tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-48789442475293795012024-02-21T03:17:54.514+02:00 Swaziland as a PCVMichele Templerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17109945550997751273noreply@blogger.comBlogger48125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4878944247529379501.post-48696583709768069802015-04-22T05:21:00.000+02:002015-04-22T05:21:18.517+02:00Salani Kahle<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">April 21, 2015</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Home. I’ve been back a little over a month and I’m still
full of awe and gratitude. Friends invited me to stay with them, and helped me
through the first phases of transition – incoherence, interrupted circadian
rhythms resulting in odd sleeping and eating habits, difficulty focusing,
feeling overwhelmed by the smallest things. Lynda and Bill were great – using humor
and patience to help me adjust.</span></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">I left Swaziland several months early. I left a part of
myself there. And I brought a bit of Swaziland home with me - in whatsapp texts
and facebook messages and emails with folks there. And much more, I am sure. It
has been hard to write, and even now, it’s difficult to know what to say.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Much is still overwhelming – the full grocery store aisles
(both sides, floor to ceiling) of breakfast cereals. So much of everything.
Libraries that are well-lit and have new books and current reference books. So
very many paved roads. Counter space. Remembering how to cook using my own
recipe books. Forests and rivers. Spring time, Northwest style. Being
connected. Sometimes I have a whatsapp, text message, email message and voice
mail – all at the same time – or so it seems. Mindboggling. There’s TV, though
I don’t really watch it. Streaming radio. </span></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">I visit friends – at their homes. Homes they have lived in
for decades, homes they have put their love, hard work, passion, energy and
time into making their own. Into expressing their own beauty. And the beauty is
bone deep. What a contrast to a third world country, where only the rich have
such luxury, and that resides behind walls topped with glass and protected by
guards. My friends aren’t “well-to-do” by many standards – but so very rich
in the splendor they have created.</span></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">People talk of traveling – and all I want to do is nest and
stay here. I had all these dreams of going to see friends, maybe a road trip –
but all I really want to do is stay in my own space for a while. </span></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">I have found a place to live where I open my windows and
doors to hear the river, where I have “my things” from storage, a place with treasures
from my life. Here, my toiletries are not in bags for the first time in so very
long. I have 2, count them, 2 sinks – one in the kitchen, one in the bathroom.
No more using a latrine. </span></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">And NO ROOSTERS crowing at 3:00 am. And no little kids
saying, “Knock, knock. May I have a book?” No Nomile, seeing me and breaking
into a run, her arms held wide, knowing I will catch her when she launches
herself into my arms. No walking home from school, holding hands with 3 or 4
little kids, skipping and laughing and hustling to the side of the road to
avoid traffic. No mangoes off the trees, and no church folks greeting me on
their way to and from services. No calf butting Siyabonga, asking for his
bottle, and no Liyana running up, purring, to be petted. </span></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">No khumbis to town – now I just drive, and oh, I do not miss
the crowded busses and khumbis, the long waits, the dust and heat. But I don’t
take the car for granted, and I’m much more patient with slow drivers.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">I read some of my journal from before I left, and I sense a
deep difference, but I don’t know how to describe it. And I am coming to terms
with some of the things that were so very difficult for me while living in a
culture so very different from my own. Slowly, slowly, I am working towards
becoming the me I want to be.</span></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">I may start another blog – one of “my kids”, Wandile, is
corresponding with me, and continuing to ask difficult questions – the ones
that really make me think – and then make him articulate his ideas more
clearly. I think, as I absorb and integrate what I have learned, I may want to
share ideas in a blog.<span> </span></span></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">For now, I think this one is complete. Thanks for
accompanying me on my journey. Salani Kahle.</span></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span> </span>~Michele
</span></span></div>
Michele Templerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17109945550997751273noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4878944247529379501.post-5525373874595475042015-02-09T17:24:00.003+02:002015-02-09T17:24:34.282+02:00Gradual Changes<span style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0980392); color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 17px; text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;">January 31, 2015</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>It's true, the longer I'm here, the less I find to share. Still, I don't want this experience to slip away without trying to capture glimpses of life here and the gradual changes that are emerging.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>I've been here more than a year and a half! And... the imperceptible work of building trust and relationships is beginning to show. As has been true from the beginning, I think the most effective work I'm doing is not what I set out to do, but what emerges - one on one relationships, demonstrating the power of networking, and, perhaps most important of all, learning from the people here. Rachel Naomi Remen has several articles online about the difference between serving and helping. Serving, she says, is working together, where both (or all) parties learn together. It is sustainable, action between/among equals. That's what I strive to do, many time still slipping back into helping. Sigh.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>But I'm pretty proud of some of "my kids". One has chosen to brave the difficulties in peer relationships that can occur by standing out, being accomplished. He is starting a poetry club at school and is publishing his poetry on a facebook page. Another student who almost left school because of lack of funds managed to get her fees paid, her living situation straightened out and had the 6th highest scores in her class. Both the girls I'm mentoring did fine on their exams and will be finishing high school this year. No mean feat at a school with an excellent reputation in Swaziland. One is going to start a GLOW (Girls Leading Our World) club in our community.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>I'm building friendships with a couple of women here - something that I value, and which allows me to be open about things that I don't normally share, and in return, to hear confidences I think they don't normally share. I do that via email with friends stateside, but I am beginning to realize how very much I miss the in person side of that. They are such strong, amazing women. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>And I am seeing, as the facades - mine and those of the people around me - fade, some of the very real faces of poverty. It's not that I didn't see them at first - more, I think, that I'm seeing the longer term effects of the poverty, the patriarchal culture, on individuals. Much more powerful that way. And, maybe worst of all, I'm recognizing how much of the same kinds of situations exist in the US - they are just ever so much easier to avoid seeing...</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>So school is starting again, and things are picking up. I'm going out of country for 10 days, and looking forward with great anticipation to being in a country where I'm outside the fishbowl -where no one will know whence I come until I speak. And best of all, I'm meeting family - I'll be with someone who has known me all my life. Ah, the things to cherish rather than take for granted...</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>And, of course, a few glimpses of my world, as written to an awesome RPCV who returned home last August:</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><i><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Just in case you are missing the Swaz - here are some "pictures": looked out my window this morning. Here's Babe, dressed in a 3/4 length bathrobe, flipflops, carrying an umbrella and tp - headed for the latrine. At the top of the rise above the river, stopping to turn around, seeing the water flowing high over the cement bridge, and the school children standing on the other side, staring at the rushing river. Evicting the cricket, locking the butler door, but leaving the wooden door open, and going to bed. A few minutes later, evicting the same damn cricket, who had hopped back in under the door. Sliding in the mud on the way to the stesh, but not really minding, since the jojo tanks were getting really low and there's still no water at the community tap. The female dogs gaunt from feeding the puppies, but the puppies roly-poly. The hills green with maize and beans. Ripe mangoes and bopopo (</i>papayas<i>) and lichees. Heat. Dust. Cramped khumbis. Precarious busses. Laughter, golden moon, and</i></span><i style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"> seeing things I haven't seen before, even after a year and a half here. But don't forget washing dishes in a basin, arguing with the network and no noisy washing machine <smile></i></span></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Also...</span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>The loud squawking of chickens being chased - and then the pile of feathers being discarded.</span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>The ubiquitous (and hated) roosters crowing in the middle of the night.</span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Children laughing.</span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Music from the all night prayer vigil at church - this one for the youth of the community and to find the funds to finish rebuilding the church that blew down last year (they have been holding church in a large canvas tent).</span></i></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">February 3, 2015</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>A friend wrote and asked how I have changed. Hmmmm. here's some of what I wrote:</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0); font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>I think friendships mean more to me than I realized. I take for granted that in hard times I'll have support, assistance and non-judgmental feedback. What a given, what a gift!</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0); font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>I keep coming up with the same lessons, each time a bit more intensely. That the poverty and injustices and atrocities I see here also occur in the US - I just don't have to see them every day. That I really don't know very much about life or - much of anything. Rachel Naomi Remen talks about the difference between helping and service - helping is one strong assisting one weaker. Service is mutual benefit between 2 equals. I want to serve, and discover that if the other person doesn't see me that way, it's really HARD. And helping is an easy trap to fall into - familiar. And I really don't have all that much wisdom - and wonder what I'm doing messing about in people's lives. Lots of self-doubt... How do I help others reach the dreams THEY dream when they look to me to guide their dreams? How do I NOT take on that role - rather insist they find their own dreams. How do I open doors and help them look without letting my own beliefs color what I point out for them to see? It's almost like that quantum physics tenet that when we observe something, we change it - we can't erase our influence - but who's to say my influence is positive? Whatever my intentions? Any thoughts you have on this are GREATLY appreciated!</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0); font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>So - I muddle on and hope I'm doing it right and questioning so very much. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0); font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Now I'm waiting for a plane in Johannesburg. Walking around the airport, marveling at what I see. Haagen Dazs ice cream. Lots of white faces. Shirts, beards, many different languages. Hauw! Makes me wonder what it's going to be like in another 6 months when the plane I board heads west, west, west.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0); font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">February 9, 2015 - Jerusalem, Day 6</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Israel! What a different place to be. It is a land of contrasts, history, many cultures and peoples, whistling winds, art work. And hope. Hope.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Visited Yad Vashem, the holocaust museum. The horrors were so great I could not shed the tears that saturated me. Just when I thought there was no way out of that darkness, I came to the hall of heroes - the Resistance movements, the individuals, those who knew, in their hearts, what was right, and did it. Rays of light and hope, despite the despair. Walked through the original monument - tall sandstone columns with the names of whole villages that were decimated, standing peaceful, paths winding through them, in the cool winter sun. And I know that if I ever wonder - why Israel? the answer will lie at Yad Vashem - the answer will be, Never Again!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>And it makes me wonder - what is Home? What does home mean? I pose the questin to you - not the easy answer - think it through. I'll be interested in hearing your responses.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">From the museum to the Hadassah hospital. Through security to get in. Into the room with 12 stained glass windows of the 12 tribes of Israel, made by Chagall. One got damaged in a sniper attack. Chagall repaired it, leaving the bullet hole as a reminder. It is a room of great peace, the light constantly changing what is visible. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Then to the children's cancer room. It is light and welcoming. And in the elevator we saw an orthodox Jewish man with his daughter standing close to an Arab woman with her daughter. The mix of fear and hope, the reality of the tragedy of cancer, bridges the impersonal cultural and political differences. And how ironic that the desperate struggle for hope, the life-threatening illness, is what unites them. It was a statement woven from Yad Vashem somehow. <span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Then to the Bat Ami women's center, a place for survivors of domestic violence. Again, the services reach across the cultures, just as the situations do. Just as in the states, the staff is dedicated, overworked and underfunded. Again - a mix of hope and darkness.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">The next day we toured the old city. Old City. With Jewish, Christian, Arab and German quarters. Each so very distinct in atmosphere, sounds, smells and life. But the buildings are the same age - very, very old, streets narrow and winding, many not large enough for vehicles, though people live here. Tours in all languages, some focusing on one religion, some on another. The history very much alive. This area is part of the Fertile Crescent, part of the only route to and from the north and the East to Africa. It was politically necessary to conquering armies, and it shows in the wars, the never-ending wars.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">We visited the West Wall (Wailing Wall), and today we will go into the tunnels beneath it.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">On Saturday, Amit and his sweetheart took us to Masada - a high desert stronghold where almost 1,000 Jews took refuge from the Romans when they refused to bow down to the Roman emperor and to pay taxes. They fled to the stronghold, the Romans in pursuit. They held out for more than 8 months, then the Romans burned the last of their defenses at sundown. They knew that the next day they would be made slaves, and worse. 2 women and 5 children hid - the rest chose to allow themselves to be killed by their families, the last person committed suicide. They had chosen freedom. When the Romans arrived, theirs was a hollow victory.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Then, on the way back, we stopped to float in the Dead Sea. Pretty amazing amount of flotation! The Dead Sea is receding, rapidly, as water from the Jordan River is being diverted for irrigation. And then a GREAT dinner at a funky little restaurant - authentic Middle Eastern food.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Other observations:</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Saturday is the sabbath, and shabbas begins on Friday afternoon. That means everything stops, including public transportation.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">The wall between Palestinian and Israeli Jerusalem is literally that - a wall.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Driving, there are many checkpoints. Safety is ever-present.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">It appears to me that all of the (18-20 year old) soldiers are thin and eating, eating, eating. They, smile, laugh, and carry their weapons casually, but carefully, in their hands. That visibility, that presence of weapons of protection and death, unhidden, proclaim safety.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">There are so many complexities here. Lots of different levels of religious observance, political influence from religions, artists and businesses and sandstone everywhere. The history seeps into the modern, the tourists and locals and life with the realities of still very present battles. It appears to this tourist a land of great contrasts.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">So now it is late afternoon, and we are leaving tonight. A last day in the Old City, walking in the tunnels under the Western Wall. Amazing travel through history, as we walked on ruins built on ruins to the side opposite the sunlit side. A Bedouin who owns a shop invited us to break bread with him, and we ate the best falafals either of us ever tasted, plus hummus, salad, pita and great conversation. The Bedouins are nomads, some of one religion, some of another, who struggle to keep their culture intact as national borders closed and curtailed their chosen lifestyle. Interesting talks, and a glimpse of some gorgeous carpets, shawls, clothes for celebrations and ceremonies. A gift of a glimpse into another world.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Now we prepare to re-enter our own worlds: one to California and one to Swaziland. It will be many hours of flight, and we will arrive a little disoriented from travel between such different worlds, lack of sleep, different languages and whatever it is that makes up such change. We are going home. Have you figured out what home means to you yet?</span></div>
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Michele Templerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17109945550997751273noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4878944247529379501.post-38217260374295752342015-01-07T10:00:00.000+02:002015-01-07T10:00:14.428+02:00Pictures and Perspectives<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">December 10, 2014</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">December. Amazing. Some family came to visit last week. It was GLORIOUS! There were so many "best parts" that I can't prioritize them. Here's my best shot:</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"> Getting to spend time with family from home - being the me they know and I know - not the PCV me. Sharing memories of other family, experiences from long ago, seeing our history in each other's faces and gestures. Experiencing those connections that have ben absent from my life since I've been here. And building new memories to share.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"> The sheer joy of having them take the time to come see what my life is like here - an knowing when I return home and say something, they will understand, having experienced it, in a way that will bring me - I'm not sure what, but it will be good.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"> Trying to see my world through their eyes. As predicted, my hut is much nicer than they expected. I'm not sure what you, kind readers, imagine...</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"> And they brought me Peet's coffee!!! I'll love them forever <giggle>! And a keyboard so I can write this blog. And many more goodies that I will appreciate each time I use them - many of them food.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"> They had a long journey getting here, so we spent a couple of nights at Mabuda Farm, a working organic farm/B and B/backpackers. It's located on a plateau near Steki, and our veranda overlooked an arroyo stretching down to the low veld below. It's green and lush and quiet, full of bird calls and frog songs.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">December 28, 2014</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"> The year is coming to an end, it's storming, and once again I want to stitch together the crazy quilt of poetry, ideas, and things that fill my days that wind up being my reality these days. I always wait a bit too long to start, of course.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"> I spent Christmas out of the fishbowl, alone (by choice), wandering through gardens, along trails, on rocks overlooking the low veld and by a lily pond. Replenishing my soul. Here are some things I wrote:</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">"...struggling for a way to untangle the me I want to be from the me I had become <before I came here>."</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">"Fear is a warning. Not a barrier. It's how we interpret what causes fear that guides our steps. And sometimes, trying to avoid what evokes the fear can create much, much more danger."</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">"Time to allow the softness of acceptance."</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">Water lily blooms</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">their roots in mud, leaves afloat,</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">Sway, faces to sun.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"> ~12/25/14</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">What will life be bringing</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">When I go home and see</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">That though I'm not in Swaziland</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">Forever it's in me?</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"> ~12/18/14</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"> Yesterday I invited the kids on my homestead to go for a walk down to the creek where folks wash clothes. Nomile said yes, Siyabonga and Asanda said they'd find us there. Off we went. It's so pretty there, and Nomile was playing in the water. Siyabonga and Asanda arrived and asked if I wanted to go downstream. Sure! We went rock scrambling and bush whacking downstream, then upstream. I did easily as well as the 7 year old <grin>. Siyabonga, the 14 year old self-appointed guide, helped the girls over boulders and crawling through just big enough spaces between those boulders. He showed me a leaf that holds water without absorbing it - a perfect cup or rain hat. He climbed a tree and brought us back berries to share. He showed me where, when the water is not muddy, we could find fish, and pointed out a small crab. He was grand. At the end, he went to watch the</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;"> cattle and goats and the girls and I came back to the homestead, sweaty and happy. Oh YES!</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">January, 2015</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">And as a bonus... a few pictures. Bonnie, the lion pictures are for you <grin>.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Pictures from Hlane Game Preserve</span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">What????</span></td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdHbj2gS1wrrZFCYBYc6feo9XZVso50vOhFbEWiza8Gs9cVTh-DsREs9dPsusq6O4SMQXFR2VtK0qstOVep3gZDqBPXmd1B097dTq1Lg2w9M1czD2wcKHosU9i5nywXa-pVA82-tNhF8O8/s1600/Lion+yawn.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdHbj2gS1wrrZFCYBYc6feo9XZVso50vOhFbEWiza8Gs9cVTh-DsREs9dPsusq6O4SMQXFR2VtK0qstOVep3gZDqBPXmd1B097dTq1Lg2w9M1czD2wcKHosU9i5nywXa-pVA82-tNhF8O8/s1600/Lion+yawn.jpg" height="596" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Oh ho hum.</span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">All right, I've had enough! Time for you t leave.</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Land crab kindly allows me to take its picture at Mabuda</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">The 60's live...</span></td></tr>
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<br />Michele Templerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17109945550997751273noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4878944247529379501.post-70535365593439443902014-11-28T10:36:00.000+02:002014-11-28T10:36:51.722+02:00Spring time again<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background: white; color: #222222; font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">November 1, 2014</span><span style="color: #222222; font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;"><br />
<br />
<span style="background: white;">It's a
gray, misty morning and the fields, which are getting plowed so the maize can
be planted, are happy. The seasons here all have their chores or rest periods,
and things are going to get busy soon. I was in Mbabane a couple of weeks ago
and the Christmas decorations were already up. So early, so soon.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="background: white;">Communications
here are part of my 'new normal', so I forget how folks other places do it.
Phone calls are 18 cents a minute, so they are limited, as you can imagine.
Instead, PCV's use whatsapp, a text app that only charges for data used, which,
as you can imagine, is minimal. We also text, and if we need to talk to PC
staff, we call and hang up (buzz them) and they call back. We do call
sometimes, but calls are short, as you can imagine. Whatsapp is also used by
many local folks, which makes life a little easier.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="background: white;">Actually,
whatsapp has its advantages. We have groups for projects (e.g., GLOW and Books
for Africa), so we're all on the same page with it. Literally. And when I must
write rather than talk, it gives me time to really think about what I want to
communicate. The other day a page or so of processing got translated into one
sentence, which I sent. Amazing stuff.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="background: white;">I
broke down and bought a low end smart phone. Now I'm learning how to use it -
quite a learning curve, and I am dragged kicking and screaming into the 21st
Century. I wonder, when I come home, what difference it will make in my life.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="background: white;">I
think about home a lot as the holidays approach. Being here, being aware of
differences in our cultures makes me more sensitive to our own beliefs and
values. Things I just take for granted, usually, are up for examination and
questioning. Not that I have any answers <smile>...</span><br />
<br />
<span style="background: white;">Someone
asked me if I'm comfortable, and got a long, wordy reply. Yes/No/Both is the
summary. And I ask you, Readers, the same question. Are you comfortable?</span><br />
<br />
<span style="background: white;">November
8</span><br />
<br />
<span style="background: white;">When I
was a child there was a place in San Francisco called Playland, and within it a
place called The Fun House. you paid your money and then had to get through some
challenges to get inside, where you could stay as long as you wanted, going
from one activity to another. one was a slide made of gorgeous hardwood. to get
to the top you grabbed a gunny sack and climbed and climbed and climbed (at
least from a child's point of view), then, with great courage, sat on the sack
and went flying down. but I digress.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="background: white;"> One
of the challenges to get inside was to find your way through a maze of mirrors.
The trick was to distinguish which was a reflection of yourself and your surroundings
and which was the path that would lead you forward. Life here is feeling a lot
like that. I think I see the path, only to run smack dab into a wall. Then I
turn and find the way was off to the side where I either hadn't noticed it or
had noted it for exploration later. Or I realize that one path is blocked, but
have no idea that others are cruelly closed. In frustration, I turn around and
find invitations to explore. and of course, I'm going on faith that there
actually is a Fun House awaiting me at the end if the maze .</span><br />
<br />
<span style="background: white;">hmmmm.
it's a nice metaphor. there were big wooden horses that went back and forth,
back and forth. fun to ride, but they didn't go anywhere - not even in a circle.</span><br />
<span style="background: white;">You
could see the people outside while you rode, though. There was a people-sized
barrel turning, turning and if you could keep up, walking up the side, getting
up every time you fell, you could eventually make it through to the other side.
and a big wooden disc that went around like a record player. It would revolve faster
and faster. the closer you were to the center, the longer you could stay on;
kids would go flying off onto the floor until just one child was left sitting
in the exact center. I left a lot of skin on that floor, seeking the center...
And there were bridges that rocked back and forth, side to side. and more. Many
more metaphors for life.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="background: white;">Btw,
for those of you who remember Laughing Sal, I last saw her, still laughing, on
the boardwalk in Santa Cruz.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="background: white;">November
9</span><br />
<br />
<span style="background: white;">Did
laundry today and figure I have somewhere between 40 -50 more laundry days till
I get a washing machine again. It's hard to grump when I realize that most of
the folks in my community will never have one. Ditto for indoor plumbing and
hot showers. Took a solar shower today, luxuriating in the gallon and a half of
hot water slipping over my shoulders. Then I used the bath water as part of my
laundry water. I am so appreciative of the "for granteds" we have in
the States.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="background: white;">November10</span><br />
<span style="background: white;">It is
the season of storms. big, not-messing-around thunder and lightning storms. The
land is soaking up the moisture, the jojo tanks are filling and the fields are
dark with plowing, green with newly planted maize. It's gorgeous. The air,
cleansed of dust by wind and water, has an almost tangible clarity. It's beautiful
here. Tractors chug up the road, hauling manure or with plow blades lifted. The
cattle are supervised now, to keep them from eating the sweet new maize
plants. And they hare harnessed to a hand held plow that weeds between
the rows. It takes one person to lead the two cattle, and one or two to hold
the plow. The kids are writing their exams, then they will be freed for 6 weeks
for the holidays and to work in the fields. It's spring time in Swaziland.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="background: white;">I
received an email asking how I'm doing without all the things we think are so
necessary. He asks great questions! Here's (most of) what I replied:</span><br />
<br />
<span style="background: white;">interesting
question <grin>. do you mean like kitchen cabinets and indoor plumbing?
or TV shows and internet? friends and family? grocery stores? hygiene products
designed for Caucasian skin? a car? paved streets and roads? washing
machines and abundant clean water? a culture I understand without having to
think about it? anonymity? those are the basics of what is different in a rural
third world country. and probably more. they're what makes it both undeniably
hard and unimaginably - I'm stuck for a word. rewarding? demanding?
intense? they are, perhaps, the reason for growth.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="background: white;">with
most of my givens stripped away, what's left? time for reflection. time to pay
attention to what is, to try to figure it out, not on my terms, necessarily,
but on my terms combined with their terms. time to look at what my beliefs
and values are in a way I haven't done since I was in my late teens and
early twenties, trying to figure out what those beliefs and values are for me
- not for those who were influencing me.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="background: white;">I'm by
nature an introvert. So I both want and need alone time, and get plenty of it
here. I can walk out my door and interact with the kids on my homestead, but I
can also stay inside and be relatively quiet. I read incessantly. my family
tells me not to go wandering off into the hills alone, but if I can talk
someone into going with me, there are some pretty places around here. and of
course, I can go visit other PCV's. Means an overnight, because transport is so
bad, but that's okay.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="background: white;">November
25</span><br />
<br />
<span style="background: white;">I am
more than 2/3 of the way through my service. Another volunteer said that if I
thought time was going slowly to try to remember what I did last week. Uh....
Right! Some of me longs for home, and some of me just wants to savor my time
here, warts and all.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="background: white;">The
kids are writing exams, and in between they have free time to relax and/or to
study. If I hang out, some of them come to talk with me, which is way cool. Some
ask about the States, others want to talk about whatever is on their minds.
This is the best part of being here. I was talking with Wandile, the young man
with questions we can't answer, about facts and truth, and he said, "Facts
are a fraction of truth." Oh yeah!</span><br />
<br />
<span style="background: white;">I will
get to teach the same group next year. They will be seniors, and I plan
to push them hard to participate and to start thinking about what they want to
get out of this last year of schooling, what direction they see themselves
going, and what tools they will need to get there. The guest speakers we had
were really successful, and I hope to invite more to talk about HIV, testing
and counseling, and the myths and stigma that can go along with the whole topic.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="background: white;">One of
the students wants to start a non-school based club, and has asked me to help
her get it started. There's such a strong need for guidance for some of these
kids who find themselves in no-win situations. I hope that this will
materialize.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="background: white;">It's
almost Thanksgiving, and I wish warm friends, good food, laughter, hugs, love
and a time for reflecting on all there is appreciate.</span></span><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
Michele Templerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17109945550997751273noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4878944247529379501.post-9228493062208280872014-10-22T12:32:00.000+02:002014-10-22T12:32:09.139+02:00School Daze<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">October 3, 2014</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #222222; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">
<br />
<span style="background: white;">Had a
GREAT day yesterday - co-taught a session on preventing teen pregnancy with one
of my classes. We covered the physical stuff, but there's so much more- the
whole emotional/peer pressure/poverty pressure etc. side. With HIV so prevalent
here, it can make the decisions literally life and death. Knowing my
limitations, due to knowledge of topic and culture, and the limits of knowledge
(my co-teacher told the class they could get pregnant from sperm on a toilet
seat) and of trust (she is a teacher... with a switch) I got permission to
invite some HIV information NGO (non-governmental organization) speakers. I
told the kids, and one (the one who keeps asking questions none of us can
answer) asked if the guest speakers could stay for 2 periods rather than one.
Okayed. So with some finagling and such they arrived yesterday. We introduced
the speakers, divided the group into males and females, and left them to it.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="background: white;">I
poked my head in a couple of times. The girls were laughing that woman laugh -
the one we only share with other women that comes from all the way deep inside.
The boys were solemn and intent. The facilitators had to kick the kids out for
break. At the end, other kids came asking the speakers to talk with their
classes (they had to go). I caught a lift back to town with them, and got a
contact high! They said the kids were really open and that the wanted them to
come back. I asked if they were able to cover some of the really hard topics,
like what if the girls are pressured by their parents to have sex for money, or
because they are the oldest, with no parent present, and feel they need to buy
food for the others. Or their boyfriends say, if you really loved me... They
said yes, they talked about those things. Judging from the students’ faces, it
was really good.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="background: white;">I wish
I could say, oh, yeah, I planned this. The truth is that I didn't - it was
almost a last minute thought, finding someone the kids could talk with, based
on the level of trust they extended when we did the first class, illustrated in
the questions they asked. My stumble technique style of decision making works
really well here in Swaziland, where being responsive works much better than
trying to convince others my way is best. But I still feel a bit like luck, or
Universe or something is at work. Maybe it's the magic that helps me get things
done - the one where things seem overwhelming, but I just keep plugging away
and then, suddenly - it's done.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="background: white;">(Thanks,
Sueji, for telling me this is blog material <grin>).</span><br />
<br />
<span style="background: white;">American
heritage realization:</span><br />
<span style="background: white;">Walking
back to site today, listening to a song about how Superman never took any money
for what he did. Yesterday, listening to an HCN (host country national) talk
about a project he was doing I heard him say that he didn't get paid for it.
Twice, he worked that into the conversation. And that he was really happy that
he was able to do it. My initial thought was - um - did you notice that I'm a
volunteer? As in, not getting paid? But then I realized that volunteering is a
part of American culture - and it is not a given here. Sharing here is much
more personal, done usually for extended family, and, I think, sometimes more
because it expected than because it is done willingly. I found pride in that
very American value.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="background: white;">And no
wonder - look at the role models - at least from my generation. Start with
Superman and extending to all the super heroes, doing the right thing because -
because it IS right. The super-rich used to have a sense of noblesse oblige -
giving to those less fortunate. Never mind that they got rich standing on the
backs of those same folks - there were grants to make a better world... Support
for higher education - And the cartoons... Definitely not high tech - the
animated characters would face overwhelming obstacles, and, to classical music,
try again and again, no matter how many times they fell or were squashed (and
we laughed, knowing they would be fine and get up and try again). What messages
did we learn?</span><br />
<br />
<span style="background: white;">It's
so easy to focus on the things that we wanted to change - and so easy to miss
those things that were positive and shaped me in ways which somehow escape my
awareness. When they float to the surface, I am proud of the quiet heroes in my
childhood.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="background: white;">October
16, 2014</span><br />
<br />
<span style="background: white;">Tonight
I was working on a survey for my classes, listening to a Strauss waltz - I
noticed some percussion I'd never heard before - sounded really good, fit in
well, but... unexpected. Realized it was thunder. Gifts.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="background: white;">Normals
are subtly changing. Here are some... Depending on when I walk home from
school, I find primary and/or pre-school kids walking with me. My siSwati is
still not up to having a discussion, but that doesn't get in the way of smiles,
laughter - and playing. I start with little hops, kicks, turns. Then it's their
turn to lead - we clap, jump, laugh and keep walking. Sometimes the littles
hang onto my hands. The kids often walk long distances to school - more than
the mile one way I walk. Even the pre-schoolers walk without adults. No one
seems to think this is odd, and in the morning it looks like a river of kids
walking up the hill to school.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="background: white;">The
rains are starting. The dark clouds change the quality of light, and the air,
which has been hazy with dust, clears. It's as though I'm in a different place.
The trees are blossoming - garish jacaranda, which drops its petals to make a
soft purple carpet, and the more sedate yellow-flowered trees. At dusk, people
burn the fields - to get rid of the mice (who would otherwise eat the maize
seeds) as well as the weeds; the fires on the horizon are golden. Then the
fields begin greening up, slow and most welcome. People are shoveling out the
season's kraals (corrals) and using the manure on the fields. All done by hand
- such hard work! Soon the cattle will be harnessed to plow the fields.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="background: white; color: #222222; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">October 22, 2014<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="background: white; color: #222222; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Every time I wonder what I’m doing here, Universe lets me know. I’m so
appreciative! Hope you enjoy the photos. Happy Autumn.s</span></span><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
Michele Templerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17109945550997751273noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4878944247529379501.post-64061022576638242172014-10-22T10:56:00.000+02:002014-10-22T10:56:04.052+02:00Kruger Pix and more<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZjcNwwOSMZM8yaD-xayOAGSE70xX3GzDMkdTSe2pSvW3ciANrKhiMt_D0m8jC_bg8UijWA0grwoKYcLBKe30UxgQdJdvbBj4v7-sNGB_xaz2qyh2MMZVoRcxA7j7XlXRgE22JdlgvhHWd/s1600/cheetah.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZjcNwwOSMZM8yaD-xayOAGSE70xX3GzDMkdTSe2pSvW3ciANrKhiMt_D0m8jC_bg8UijWA0grwoKYcLBKe30UxgQdJdvbBj4v7-sNGB_xaz2qyh2MMZVoRcxA7j7XlXRgE22JdlgvhHWd/s1600/cheetah.jpg" height="640" width="584" /></a><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Friend Robbin graciously share her pictures from Kruger. She took this one of the cheetah!</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXVuaAix9FasrYEATqrLlkoIvrGc7gs_3bSAFKW7X6vQRrYom7BumZ5iSsSuYRmVu7wDFK3WmGZ06d0VF8rVEl1UqnzqXZw08PZA_7ZPSnfWroYTJrpepiDPtycNfRX6RjJc2FzcsdfIbu/s1600/Mom+and+kid+elephant.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXVuaAix9FasrYEATqrLlkoIvrGc7gs_3bSAFKW7X6vQRrYom7BumZ5iSsSuYRmVu7wDFK3WmGZ06d0VF8rVEl1UqnzqXZw08PZA_7ZPSnfWroYTJrpepiDPtycNfRX6RjJc2FzcsdfIbu/s1600/Mom+and+kid+elephant.jpg" height="409" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">And this one</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEch0nzP5nHdVh_JUuh-K1GyI028KYFccrpUcT02hBNU2H65BNvTEXoMerWXdggSKncOLk4FxMqUEfr0ag66Kvf6p0KTxh-LOO4Lik8zP12azHFnJGW3D2BmCmjgSl7n-Lyz75fGb7B1fO/s1600/is+that+a+grin.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEch0nzP5nHdVh_JUuh-K1GyI028KYFccrpUcT02hBNU2H65BNvTEXoMerWXdggSKncOLk4FxMqUEfr0ag66Kvf6p0KTxh-LOO4Lik8zP12azHFnJGW3D2BmCmjgSl7n-Lyz75fGb7B1fO/s1600/is+that+a+grin.jpg" height="480" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">s that a grin she caught?</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinMLHZi45P6aH2_WAApYJYNVdrWmXIqP755nz4lG6xOFqBjyypHQhLkC1ll7EcUiLbj9rFCflt22XbY5N04KfK13XT0A1e62BEFBufChzG-8sDwUfNjz0N9i56cipHddPmcOQNg4YJ0Thp/s1600/zebras+cuddling.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinMLHZi45P6aH2_WAApYJYNVdrWmXIqP755nz4lG6xOFqBjyypHQhLkC1ll7EcUiLbj9rFCflt22XbY5N04KfK13XT0A1e62BEFBufChzG-8sDwUfNjz0N9i56cipHddPmcOQNg4YJ0Thp/s1600/zebras+cuddling.jpg" height="556" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Zebras cuddling - keeping watch and keeping fly-free</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNiRkd20JORyv4r82KJJuvA-HM-FIyU3sMMI8kyVs3hsLBzQv8HeBLoHfZWKn2GefwqkIJFoCccY95ovciQR47dw4asBYOiJmmwBArG59R4_1ftL-LaUmth4RC9yVf60R2uadauvRVpsYC/s1600/monkey+protective+color.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNiRkd20JORyv4r82KJJuvA-HM-FIyU3sMMI8kyVs3hsLBzQv8HeBLoHfZWKn2GefwqkIJFoCccY95ovciQR47dw4asBYOiJmmwBArG59R4_1ftL-LaUmth4RC9yVf60R2uadauvRVpsYC/s1600/monkey+protective+color.jpg" height="480" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">This monkey has protective coloring down!</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2YLcy2eJPHiH7N0hrlh01xloRLepMdn4IOAp7F6ZJe7md8DnE5PiV5H0jLEn5TZ_CRVikj6HEA1XfZP0o-1BPm6BRx7-kyuFrzxxf9HTYQVP_OPzokmIQSJNJJ9p0ArjyNBepkKRu48ih/s1600/Lion.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2YLcy2eJPHiH7N0hrlh01xloRLepMdn4IOAp7F6ZJe7md8DnE5PiV5H0jLEn5TZ_CRVikj6HEA1XfZP0o-1BPm6BRx7-kyuFrzxxf9HTYQVP_OPzokmIQSJNJJ9p0ArjyNBepkKRu48ih/s1600/Lion.jpg" height="569" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">His majesty, the king</span></td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEit6I_HYYl5QbgiRQtgZuHlDKUV4jllXhhDU-vnP-V70smffYveUR2AylxCLRUOkaq7p6G1dQofimS5LiGUdW_hiP7OnpPZmZarNO7cW4IIBelKjf-wohnxK-xURPYxjN5iCOoGGAdB3Rf9/s1600/Baby+elephant.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><br /><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">And then there's what I saw...</span><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEit6I_HYYl5QbgiRQtgZuHlDKUV4jllXhhDU-vnP-V70smffYveUR2AylxCLRUOkaq7p6G1dQofimS5LiGUdW_hiP7OnpPZmZarNO7cW4IIBelKjf-wohnxK-xURPYxjN5iCOoGGAdB3Rf9/s1600/Baby+elephant.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgr5ZqBNJ8brAG9Ss-fy8ZtTmqr8u7do2evcZuhFte688j92yaCOrnt5n1J3H2_pMLikGtc4EWzBawR3MX4Wge3t_uM4xzOgSrVyOUulwJ85ETS_eNorjrfDvwaUu2o-bjLfvOL94Ba6m9_/s1600/elephants+or+rocks.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgr5ZqBNJ8brAG9Ss-fy8ZtTmqr8u7do2evcZuhFte688j92yaCOrnt5n1J3H2_pMLikGtc4EWzBawR3MX4Wge3t_uM4xzOgSrVyOUulwJ85ETS_eNorjrfDvwaUu2o-bjLfvOL94Ba6m9_/s1600/elephants+or+rocks.jpg" height="307" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Are these all elephants? </span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiivB7PRJRGyzS1C10jtukD6yOWoLavULH_JKisqMvIhIl_qHUSojDqJ8Boh8A0slJstZRCTeW_9bMABhyDcTzMSioI5MIH_Kuwqtb16njqjPx6_Rczt9R9WbIaE1zCA3vJq1x16qkrvLl-/s1600/Giraffe+nibbling.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiivB7PRJRGyzS1C10jtukD6yOWoLavULH_JKisqMvIhIl_qHUSojDqJ8Boh8A0slJstZRCTeW_9bMABhyDcTzMSioI5MIH_Kuwqtb16njqjPx6_Rczt9R9WbIaE1zCA3vJq1x16qkrvLl-/s1600/Giraffe+nibbling.jpg" height="640" width="480" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Blends right into the trees, doesn't it?</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9zJ-Twg8TPgX0dd11yhJEq6EjzxGe1Em_jhjnI6k0hhVbA4wole7DAlCMYhyeGBjgAVrmK3VlTdGyzfmcxzs677lZikMvo1HfLUnKTmbPzBLtnsfZDT0WlyoN_q40HPCmMaOT3JHlkOpM/s1600/Lilac+breasted+rollers+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9zJ-Twg8TPgX0dd11yhJEq6EjzxGe1Em_jhjnI6k0hhVbA4wole7DAlCMYhyeGBjgAVrmK3VlTdGyzfmcxzs677lZikMvo1HfLUnKTmbPzBLtnsfZDT0WlyoN_q40HPCmMaOT3JHlkOpM/s1600/Lilac+breasted+rollers+2.jpg" height="507" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Lilac breasted rollers.They look like rainbows in flight.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />Meanwhile, back on the homestead - </span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMsPgTrZX0v9uYc2ZNlSGqfMkoEo3Qash0wmBtAYOqP_r1aCovHOXA0BzjbUscYbBRm0yM7xPdboTZ0HZuFbpOtBTsyyA13u-_vrAGf4MHcsvWNOBBZrsWVmvVzLk7oQwfy1nBg-6zdaIH/s1600/Latrine+view+in+the+distance.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMsPgTrZX0v9uYc2ZNlSGqfMkoEo3Qash0wmBtAYOqP_r1aCovHOXA0BzjbUscYbBRm0yM7xPdboTZ0HZuFbpOtBTsyyA13u-_vrAGf4MHcsvWNOBBZrsWVmvVzLk7oQwfy1nBg-6zdaIH/s1600/Latrine+view+in+the+distance.jpg" height="480" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">The zoom out view</span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"> from the latrine. This is the part of road I walk to school every day.</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVEUNjxjSDhKUztGnEbu-4fYeHHHyWInzQXr23mLGpKP1VqjQPcJK7iQszkWjIeL6oh9CEItxTJYnDFb48qTE65c4SVeey9c8RbRx3M2IoR0kUAopIKB67gwm_CYvPNPPP_CbhHjmwzGqq/s1600/check+out+the+steering+wheel+and+fashion+statement.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVEUNjxjSDhKUztGnEbu-4fYeHHHyWInzQXr23mLGpKP1VqjQPcJK7iQszkWjIeL6oh9CEItxTJYnDFb48qTE65c4SVeey9c8RbRx3M2IoR0kUAopIKB67gwm_CYvPNPPP_CbhHjmwzGqq/s1600/check+out+the+steering+wheel+and+fashion+statement.jpg" height="480" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Car, body by Sibusiso, wheels and steering wheel (check it out) by Siyabonga<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /></span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg19qBWkLf6rHGtJcGrhtn_SS82CYQW3ejYqpMXSeGYvFFB2mYlvcqqMXZhvA7BECS_X4fW43_LprGaKg2INPGVGWMZ48t2MY6QWxpme2Mnp1lHiur7xQXk8O1USaCmKBwb38Dxi0rNejLe/s1600/N,+S+&+N+at+river+for+fb.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg19qBWkLf6rHGtJcGrhtn_SS82CYQW3ejYqpMXSeGYvFFB2mYlvcqqMXZhvA7BECS_X4fW43_LprGaKg2INPGVGWMZ48t2MY6QWxpme2Mnp1lHiur7xQXk8O1USaCmKBwb38Dxi0rNejLe/s1600/N,+S+&+N+at+river+for+fb.jpg" height="640" width="475" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">And finally, the girls at the river, clowning around.</span></td></tr>
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<br />Michele Templerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17109945550997751273noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4878944247529379501.post-80573190714570953972014-09-16T08:05:00.000+02:002014-09-16T08:05:00.087+02:00<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">August 30, 2014</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">Got-It-In-One quote from one of my counterparts, Nozipho,"You (volunteers) walk so much you don't even know what color your feet are."</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">Came back to site to find that my host family is putting in a bathroom. As earlier noted, everything here is extremely labor intensive. What is done in the States with at the very least rented equipment to dig trenches for pipes is done here with picks and shovels. Earlier this month they connected the bore hole (well) to huge jojo tanks that are on top of a building to provide gravity flow pressure and to the main house. Now they are putting in a bathroom, which means pipes for the waste water. the septic area so far is a huge square hole, as deep as a person is tall. Yesterday the goats found it and had to be lifted out. Today construction continues. Over and over the things we take for granted are shown to be just that - things we take for granted, not necessarily the way life is in many other places...</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">September 14, 2014</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">So many things running through my head to share. Where to start?</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">Volunteering. It's not a common concept here in Swaziland. People keep marveling at PCV's who "give up" our lives for 2 years to help them. Even from home, people say they admire what we are doing here. I feel a bit like a fraud. Yes, day-to-day living conditions here are much less convenient than at home. But - what I get in exchange is so very powerful - life changing, you might say <grin>. Just like teaching, I feel I am learning and getting in return much more than I give. I see people whose courage and determination provide motivation for me to go on. I run into cultural differences, sometimes get hurt - and I also touch lives that I may not have ever had the opportunity to touch anywhere else. I'm sick a lot, and that concerns me - hopefully can figure out what is going on with that since it also affects my attitude. My counterpart asked me if what I am doing here is enough - I asked for clarification, and she said, 'enough to keep you here.' Yes. Things go more slowly than I would like, in unexpected directions, in unexpected everything, as a matter of fact. Sometimes I wonder...</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /><i><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">Who's this woman</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">inside my skin</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">whose life evolves</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">with slips and spins?</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">What are her dreams?</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">What shapes her days?</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">Just who is it</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">Who guards the maze</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">Where she pursues</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">her truth each day?</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">Stumbling to</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">unearth the way</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">One thing comes clear</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">Though answers blur:</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">The guide's within</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">She's me; I'm her.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"> 9/12/14</span></i><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">Kruger National Game Preserve was an incredible experience. A 5 day trip, though 2 were travel days. We stayed in a campground on the Sabie River and went on game drives (several) each day. I did a bush walk (with armed guides). It was another world. Still working on pictures. Mine need a lot of work, and Robbin will share hers. When I can, I'll post them.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">One of the best parts of the trips was that we got to be our stateside selves - not PCV's carrying heavy packs and being stared at. It was glorious and much needed.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">The campground at Kruger had a restaurant with outdoor seating, and a wooden walkway, both overlooking the river. Robbin, traveling companion par excellence, and I would get our morning coffee at just light, then walk down to watch day break over the river. The quality of light would slowly sharpen to soft clarity. Animals would be grazing, strolling along and into the water. Hippos slid into the water without a splash, then blew water at each other. Buffalo drank, steenbok and impala munched grasses. Storks flew overhead in formations, a graceful line sweeping and curling across the sky. Swallows dove and swooped in an every changing airshow. Quietly we watched. Peace. One morning I opted out of the drive and sat writing in my journal and observing. A troop of baboons made a run for the condiments on the table, grabbed something and then were run off by staff. Cheeky chumps, those baboons.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">One day we stopped on a drive for some lunch. The tour included a bunch of 18 and 19 year olds, mostly girls. Several girls made sandwiches and sat at a picnic table. A troop of baboons rushed them and grabbed their food. The girls ran shrieking. One male baboon then sat at the table, calmly munching his stolen meal. The girls thought that was so funny they wanted pictures, so they started walking towards him with their cameras. What do you s'pose? He felt threatened, so he rushed them again. The guides had to throw stones and brandish sticks at the troop to get them to leave. Eish!</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">The drives were incredible. We saw lions (at a distance), a leopard (also far away), cheetahs, uncountable elephants, zebras, giraffes, impala, buffalo, steenbok, a couple of ostriches, crocodiles, hyenas, kudus, baboons (of course), monkeys, hippos, rhinoceri (is that the plural of rhinoceros?) and lots and lots of birds including eagles, storks, vultures, canaries and spare fowl.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">Safari - I looked it up - means seeking out animals in their natural habitat to film or shoot. Guess we were on safari. It seemed so - many things. One was safe. As I stood on the wooden deck overlooking the river, I felt like I was on the edge of safety, civilization - but still apart from the daily life and death struggles in front of me. I saw the beauty, the peace, the calm, not the predators who must kill to survive, nor that prey that must escape or die. It made me think about Disneyland and how whole generations of Americans want to see dangerous worlds without being in danger. I know that any of us could have done something ridiculous, like try to pet the zebras, and gotten seriously hurt. But...</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">Some things I learned: Kruger is bigger than Swaziland (which is about the size of New Jersey) and is fenced. The only "clearing" that has been done here has been done by the elephants uprooting trees. The Big 5 (lion, leopard, buffalo (what I think of as water buffalo), rhinoceros, and hippopotamus) are so named because they are not likely to attack humans, but if they do either the animal or the human will die. Giraffes eat 16 - 18 hours per day. Angry elephants make a terrifying sound (a sort of screaming roar). Hippos grunt. Hyena scat can be white from the bones they eat.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">We saw dazzles of zebras, journeys of giraffes, clans of hyenas and troops of baboons. Dazzles have great senses of smell and journeys can see great distances, so dazzles and journeys hang out together as a symbiotic method of detecting danger as early as possible. Zebras "cuddle" - face opposite directions and place their heads on each other's backs. That allows them to see in 2 directions for danger and to use their tales to keep insects off themselves and each other.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">Even the vegetation was incredible, and I saw a vine that had wound around a trunk, then grown very long while still light and thin enough to be blown up to a very high branch. Ah, life...</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /><i><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">Vine twines</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">up the trunk</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">curls and twists</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">thrusts up and up</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">what does it seek</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">so high, so high?</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">is it alive?</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">Or did it die</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">Despite the height</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">The dizzying flight</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">To reach the branch</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">so close to sky?</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"> ~9/4/1 Kruger</span></i><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">As we sat in our safe vehicles, high above the rivers, looking at the hippos, eyes and noses only showing, and the crocodiles visible only by their noses, eyes and small wakes, or else in a heap on shore, I remembered that Chris Korbulic and his kayaking group would sit in small kayaks or on shore observing the same kind of scene. My understanding and admiration for their courage increased unbelievably as I imagined myself in their place, seeing those innocuous looking, potentially deadly sights. I wonder how you did it, guys...</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">Life here, pre-Europeans, must have required an intricate and delicate balance with nature, a dance of life and death similar to that of other animals. How does what is here now compare?</span></span>Michele Templerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17109945550997751273noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4878944247529379501.post-53531210040321598172014-08-25T22:43:00.001+02:002014-08-25T22:43:59.414+02:00Swaziland Diary<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAMbfzJuOEPqd_rtzEiijuOEEHJOg9Qo0qJHABiU3M9wKwD3iSroHGqSCDPQyPa7DWuJh2wx8moboxx1Sbkt5rO4wx7sFFigM8Ob0eyvXyPRf0EBIOhh9qBsMZtk52-532GLb5OrrYc2E/s1600/image-8.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAMbfzJuOEPqd_rtzEiijuOEEHJOg9Qo0qJHABiU3M9wKwD3iSroHGqSCDPQyPa7DWuJh2wx8moboxx1Sbkt5rO4wx7sFFigM8Ob0eyvXyPRf0EBIOhh9qBsMZtk52-532GLb5OrrYc2E/s1600/image-8.jpeg" height="320" width="320" /></a><br />
August 5, 2014<br /><br />Liyana (rain), the kitten who somehow wound up sharing my hut, brings much amusement and love. It appears to be summer again, though the nights do cool nicely. And snippets seem to be what this blog has become.<br /><br />Saw my bhuti (brother) at school today. He's 8. I asked him to do something to help me. No. Perfect time to practice positive discipline. I asked our sisi to keep this to ourselves, then asked her to translate. I told him I was hurt and angry that he had not helped me, and that the next 5 times I got treats for the kids, he would get none. I think it will be effective, since he was already looking pretty sad. If I can show corporal punishment has effective alternatives, I will be happy.<br /><br />Serendipity continues to bring me gifts. Exams are winding down for the students, so there's time to talk to individuals. I feel both humbled and honored, talking to these young adults. Some of them have such big dreams, such strength and determination, such talent and intelligence. So glad I get to work with them.<br /><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghNPAd2ZSAFvKcMebEfTE9pVn5CvdiqYjjSVI4ndnK5pe578yJf4UaYLlv7Vmlbo8T_K5qY2V4GRRaqdy7CWBDoczGWgbETHEYYTcWJ4bVRhSVudSJ_jc4fQnKyRz_vDmD5ddmHQno_xQ/s1600/image-10.jpeg" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghNPAd2ZSAFvKcMebEfTE9pVn5CvdiqYjjSVI4ndnK5pe578yJf4UaYLlv7Vmlbo8T_K5qY2V4GRRaqdy7CWBDoczGWgbETHEYYTcWJ4bVRhSVudSJ_jc4fQnKyRz_vDmD5ddmHQno_xQ/s1600/image-10.jpeg" height="320" width="162" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Traditional dress, thanks to Temlandvo</td></tr>
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Things are still happening Swazi style - not so much planned as beshertz (sp?) - meant to be. Over and over I learn to just trust that if I show up and be present, a path will reveal itself. And it does. The stumble technique is alive and well.<br /><br />Katie saved me with emergency instructions on how to cut my hair, so I took a scissors to a year and a half of growth (halfway down my back). The result is far from her artistry, but it's a passable shag that feels MUCH better and will be easier to care for.<br /><br />Liyana is stalking my pen, which is stalking him under the bedspread. I do love kittens! <br /><br />The group that arrived a year before us is going home, and we are becoming the "seniors". Amazing how much I actually do know! And even more amazing, how much I DON'T know <smile>. But they make me think about going home. Of course, there are the things I long for - bagels. Peet's coffee. Cabinets. A kitchen table. Counters. Indoor plumbing. A car. But there will be much that will be hard to leave. A multi-generational homestead. Being a part of the community, and greeting those I meet on the road. Waving at virtually all the vehicles on the road in my community. The smiles of the little kids, and the just-beginning trust of some of the older ones. The kindness and patience of the adults, teaching me about their culture, and the laughter shared. And so much more. I have another year, and hope I will remember to cherish it, even on the way to the latrine (which has a beautiful view from the seat when the door is left open).<br /><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzRj-Wg5GzWibRsWysPgAqBOl5IRdW72LzKKYn0N2inzkoff6ooNGYKt3BZsjPF-imcoEPDvX3-qF8LkNGdeWxk9wc-Q6osWrhEGVM0QpsNv_3VzAfdhkpRF8T4SYhML6fS4vmc-fKZb8/s1600/image-11.jpeg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzRj-Wg5GzWibRsWysPgAqBOl5IRdW72LzKKYn0N2inzkoff6ooNGYKt3BZsjPF-imcoEPDvX3-qF8LkNGdeWxk9wc-Q6osWrhEGVM0QpsNv_3VzAfdhkpRF8T4SYhML6fS4vmc-fKZb8/s1600/image-11.jpeg" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">These young adults are definitely into discussing the club they are organizing!</td></tr>
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<br />August 10<br /><br />Talked more with the kids from the club we are trying to form. They asked some probing questions that I can't answer. I ask you, Gentle Readers, to ask yourselves these questions. I'd love to hear your thoughts...<br /><br />Here's an excerpt from an email to Margaret on the subject:<br /><br />I think we all question whether what we're doing is "right" or "enough" or - something. But we do what we can, and it matters. It really, truly matters. Even if we just touch one other person, it matters. Sea star story, you know? I know I'm touching some lives, and it keeps me going. I had a student ask me that the other day - what keeps you going? I couldn't really answer. But i guess that's it - or a part of it, anyhow. Maybe some of it is about how we are all connected, too. I know that just by being here by doing things and believing things so fundamentally different than the way people think and do things here, I am opening some opportunities to view the world in a new way. And learning some new ways myself.18. The kid who asked me that is 18. What did I know at that age? Did I know enough to ask those kind of questions? Another asked, what brought you here? You did, I replied. I want to work with young people - you have so much potential, so many dreams...<br /><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZ0KBY9j8ebd4bBcFAv_vUh0otcAaX8vJxnIej_s9eEmTpJT4QDDRxHtuccH4Muv2mrC3elSqkXbSdbAoElvrYDESUYqSJcJbgzyaRPdwi9-KvWuD0VvkAPtTwCoFdPHBU1cFe5iInsyQ/s1600/photo-1.jpg" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZ0KBY9j8ebd4bBcFAv_vUh0otcAaX8vJxnIej_s9eEmTpJT4QDDRxHtuccH4Muv2mrC3elSqkXbSdbAoElvrYDESUYqSJcJbgzyaRPdwi9-KvWuD0VvkAPtTwCoFdPHBU1cFe5iInsyQ/s1600/photo-1.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">More members of the club</td></tr>
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Still, that doesn't really answer what keeps me going. Somehow, though no answers emerge, there are related things. Rachel Naomi Remen wrote about a workshop she conducted. She asked the participants to imagine putting all of their troubles and sorrows into a box and placing that box in the center of the room. Then she asked them to take a box from the center - either their own or someone else's. She said everyone elected to keep their own... Pretty powerful statement.<br /><br />What keeps me going? Day to day? in the hard times? good times? Is it my raison d'être? My belief in Universe/Great Spirit/Highest Good? Working with kids, I've begun thinking answers to hard questions come in 2 vague categories: The "easy" or "right" or obvious answers - and the real, underlying questions that make the stated question hard. I don't even have an easy answer... But it's mulling. Stay tuned <grin>.<br /><br /><br />
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<br />August 22, 2014<br /><br />excerpt from an email to a young woman who is about to go home with the incredibly hard-earned title, Returned Peace Corps Volunteer.<br /><br />Sure enjoyed our visit yesterday. And talking about religion/spiritual beliefs sparked some ideas to share.<br /><br />You talked about how K and T have such different ideas about what religion means, even though both have strong faith. Realized that those of us who don't consider ourselves religious have, nonetheless, grown in our - spirituality, for want of another word. It's so hard to write about this topic since none of the words I know fit what I mean...<br /><br />Anyhow, I think that as PCV's we come to third world countries and experience, day to day, the differences in our realities from those of our Host Country Nationals. On a variety of levels, conscious and not-so-conscious, we ask - Why? And I think we get a lot of answers, and maybe even more questions. But it leads, somehow invariably, back to that basic, underlying, unanswerable Why? <br /><br />The only thing that seems to make sense is that - we don't get to know. And unknowables of that degree lead to spiritual/religious/that-concept-I-have-no-word-for beliefs. Why do I get such privilege? Why am I here - physically and philosophically? Why do things happen the way they do?<br /><br />So, what they don't tell us in the recruiting process (separation of church and state?) is that we will be coming face to face with metaphysical, philosophical, spiritual questions. Our beliefs and values are going to arise and require attention. We get to choose how/if we will attend to them, but they will arise. And because the nature of the program (usually) allows time for introspection and reflection, and because we don't wind up here without some basic beliefs and values about helping others, the chances are good that we will make unexpected discoveries. And, as with everything else in PCV service, those discoveries will be individual and different for each of us, even when we share, discuss and bounce ideas off of each other.<br /><br />Actually, it's pretty cool. Nice to have the impetus? stimulus? whatever - to revisit and examine such values that lie so deep and are a part of the foundation of our actions without really being a conscious part of our lives.<br /><br />So - first time I've tried to put this into words, and I think I will go back at some point to see if these are ideas I believe or if they need to be revisited and revised. I'd love your feedback if you so choose.<br /><br /><br />August 23<br /><br />Seems as though I'm writing this blog in emails, then deciding to share. This is from an email to Mary.<br /><br />
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I think the impact I have is strongest one-on-one. It's the individual contacts that hold the greatest power. I'm mentoring a couple of high school girls, and I think it matters to them. I'm working with a group of kids who want to start a club. I hope I've introduced a viable fundraising idea for getting books for the primary school library, etc. It doesn't happen the way I expect - but the way it does happen works. Maybe I'm just helping people see what is possible. Empowering is such a strange word - we all have the power - it's just if and how we choose to recognize and use it. so I think my greatest impact has to do with breaking a hole in what people think about their world. <br /><br />I'm white and older. Ergo, I don't do daily chores. Then they see me doing my own shopping, cleaning, laundry, water hauling. What? I don't use corporal punishment. What do I do? Dunno, but it works. I treat pets, other animals and small children with respect. I think girls are smart. I ask young people their opinions and then LISTEN and act on them. Wait, that's not the way the world is. And if that's not the way the world is, then what else is different?<br /><br />There are careers that are not visible. Not everyone needs to be a doctor, nurse, teacher, policeman or soldier. What? And so forth. <br /><br />I love that you make me think, Mary. And I strive to make others think, look at possibilities. Maybe change what they think are walls into barriers that can be maneuvered around. <br /><br />August 24<br /><br />A huge thank you to my Blog Angel, Maggie Lynch, who makes it possible for y'all to be reading this blog. Stay tuned for a report on Kruger Game Preserve. I go in less than 2 weeks!Maggie Lynchhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01014053903538710467noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4878944247529379501.post-90651768590905623672014-07-30T10:52:00.000+02:002014-07-30T10:52:37.301+02:00Stream of Consciousness Is Flowing<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;">June 24, 2014</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;">When I think of Swaziland, I discover that nothing can be planned, but Universe sends me what I need. Today I was running late. There is no water at the tap, and I wanted to wash my hair and was running out of clean clothes. So I saved my bath and shampoo water and washed the most important clothes, which took a bit of time. I wanted to catch my Form 4A students at break, and was cutting it pretty fine when I started the mile walk to school. I'd just made it down the path to the road when a truck went by. As always, I waved, and they stopped an offered me a ride. YES! Thank you! When I got out, they asked if I could help in their neighboring community. Sorry, but what I can do is help you contact the Peace Corps to request a volunteer.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;">So - I made it to school on time, and maybe another community will get a volunteer. Somehow it's the Swazi way. Often unplanned, but - it seems to work. The other thing that is happening is that people are beginning to trust me enough to talk about things below the surface. We talk about saving, about a different way than feast or famine. We talk about family, about things that matter beyond school. It is such an honor and joy to share - from both sides.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;" /><span class="aBn" data-term="goog_1683480418" style="background-color: white; border-bottom-color: rgb(204, 204, 204); border-bottom-style: dashed; border-bottom-width: 1px; color: #222222; font-size: 13px; position: relative; top: -2px; z-index: 0;" tabindex="0"><span class="aQJ" style="position: relative; top: 2px; z-index: -1;">Friday</span></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;"> I will have been here a year. Hardly seems possible, but there it is. I've been in my community about 10 months. While some of me longs for home, some of me will miss the people here in a way that I can't even imagine...</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;">July 7</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;">More about the feast or famine school of budgeting. There are some books written about the difference between the approach to money in the West and here; here's my take.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;">Those of us who have been starving students know what it's like to wonder if our money will stretch to the end of the month, and to eat brown rice and veges or ramen noodles, etc. We get downright stingy and become excellent scavengers. When some money comes in, we tend to hoard it, at least for a little while. We know that if we splurge at the beginning of the month we'll be hungry at the end. Sometimes we choose to do it anyhow - but it's a choice.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;">Many folks here are living on subsistence incomes. But when they get paid, they spend it. I'm told it's expected that those who have, share, so putting some by becomes very difficult. But the concept of saving some for the end of the month seems foreign. Then, come the end of the month they are broke and borrowing from "Shylocks" (that's what the pay day loan places are called here. Honest!) for outrageously high interest rates. Not hard to dig themselves into a hole that way.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;">One person shared with me that another PCV had helped her start saving for school fees for her young child. She said it was really hard, but that she feels a sense of security for her child and herself. More and more often I am seeing the results of concepts so basic to us that they are hard to recognize, let alone challenge. Interesting times.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;">July 8</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;">I no longer think it's unusual when...</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;">- We start a faculty meeting with a hymn (beautifully sung by all) and a prayer.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;">At that meeting, called to introduce the idea of starting a GLOW (Girls Leading Our World) club. Staff concerns included:</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;">Girls get all the attention and leadership and empowerment activities. What about the boys? How about a BLOW club (asked with a straight face by the head teacher (principal)? One male teacher said he'd never seen a girl in a leadership role. One man's concern was that if girls lead, won't the world fall apart?</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;">In the end, it was agreed that the club would be a good idea. Oh YEAH!</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;">- I look out the staff room window and see a cow or two strolling by.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;">- The head teacher tells us a black mamba snake (highly poisonous and fast-moving) has been seen on the driveway to school. He tells us to inform our students and suggests we all take an alternative route when leaving school.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;">- My host family is celebrating. A pump has been purchased and installed in the bore hole (well). We now have a tap and water on the homestead! No more depending on the community tap or hauling water from the spring and river!</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;">- I'm starting to understand (let's be honest -on a few occasions) when Yes means No and Yes means Yes. But silence or change of subject is a definite NO!</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;">July 27</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;">It's really been more than a month since I've started this. I'm right on schedule - hard to write about what has become life. I'm more or less halfway through my service. The folks who have been here 2 years are going home, the new crew has arrived. Some days I wonder if what I'm doing is "enough" "right" etc. Other days I rejoice in the ways I see I am affecting how people perceive their world. I, of course, am constantly changing how I perceive mine. Those soon-to-be RPCV's (Returned Peace Corps Volunteers) will have such altered realities. Gaining much - and losing much. Makes for interesting thoughts.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;">The time for contemplation and reflection, for being present, continues to delight me. I filter my water, and left my water bottle on the table in the the filtered sunlight. I took a drink and wrote this poem:</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;">Layers of water</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;">slake my thirst</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;">Light and dark</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;">made tangible</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;">in the bottle</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;">sharing sunshine and shade.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;">~July 19, 2014</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;">I remember when I started this blog - I took so much care, and wanted a theme, a carefully crafted document. I think I gave that up when I arrived here, and gave in to stream-of-consciousness writing. What else will be different when I return?</span></span>Michele Templerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17109945550997751273noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4878944247529379501.post-80863934925227074802014-06-19T10:36:00.000+02:002014-06-19T10:36:38.852+02:00Stray Thoughts From the Edge<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;">A quote from my friend Steve, who answered succinctly for himself and, I think, for me:</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;">Why do I try to do right? I'd say enlightened self-interest. I've tried martyrdom and it doesn't go well.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;">May 19</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;">Stray thoughts from the Edge:</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;">Can't believe I've missed this until now... I hear over and over, I'm peopled out. ready for some serious alone time at my site. It's such a given I don't even think about it. and I wonder, for all of us who need/want that so very much, how we will make sure we get it when we return to the States. It's so necessary that I don't even recognize its value. That's not it. Maybe it's just sort of become part of my reality.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;">May 30</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;">Ways I know I'm acclimating. Live fenceposts are the norm - if I see fences made out of something else, I wonder why. Ditto for concertina wire around compounds. I automatically sort beans, peanuts and popcorn kernels before cooking them to get the sticks, stones and other inedibles out before cooking. Women nursing make me smile happily at the babies. If I don't get mobbed by little kids when I come home I wonder where they are and if everything is okay. Conserving water is a way of life. So is throwing my compost a couple of steps out my front door so the chickens, goats and cattle can enjoy them. Wash water goes in the same direction, after it has served at least 2 uses and only if the pineapple plants I hope will live had had enough to drink. The school schedule changes regularly, so becoming a part of the grapevine is a must. Oh, and closing the latrine door (which doesn't really close any more anyhow) is optional. The view is beautiful!</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;">and... doing business wherever and whenever. like setting up meetings via whatsapp while riding a khombi over dusty, bumpy roads or while munching dinner. stopping what I'm doing to go play with the kids, then back to work. Or just talking with folks and finding myself picking their brains for ideas for teaching. no set work times, but it all gets done. sort of.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;">June 16</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;">Just realized how long it's been since I've written here. Other PCV's said their blogs got neglected because it's hard to write about day to day life - and those things that seemed so noteworthy at first are now just - normal. Given that, when folks email me, and I start writing, lots flows out, so I'm going to try just writing here and see what emerges.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;">I continue to go visit the two young women, Simphiwe and Ncobile, at their boarding school. We took pictures yesterday, and it was so much fun - think I'll have to post some. I ask them about topics we are teaching in our career guidance classes.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;">Because logistics to visit are somewhat complicated, I write and mail letters to them. They write back and hand them to me when I'm ready to leave. It's a whole different level of communication, writing. I find all of us share much differently on paper - and I treasure their letters. I am so honored that they have chosen to allow me into their lives. I see them as the future, as what strength and courage and determination can bring.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;">Yesterday we talked about peer pressure. It's a huge issue for teens everywhere. They said it keeps coming back to choice - where will the choices you make take you - and having the determination and self-confidence to stick to your own goals. My question is - how? How do you step back from what you can be losing - the peer approval, friends - and pay attention to what you are risking in return for that approval? We know what we "should" do - but when it's happening, it's really hard. What tools can make it easier? I have some ideas about how to teach this - but am definitely open to any ideas anyone wants to send. I hope that if we come up with some good activities that my counterpart teacher will share and/or use them in other classes.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;">My views of transport have changed considerably. It's really a matter of - what? - luck? karma? timing? I still wait long times some times and catch a ride easily other times. Yesterday, walking back to the bus rank after visiting the girls I was able to flag down a khombi. the folks just sort of crushed together, and I caught a ride home. we've swooshed for others, so it' steady to accept the favor in return. Other times I've been almost thrown under the bus trying to get on. It's expected that we'll cram 4 people into seats made for 3, sitting with only one shoulder back, the other forward for someone else's shoulder. Busses are always packed, and it's just part of the trip if we have to stop to change a tire. I take a lihiya (2 meter cloth) to sit on while waiting and bring along my kindle for entertainment. It's just the way it is.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;">Water at the tap was available for a few days, but has disappeared again. When it comes back, I'll make multiple trips to refill my barrels. Then I'm most careful about bathing and laundry. Life. I'm grateful to have it.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;">We are planning food for a GLOW training, and enlisting people to carry what we buy since we have no other way to get it to the backpackers. No biggie.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;">The kids on my homestead now come to my door and ask for books! I'm so delighted with that. I keep bringing some home from the school library for them. Found one on emotions - going to spend some time with that one. Even got folks to translate for me, so I can begin to talk with them about what they feel. Of course, they still want sweets, and get oranges instead.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;">Bread making continues, and I'm spending time with other volunteers.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;">It's almost winter solstice, and the new group of volunteers arrives on the same date that we did. I've been here almost a year! What changes! Time is most elastic. It feels like I've been here forever and like I just arrived. I still get horribly homesick, and I'm still in awe that I get to experience this way of life, of viewing the universe, of entering another world.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;">I am learning to respond to what I see. In the Four Agreements, one is to be open to outcomes, not attached to outcomes. My time here has been an education in doing this. What needs do I see? How can I help people meet those needs? I'm an outsider - how can I use that position to allow people to try new things, to explore their own ideas without fearing they will be perceived as going outside the norm? It's humbling and fascinating and fulfilling. And frustrating, at times. I so hope I will be able to bring these skills home...</span></span>Michele Templerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17109945550997751273noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4878944247529379501.post-32321277682959105802014-05-14T09:54:00.000+02:002014-05-14T09:54:23.590+02:00More Pictures<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpbn8eYlb3IviB5QMr2UYAbHOFTTE9n-LzDjM3qmsYNbm5DpsC5fTPjEA9DMggjjkbbGzxRQqDBn4yQU5lnwo_CyOSY1X5P3c4BE-tHZt01Vq7XLE-L_pJGDzxVjXXAzeBTgVuE7i96Zbj/s1600/Siyabonga+hanging+by+feet.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpbn8eYlb3IviB5QMr2UYAbHOFTTE9n-LzDjM3qmsYNbm5DpsC5fTPjEA9DMggjjkbbGzxRQqDBn4yQU5lnwo_CyOSY1X5P3c4BE-tHZt01Vq7XLE-L_pJGDzxVjXXAzeBTgVuE7i96Zbj/s1600/Siyabonga+hanging+by+feet.jpg" height="640" width="480" /></span></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQ8vNAjiBLy24KdFR3HvM_0CgCumlmNfrqKBWGk7rUyScgpQWsHNfJxGM-exjmi8mexwPWzbTMmx34tVjbKrIRy5oL7OdT4K_qymcwAKK8t4IJK81CGAl7nwk3sx52AimE9AZoxn3pGI6r/s1600/Ayanda+traditional+dress.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQ8vNAjiBLy24KdFR3HvM_0CgCumlmNfrqKBWGk7rUyScgpQWsHNfJxGM-exjmi8mexwPWzbTMmx34tVjbKrIRy5oL7OdT4K_qymcwAKK8t4IJK81CGAl7nwk3sx52AimE9AZoxn3pGI6r/s1600/Ayanda+traditional+dress.jpg" height="640" width="380" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">And Ayanda in traditional dress celebrating the King's birthday.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrTAurBq2QTq-FeBbFWVskRLGtorI_i7n0TWioiylWT7ubZ5MwjgDTSHe9_m8bp-CJmoJbNZHUdkfTu1572iASla_IijZA2G06KhKmOdbDpOJCBEVVWz7nEZdZAdUz3RTUMsS7YOH3LiPl/s1600/Blyde+River+4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrTAurBq2QTq-FeBbFWVskRLGtorI_i7n0TWioiylWT7ubZ5MwjgDTSHe9_m8bp-CJmoJbNZHUdkfTu1572iASla_IijZA2G06KhKmOdbDpOJCBEVVWz7nEZdZAdUz3RTUMsS7YOH3LiPl/s1600/Blyde+River+4.jpg" height="484" width="640" /></span></a><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgA8A9Siqlss1uHxrYHBEeBXr-6oRtNMKA3R6QpdmjM1KIEZI7wdOJXWiT4nxVPknr_3GiS0_uko7ERF1qSYYCFH780P6tpAvu9UTvsHm52PKZQEMfYCvLT1Kl6C9j0EhOY4cdTwOI7-vyU/s1600/Dawn+ekhaya+Ginindza.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgA8A9Siqlss1uHxrYHBEeBXr-6oRtNMKA3R6QpdmjM1KIEZI7wdOJXWiT4nxVPknr_3GiS0_uko7ERF1qSYYCFH780P6tpAvu9UTvsHm52PKZQEMfYCvLT1Kl6C9j0EhOY4cdTwOI7-vyU/s1600/Dawn+ekhaya+Ginindza.jpg" height="480" width="640" /></span></a><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkKFOHiZNpX5nPnY2ioQ_YB7ibk-KyglRjRefUV_lWvD1I73XxK_TLTPXyyvcetSVk7GxxGmjiw7PGMVa7g2PhRKz79-hydEvBkFOiRPmd8YqOBIKHKM8KKhs7GG_tyHZz2bhPQ4rf4BU2/s1600/Ginindza+Seniors.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkKFOHiZNpX5nPnY2ioQ_YB7ibk-KyglRjRefUV_lWvD1I73XxK_TLTPXyyvcetSVk7GxxGmjiw7PGMVa7g2PhRKz79-hydEvBkFOiRPmd8YqOBIKHKM8KKhs7GG_tyHZz2bhPQ4rf4BU2/s1600/Ginindza+Seniors.jpg" height="640" width="480" /></span></a><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"> </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Make and Babe just after church to the right, and Simphiwe and Gogo down below.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9IhhUySIb7TfHy81EkKjSCnrDrr4zpLl2zS_kMhsI2b486gQzn2l2yqBxF7qoYsg5crM3fbhGhGsEWCOkmRLETLaGTiGkNB1OsfY9e_HC1xRIewpS_Bu2dRYgdMUbEwmQEuDIyA-2VRms/s1600/Gogo+na+Simphiwe.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9IhhUySIb7TfHy81EkKjSCnrDrr4zpLl2zS_kMhsI2b486gQzn2l2yqBxF7qoYsg5crM3fbhGhGsEWCOkmRLETLaGTiGkNB1OsfY9e_HC1xRIewpS_Bu2dRYgdMUbEwmQEuDIyA-2VRms/s1600/Gogo+na+Simphiwe.jpg" height="480" width="640" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; color: #222222; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">April 27, 2014</span><span style="color: #222222; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><br />
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<span style="background: white;">I think that there's a lot less outside world
stimulation here, so the day to day things are clearer. It's easier to be
present when there are fewer distractions from outside, if that makes sense. No
TV, no radio, precious little news. Sunrises and sunsets delight me, more
poetry getting written, watching the seasons turn, the night skies change.
Water, weather, crops, kids - more important. I think I'm more in my present
world... Oh - didn't realize that! Maybe that's one of the gifts of the Peace
Corps - being in the time and place I'm living, not living globally... I know
other PCV's pay more attention to the outside world - I just don't.
Interesting!</span><br />
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<span style="background: white;">May 4, 2014<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; color: #222222; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">GLOW Camp! Girls Leading Our World. An amazing week with about 78 girls,
their club counselors, senior counselors, all Swazi. And guest speakers. The
girls walked in, some hot, tired from long bus rides, groups of individuals. A
week later, after sessions in art, team building, crafts, sexual reproductive
health, looking to the future and more</span><span style="color: #222222; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">. Those girls were –well, sorry. GLOWing. The Human Machine
(thanks, Maggie!) went really well, as did many other activities. By Friday, I
taught sessions on interviewing, and asked the girls to tell me, “How are you
unique?” They were able to fill a full flip chart page! But perhaps the best
example of the changes came the last night. Talent show. I think every girl
went up on the stage to show her talent, either individually or in groups. They
stood in front of more than 70 of their peers, plus adults. And they sang, read
poetry, danced, did skits. But the best was when the one young woman with some
kind of physical disability made her way, alone, to the front of that room. She
began to sing, a bit haltingly, and the whole room joined in. She led that
song, and it swelled and filled the room with sound and caring and solidarity.
At the end, she received the only standing ovation of the night. We were a
cohort, a strong group, supporting each other’s strengths.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #222222; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I floated out
of camp totally exhausted and remembering why I’m here.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; color: #222222; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Now it is, again, the dry season. And again, the tap is dry for a reason
my family does not know (despite asking). The family is hauling laundry to the
river to wash (at least 1/2 mile away), though I will be able to wash here. And
talking of buying water - about 400 - 450 Emalengeni per month - a VERY large
amount, given the economy. Just to translate, at 450 Emalengeni, if I pay 10%,
(45E) that, combined with electricity would be about 9% of my income every
month. Doesn't seem like much, but... if that's for one person, and I don't
have kids, so no school fees, no school uniforms, etc. And transport costs are
supposed to go up 25% next month. That puts the basics of living pretty high
for folks.</span><span style="color: #222222; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><br />
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<span style="background: white;">May 10<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; color: #222222; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Just returned from my first vacation. It was grand.</span><span style="color: #222222; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><br />
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<span style="background-color: white;">Went with 3 other PCV's - 2 will be going home
in July/August, the other has another year+ (like me). It's such a matter of
perspective. The 2 who are completing their second year were thinking about
going home the other one and I were thinking about another year here. The two
folks returning did all of our planning. They found an amazing backpackers
(hostel) online called Joy River. Look it up on FB.</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white;">Transport, as I know you've figured out by now,
is really sketchy. I'm thinking you'll be looking online at the places I name
here, so won't try to describe distances. But... we left Kelsey's at<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span><span class="aqj">5:15am</span>to catch
the khombi to Manzini, and arrived by<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span><span class="aqj">6:15</span><span class="apple-converted-space"> </span>or so. Then
waited till<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span><span class="aqj">9:30</span><span class="apple-converted-space"> </span>for the khombi to Nelspruit to fill
up.<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span><span class="aqj">1:00</span><span class="apple-converted-space"> </span>found us in South Africa, and we had
rented the car by<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span><span class="aqj">1:30</span>. CAR!!! First private vehicle since we got here. Only
slightly lost in town, found great food, went shopping for groceries, walked
out into deep dusk. A couple of hours later we arrived at Joy River Backpackers
(we'd call it hostel). We only got lost a few times, and it was all tar road
until we turned off onto the track. Apt description. Narrow dirt road, rutted
and dusty. We bumped along and then our headlights found - Jesus? Really? Well
- could have been. Actually, it was Heston, the owner, with longish hair,
sandals, wrapped in a blanket and accompanied by a couple of dogs. He directed
us well, then helped by bouncing along at a trot, waving his flashlight wildly.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="background-color: white;">The quarters he had given us were - unique.
Heston directed us to a carport of wood and tin, then showed us where we were
to stay. he apologized for it being rustic, and - I guess it was. But to our
eyes, accustomed to living in one or two room huts with no running water,
no indoor bathrooms, no kitchen sinks... We were in heaven and told him so.
There was even a bathtub (if you didn't mind the rusty water) and a shower. And
the sound of the Joy River to lull us to sleep. Bathroom was made of stones,
and the tub emptied into a trough which went around the shower. There was space
for a fire outside and they made us probably the best pizza we'd ever had,
using arugula and lavender! but that was later.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="background-color: white;">We walked to Joy River in the morning, and
allowed the peace and joy and quiet of the world to surround and soothe us. Sat
next to a little drop/pool/drop riffle, just watching. Guess I was meditating,
watching/listening/experiencing the water dropping over the rocks into a hole,
the drops filling with air, bubbling, incorporating light into the mix,
ever-changing, moving but not in a straight line, altered, but the same.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="background-color: white;">Spent a whole day in that place of bliss, of
quiet joy, that fragile place I never want to leave, but which cannot be
summoned nor sustained. And wrote this poem:</span><br />
<br />
<i><span style="background: white;">I wake to
the river</span><br />
<span style="background: white;">Swirling in my heart</span><br />
<span style="background: white;">Sunlight sweeping softly</span><br />
<span style="background: white;">through my dreams</span><br />
<br />
<span style="background: white;">Chill of stones beneath me</span><br />
<span style="background: white;">Under foreign skies</span><br />
<span style="background: white;">Water dancing</span><br />
<span style="background: white;">music know to all</span><br />
<br />
<span style="background: white;">Listen in the moment</span><br />
<span style="background: white;">Feel the flow of time</span><br />
<span style="background: white;">Balance on the precipice</span><br />
<span style="background: white;">So uniquely mine</span><br />
<span style="background: white;"> Yours</span><br />
<span style="background: white;">
Ours</span><br />
<span style="background: white;">
Divine.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="background: white;">
~Michele</span><br />
<span style="background: white;">
5/7/14</span><br />
<span style="background: white;">
Joy River, South
Africa</span><br />
</i><br />
<span style="background-color: white;">We hiked, wandered along waterfalls, walked
through savannah then slipped into jungly forest.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="background-color: white;">Our first walk was to the Potholes. First the
Blyde River, flat, flat, dropping dramatically down into carved canyons, pot
holes (of course), waterfalls and more falls and more flat rocks and bridges.
Then up to hike what we thought would be about 8 km. But...</span><br />
<br />
<span style="background-color: white;">We walked through savannah, then dropped into
the woods, steep, steep. And then the two in the lead stopped, began walking
back towards us: we were warned off by baboons! They growled and warned,
patrolled, one on the ground, one in the trees, and let us know we were not
welcome. We tried going forward. The warnings increased. One, who has worked
with horses, is most tuned in to animal behavior, was totally spooked, and
though the rest of us were too blind to truly understand, we hesitated a bit,
then trusted her, and backed away, then left. Walked quite a while, sat next to
a creek to eat lunch and decide whether to try again, hoping they had left.
Nope. Not only had they not left, they were approaching with warning growls.
Decision made! We high tailed it out of there.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="background-color: white;">Later, we asked locals and they all assured us,
not there was not problem. But when we got back to Swaziland and internet
connections, we found that what we did was absolutely correct, and that the
baboons were protecting something - territory, mothers, whatever - and could
have charged and hurt us. Another reinforcement of trusting intuition.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="background-color: white;">The next day we drove to sites we found on the
internet. For the record, siyamanga! They are lying! Nothing was as described,
but some of it was pretty and we did laugh a whole lot about it. If you
ask any of us about "The Pinnacle" be prepared for gales of laughter.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="background-color: white;">We were saddened by the miles and miles and
miles of tree farms. Rows of pine trees being grown for paper. You know that
they are deeply damaging the land with single crop planting. And it was like
driving through a giant zoo (rather than game preserve). They clear cut to
harvest the trees. It was hard.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="background-color: white;">Overall, the trip was glorious. We travelled
well together, sharing quiet as well as conversation, calm and that something
that either is or is not present in groups. I'm so grateful to have found such
a group.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="background-color: white;">May 11</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white;">Mother's Day. Happy Mother's Day to all you
mom's, both physically and emotionally/spiritually/acting as. I think that
covers all the women I know.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="background-color: white;">When my body is tired, my mind wanders all over
the place. This coming week I'm going to a training on positive
discipline/classroom management with 2 teachers from my school. The question
has arisen for me: What makes us do the "right" thing? I asked my
host family, wanting it to be a personal, not rhetorical, question. Make was
not too interested, and Babe generalized it. He said that our actions are
designed to protect our territory. If we are aggressive and people fear us, we
can do whatever we like within out territory and no one will challenge us.
Makes sense - that we carve out some territory for ourselves, then our actions
protect it.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="background-color: white;">But I didn't get an answer, so I pose it to you:
What makes you do what you believe is right? You, individually, not you as
people in general. I'm not sure how I would answer that question. I'll
work on it, but don't want to let you off the hook by providing a possible
answer.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="background-color: white;">Some of what I've been thinking is that
Skinner's behavior modification theories were designed to answer that question.
But I think it's much more complex than that, that there are many answers to
the question, and all are intertwined and pieces of a larger whole. I look
forward to reading comments or emails in response...</span></span></span><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
Michele Templerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17109945550997751273noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4878944247529379501.post-50074327199522374252014-04-09T20:50:00.000+02:002014-04-09T20:50:36.034+02:00LessonsApril 2, 2014<br /><br />April, and it's autumn (think October). The maize harvest has begun. This means folks go to the fields, use a slasher (similar to a machete) to cut the maize stocks and lean them against each other to form heaps - sort of standing - piles. Had to go ask what they are called. The next crew comes in the morning, working about 7:00 am to noon, before it gets too hot, with a nail sharpened and tied to a string which slips over a wrist. Then the stalks, which have one ear apiece, are pulled from the pile, the husk cut with the nail (from the center towards the top), the husk removed and thrown to one side, the maize thrown into a pile. If it looks like rain, the husks are then pulled over the pile to protect the maize. Otherwise, it's left until the kids get out of school; then one will drive the tractor pulling a trailer, and whoever is around goes out to load the maize onto the trailer. From there it's thrown into the crib to dry. The husks are left in the field, along with the ears that aren't fully developed, for the cattle to eat. Later, the dried maize will be taken off the cobs and either stored or ground.<br /><br />As I work with the family, they ask if this is something we do in America. It's so hard to explain that No, we don't have fields around our homes, we don't even really have some kind of staple, as they do. I ask if they ever grow sweet corn, and they say no. I don't know how to begin to talk about how we don't live on homesteads, most homes are not multi-generational, and consist of one building housing people. We have no outdoor kitchens, we don't cook over open fires, we do barbecue (called braii), but... If we have a garden, it's small, mostly for our own homes, and not a required part of survival. When I say I've been driving since I was 16, and have had a car most of my life, it sounds like I'm really rich. It's difficult to describe the lack of public transportation in rural areas - or anywhere except big cities, and even then (think Los Angeles), not necessarily. I know they don't imagine the beater cars I've been known to drive (do any of you remember the 1970 Toyota that had a beer can in the engine compartment to catch the dripping oil?).<br /><br />So life has its own rhythm here. Today I was helping get the maize before it rained, and we cut it a little close. I was walking back to my hut, the rain already beginning gently, soon to be a downpour, when I heard a sound that made me stop and let the raindrops soak me. I was going past the pumpkin patch when I heard the rain playing sweet melodies on the leaves. Once again, I went home, walking in the woods, transported by sound alone. Made me smile all the way inside.<br /><br />I am learning so very much. I wrote this when I got home from school the other day.<br /><br />March 25, 2014<br />In the morning I leave my homestead,slip-slide-sway down the path to the road, then begin the 1 mile trek to school. It's almost all uphill, so I put in my ear buds, try to stay out of the sand and the obvious ruts and avoid cars by guessing which side of the road they will pick as smoothest.<br /><br />On one side, the land rises, on the other, it slopes gently down, but my main view, straight ahead of me, is the road and whoever else may be traveling on it. I arrive warm from the exercise and steeped in the music filling my ears.<br /><br />Ah, but the journey back is very different.<br /><br />I walk the shady, muddy drive, past the pre-school chorus of How are you?'s, past the primary school, then turn onto the road. A few steps and I begin to descend. What appears is brand new each day. The valleys and rolling hills stretch out before me: rich greens and endless sky. I am transported to a land both open and secret: fields interrupted by buildings, tree-lined creeks, distant hilltops and valleys. Colors blend indescribably and the world suddenly holds adventure, promise, tingles of joy and something intangible - something - more.<br /><br />Now, as I walk, the music is background, as something inside slakes its thirst for beauty and peace. Moving to some unknown rhythm, I make my way back to the path leading to my hut. I begin the climb, looking uphill. To home.<br /><br />Work projects morph and evolve - some seem to be disappearing, others to be growing in new directions. The job search seminars are petering out, but individuals are asking me for help. We'll see if they really want it. The pre-school teacher has asked me to read a story to her kids, and I hope to get the primary school involved in vision screening. I'm going to be working on a GLOW (Girls Leading Our World) camp, helping with food organization and teaching interviewing skills one day. We continue to prepare for the 1,000 books arriving in May or June from Books for Africa. I'm still mentoring my sisi from my training homestead, and playing with the kids here on my current homestead. I hope to take them to the library over school break, and have been bringing home books to read with them. I'm even doing a bit of tutoring as needed. And of course, I'm still co-teaching the careers class, which is really fun. We've been dividing them into groups and having them report back, and we decided they're getting tired of that. Think for decision making we're going to divide them into 2 groups, tell them what decision they have made (We're still deciding on the question, but it should have decent pros and cons for either way. Maybe whether to have a sugar daddy, or to try alcohol. Half will decide to do so, half will decide not to do so). They will have to work backwards on how they made the decision, then tell the other group why their decision is a good one. We'll give them guidelines to address, but rather than have one person reporting, anyone who chooses may speak. Don't know how it will work, so keeping our fingers crossed. And next month will be a training on positive discipline/classroom management. I may even be able to invite more than one counterpart. Hope so.<br /><br />It's all so scattered, but I feel it's all good. Little baby steps. So much of life here is teaching me patience. And to let those I'm trying to serve decide how I may best serve them. Life lessons that I will certainly bring home. I wonder what else Africa will send home with me.Maggie Lynchhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01014053903538710467noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4878944247529379501.post-6540045621374481302014-03-12T11:43:00.001+02:002014-03-12T11:43:16.206+02:00Musings<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: 'Verdana','sans-serif'; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">February 16<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Verdana','sans-serif'; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Water at the tap today! That's a big deal, since although it's still raining, we want to save the rainwater for the dry season when the tap may go dry, as it did last winter. So I dragged out my 5 and 7 gallon water jugs, borrowed the wheelbarrow and made 2 trips. Eish! I've lost my muscle tone. I was huffing and puffing, both trips. I'll get back in shape soon, though. Helps me appreciate how decadent those jojo tanks are. Spilled some of the water pouring it into a bucket, so the floor got washed. Sponge cake, as Rachel Naomi Remen wrote. Seeing opportunities rather than accidents. Life here is great practice in seeing opportunities.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Verdana','sans-serif'; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">February 28<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Verdana','sans-serif'; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">So I did it. I used an umbrella as shelter from sun. And while I felt ridiculous, I LOVED having shade from the intense sun of summer. Ah, the comfort of body over the demands of ego. And what a lesson about giving up my notions of "acceptable". Pants are often a no-no, but two different patterns on garments are fine, as are major amounts of cleavage and nursing in public. Very tight clothing is often the norm, and shoes, including spiky heels, that, to my eye, have no place on rough sidewalks and dirt roads, carry wobbly women. Cutting in lines that have been forming for an hour to catch a bus is "the way it is", and personal space has no meaning on busses. Makes me wonder what people from other cultures find interesting in our givens...<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Verdana','sans-serif'; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Now I'm learning about patience and how to honor the Swazi customs without giving up my own. And balance. It seems to always come back to balance. How to find my place in my host family, in the workplace, in my interactions with other PCV's?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Verdana','sans-serif'; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">The people with whom I work do not want to say "No" to me. But they also don't always want what I offer. It's a dilemma, because if I can't trust that they will say "no" then it's hard to offer ideas and opportunities. At the same time, when they say yes and mean no, then it still doesn't happen, I just feel as though I'm trying to get them to do something they don't want to do. It’s a great way to make sure I am including them in the input and decisions.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Verdana','sans-serif'; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">As always, as I write, thinking it's so different here, I recognize similarities to home, just different ways those things manifest. Wake up calls - interesting stuff.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Verdana','sans-serif'; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Something that is different is life for teenagers. All of the kids have chores, starting when they are very young. The older they get, the more responsibilities, so that often teens do all the cooking and cleaning, especially in homesteads with grandparents raising the kids. I went to visit my sisi from my training site - Simphiwe. She is at a boarding high school. At her homestead she cooked (over an open fire, as well as on a wood burning and electric stoves), cut wood, hauled water, cleaned, helped garden, did laundry... you get the picture. At school, she is responsible for her school work and probably also has some cleaning tasks. But visiting her at school is a delight because she's giggly and goofy and laughing and concerned with how she looks and her grades. Who knew that what we consider "normal" teen behavior can be such a joy to see? I consider myself her mentor, and notice how she sometimes pushes the envelope with me. It's okay - I know how to draw boundaries, and want to encourage her trying new things. After visiting, I walk back to catch the khombi with a lightness in my step that I didn't even know was missing.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Verdana','sans-serif'; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">March 7<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Verdana','sans-serif'; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">I remember my earliest posts. They had themes, and flowed. Now it seems these posts are snippets and snapshots, bits and pieces that I think might interest you readers. No themes, no flow and little connections. Sort of like my life.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Verdana','sans-serif'; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">So for those of us who are visual learners, picture this:<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Verdana','sans-serif'; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">I'm on my way up the (dirt) road to my tutor's house, ear buds in, the Grateful Dead singing <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Truckin'</i>. I've got a silly grin on my face, I’m bouncing a little and feeling good. I see a truck being pushed. A couple of men have pushed it one way, the wheel turned, now heading around to the front to push it so it will be lined up to be pop started. I do what any of us would do - I run up and help push, not bothering to take out my earbuds. We push, get the truck lined up, and then I take out an earbud and smile at the men. Okay, now imagine you are one of those men. Here's this old white woman bouncing up the road, and she runs over to push a truck. WHAT!?! I totally loved the expressions on their faces as they said thank you. Doug Burns told me once that it's important to blow your image every now and then. Mission accomplished.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Verdana','sans-serif'; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Here's another picture:<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Verdana','sans-serif'; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">On my way to catch a bus to Manzini this morning I crested a rise and tears came to my eyes. The valley in the distance had become a white fog lake, a few hills poking out of the mist. I haven't seen that since I left Orygun, and my heart filled with joy and longing and sweetness and beauty and... I went home for a brief moment.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Verdana','sans-serif'; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">I wore my Josephine Community Library t-shirt today. JCLI folks, be proud! You're now known in Swaziland. Wound up meeting the librarian at the National Library, partly because I was wearing this shirt. And, noting said shirt, said she saw a passion for libraries in me, then she invited me to read to kids - we'll start with ages 8 - 11. I'll read, she'll translate and we'll both try to intrigue them with the magic of books. If it works, maybe we can expand it to teenagers reading plays aloud. Hilary, I may ask to draw on your experience with reader's theater to help me reach these kids. I so love the stumble technique! It works beautifully...<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Verdana','sans-serif'; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">March 9<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Verdana','sans-serif'; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Taught a class on the importance of self-esteem to a group of high school juniors (though the age range is much greater here than at home). At the end I asked them to tell me what they would remember from the class. One young man synthesized it this way, so I asked and received his permission to post it here.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: 'Verdana','sans-serif'; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">"Between possible and impossible there is a fine line. Self perception is the bridge between the two." Castro Gama, Form IVA, Ekukhanyeni High School, March 6, 2014.<o:p></o:p></span></i></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Verdana','sans-serif'; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Oh yeah, that's why I'm here...<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Verdana','sans-serif'; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">And, a friend sent me down a path that wound up here:<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: 'Verdana','sans-serif'; font-size: 12pt;">Left Brain<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: 'Verdana','sans-serif'; font-size: 12pt;">rants and raves,<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: 'Verdana','sans-serif'; font-size: 12pt;">reasons and rumbles,<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: 'Verdana','sans-serif'; font-size: 12pt;">powerless<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: 'Verdana','sans-serif'; font-size: 12pt;">to touch<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: 'Verdana','sans-serif'; font-size: 12pt;">Beliefs<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: 'Verdana','sans-serif'; font-size: 12pt;">elusive<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: 'Verdana','sans-serif'; font-size: 12pt;">unyielding<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: 'Verdana','sans-serif'; font-size: 12pt;">Beliefs<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: 'Verdana','sans-serif'; font-size: 12pt;">quietly<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: 'Verdana','sans-serif'; font-size: 12pt;">March 9, 2014</span></i><span style="font-family: 'Verdana','sans-serif'; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
Michele Templerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17109945550997751273noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4878944247529379501.post-30966992863773147232014-02-18T08:32:00.000+02:002014-02-18T08:32:04.146+02:00Catching Up February PostsMichelle says Internet Access is getting harder, so I'm posting again. Enjoy!<br />
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February 3, 2014<br /><br />I just have to write about the school schedule. It's unbelievably complex. Although kids go to school 5 days a week, they have 8 classes on M, T and Th, 6 classes on W and F. The classes meet at different times: M,T and Th are the same, different W and different still F. They break it up into 8 periods and 6 days. So one of the 2 classes I co-teach meets Monday this week, Wednesday next week, Thursday the week after and then skips a week. It meets different times on those different days. And, this can change if something interrupts the school and they have to cancel a class or 2. Then, instead of skipping the missed class, they just start where they left off on the school calendar. I'm told the lower forms have 13 subjects per term, the higher ones about 8. Continuity must be a real bear!<br /><br />February 6<br /><br />Dirty Hippie Enterprises Lives!<br /><br />Back in our starving student days we found an amazing amount of creative ways to keep expenses down and bring in a bit of income. Michael and Ben did some VW repairs, the Food Conspiracy (bulk buying) helped us eat well for little money, the Everybody's Favorite Recipe Book was born... But it turns out, for me at least, that the greatest gift of those days is the belief system that if there's a need, there's also a creative, inexpensive solution. I once knew someone who thought the way to solve problems was to throw money at them. Not having money to throw meant developing some skills and ways of perceiving that are serving me very well here in Africa. No shelf space? Hang a line and tie utensils from that line. Need curtains? Try emahiyas (lengths of fabric). No sewing machine? That's what embroidery stitches are for. <br /><br />It's not feeling things are lacking. Rather, it's that if there's a need, the first solution doesn't involve buying something already made - it's finding the materials and designing something. I like the challenge and the feeling of accomplishment, even when the result is so far from professional it's humorous. If it works...<br /><br />The other cool self-discovery is that I have a built in clock. For a long time I've been able to tell myself to wake up at a certain time, and generally do it (though I set alarm clocks for really important things). But now I've found that if I decide I want to leave my hut at a given time, I walk out the door within a few minutes of that time. I usually keep an eye on the clock, but even when I don't, I check the clock on the way out and sure enough, I'm at the time I set for myself. Kind of strange and very nice. Time here is not something people pay a lot of attention to, so it's most strange that I'm able to do it. Maybe I'm getting more than my share of time karma since others aren't using theirs <grin>?<br /><br />February 10<br /><br />Took a few days away from site to go play - so VERY refreshing. Met Robbin and Pam other PCV's, at Hlane, a game reserve. We had one heck of a time trying to plan it, and finally just gave up and went for it. Discovered they won't let us just walk around, so we went on a tour. Since we opted to stay at Pam's, we wound up on the tour mid-day, which wasn't great for seeing animals, but was just us, which was wonderful.<br /><br />Lions were sleeping, so we saw none, but the elephants, indolent in the heat, strolled into the road and on both sides of it, eating and gazing into the distance. Their ears beat slowly back and forth, chasing the bugs and flies away. Our guide backed up our vehicle, saying he had tried, 4 years ago, to pass... The elephants charged, and he learned that even if they're not IN the road, being on both sides was the same thing... They moved with such grace. We learned they eat 18 hours a day... The trees were losing the battle for life since the elephant territory was finite and their appetites are not... <br /><br />On the way to the white rhinos (kept in another area with the giraffes) we saw African Monarch butterflies and some gorgeous birds, wild flowers and even a turtle or 2.<br /><br />The rhinos would put to shame camouflage experts - light and dark mud, birds on their backs, they grazed slowly across the landscape. The birds eat the ticks and other insects, and warn the rhinos, whose eyesight is very poor, of dangers.<br /><br />Then off to the ballet. The giraffes. Males and females together, the darker the color, the older the animal. They, too, had birds as symbiotes, and the birds traveled up and down their necks as the giraffes nibbled on treetops, then lowered their heads to lower branches. One youngster stared at us a while, wondering what we were. Then they strolled off.<br /><br />It was such a strange feeling, knowing that we were going to their habitat, rather than having captured them and carried them off to ours. At the same time, they were in a preserve, behind fences, their natural migration patterns disturbed and the landscape feeling the effect. It wasn't exactly a zoo, but it also didn't feel - wild. Still, it was wonderful to see...<br /><br />Africa - Swaziland - seems a land of intense contrasts. We made our way back to Pam's, up to the top of a plateau, then through Siteki, a dusty town that somehow feels - not sure of the word. Uninviting. Pam has a kitten who made off with our hearts. What a bold little guy, full of love and life.<br /><br />The next day we walked to a backpackers (hostel) that is also a working farm. We strolled through fields and trees, marveling at the rich greens, redolent with lush vegetation, stopped to talk with the horses and to pet our escort of dogs. The afternoon was decadent in and by the pool, the air just warm enough to be comfortable. What contrast to town, a short walk away. I felt wrapped in luxury, even though the room we shared had bunk beds and a bathroom out the door and down the porch. The beauty, lush vegetation, quiet and glorious views made it luxurious. It was so very far removed from our daily life on homesteads.<br /><br />Robbin said walking with me was great - no one accosted her with marriage proposals (and other less savory ones as well). I think I could be a successful duenna. Age is respected here, and I've had only a couple of untoward things said to me. Hard to remember the difficulties the younger volunteers face.<br /><br />Today it was back to reality. Refreshed, a little sleepy and slow. Tomorrow there'll be plenty to do.<br /><br />February 15<br /><br />A few more glimpses of life, then I'll post this.<br /><br />Perspectives. I think I've written ad naseum of transport. But what it can mean... Everyone is aware that missing a bus can mean hours till the next arrives, so the drivers watch for people running and wait for them. No one on the busses complain - it could be any of us dashing down the road next time. A few days ago I saw a woman running towards the bus with a fabric-wrapped something balanced perfectly on her head, despite her running. She gave it to the conductor, then headed back down the road to encourage the other woman with her, who was pushing a full and obviously heavy wheel barrow as fast as she could. Passengers just smiled and laughed, admiring the mad dashes. Now that's community!<br /><br />Dinner last night to celebrate Babe's two sons (not twins, 2 weeks apart) turning 40. I sat with the extended family, and felt comfortable, remembering how at first I didn't know names and even less about the youngsters who bear those names. The 2 1/2 year olds fell asleep on the floor and slept through the thoughts and prayers. The other kids were quiet and well-behaved, sitting on the floor, smiling and everyone ate with their hands. We had goat, raised here, slaughtered that day, and cooked until tender and tasty, pap, rice and birthday cake. <br /><br />Animal and insect deportation continues. Found a frog hopping around, deported some humungous cockroaches, a few spiders and whatever else finds its way in. Discovered another bat in the hut, and tried to lure it out with light. It decided to exit the way it entered - in the space between the roof and the top of the wall. Not a large space, but not a large bat. I like insect-eating critters, but don't really want to share living quarters with something dive-bombing my head...<br /><br />So life here continues to teach me and teach me. Chipped a tooth, and at the dentist's office asked him questions about when he hires people so I can take the information back to my community. I'm shameless, it seems, when gathering resources and information. I've decided that trying to organize workshops will be more work than they are worth. Instead, I want to meet with a small cadre of people who are interested in job seeking skills and who are willing to share whatever information they learn from the meetings. I hope this informal way will work, as since it's not a workshop I won't be as likely to have to fight non-involvement. The first meeting is planned for March 1, a Saturday, and several people have been invited. We'll see how it goes.<br /><br />A big challenge is that people want to be polite, so often they tell me what they think I want to hear rather than what they really think or want. I'm working on ways to encourage them to tell me what they really think, to communicate that their thoughts and beliefs are way more valuable than agreeing with me. It's a cultural difference, so it will be an ongoing mutual learning experience. I keep reiterating that I will be leaving in less than 2 years, and I want to leave knowledge and resources to help them achieve their goals - not mine. The process is helping me see that in my own relationships, the times friends and I have been able to be open and honest is because we have established trust over a long time. It's something that will continue to be cherished and developed.<br /><br />I am learning so very much from my time here! Surprising lessons that humble me and make me appreciate how very strong, sweet and special you, the people in my life, are. Thanks!<br />Maggie Lynchhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01014053903538710467noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4878944247529379501.post-61238358229940394622014-01-27T16:01:00.000+02:002014-01-27T16:01:43.303+02:00Pictures Again<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Here it is, the famous, the only, the familiar, yes, The Look:</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRzk5zzhL5KfUAD6l1t2xVUs42wDdP1e_5hIIvX3T9bQqlK__BWC45fSdnYA7uw7aPS7g7EIDnhyphenhyphen3gjOmSrCHGRlkAVKudQ8YTwQ5ZEEuCvLif1QJf442AWIW6X_8wz1oNmzRfh5CUsdH3/s1600/The+Look2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRzk5zzhL5KfUAD6l1t2xVUs42wDdP1e_5hIIvX3T9bQqlK__BWC45fSdnYA7uw7aPS7g7EIDnhyphenhyphen3gjOmSrCHGRlkAVKudQ8YTwQ5ZEEuCvLif1QJf442AWIW6X_8wz1oNmzRfh5CUsdH3/s1600/The+Look2.jpg" height="320" width="288" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGqwKpkmUpbEfy2beii57ngu-rynOrUEZ1g3UQ1yJu_axIRxXf4cvs9CfHdmEUcDZygHkLXJGwYWv_wKfzDYQmbv1n_kKzrvBRlpRsrDl2eWY51udkazsElJah7eRoPxkymYShcSyDjY9j/s1600/The+Look.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGqwKpkmUpbEfy2beii57ngu-rynOrUEZ1g3UQ1yJu_axIRxXf4cvs9CfHdmEUcDZygHkLXJGwYWv_wKfzDYQmbv1n_kKzrvBRlpRsrDl2eWY51udkazsElJah7eRoPxkymYShcSyDjY9j/s1600/The+Look.jpg" height="320" width="224" /></a><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"> The Food Conspiracy Lives! People save money together all year, and at Christmas time they buy bulk and divide up what they buy...</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifQ3VlQMckD3nsy3UJJQK10rGbb7suVSzw-7CLIzY2tkT2EASqv1i59-Gv-aQzh0GlS_Fn9G4Cq9ja5FkmX7tyYhSgADSGzotyhRfKUTXeAVYnKzhF3joF0GbNXUDyEHLuaXsZ8MjQWplL/s1600/The+Food+Conspiracy+Lives!.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifQ3VlQMckD3nsy3UJJQK10rGbb7suVSzw-7CLIzY2tkT2EASqv1i59-Gv-aQzh0GlS_Fn9G4Cq9ja5FkmX7tyYhSgADSGzotyhRfKUTXeAVYnKzhF3joF0GbNXUDyEHLuaXsZ8MjQWplL/s1600/The+Food+Conspiracy+Lives!.jpg" height="258" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Including chicken. Make that chickens. Live. Chickens to go.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqd7iuL2aTN2uxRyy238dfUhpWxM30HEhdmGE_8wCPN6SSiqE4Sv9KW2aPjaZriIl2Mrw3T5_QZ7gq7Yp_OU1kRDRlD9Qa6_Ly8mfRQetkWLaDGeTOQkZR13ksVMgBNSetMxp4ayl8aQ1V/s1600/Chicken+to+go.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqd7iuL2aTN2uxRyy238dfUhpWxM30HEhdmGE_8wCPN6SSiqE4Sv9KW2aPjaZriIl2Mrw3T5_QZ7gq7Yp_OU1kRDRlD9Qa6_Ly8mfRQetkWLaDGeTOQkZR13ksVMgBNSetMxp4ayl8aQ1V/s1600/Chicken+to+go.jpg" height="300" width="400" /></a><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Remember the pictures of the church roof in the trees? The wooden church was leveled, so they will rebuild with cement blocks. Sunday morning found these young me down by the riverside, making those blocks.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhq8Kl3V2c1lj18b4625gmZBw0OnmRw2BGYaz2USoeN9C7sQXGh9lRXjln2NXnKW3QisAt9zQmiiMO5abxsFk1chXByrTmHzfegKXER-P_Ha489VTFQI2eN8vx0Y-RDnU1VyHW6LFlwnXaM/s1600/Making+cement+blocks.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhq8Kl3V2c1lj18b4625gmZBw0OnmRw2BGYaz2USoeN9C7sQXGh9lRXjln2NXnKW3QisAt9zQmiiMO5abxsFk1chXByrTmHzfegKXER-P_Ha489VTFQI2eN8vx0Y-RDnU1VyHW6LFlwnXaM/s1600/Making+cement+blocks.jpg" height="427" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"> Lots and lots of those blocks.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiS3r9pCV0G1dTXXh1ItVtSMsUwvTlUWFUierf5F6TTpPnalWxQ0uTupGJamL_tlIAbCP4Gp2o5AT_U9ez0PA0swOxO8WdM_qbtDKO3RLZFmxb3xmg_OpwyLZajvY3luXAe9zg9TYrQdchk/s1600/Cement+block+making.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiS3r9pCV0G1dTXXh1ItVtSMsUwvTlUWFUierf5F6TTpPnalWxQ0uTupGJamL_tlIAbCP4Gp2o5AT_U9ez0PA0swOxO8WdM_qbtDKO3RLZFmxb3xmg_OpwyLZajvY3luXAe9zg9TYrQdchk/s1600/Cement+block+making.jpg" height="480" width="640" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXtGayQhrq4nuWywRoUrOog77T4O6TTPq7hTxcpGBElZXPMVjD-ExKQlMQnkWzDwdJ0-LBUe2FwoMNvbioAyjIybalNYU6M4VgUHi7M9IFnSG0dPwNiQrqKv7EUSUaiFvwP6V_S0doE9OJ/s1600/Washing+a+blanket.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXtGayQhrq4nuWywRoUrOog77T4O6TTPq7hTxcpGBElZXPMVjD-ExKQlMQnkWzDwdJ0-LBUe2FwoMNvbioAyjIybalNYU6M4VgUHi7M9IFnSG0dPwNiQrqKv7EUSUaiFvwP6V_S0doE9OJ/s1600/Washing+a+blanket.jpg" height="320" width="317" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Not all of the work is hard... Nomile, Beke and I were washing my blanket, holding onto each other because the blanket made wobbly footing. And laughing a lot, too.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">The hike on Boxing Day was so incredible! We were near Piggs Peak, looking into South Africa. </span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">We crossed this river on the hike up the mountain. There's a place near my homestead that has muddier water but similar rock formations. Gorgeous. Soda speak.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">We hiked up to the top of this ridge</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3x9hhnXbVdkR0DIB0-bkrYRI65A_mWQvfhNskApvOJ4d9TfvM6c4Hx7vr0bqdCwn_1FTfuZicNHiyPpTNqesd53NsgsefpzIJyHb7CX_2esuBVdYRam1zoeTJierw3IhudfyeP-gGM2be/s1600/Looking+at+South+Africa.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; display: inline !important; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3x9hhnXbVdkR0DIB0-bkrYRI65A_mWQvfhNskApvOJ4d9TfvM6c4Hx7vr0bqdCwn_1FTfuZicNHiyPpTNqesd53NsgsefpzIJyHb7CX_2esuBVdYRam1zoeTJierw3IhudfyeP-gGM2be/s1600/Looking+at+South+Africa.jpg" height="300" width="400" /></a><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"> </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Then continued up this outcropping, doing pick your nose trail finding.(For those non-rafters, it means you can never just follow someone, you must pick your own route, or you'll find yourself in trouble. Based on, you can pick your friends and you can pick your nose, but you can't pick your friend's nose. Sorry!)</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Rewards at the top:</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4PriV0-3kf6ygYqkzwbAMnaRNBgB3FDHOHGpFpGAtpkB8VCUMrX4TncSJ8u9XwH8HCx1n7Xhc6QkV6aWObUR3Zrf0aLuCTQNuxFnn_HrdbRk3K2pgMVFvvwqO9dvem3T3kVlRTQChzfAa/s1600/Cairn+at+the+top.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4PriV0-3kf6ygYqkzwbAMnaRNBgB3FDHOHGpFpGAtpkB8VCUMrX4TncSJ8u9XwH8HCx1n7Xhc6QkV6aWObUR3Zrf0aLuCTQNuxFnn_HrdbRk3K2pgMVFvvwqO9dvem3T3kVlRTQChzfAa/s1600/Cairn+at+the+top.jpg" height="300" width="400" /></a></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Forest edge, Swazi style!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>Michele Templerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17109945550997751273noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4878944247529379501.post-83333811241596239922014-01-27T14:03:00.000+02:002014-01-27T14:03:50.003+02:00Processing<span style="color: #222222; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">January 27, 2014</span><br />
<span style="color: #222222; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">At the Peace Corps Office so am experimenting - can I get this to load? I will do another post of pictures. For now - Just processing...</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">January 22, 214</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">It's the difference between knowing and experiencing. And I can't really define how it gets from the first to the second. But I know that making a difference, once person at a time, is what the Peace Corps is all about. And somehow, that knowledge is morphing into experience. As experience, it somehow becomes a part of me in - a wholistic? way? Not sure of the word. It becomes a part of who I am. Mind/body combined.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">I know my expectations are not going to match what really happens. That the people here need to guide what happens and I'll put my energy where others put theirs. I may end up putting much more time and energy into the library than the career center. I may wind up creating a resource center at the umphakhatsi rather than a career center at the high school. There may not be workshops - rather informal gatherings to learn specific skills. My successes may be because of the stumble technique, like helping Simphiwe get into St. Michael's, or tutoring youth who come to me, rather than something more concrete. My best accomplishments may be mentoring a few, who will pass along what is learned. I just don't know. And I think that's okay.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">I keep trying to get my mind around what I 'm doing - and it won't go there. Guess it's that my worth is not in the projects I do or don't do, but in the connections I make along the way. The projects are an excuse to be here to do my "real" work.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">from email jan 4 2014</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">It's been a time for introspection - for finding my balance, searching for "meaning in life", discovering my place in the scheme of the Universe. The lessons have been less than subtle - in fact, kind of slamming me in the face. All in all, I think this was a good decision, but that doesn't mean I don't have lots of doubts. sometimes I count the days left on my way to the latrine, or doing dishes with water I've hauled, or washing myself in a basin <g>. The physical realities are harsh and unavoidable. The warmth of the people and the opportunity to hang out with little kids is irreplaceable. The country is beautiful and full of surprises.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">Jan 23</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">Scene... waiting for my ride to town. hot day. sitting in the shade on a slope above the road. hear a slapping sound. a dozen or so cattle strolling down the road. behind them, a young man with an umbrella for shade follows them, cracking a whip into the road in some complex rhythm all his own. we wave, and when he smiles, I realize it's Mbalekelwa and that cattle he's driving live here.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">and on another note entirely, for those who remember, 45 years today...</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">January 24</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">I was cleaning up papers and discovered I've been writing some poetry.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /><i><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">Amazing how</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">we think</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">a better life</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">means</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">Elsewhere</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">No matter where</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"> here</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"> is.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">But every there,</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"> every where</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"> holds</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">Here</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">where dreams</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">may find us.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">~1/9/14</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">Your artist's eye</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">Notices</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">the white space:</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"> What is not</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"> what is no longer</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">Observes</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"> change</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">Appreciates</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"> clear sight.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">~1/9/14</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"> Africa</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">and finally, written last spring. Hard, in the midst of summer to remember how it felt, but since most of you readers are looking forward to spring:</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">Drum riffs</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">of rain</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">serenade us.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">Parched earth</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">runs soupy brown</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">Kids surround</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">the lidlala's cookfire</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">tossing an occasional cob</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">onto the coals</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">under the little</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">libhoda holding dinner,</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">Sky darkens into dusk</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">thunder percussion</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">blends with soft laughter.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">October.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">springtime in</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">Swaziland.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">~10/18/13</span></i></span>Michele Templerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17109945550997751273noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4878944247529379501.post-22977562519857122922014-01-09T20:31:00.002+02:002014-01-09T20:31:32.894+02:00TimeJanuary 9 2014<br /><br />
My father, had he lived, would have been 98 today. Dad, my illegitimate father (his description, not mine, though I love it) will be 100 on February 2. Time. A cultural concept, I think - the way we view it, not the fact that it is.<br /><br />I am trying to - not sure of what the words are. I've been told Swazis don't pay attention to time - that they are often late, and that's just how it is. Seems to be true a lot of the time (pun intended). For me it means changing how I perceive. A long, long time ago I learned that "It doesn't matter." That is, it doesn't matter if I'm here or elsewhere, wherever I am is a good place to be, and things will happen here. I seem to be relearning this lesson when it takes 5 - 6 hours to go the 40 miles round trip to town and back. Or to have work mostly stop for the 6 weeks of holidays. I focus on building relationships, on preparing for when work does start again. But it often feels as though I can't get there from here because before I start I have so many things that must be done.<br /><br />We're human beings, not humans doing, so goes the now-trite saying. Living it is a different story. A woman who returned to the states before the end of her 2 years wrote that she wished she had learned to embrace rather than to cope. Oh. Yes. Whatever we focus on, whatever we feed, grows. So what am I feeding? The beauty around me, the warmth of the children's laughter, the sweet birdsong from my roof? The steps forward that seem to be baby steps, but are still going forward? Or some fanciful idea that if I were just elsewhere it would be so much easier? Another volunteer, early on, said we all have things that are easy and that are hard - and it's different things for each of us. All these lessons are so true at home as well as here. Maybe it's just that here there's time to notice, examine, process them.<br />Maggie Lynchhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01014053903538710467noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4878944247529379501.post-70736155891936400502014-01-09T20:30:00.000+02:002014-01-09T20:30:11.390+02:00ThoughtsMichele's computer is not connecting well, so I'm posting for her.<br />
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January 5, 2014<br /><br />Holidays are really hard - they're the time our culture says we should be with friends and family whether we call this time Christmas, Channukah, Winter Solstice or Moslem, Buddhist, Shinto or other holidays that celebrate the turning of the seasons and the lengthening of days once again. Even though here it's summer solstice, the need to connect is strong. Along with that is the realization that I live here - so what I'm doing with my life is lots more than just being a Peace Corps volunteer. And that means... I need to figure out what that means.<br /><br />For one thing, I need to get out of the fishbowl occasionally. I will post a picture of "the look" - the way little kids, too young to hide it, stare at me. And stare. And stare. I have my own opinions about what it means - and I'll be interested to see if anyone posts comments about what s/he thinks is going on behind those eyes when I get a chance to post a couple of pictures of it. Right now I'm having some technical difficulties, so pictures aren't happening yet.<br /><br />For Christmas I did get out of the fishbowl - spent it with a bunch of other volunteers. No "looks", I could understand all of the conversations, the food was outstanding, and we watched silly movies. And we went on 2 nice walks and a bonafide hike, up to a ridge and then up an outcropping whence we could see the mountains of South Africa and a great sweep of Swaziland spreading out below and before us. It filled my soul in a way I'd not realized was empty.<br /><br />So today, while the family was at church, I walked down to the river - about half an hour away. I couldn't get my feet wet (there's a parasite that lives in the water), but the sound was wonderful, and downstream a little ways there's a small drop. The rocks are granite with some kind of intrusion, and someone had been there and lit a candle. The melted wax and a trace of energy remained. I listened to the river sing and threw twigs in the water to see what the currents were doing. The weight of the twigs made a big difference in whether they made it out of the eddies or not. Interesting.<br /><br />On the way back, the churches were getting out. From one, the women were wearing white, and some walked down the road, greeting me, while others followed a brown path through a green hillside, winding around a small rise and out of sight. They are beautiful. Then a young woman lugging a large and evidently heavy duffle bag walked towards me. Her hair was braided and her dress was fine. Her very high heels made walking on that uneven dirt road most difficult, judging by the way she teetered along. Made me angry (again) at mass media that defines beauty for women in such unrealistic ways. She's not the first woman I've seen in heels. It seems so - unnecessary? dangerous? restrictive? all of the above? Even here, in rural areas, women are bound by some made up definitions of what beauty means...<br /><br />There are so many differences, though. Women here can sit up straight, legs outstretched in front of them (as Make is in the picture from July or August) with no back support and be comfortable. When they bend over, they bend from the waist with such grace that you'd think they were all yoga masters. Because they carry weight on their heads, their posture and balance make those of us slumpers envious. And they seem much less self-conscious about their body images, though I don't know if that's true.<br /><br />These blog thoughts are so scattered. I just don't want to forget the things I'm observing and learning. Already I take so much for granted - like the bomake dresses the women wear, the amazing hairstyles, the muddy roads and muddier rivers, the green rolling hillsides and the role of children. Thanks for choosing to read and wander this land with me.Maggie Lynchhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01014053903538710467noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4878944247529379501.post-50151981221888876242013-12-24T02:03:00.003+02:002013-12-24T02:03:53.882+02:00ContrastsPosting for Michele.<br />
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December 16, 2013<br /><br />The rain taps gentle melodies on the roof while I marvel at the incongruencies in my life. I sit on the bed, under wooden poles thrust into cement walls, windows decorated with wrought iron bars, covered with cut up mosquito netting stuck to said walls with velcro glued with contact cement (my screens), then covered with lace curtains and finally emahiya (fabric in bright patterns). The cement floor leaves my feet gritty, even though I sweep 3-4 times a day. But on the bed with me are my electronic toys - bluetooth keyboard, ipad, phone that tethers the ipad to the internet and kindle. I feel as though the 21st century snuck in while I wasn't looking.<br /><br />The other night, getting ready for bed, movement caught my eye. A small bat was flying around the room. I opened the door wide, but it circled around and around, unable to find it's way out. Finally I turned out the light, walked outside and turned on a flashlight. The bat flew free. Whew! <br /><br />Early December, riding the bus into town, past fields of maize. People were weeding, some were women with small children on their backs. To tie a little one on, a woman leans over from the hips, parallel to the ground. Then she swings the toddler up over her shoulder onto her back, throws a long shawl over the baby and ties it just above her breasts. Then she takes the lower half, pulls it tight, stands up and ties it, then tucks it under the baby's bottom. The babies go everywhere, and are usually pretty quiet. If they fuss, the sling is pulled around to the front and the baby can nurse. Public nursing is totally acceptable. <br /><br />The rains have started, and people collect rainwater, so even though the community tap is still dry, water is not, for now, an immediate issue. The roads are. Or rather, transport is. The roads are dirt and sand that turns into mud that cakes onto shoes and slides across what used to be roadbed. For a week the road was impassable, meaning to get to town busses had to go in the opposite direction, make a big circle, charge twice the bus fare and take twice as long. It's frustrating and inconvenient for me, but for those with jobs in town it's a whole different level of problem.<br /><br />Add to the mix that some of the khombis are not running, and you wind up with 1 bus serving the area of my homestead. Got on that in Manzini 9:30 one morning, and set a new record - 4 1/2 hours to get the 20 or so miles home. Definitely a lesson in patience and in learning what the Universe has in mind for me. We started out, stopped, turned around and took a scenic tour of the back roads of Manzini to - some buildings behind a fence. There, for the next 2 hours, the driver, conductor and workers from the building repaired the bus. First they plugged in some extension cords, then took a skill saw, cut through some rebar, shaped one end into a tool, then soldered it to a handle. Brought that up to the bus, which was on a jack, removed the wheel and proceeded to do some welding and other repairs. Sent someone off to get parts, and 2 hours later, it was done. <br /><br />Hanging out, waiting, talking to folks. The conductor wants to expand his business. My sisi knows him, so I may be able to get some resources to help him do that. He's also a student at a university. Busy young man. An older man talked about Nelson Mandela, and how he modeled for us the importance of not giving up, of having faith that his goal is the right one, of doing something every day, every day. It was as though that man were talking to my heart, to my self-doubts, the part of me that wonders if being here is right. It is.<br /><br />So off we went - back to the bus rank, then the long way around. Turns out my stesh is the last one on the route - bus turned around there and headed back. Eish! What a journey.<br /><br />More bus sights: Busses, understandably, are packed. The woman next to me pulls a little girl onto her lap. The child falls asleep. Little kids, undeterred by manners, stare, stare, stare at me. A first white person? Police stop all traffic. Sometimes they just talk to the driver. Sometimes we all get out and line up and they go through our bags. No one knows what they are looking for. Then we get back on the bus. Even though we were at the end of the line, and people are standing, we wiggle through the mass of humanity to get get to our seats which await us.<br /><br />Contrasts and differences. look around! friends. What contrasts, less noticeable but notable just the same, do you see?<br /><br /><br />Maggie Lynchhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01014053903538710467noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4878944247529379501.post-69061493375239842262013-12-10T04:35:00.001+02:002013-12-10T04:35:25.798+02:00Picture Time<span style="font-family: Cambria; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: "MS 明朝"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-fareast; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">I am at Simunye Country Club for some R & R and
there's </span><i>real </i>wifi! Here are some pics.<br />
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Here is Sinethemba with that hat he made in one weekend. This was the school project he procrastinated starting till the last minute. </div>
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Life is short, roast marshmallows before dinner... The kids are in the lidladla - the outside kitchen - and dinner is in the pot. I think only one marshmallow, out of 2 bags, fell in the fire.</div>
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Siyabonga is about to release the cattle who have been pulling a plow to weed the maize.</div>
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huge storm hit, putting dents in my corrugated metal roof. I was lucky!
The roof in this tree used to be on a church next to my homestead. The
wooden walls wound up on the ground, and all that was left was the
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Here is a better view of the roof. </div>
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And since it was Sunday morning, the congregation put up a tent for church. Note the pick being turned into a hammer. That's Menzi, looking on.<br />
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And they needed chairs, so Nomile, age 6, helped out! </div>
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<br />Michele Templerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17109945550997751273noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4878944247529379501.post-48094533236524267472013-11-22T21:08:00.001+02:002013-11-22T21:08:18.547+02:00Michele's Latest Missive - November 7-22<b>November 7</b><br /><br />Mangoes are ripening!!! Bought a couple today, and one was perfect. Peeled it and stood dripping over the table, sweet juices fulfilling fantasies. I thought of a time in Mexico when I only ate them on the beach or in a shower so I could readily wash off the sticky mess I made of myself. Ah, a bit of heaven right here.<br /><br />And another snapshot: sitting in the dining hall at the training center, swallows flying in for quick tours. One lit on the open peanut butter jar and casually helped himself to some...<br /><br />fines for women wearing pants in town during incwala.<br /><br /><b>November 13</b><br />Do you still feel like a fish?<br /><br />Simphiwe said to me, when we were walking in Manzini, 'Everyone is staring at me because I'm walking with you.' Naw, I replied, it's because you're beautiful. "No," she insisted, "it's because you're white." Yep, I am visible, I grinned. Sometimes I feel like I'm living in a fishbowl.<br /><br />The next time I saw her, a month and a tragedy later, she suddenly asked, "Do you still feel like a fish?" The funniest part is that I knew exactly what she meant!<br /><br />Peace Corps says that by the time I go home and can blend in easily, I'll miss being the center of attention. I dunno - hard to imagine missing not having privacy... Something to look forward to, for sure.<br /><br /><b>November 14</b><br /><br />I thought this blog would be about me in Africa, but it turns out to be also about Africa in me... Big storm last night, and electricity went out. Back on mid-day, out again just now. Sitting on my front cement pad to feel the cool breeze and because the kids had come from church. How humbling to have them come sit by my door. Quietly, because my SiSwati is lacking and their English is, too, because they are so young. but nice. Very nice, to just be.<br /><br />came inside and took a cool bath in my washtub. by candlelight. the candle standing tall in the empty amarula bottle. dried off, put on my lihiya and climbed onto the bed to peck away at my ipad, writing this. feeling decadent. grateful for all I have. For the juxtapositions that highlight my world.<br /><br />reading Cutting for Stone. it's about Ethiopia but the descriptions are not unfamiliar. In Manzini, I saw a man on hands and knees, with knee pads, thankfully, making his way down the rough cement sidewalk. No one stared. On the dirt road in front of my homestead I saw a man in a wheelchair. Not so easy in the mud or sandy dry soil on the hills that make this region so beautiful. <br /><br /><b>Sent: Tuesday, November 19, 2013 10:42 AM</b><br /><br />I sent this as an email to Sueji, and she suggests it be part of my blog. I agree.<br /><br />Dear Sueji,<br /><br />How delightful to start my morning with a text from you! You asked about school - and I'll broaden that to work. Work is - strange. by that I mean that I'm always on, at least as long as I'm in my community, so though I read a lot, and do home chores, I can have someone knocking at my door<br />whenever. Or I can go outside and the kids will come to me. Work and my life<br />are sort of one most of the time. So some snapshots:<br /><br />The kids rolling around on top of each other like puppies. Nomile sitting next to me, her head on my lap, falling asleep. Beke wrapping the mat I made from plastic bags around herself like a lihiya - trying to make it into a skirt. Sinethemba knocking on my door Friday afternoon and saying the hat he was supposed to crochet from plastic bags - the project assigned at least a month ago - was due on Monday. Would I help him? Sure. As we worked, I asked, what happens if you don't finish and turn it in? The teacher will beat me more than I want to be beaten, he replied matter-of-factly, crocheting away. And he finished! And got 80%! A true miracle, since it was definitely the world's messiest job. But Sunday night about 9:00 p.m. he and the other kids were at my door, asking me to help him finish it, which I did. Then I took pictures of all of them wearing the hat.<br /><br />A young woman asking me to help her with biology - no book - what are the functions of the liver? pancreas? big intestine? little intestine? and by the way - what's that (pointing to my little oven/stove. It's about the size of a large toaster oven with a couple of burners on top). It's an oven and since I was making bread and it was ready to bake, I turned it on. She lives without electricity, and didn't understand how it worked. I don't know if she just had never seen such a small stove/oven, or if she didn't know about ovens at all. She touched the sides (warm, not hot) and felt the heat from the glass in front. Sueji, she's going to be a senior in high school, and didn't know what an electric oven is. She was also interested in the refrigerator (can you explain, off the top of your head, what keeps it cold?<br />I mumbled something about freon gas circulating, but I really couldn't explain very well). She asked what would happen if she left the door open. In the midst of this her older sister came in - same questions. Wake up calls keep happening. This from a young woman who could talk about biology<br />more knowledgeably than I could.<br /><br />At school I worked with the librarian to finish the grant application toBooks for Africa - if my school gets the grant, we'll get about 1,000 books! check it out here: https://donate.peacecorps.gov/index.cfm?shell=donate.contribute.projDetail&projdesc=14-645-001 Then met with Gladness, the guidance counselor. Yesterday she informed me and my supervisor that she and I would be co-teaching the career classes for Form 4(there are 5 forms). Today we talked about what that might look like. I'll be helping the students with career research and assessments. Tuesday I was in Manzini and applied for a library card (no mean feat in itself), then walked around the library looking for career materials. My heart broke. There were very few books, and those were 15 - 20 years old! The world is changing way too fast for them to be useful. I need to go to Mbabane, to the library there. I also need to check with the Ministry of Labor and the Ministry of Education, hoping to get employment projections and other information on possible career choices. Maybe scholarship info, too.<br />
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I so miss the resources so readily available in the the states. But - bright light - one of the reasons I'm going to Mbabane is that Anne, the PC nurse, worked in Human Relations for a hospital. I'm hoping she will be able to guide me in what students need in job interviews, job seeking techniques and anything else we can come up with. Having a local resource is gold. There's another PCV who put on a job search workshop, and I'll see her at Thanksgiving and will pick her brains then. And I still want to contact the Rotary Club in Manzini and see if I can get a contact there for information and maybe mentoring. The work helping the youth groups has slowed to a snail's pace since they aren't really following through, so it's good to have many things happening.<br />
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I think by December things will slow or stop as Swazis take the whole month off. But by then integration will be over, and I can leave site for more than one night per month. I really want to visit some of the game preserves, and hope to make that happen. Maybe even a trip to South Africa. Oh, and Saturday I'm going to help out at a National AIDS Day event with some group<br />10 (I'm group 11) volunteers. I'll be staying with Christine, who has a shower, I hear! And there's a pool nearby, so I'm hoping to get to swim, too, before I head back home. <br /><br />So that's work! And life. Time for bed soon.<br /><b><br />November 20</b><br />This morning I noticed Sibusiso had a spot on his head missing hair. What happened? I asked, concerned that he had fallen or somehow hurt himself. Lots of embarrassed giggles, and it turns out that he was caught chewing gum in class. The teacher stuck it i his hair, all the way down to the scalp. That must have hurt, getting it cut out, I ventured. Oh yes! was the reply. None of us mentioned the embarrassment of having a patch of no hair, advertising what he had done...<br /><br /><b>November 22</b><br />50 years since President Kennedy was shot. Another PCV asked those of us old enough to remember where we were and what we were doing when we heard. We all could give amazing details of an event 50 years old. sigh. It's most strange to be in a country where that event is unknown, where Thanksgiving not only doesn't mean the world is shutting down, but where it not doesn't even appear on calendars. <br /><br />My computer is in the shop, but I hope to post pix when I get it back. Thanks for putting up with my stream of consciousness writing. And you get away with no challenges. Count your blessings <grin>. Maggie Lynchhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01014053903538710467noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4878944247529379501.post-78301821959054283802013-11-11T19:34:00.000+02:002013-11-11T19:35:12.288+02:00Language, Nesting and Whats and Whys<b>Transmitted from Michele through inconsistent Internet connections </b><br />
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<b>October 16</b><br />
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Language. I'm not only learning SiSwazi -I'm also learning Swazi English. I'm not sure if that means British English as well. The pronunciation and emphasis on syllables are different, the words meanings differ, and the idioms are not the same. Of course, many are obvious - the softer a for example. But other things are a bit more subtle. I often hear, "You must..." I know what is meant, that they are simply giving directions. But it's hard not to attach the subtext of American bias, as in: Who are you to tell me what I must do? And I hear, 'If ever you...' which sounds - what? discordant, I think, to my ear. Distracting, anyhow. <br />
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It's kind of fun to notice the different word, too. Pegs, not clothes pins, plaits, not braids, mattress is a sponge. <br />
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<b>October 18</b><br />
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Nesting. I guess it takes a lot of forms. For me, It's food. I'm reverting back to hippie days, it seems. I'm making my own yogurt, and am thinking about turning it into some kind of soft cheese by straining it. I've made a sourdough starter, and I've been making my own bread. (No, Mary and Paul, I'm not grinding my own flour <big grin>). Seems really normal to me, until I see the incredulity on others' faces when I nonchalantly mention it and offer them a taste. It's not hard and getting good bread here is hard. On the other hand, bread is the 'go to' food here. Needless to say, my challah (well, Judi's challah) is a HUGE hit.<br />
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I'm gathering feathers to make a dream catcher and am working on a couple of mats made from plastic bags. I've bought a number of lihiyas (2 meter lengths of fabric in beautiful patterns) and have been draping them everywhere - over tables, boxes, windows (I'm working on hemming some for curtains) and even me (they wrap around and cover jeans and/or torso to make me more modest or to keep me warm). Think I may also cut one up for a scarf (I'll get my sisi to show me how to wrap it). I've even slept in one. I'll get dressed and get someone to take a pic for this blog. You folks will laugh - it's fun!<br />
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Funny what we do to bring home with us. I'd not have thought these things would bring so much comfort, but they do. Challenge: What would your comfort activities would be?<br />
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<b>November 4</b><br />
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November! Are you serious? Tempus fugit...<br />
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At the training center for 10 days with all the other G11 volunteers, getting so much information I feel saturated. It's almost as though if I try to retain much more, it will all overflow and sink into the clay earth. Perhaps then G12 (the next group of volunteers) will be able to benefit from it by osmosis? Okay, okay, but I do feel as though my absorption rate is waning, though the importance of the information is not.<br />
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For Halloween we planned to drink, eat candy and watch a scary movie. Then the power went out so we opted for a panoramic view of the spectacular light show. The whole sky was alight with lightning strikes and lit up clouds. We watched the lights go out on a hill across the valley, and some of us saw a bolt hit the ground and start a fire. Somehow it's different here - maybe because we can see for such long distances - but Nature's power awes us. Later we heard that there was a great deal of damage to our training villages - some latrines were destroyed and many structures lost their roofs. What was to us a great visual show and a bit of inconvenience when the power went out was a major destructive event for others. Life. Inscrutable.<br />
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All the rain cleared the air, and the land is greening with water and Spring. The world looks washed clean, even the clouds waft around the mountain tops and look soft.<br />
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Tonight was clear, and Mark has a star map, but even though we lay on the road, still warm from the sun, we were unable to recognize any of the constellations. Not enough knowledge and too much ambient light.<br />
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<b>November 5, 2013</b><br />
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Last night we had a campfire, byob, and someone brought marshmallows to toast. As I appreciatively accepted a stick and sweet, then held it over the fire, just so, I realized that here was another one of those givens: we all knew just what to do to get the perfectly toasted marshmallow. What a great thing to share with my host family for an after dinner over the cook fire coals treat. <br />
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Of course, roasting marshmallows was almost expected, worthy only of Thank You! as sharpened sticks and sweets were passed around. The theme of the night was a discussion about why we are here - framed roughly around defining our own philosophies of international development. Interesting stuff, for sure. Designed, I think, to help us articulate our reasons for joining the PC so that when we hit bottom or reach the ends of our ropes we can remember the big picture, the why behind the what. <br />
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So I leave you with yet another challenge: What's the Why behind your What? And, having articulated it, are you happy with it? Does it still fit? I hope some of you will share your reflections, either here or in personal emails. As for me, back to class...Maggie Lynchhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01014053903538710467noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4878944247529379501.post-12539842732387664992013-10-13T10:48:00.000+02:002013-10-13T10:48:28.882+02:00What's It Really Like?<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">A friend asked - What's it like there? She's someone who likes details, so I started looking around.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">There are rolling hills - some steeper than others, in every direction and there are groves of trees here and there, mostly around the homesteads. But for the most part, the view is clear in every direction for a long way. The dirt road winds up and down the hillsides between the fields that will soon be planted, mostly with maize. Smaller, but just as distinct, are paths between homesteads rivers. Most homesteads also raise gardens for the family and/or to sell to the community. They don't have vegetable stands, rather, people just know who is selling what, and ask to buy things. Water is a HUGE issue here - so crops must be drought resistant, or near a water source that can be accessed. That's not as easy as it sounds, as pumps and waterlines cost money that most people don't have. There are community funds, but accessing them seems to be somewhat difficult, and the funds run out part way through the year. There are groups who are encouraging permagardening, but getting the information out doesn't seem to be happening very rapidly. It calls for change, and as we all know, that is not easy.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">So - water. There are creeks, called rivers, and they may well be rivers in the rainy season, but for now they move slowly and are most shallow. There are a few springs, as well. There are community taps that come from community tanks, but as I wrote earlier, the taps go dry, and people spend a lot of time and energy hauling water from the springs (to drink) and the river (to wash). Taking more of that water for crops could be problematical - I don't know.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">The rainy season is coming, and I think it will bring water and mud and mosquitoes. I have heard the roads sometimes become impassable due to their steepness and muddiness and that they cross the rivers that can flood. It will be interesting to see how it all fits together.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Transportation and communication are irregular. Though busses and khombis are available, the schedules are so flexible as to be almost non-existent, and the vehicles are old and extremely unreliable. Because the roads are dirt, washboard and uneven, busses break down and/or may not run at all. I waited an hour and a half for a bus one day, and have waited more than an hour on more than one occasion.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Although cell phones are everywhere, it's ridiculously expensive to make calls (about 18 US cents a minute). So calls tend to be short, and avoided if possible. Whatsapp provides text for very little data time, but that means people must purchase a phone capable of connecting to the internet, and then have enough money to purchase air time and data time. There aren't really street names and addresses... so snail mail isn't an option. The landlines are not easy to get, and the wires are very old, so don't really support internet access. That leaves walking as the only truly reliable mode of transportation. Of course, that means there are always lots of people out walking, so it's a good way to interact.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Much of the land belongs to homesteads - sort of. Land ownership is tricky because, if I understand correctly, most of the land actually belongs to the king, who allows people to live on it and use it. Usually, as long as it is being used, it "belongs" to the people living on it. But it can't be left unused if someone else wants to use it. So - no fields lying fallow because the owners are far away... Also, all that "communal" land (i.e., land which hasn't been assigned to anyone) is open for everyone to graze their cattle and goats and chickens. So it's totally common to see animals roaming everywhere, including the school grounds. Of course, that means manure piles, as well. And requires that gardens be fenced. I've been told that the cattle are kept fenced in when the maize is first planted - but am not sure everyone does that... The cattle all have ear tags, and it's the kids' job to bring them home every night. Each homestead has a specific whistle/sound for their livestock, and the animals respond only to that one. They come home easily since there are the cobs from the maize awaiting them.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Home. Homesteads. Usually a number of buildings, including an outdoor "traditional" kitchen called lidladla. Here, it is a room with a cement floor, walls on 2 sides, half walls on the other 2 sides, and a door in a side with a half wall. A fire is built here, for now of maize cobs and a little wood, and meals are cooked in three-legged pots. There's a kitchen next to it with a sink but no running water, cabinets and a table and benches. Depending on the homestead, there may be rooms that others live in, storage areas or only a few buildings.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Of course, since the road is not paved, the homesteads are not, either. Instead, a broom of switches is used to sweep the dirt. This keeps the debris picked up and the area clear of grasses that could become the home of snakes. Also, because there are no indigenous forests, all the trees here have been planted. Some are fruit trees, some just for shade, but most are located on or near the homesteads. This means that the roads have almost no shade in the summer, the views are open for miles in all directions, and there's nothing to stop or even slow the winds. The winds can howl alarmingly, and don't always mean rain. They cool things down, and carry a fine film of dust that coats everything. People here are very conscious of keeping things clean, so most sweep and or mop almost daily. Remember the hauled water and factor that in...</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">In fact, think about the open fires and wind and dust and lack of water, of latrines and livestock and all of that affecting hygiene. Creates challenges, for sure. Oh, and no garbage pick up. Of course the animals eat all the compostables, and paper and cardboard are used to start cook fires, but the glass, plastic and cans go into a garbage pile and are burned. Oh, so are the fields, before planting. Pollution in the air is dust, burning plastic and smoke, but not much from vehicles, except the busses.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Hygiene. It keeps coming back to water. Indoor water requires pipes, fittings, burying lines, a way to deal with waste water - septic tank and/or gray water lines. Friend Bright, plumber, could describe the needs in much more detail, but it's not a stand-alone deal... And of course, it requires a reliable water source. If that's a well, it requires electricity to run the pump... And then electricity also requires a strong infrastructure. Here, the lines are above ground, so those strong winds mentioned earlier create power surges and outages that raise havoc with everything plugged in to the lines. So if water is not easily available, it makes the task of washing hands after contact with latrines, dirt, etc. more of a challenge. Which means education becomes more important. And it's not free.</span><br />
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This sounds so negative. And the problems are complex, it's true. But there are no homeless people.There are child-run households, orphanages, and a sense of community that is strong and supportive. I spoke yesterday with a member of the the Royal Swazi Police. We talked for a while before he shared his profession. He said that he attended training at an academy before he started work, and that much of what he does is help people solve problems. I asked about domestic abuse. He said if an abused woman comes in they ask her if she wants her husband taken away. If she says No, then they talk with both of them (separately, I hope, though forgot to ask). He said the men tend to listen to them since they are, after all, the police. They never turn anyone away without trying to help. What a different perspective...</span><br />
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So many other details that are becoming my norm. All of the kids have chores no matter how young. Even Beke, age 2, helps carry the cobs to the lidladla. The older boys (11 and 13) are responsible for hauling the water from the tap, bringing the livestock back at the end of the day, and other chores as they arise. I'm sure during planting and harvest time their duties increase. Everyone hauls his or her own bath water and does laundry. The young women are responsible for food planning and preparation, serving Make and Babe (who eat separately) and cleaning up. They also care for and supervise the children. The son helps with repairs, sweeps the dirt, cares for his children, keeps his own space clean and I'm sure has other responsibilities. Make and Babe both have responsibilities as well, and seem to be busy much of the time.</span><br />
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Most buildings are made of blocks covered with cement, with corrugated roof and cement floors. Windows have no screens. Most homesteads are fenced.</span><br />
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Kids are totally uninhibited about singing, and do so loudly and out of tune. They entertain themselves and each other with very little of what kids at home think is necessary. They are a constant delight.</span><br />
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Oh - and people think nothing of asking what are, to me, intensely personal questions. Do you have children? Why not? What church do you attend? It's most disconcerting.</span><br />
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I'm told Swazis know that all white people are rich, and seem to have no problem asking for money. I'm learning how to tell them that's rude, and ask if their family knows what they are doing - in siSwati, of course <grin>.</span><br />
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I've been teaching some career classes - most interesting. That's another blog, though. And I'm liking my tutor and assignments. She's helping me fit together the bits and pieces I'm beginning to understand.</span><br />
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Hope these glimpses are starting to make a whole picture for you readers. Next week I start the census - going to homesteads and talking with the people. I'm looking forward to that, and to sharing another level of life here.</span>Michele Templerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17109945550997751273noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4878944247529379501.post-34701144705112299432013-10-06T03:21:00.000+02:002013-10-06T17:26:01.146+02:00Around the HomesteadMichele sent these to be posted. She is recovering from a sore throat and laryngitis, so keep her in your thoughts and prayers. I'm sure she would appreciate emails as well.<br />
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Laundry day is a family affair</h3>
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<h3 style="text-align: center;">
Even the school kids wash their own clothes. <br />From left to right, Nomila, Beketela and Siyabonga</h3>
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Play doh is a big hit with these two beautiful young ladies.<br />They are going to break some hearts when they get older.<br />Nomile and Beke</h3>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjchiv-HSmc6jl4yEf9QxWXVOlHPPhNDrcqWaluvZIGHHLGeeBnkHYJkVVAVL96UUzQ2ZDUCJo-26-eV9C_HKODZ9yGkf31ByL2EtMh6I4Gmb7Zw9Jzad-8NTlWXHi0zLHvM03VELgmcFM/s1600/bath.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhesBxiUHBz5ItatQzJYUsCiw_ZqB2uvzzMRA42oNQscsgTGLjjNfdZ4Txpo2_2DG5t7KPXG6241BGJ3P2usN5pP48AS-AYh0w6PGxBn2Qiph-6aqxMgZhLLQqiQr9v0hrEI_5oPzW36_0/s1600/playdoh2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="534" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhesBxiUHBz5ItatQzJYUsCiw_ZqB2uvzzMRA42oNQscsgTGLjjNfdZ4Txpo2_2DG5t7KPXG6241BGJ3P2usN5pP48AS-AYh0w6PGxBn2Qiph-6aqxMgZhLLQqiQr9v0hrEI_5oPzW36_0/s640/playdoh2.jpg" width="640" /> </a></div>
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Kids are kids are kids. Amazing what they can do with a little play doh... Beke is about to discover it will stick to the struts of what would be a chair back; they are using the seat as a table. Perfect height! </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZWyb3JCAqhtBKv9NZ4wWPRI81GbCUtdft6iKadRX1X8iI6tcxnyaVTNNmFS3-qe-iLB_RKEpkguHmrzbYsrORGFjAANUv1-GtrNC5CUbo75qQT7JDEKyama3ujPSb_d6NOpIqI56yhNU/s1600/roof.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZWyb3JCAqhtBKv9NZ4wWPRI81GbCUtdft6iKadRX1X8iI6tcxnyaVTNNmFS3-qe-iLB_RKEpkguHmrzbYsrORGFjAANUv1-GtrNC5CUbo75qQT7JDEKyama3ujPSb_d6NOpIqI56yhNU/s640/roof.jpg" width="480" /> </a></div>
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My bhuti, Linda, is trying to fix the roof for me before it rains again. The workmanship was so shoddy he couldn't make it stop leaking. Fortunately the next day was a scheduled visit from Peace Corps staff, who were appalled at the 'worst job they had ever seen'. The vendors who did the work will be asked to make it right. Hope it happens before the next storm <smile>. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjchiv-HSmc6jl4yEf9QxWXVOlHPPhNDrcqWaluvZIGHHLGeeBnkHYJkVVAVL96UUzQ2ZDUCJo-26-eV9C_HKODZ9yGkf31ByL2EtMh6I4Gmb7Zw9Jzad-8NTlWXHi0zLHvM03VELgmcFM/s1600/bath.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="574" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjchiv-HSmc6jl4yEf9QxWXVOlHPPhNDrcqWaluvZIGHHLGeeBnkHYJkVVAVL96UUzQ2ZDUCJo-26-eV9C_HKODZ9yGkf31ByL2EtMh6I4Gmb7Zw9Jzad-8NTlWXHi0zLHvM03VELgmcFM/s640/bath.jpg" width="640" /> </a></h3>
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And last, but not least, some days I opt for a "bucket bath" rather than a solar shower. I can bathe in about 2 1/2 liters of water (not washing hair). No water at the tap again for most of the week, so I'm being very careful. The method is to pour hot water from the kettle into the blue bowl, then add enough cool water from the bucket to make it comfortable. Wash face and neck. Dump the water into the big tub, refill and do upper half of body. Dump again and do lower half while standing in the big tub so my feet can get wet enough to get clean. Then either empty the bath water into the thunder bucket to clean it, or use the water to mop the floor (which I do when there's not water at the tap). </div>
Maggie Lynchhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01014053903538710467noreply@blogger.com0