apparently, one of the members of the British royal family was visiting Basotholand (the name of Lesotho before it became an independent country) and brought a blanket for King Moshoeshoe I. King Moshoeshoe I loved the blanket and wore it around his shoulders like a cape. Since then, everyone has worn the blankets in this fashion. This goes to show you the devotion to the king--and keep in mind that the reign of King Moshoeshoe I wasn't that long ago. We're only on King Moshoeshoe II now. Of course, all I could think of was that the British royal family sent A BLANKET to the KING of Basotholand--how arrogant!

Ok, next story. In addition to the blankets, the Basotho are famous for their Basotho hats. Not surprisingly, this fashion statement was the result of a king, as well. One of the older kings was being pursued by a rival tribe and took cover under a mountain that looked like a pointy hat (think of the traditional chinese hats for rice harvesters). In order to commemorate his escape, the Basotho began to wear these hats--click to see a picture of the mountain. Now click to see a picture of the hat. Funny, right?! The hat is even central on the nation's flag and car licence plates!

Maseru was a very interesting place to visit. It's really not a remarkable city in much of any way except its unremarkableness. The doctors drive across the border to Ladybrand, SA, in order to go out at all except for one good club in Maseru. And by go out, I mean eat out or see a movie. We're talking little here, folks. I was struck by the poverty all around. It's different than here in South Africa. People aren't so much living in huts. They're typically living in round mud houses with thatched roofs (the Afrikans word which has become the common name for these dwellings is rondavel). Instead, there was just a feeling of poverty that loomed large over the city. Regardless of the day or time when we were driving around, we saw hundreds of working-aged people walking around the streets. As in South Africa, joblessness is a huge problem. To me, there was a very hopeless feeling about Maseru. A palpable hopelessness that I don't feel as often now in Johannesburg. One I can't really explain. It reminded me a good deal of my time spent in Walker, KY.

Anyway, what you really want to know about, as Allison will remind me, is what I did in Lesotho. Sooo, here goes. We did a lot of hiking in Lesotho. Everywhere in Lesotho is considered walkable land--you can hike anywhere you please. So, we took advantage and found some interesting areas and decided to explore. We were quite fortunate and found a 15-year-old BaSotho boy who showed us around his little village and the mountain nearby, taught us the word for dassie in SeSotho (pila) and showed the ruins of an old house which he used to play in. We really enjoyed it. The mountains in that area are marbled red, pink, orange, and white and have little vegetation. It's actually quite beautiful.

The next day, we set off to an area in the mountains called Oxbow. Oxbow is about 2 hours drive from Maseru up roads which rival those of Walker, KY! It is quite mountainous, and quite beautiful. We really didn't hike much on that day, but here is what we saw:

So, that's Lesotho. I promise to have some more updates soon. Hope you enjoyed this one!

Go Bokke!

For any one of you who has ever told your mother or spouse or sister that nagging does not work, here is proof that it does. The nagger in this case will remain nameless--we'll just say that she's perfected the art over the last 23 1/2 years. And I can hear her voice in my mind now, so I'll get on with it, as she'd surely be telling me to do. (Anyone who hadn't caught on before will realise that sarcasm goes a long way in my family.)

So what have I been up to in the last almost three weeks since I last posted, you ask? Nothing exciting. I have written three papers, done two interviews, made six lesson plans, and studied non-stop. Right now, I'm working on my thesis--rough draft due Monday. I have 26 of 30 pages, but some serious editing and reworking to do. C'est la vie. I'm sure merely the mention of a thesis bores you, but for those of you who are not yet asleep, the title is "Human Rights Education in Post-Apartheid South Africa: History, Ideology, and Applicability within the United States of America." If you're interested, you may read it, though I may need an American version in order for you to understand all of the apartheid references.

But the really important part of this post comes now: the South Africa Springboks are competing in the Rugby World Cup finals tonight against England! The whole country has been abuzz with patriotism and excitement. Yesterday and today (and hopefully tomorrow, as well) everyone in the country has been asked to wear green, and I would venture to guess that nearly 1/3 of the country actually did wear green yesterday! I wore a new green shirt and giant green hoop earrings to school yesterday (lots of complements from the eighth graders) but was outdone by the other teachers wearing entirely green outfits! Rugby is a serious venture here. I even saw someone on the way to work yesterday with a stuffed springbok (of the formerly live variety) mounted on the grill of their car! Now, that might be going to far, but I'll refrain from judgment for now.

Now, I'm not much for rugby. I often feel as if I might see someone actually die on the field! But it has been absolutely amazing to see the country come together in this way. South Africa is definitely a country divided: along racial lines, along class lines, along crime, etc., etc., etc. But this weekend everyone seems to be cheering for one thing. Even Madiba (Nelson, that is) has sent a good-luck message to the team. Everyone is so proud of the Boks (in Afrikaans, Bokke), and--the newspaper guys even had special "Go Bokke, Go Bokke!" shirts in which to sell their papers today (papers which have the title in green and gold with a springbok leaping through!). So, if you're in the mood at 2:30 Central time, put on a green shirt, find ESPN, and watch the rugby! If you're really dedicated, you could find a recording of Shosholoza, the team's themesong, online. Shosholoza, meaning "the spirit of working together" has become South Africa's clarion call in recent years. Think of me, in a sports bar with all of very intoxicated South Africa having a great time and not writing a thesis for a little while, and throw up a prayer that we might pull it off!

Go Bokke!

Tradition!

As I was working in my room this gloomy Wednesday morning trying to keep my mind off the rain outside (though we need it, I never welcome cold rain), I was listening to my iTunes. "Tradition" From Fiddler on the Roof came on, and I noticed a verse to which I had never really paid attention before. The lyrics say, "Here in Anatevka, you might say that all of us are like a fiddler on the roof, trying to scratch out a simple tune without breaking his neck. It isn't easy. You may ask, 'why do we stay up there if it's so dangerous?' We stay because Anatevka is our home. And how do we keep our balance? That, I can tell you in one word: tradition!"

How true that is of South Africa. If I haven't portrayed it accurately in my former blog posts, let me be blunt about the history and current affairs in SA: this country has been in the spasms of death and rebirth, almost simultaneously. After fifty years of harsh, state-mandated oppression, the nation finally emerged from this sad state of affairs in 1994 with the first fully democratic election in which Nelson Mandela was elected the President of the Republic of South Africa.

The storyline in Fiddler on the Roof is very similar. The little town of Anatevka is within the Russian empire during the 1910s and is being beseiged by the rule of the Czar. (Sideline--my favorite line in the entire play is the line where the rabbi is asked if there is a special blessing for the Czar. He responds, "May God bless and keep the Czar--far away from us!") The small Jewish community is fighting the rapid urbanisation and modernisation of the area and trying to keep their way of life as intact as is possible. As a result, as Tevyeh suggests within the opening tune, traditions gain importance within the society, often paramount to all reason, as the show goes on to examine.

Back to South Africa. This country has emerged from a period in which traditions were considered acceptable only if they were of "European" or Afrikaans background, and generally Christian within that framework. More traditional African traditions were considered to be heathen or superstitious. Now that all citizens of South Africa are free to practice their traditions as they like, the various cultural and religous groupings within South Africa are quick to flaunt the value of their traditions.

The sudden ability to practice tradition without repercussion has led to many freedoms within South Africa, but I would also posit that it has led to a trend which anthropologists call "retraditionalisation." Put simply, many South Africans have been forced into a "European" way of life for so long that they are now reaching back to their "roots" in order to regain their own identity. The Xhosa student travels to the Eastern Cape province every December in order to engage in the initiation rituals for young men in the family. The Indian man looks for another Indian within his same cultural group in order to be married. The Zulu man released from prison slaughters a cow in order to appease the ancestors. These practices are generally beautiful celebrations of community within individual cultural groups. They do, however, provide many difficulties within the "New South Africa."

Within South Africa today, most people live in plaster houses much like you'd find in California or New Mexico. They're exactly what you'd expect someone in the US to live in. There are huge cities full of a variety of people. It isn't unusual that within your office, you might have a Tswana, a Zulu, an Afrikaaner, an Indian, and an English person all working together. So, as in any society, complications arise when dealing with issues that are traditionally dictated by culture. For example, a Xhosa woman and a Sotho man who work together decide to marry. Will this be okay with families? Is each person somehow less Xhosa or Sotho by not abiding by tradition? Right now in South Africa, the most common answer is yes.

I don't believe that this is because South African families are somehow less accepting or enlightened than families anywhere else in the world. I think that it is due to a need for identity within South Africans. Because identity was, for so long, taken away and dictated anew, South Africans are now in a phase of asserting their identities, which are drawn from their cultural backgrounds. Often, deviation from these traditions is seen as a blow to the individual culture and to the identity of the cultural group. This mirrors Tevyeh's comments at the end of "Tradition"--"Without our tradition, our lives would be as shaky as a fiddler on the roof!"

One can assume simply because Fiddler on the Roof was written thirty years before the South African situation came to be the way it is today that this condition is a human condition and not unique to South Africa; however, I believe that it has special repercussions for South Africa. It seems that few realise that this same kind of search for identity and tradition led to one of the most difficult regimes in the history of South Africa, Afrikaner nationalism. And so, we are again where we started, historically and culturally speaking. As a result of Afrikaner nationalism, apartheid was begun by the South African government. Now, with a renewed search for identity, I am afraid that South Africa may face many of its old trials anew. Without an honest acknowledgement of the similarities of the situation, I fear that history may repeat itself.

Proudly South African

One of the major marketing campaigns in South Africa is the "Proudly South African" campaign. Like any newly democratic country (only a democracy since 1994), SA is in the process of major nationbuilding efforts. My toothpaste is stamped as "Proudly South African" as is my bank, etc., etc. So, in honour of this movement, I would like to share a few things which I feel are "Proudly South African" in my mind.

• Boys ages 5 and up playing soccer barefoot
• Pausing after each half to dance to the music on the radio (this is the grown boys, as well)
• Replying "sharp" or "sharp, sharp" (pronounced shop) after almost every conversation
• "YO, Yo, yo..." in response to anything surprising or concerning. For example, "And then he hit the car." "YO, Yo, yo..."
• Having someone assume, due to the way you look, that you not only are "one of the gang," but can speak their language fluently (there are 11 national languages in SA)
• Including emigration in family member losses
• When asked where you're going on holiday, replying that you're going to "Africa"
• A different sensational headline posted every 10 meters (that's 30 feet)
• Calling a buddy "bru"
• Referring to "sport," "the rugby," or "the cricket." I suppose it's a bit like saying "The WalMart" or adding an S to Kroger
• Not being able to sing at least 1/4 of the SA National Anthem
• Land Rovers and VW Golfs
• Minibus taxis
• Wearing sweaters until it's 30 degrees C (about 85 F)
• Answering the phone "Yebo" and hanging up by saying "Cheers, hey"
• Virgin anything--Richard Branson owns this place!
• Saying "sorry" instead of "oops"
• Referring to your teacher as "Miss" or "Ma'am" with no surname attached. That one gets me--because my teachers all yell "Miss!" in classic Mr. Cotter style
• Going to the "cinema"
• Driving down the "motorway"
• Durbs, CT, Jozi, PE, Alex, Bloem used as code for Durban, Cape Town, Johannesburg, Port Elizabeth, Alexandria, and Bloemfontein
• KFC a.k.a. Kentucky
• Dancing and singing for every occasion
• A Toast to South Africa at every Rotary function
• Braaing boerwors rolls at every opportunity
• Colourful clothing and headwear
• Kwaito
• Referring to oneself as "European" after never having actually lived in Europe and distinguishing others as "African" after having lived in Africa one's whole life
• Lekker=cool
• 11 official ways to say "God Bless South Africa" included in the Constitution

Hope you've enjoyed!

du Printemps

Of Spring! In Jo'burg! For me!

I love the Spring, and I'm glad to share that Saturday was Spring Day in SA (much like our May Day). So, I have spent time this weekend reveling in the warm temperatures and the excitement of Spring. The campus where I take courses is covered in blooms, so here is your share! Enjoy!

Ok, sadly that's all for now. I have lots of pictures, but my computer is fighting with me. We'll try again...

August 25

Today is one of those days for my family that often gets a little ignored. You see, August 25 is often move-in day at either MTSU or BSC or is a big football game, etc., etc. So, August 25 often passes by without much fanfare.

And yet, August 25 is a very important day in our family--Daddy's birthday! So here are just a few words to celebrate my dad.

I often tease my dad for many reasons (all of them justified, of course): wearing tube socks, preferring Indiana Jones-style hats, reading Adler while listening to Brahms while watching a football game. The list could go on, but I'll stop it there. But the one thing I don't say often enough is how much I respect my dad. He has more integrity than most any person I know. He is often faced with difficult decisions at work and seems to always make the right choice which will bring the most dignity to the situation. He has an incredible way of being both respectful and stern in order to ensure that the matter is dealt with in the most appropriate way.

I have learned a lot from my dad. He coached my softball teams and sat in every choir performance and bad high school theater production (though he did create an alliance with his friend Tom and make fun of people in the audience to get through it, but I digress). He always tried to be there for me, which was no small feat while running a small city at the university.

He has endeavored to teach us to respect each other. I often tease about the psychological warfare that goes on in our house--I would much rather be spanked (which I never was) than reprimanded for being disrespectful (which I often was). But I was always treated like an adult.

I will always treasure Saturday mornings with doughnut runs, cutting down real Christmas trees, and going to student affairs parties with college students who treated me like their little sister and my dad like their dad.

All this to say, Happy Birthday, Daddy! I hope it's a good one, even if you are moving boxes at BSC all day!

Love you! (Though not too much to put up this picture...I think it reinforces the thing I said earlier about integrity.)

SA Snippets

perThis post is just an amalgamation of thoughts I've been having for a while now, things you might or might not want to know, tidbits of cultural knowledge which I've picked up over the past 7 months (can you believe it?! 7 months!).



1. It is getting warm here. This is good, because I have been entirely unsure of how to dress during the winter. We typically have what you might call "Indian summer," except that it occurs all in one day. A normal day goes something like this: wake up--it's FREEZING. Usually somewhere around 40 degrees Fahrenheit. Walk/drive to work in the cold. Still freezing. All morning, it's as cold as ice in my classroom which is made of concrete. Lunchtime--warming up. Generally around 65 degrees Fahrenheit. Walk home--HOT. Now, it's not really hot--only about 72--but it feels hot because I had to walk to work in such cold that I am layered up to my eyeballs. Shed layers and go to class. Still quite warm. 4pm--in class. All of a sudden it's FREEZING again, and I have shed layers and left some of them behind in expectation that I won't need them again. Oops! By 5pm, it's back under 50 degress Fahrenheit. I don't know how people cope.



2. Schools in South Africa. Schooling in South Africa, and often across Southern Africa, is very different than schooling in the U.S. First of all, everyone pays for schooling, whether in a public (government) or private school. The idea behind this is that if everyone pays something, then everyone will be more invested in the education of their children. It is still a debate as to whether or not this is actually the case. In addition, everyone wears a uniform. In fact, I've never heard of a school here that wears civies (non-uniform). I actually really like this idea. At my school, McAuley House, we have students who are from vastly differing economic backgrounds; however, I have no idea which students fall into which category. Students often are tagged by teachers due to their socio-economic status, so requiring learners to wear uniforms reduces some of those tensions. I certainly can't speak for the inter-student tensions, but I imagine it reduces those, as well. In addition to uniforms and school fees, a major difference is the power differential between teacher and student. Let me give you an example: when someone walks into my classsroom, the entire room stands and says, "Good Morning, Mrs. So and So." Teachers seem to have a much more formal relationship with their students. This is likely due to the colonial-style schooling of the past from which we still have a few throw-backs, such as the prefect system. Very interesting.



3. At the moment, we're having a bit of a meltdown in the Ministry of Health. On August 8 (consequently the day before National Womens Day--a public holiday in SA), President Thabo Mbeki fired Deputy Health Minister Nozizwe Madlala Routledge on charges of making an unauthorised trip to an AIDS conference in Spain. Madlala Routledge contends she had verbal approval which is typically given far before written approval which usually arrives after the fact. Anyway, the whole thing reeks of set-up.

Backstory: Health Minister Manto Shabalala Msimang has repeatedly denied an AIDS crisis in SA, even though over 1 in 4 people have either HIV or AIDS. Many of you may remember that she went on public news two years ago saying that HIV does lead to AIDS. In addition, she made the claim that proper nutrition can be more beneficial to the fight against HIV/AIDS than anti retroviral treatments (ARVs). Of course, the health profession has been up in arms against Shabalala Msimang for years now, claiming that she has single-handedly spread HIV/AIDS by promulgating false information. Unfortunately, President Mbeki and Health Minister Shabalala Msimang go way back into the apartheid era when they were in the same group of exiled students sent to the UK for education. So, every time Shabalala Msimang has said something daft, Mbeki has defended her.

Continue story: So, Deputy Health Minister Madlala Routledge suggests that she has been set up and punished for speaking out against the AIDS epidemic and not "towing the company line" which is that there is not a problem. The public seems to agree. Now, there is public outcry for the removal of the Health Minister. The Democratic Alliance (the main opposition party within SA) has found records that Shabalala Msimang stole a watch and other medical items from patients while working in a hospital in Botswana during her periods of exile. In addition, the Sunday Times has purported that her recent medical records (after her much-publicised liver transplant) show evidence of an alcohol problem. They also seem to suggest that President Mbeki might have illegally arranged for Shabalala Msimang to "jump the queue" in getting a liver. So, it seems that we have a crisis on our hands. A very interesting, shady crisis.

And you thought US politicians were the only crazies out there! For some fun editorial cartoons on the subject, you can visit the following link which will take you to my favorite cartoon. Others are on the same site.

Wishing you all a good laugh!

This African Life

I've been doing a pretty sufficient job of telling you about my travel life over the last few months. I haven't, however, been keeping you posted on the day-to-day interests of my life. Now that I have far less travel going on, I think I'll be able to keep you posted a little easier.

One of the big parts of my life which you may or may not be aware of is my involvement in re-chartering the Rotaract Club of Johannesburg. Rotaract is the 18-30-year-olds version of Rotary. It is a service club which is made up of students and young professionals and there are all kinds of things which we can do. There are Rotaract Clubs in most major cities. If you're interested, check out www.rotaract.org. You can also check out our Rotaract website at www.rotaract9300.org.za (our district's website) or http://rotaract.johannesburg.googlepages.com. We're not listed on the district website yet, but we will be.

Anyway, we've been re-chartering this club which was once thriving and now defunct. As in most major cities, the populus of Johannesburg has moved to the suburbs (can anyone in Birmingham say "over the mountain"?), leaving the city center to languish. Nonetheless, like many U.S. cities, Birmingham included, there has been a renaissance in the city center, and many groups are making a concerted effort to move back. This is true for both our Rotaract club and our sponsoring Rotary club, the Rotary Club of Johannesburg (consequently both the first Rotary and Rotaract Club on the continent). We are attempting to get involved in the inner city and help with the rebirth which is already occurring.

One of the projects which our Rotaract Club has adopted is NOAH, or Nurturing Orphans of AIDS for Humanity. Desiree, the president of our club and another Ambassadorial Scholar, works as a research assistant at NOAH and has put us in contact with some exciting service opportunities. One of these opportunities, I shared with my mother and sister when they visited from the States. We saw the Kliptown NOAH Ark, where 50-75 AIDS orphans and vulnerable children (children whose parents may not have died but who are still affected by the disease) are given daycare. We delivered some jerseys (sweaters) knitted by the ladies of a local old folks home (nursing home--don't you love the SA use of non-PC terms?!) to the Ark, which the Ark managers loved. There are hundreds of these Arks throughout South Africa, and they are caring for the over 20 million AIDS orphans in Africa.

Yesterday, our club ventured out to the Daveyton NOAH's Ark, which is between Jo'burg and Pretoria (in BFE, in other words). It was well worth the trek! We brought six laptops and six desktop computers from our members and the NOAH offices and set up basic computer skills for the Ark workers. Each Ark is equipped with a computer, but most of the Ark managers are residents of the community where the Ark is located. These places are mostly townships where having a computer would be unheard of. Most of the people whom we worked with had never touched a computer before. Those who had knew only the basics. We talked about the different parts of a computer--the mouse, the desktop, the start button, and I made ridiculous analogies like "the start button is like that big file drawer in your desk that holds everything" or "the hourglass is your mother telling you she hasn't had her morning cup of coffee so you're not yet allowed to talk to her."

By the end of the day, everyone knew how to turn the computer on and off, how to use a mouse, how to open Microsoft Word, and how to make letters capitalised without using the CAPS LOCK key. Some even learned how to draw a table. It was incredibly humbling to see someone whose mouse finger was shaking from nerves transformed into an avid computer enthusiast by the end of the day. I heard countless exclaimations of "OH!" and "Wow." By the end of the day, we had made new friends and were being asked when we would next return. We all decided that we could make this a monthly event.

You see, without computer literacy, it is impossible for someone to get a job which isn't as a labourer. If you can't type, you can't be a lawyer, a secretary, or an accountant. You can't get any of the jobs which most Americans take for granted. You certainly can't get these jobs when you can't even turn on the computer. I have sat many times waiting for a computer in the lab only to watch someone take 10 minutes to type a two-sentence email. Computers are a huge benefit to the lives of those on the African continent, but they are not yet readily available, affordable, or accessible. Just something to think about as you, no doubt, spend all day today online.

I am so excited to be involved in a group which really cares and which really attempts to make a difference in the lives of others (as well as of ourselves!). A good day in Jo'burg, for sure.

Kruger, round 2

After leaving Maputo, we drove for about an hour to the border of Mozambique and South Africa. When we got to said border crossing, you would have thought that we had reached the promised land from the line we encountered. After a line of an hour and a half, we drove over to the SA border patrol which we slipped through within 15 minutes. Don't ever let me say that SA is inefficient ever again!! EVER!!

We then drove for hours until we reached Kruger National Park, my promised land for real. I won't bore you with more Kruger wildlife trekking stories, but suffice to say that we saw lots of birds, no big cats, tons of elephants (literally), and a black-backed jackal which is a new find for me (pictures of all will be posted when my computer loves me again). Also, we slept in a rondavel (one of the round African mud huts you see in the movies) and made a braai which we then danced around singing "Rehab" to the bemusement of our neighbor children. We met our new friends Tilda the male elephant, Long John, and several others, and Niv almost froze to death on our morning drive. We really did have a great time. Like I say, Kruger is a magical place.

We all returned to Jo'burg tired but still friends (pretty good for such close quarters for so long!). Then the Cape Town gang left the following morning and I got back to research (aka my life).

So now I'm here, enjoying a new semester and a new routine. School is well, classes are interesting, and I'm not totally stressed or lost yet. More to come on that shortly! My love to you all!

Maputo, the beginning of Under African Skies

Sorry this has taken so long to post--I've had a long week with classes beginning again, but I'm back and not too stressed! My literature review was looked over by my professor who called it "fantastic." That really was fantastic considering that he doesn't use superlatives--ever.


On to recount some travel journeys for you.


After our time in St. Lucia was over, we got on the road to Maputo. You can't travel straight through SA to Mozambique because the roads are simply not good enough. Most are gravel and a 4X4 is advisable. So, we decided to go through Swaziland. We didn't realize at the time that Swaziland, directly translated, means "land of the ubiquitous speedbump." After hitting them all, we ended up on a national highway which, it turns out, is unpaved. After an hour and a half on an unpaved road in the middle of Swaziland where we rode through a riverbed populated by a herd of cows and not seeing people for almost the entire drive (are you beginning to feel the desperation here??), we found our way back onto a paved road and to the border. The exciting part about being in Swaziland was another stamp on the passport, and a visit to my first monarchy!





In this picture, you can see the dirt road, and you can barely make out the river and herd of cattle...

The border crossing into Mozambique wasn't too bad. We think we might've gotten taken for a ride a bit with the car entrance fee, but we're naive Americans, so what could we do?? After about 20 minutes, we were into Mozambique and on our way to Maputo.

Now, I don't know how many of you know this about me, but last year I spent a month in Mozambique, a little less than a week of which was spent in Maputo. I love Mozambique. My entire trip to SA has hinged on excitement about going to Mozambique again to visit. And while I didn't get to visit the orphanage in Cambine or the guest house in Chicuque, I did get to hang out in Maputo and visit with a dear friend, but I'm getting ahead of myself. As we drove into Maputo, we circled a roundabout, and suddenly I knew where I was...Avenida 24 de Julho, the main drag in Maputo. I actually knew my way around! And not long after that, we drove past the Methodist Guest House where I stayed last year. Of course, every emotion you can imagine passed through my body. I really wished that my companions from last year were there with me to experience the joy at returning to Maputo. Maputo marks the beginning of my true love for the continent of Africa, so this visit was incredibly important to me.

My traveling companions on this journey were a little taken aback, however. You see, we live in South Africa, better known as the United States of South Africa. We have most luxuries, cities are at least relatively clean, etc. Maputo is a bustling city full of vegetables, shoes, and tires being sold on the street, garbage everywhere (the typical method of disposing of trash is throwing it out of wherever you are), and people galore. Also, the driving is horrendous. I was exceedingly glad that Niv was in the driver's seat and I was not. We finally found Avenida Patrice Lumumba (100 points for the person who can identify this African liberation leader), and after circling the block a few times, we found the Base Backpackers, a meager, but very quaint backpackers with a great view of Maputo Bay. We disembarked to find my friend Kristian at the backpackers waiting for us.

Maputo Bay

After checking in, we all piled back into the car and drove to my all-time favorite seafood place in the world (and I can say that), Costa du Sol. Costa du Sol sits on the Indian Ocean, and the seafood only hits the pan in between the ocean and your plate. It's wonderful. Also, if you've ever heard of Mozambican prawns, you've only had them done right in Mozambique. Each prawn is literally the size of your hand! I was in paradise, once again. And, once again, I was missing Mama Bette, Maravilla, Naftal, Telmo, and my BSC traveling companions. But Kristian and I reminisced and were quite content.


The next morning, Niv, Emily A, Alli, and Emily K departed for Tofo. Kristian and I bid them farewell and set out on our own adventures in Maputo. Maputo is very different than South Africa in that the crime rate is quite low. So, we felt very comfortable walking most anywhere. Our goal was the art museum, but we wandered a good deal before getting there, making our way toward the central market, having a great language exchange with my broken Portuguese and a non-English-speaking woman at a beautiful shop, buying some fabrics, etc. We finally made it to the art museum and had a great time analyzing the art. Most Mozambican art, we have found, carries the themes of scarcity of resources, overcrowding, and revolt. It was quite interesting. Most of these works of art were pre-civil war (which lasted 20 years), while the post-civil war artworks often had themes of reconciliation, uncertainty, and still crowding. It was a beautiful morning.

Statue of Samora Machel, a Mozambican liberation leader.

This tree starts out as one kind of tree, a vine grows on it, and eventually the vines reach the ground and take root. Then the tree gets enveloped by the new vine plant and eventually a new tree has grown!

The next day, we struck out for the Saturday craft market, where we found some gems. I bought a nativity scene set in a baobab tree, Kristian bought a more conventional nativity scene, and also a procession of refugees carrying their belongings on their heads (she has been working with the refugee department of lawyers for human rights) from a man who is apparently relatively famous for his work. I also bought a journal covered in capalana cloth and two long, thin batik cloths. Kristian made it away with a piece of driftwood carved to look like an elephant after some very shrewd bargaining on her part.

Kristian reading on the deck of the backpackers

For lunch, we headed to the park nearby and ate at a local restaurant. Of course, the menu was entirely in Portuguese, so we had to be clever in our ordering. I ordered chorico (known to you as chorizo) sausage, but Kristian ordered "moelas estufadas." I wasn't sure what that was, but she insisted on ordering it. Turns out, moelas estufadas are chicken giblets. Nice. After our lunch, we watched a few tennis matches at a local tennis club.

That evening, we went to another art gallery to see some more contemporary art. I had been waiting for a year and a half now to see the Mozambican conflict art which is made of old automatic machine gun parts. I really enjoyed it. I think my favorite was the one called "Libertas" which was a bird with tail made of springs. Beautiful. After eating some dinner at a very elaborate Thai restaurant (with incredible prawns, pictured below!) and seeing a show at the art gallery, we met up with our old friend Naftal.




Naftal is the director of Volunteers in Mission for the United Methodist Church in Mozambique, and he coordinated both Kristian's and my visit to Mozambique from Birmingham-Southern. When Naftal pulled up to pick us up, he got out of the car, gave us both hugs, and said, "Lisa, is it really you?" I was so thrilled to get to see an old friend. We went back to the backpackers and had tea and a good chat. Naftal will soon be moving to Zimbabwe to begin courses at African University in Mutare. For those of you who are aware of the situation in Zimbabwe right now, you will understand that he is a bit nervous. But he is going with his wife and two children, and I am sure that they will be just fine.


We also discussed all of our friends from our visit and Naftal gave us updates on each one. Mama Bette is still well, as is Maravilla. Telmo is still driving for the UMC, but hasn't improved much on his English. The orphanage in Cambine has moved into its new compound and is doing well, and the next day Naftal was sending a medical group to the hospital in Chicuque. CMC is not yet finished with construction, but will be within the year. We were so glad to hear of the progress being made and to get to have some time with a dear friend.




Me, Naftal, and Kristian (Kristian and I look pretty good for no shower all weekend--our hot water was broken!)

We didn't realize that the excitement for the evening wasn't over. Apparently there was a French hotel nearby, and being Bastille Day, they shot off fireworks! That was pretty nice since my 4th of July was quite devoid of such things.

The next morning, Kristian and I walked to the local Anglican church to see what it was like. They had an English service, and we were intrigued. The service itself was pretty typical of an African Anglican church in my experience. What was really special about it, though, was the invitation we received after church. A family with four girls (and probably 14 other children who were related or friends) invited us to lunch at their home in Matola, a suburb of Maputo. Kristian and I gladly obliged and were treated to the most wonderful home-cooked lunch with a loving family who enjoyed our stories about the US and from whom we were given stories about Mozambique and Tanzania. It was really a treat.

We returned home in the early evening and met up with the other weary travelers who had just returned after a long journey from Tofo. We ate dinner at the Indian restaurant across the street and turned in early for a departure to Kruger in the morning.

I awoke early on the next morning and drove Kristian to the bus station to catch her bus back to Pretoria. As I was returning to the backpackers, I had a strange occurence--a chicken crossed the road in front of me! Imagine that you're driving in the capitol city of your state or province and a CHICKEN walks in front of your car as if it was no big thing. Crazy!


I recovered from the shock, bought the group some breakfast, and we departed for Kruger. More on that later.


Views of Maputo. Now imagine the chicken!



Love to you all!

St. Lucia

As we drove into St. Lucia, all we could see around us were trees. It was actually relatively odd, because we didn't feel like we were at the beach at all. In retrospect, this is because 5 ecosystems meet in St. Lucia--and one is the mangrove. Skye and Johnny, you'll remember my fascination with these from environmental science. Anyway, this was the forest part.

We drove into the small town (which resembles most small beach towns in lower AL) and checked into our backpackers only to have the owner say, "don't unpack yet, we're going to watch the sun set and have a drink." He only had to tell us once. On the way to see the sunset, we also saw vervet monkeys playing in the streets of St. Lucia. What a lovely place. We walked down to the Protea Hotel which has a deck overlooking the estuary and watched one of the most beautiful sunsets I've seen in a while. Come to think of it, I haven't watched enough sunsets lately. We met some new friends, including Wolfgang, resident beach bum and weed enthusiast who proceeded to smash people from TN. When informed that there was a Tennesseean present, he said, "well, at least you're not from AL!" Double whammy, my friend. We did meet some other generally pleasant folks, as well, including Bree, a teacher from Australia who joined us on our night safari.

While cooking a lovely dinner of chicken spiced with the spices Niv bought at the Victoria Street Market, the owner of the backpackers burst in and said, "if you want to see a hippo, there's one across the street!" And sure enough, there was. Just grazing along. What a lovely place.

We embarked on our night drive at 8 and stayed out until 11 searching for animals, which we found...buffalo, hippo, and even this chameleon that our driver spotted while driving 50 kph in the dark! Good eyes!

The next morning, the girls and I loaded up for a kayaking trip on the estuary. Our guide was a former poacher who had decided to begin working for the tourism industry because it makes more money. I was glad to hear that. His major interest is birds, so we were fast friends! Now, I should remind you that the estuary isn't just your typical body of water. This is a croc- and hippo-infested body of water--two of the most dangerous animals in Africa. YES! Hardcore..it's how I roll. Sure enough, we found a large pod of hippo in the middle of the channel just sunning themselves. Of course, we kept a good distance from them for safety. You may have laughed when I said that hippos are very dangerous. In fact, they cause the most animal-related deaths in Africa every year due to their extremely territorial nature. Since those hippos were a bit in the way, and we weren't going to ask them to move, we turned around to search out some crocodiles. On the way we saw two beautiful fish eagles, which look much like bald eagles, but are bigger.

We finally found a crocodile on the bank of an island in the estuary. It was probably 6 feet long and clearly not hungry since two huge herons (one a Goliath heron--one of my faves) were hanging out there with him. We decided to go a little farther in search of another croc when the fun really began. We did, in fact find a croc--a big'un. And just as we rounded the corner, we hear Emily K say, "Um, I think we're sinking." In fact, they were! She and her rowing partner, not the brightest crayon in the pack were just rowing along when Emily noticed that they were getting further and further behind and rowing was becoming more and more difficult. When she turned around to ask her partner about it, she realized he was sitting IN the water. So our guide had to pull their kayak onto the island not 30 feet from the croc and proceed to empty the water. Luckily, we all remained unscathed. Lesson learned: kayak on cold days when crocs aren't very movement-oriented due to cold-bloodedness.

We returned to Niv in the backpackers to lay out for a while. Here are some pictures with our canine friend who decided to come with.

We then went on a walk to get a better view of the estuary. We also found this tree with odd green growths. No, they don't seem to be fruits. Any botanists amongst us?

We also found these wonderful signs which pretty much sum up St. Lucia. What a lovely place!

Next, we went for a walk along the beach which turned out to be a Broadway sing-along. That's what you get for taking me and Niv on vacation. Turns out we know all, and I mean ALL, of Sound of Music, Fiddler on the Roof, Evita, Les Mis, and several others.

Dinner was at a local restaurant which served pizza with bacon, banana, and pineapple. Niv and I couldn't resist. Turns out, as bad as it sounds, it tastes pretty good.

We finished the night with a power outage and a Zulu singing group which was wonderful. We sat and chatted with some friendly, witty Brits, and then headed to bed to prepare for the long journey in the morning through Swaziland to Mozambique.

A hard life, but someone's gotta do it...

Before I describe to you my glorious, fabulous holiday, I just have to give a little public thank-you to my wonderful aunt, uncle and cousin who sent me a sun-care package in the mail this week! I am now the proud owner of Clinique lip/eye SPF 30 sunblock, Super City Block SPF 40 for my face, and UV-Response Body Cream SPF 50! THANK YOU! It is always needed here in Africa where I apply sunscreen daily! It was such a treat...and, you know that my mother is heaving another sigh of relief by being able to check off one potential threat on her list. Skin cancer, take that! Now, we face the crocodiles. More on that to come...

On July 7, I left for Durban and was picked up at the airport by my friend Kate Meyerowitz who is an outgoing Ambassadorial Scholar from South Africa, headed to San Diego in less than a month. She and her family have a cottage in the Drakensberg Mountains which they were visiting for the weekend and they kindly allowed me to join them. So, we drove up on the evening of the 7th and spent the entire day Sunday there and part of the day on Monday. Here are some pictures of the hike I took up the mountain with Kate's parents. The stream at the top is so clean that you're officially allowed to drink from it!

The picture of the aloe is, of course, for Carl.

On Monday, Kate and I went to see a birds of prey show on the mountain. Very cool. My favorites were the Long-Crested Eagle and the Cape Vulture pictured below (isn't the picture of the Cape Vulture awesome?!).

After returning from the Drakensberg on Monday, we retired to Kate's house to shower up and do some laundry. Kate's brother Andrew and I even got to watch the Braves take on San Diego (to whom they almost lost in the bottom of the ninth!). We then went out to dinner to meet up with my fellow travelers, Cape Town Ambassadorial Scholars Emily Avera and Emily Kenney, Emily K's sister Alli, and my friend Niv. We had dinner at the Harbour and heard the band Love Joint (I think that's correct) which is a relatively big-time South African band. We then retired to our backpackers.

The next morning we awoke early in order to get some breakfast and head to the Victoria Street Market. We bought some spices, etc., but I must show some Jo'burg pride and say that our Oriental Market is far superior, regardless of the vast Indian population in Durban. We then retrieved our rental car and began our journey to St. Lucia. Of course, we made sure we had a music selection first, knowing that we would not have radio for much of the journey. This meant that we bought a few community CDS: A #1s compilation from the 1980s to today, Amy Winehaus, Bob Marley, the new Maroon 5 album, and Cape Town Jazz. We figured that gave us enough that we probably wouldn't be so sick of them by the end of the journey. The drive to St. Lucia is through rolling hills of sugar cane plantations which makes for incredibly beautiful scenery. We passed through small villages, etc., and in a little over 3 hours made it to St. Lucia.

And that is where I'll leave you for now, friends. More to come soon, I promise! Love and miss you all!