Victoria Falls: December 27

We spent the morning touring the falls (have we mentioned that Victoria Falls are one of the seven natural wonders of the world?) with our new friend from the U.K. We decided against an organized tour and instead took our time exploring the trials and snapping lots of pictures. Each bend in the trail seemed to provide an even better view and the only reason we didn’t take more pictures was the fact that we had to keep hiding the camera to protect it from the spray. Unbeknownst to us, we had picked an ideal time to view the falls: mid-flow. During high flow, the mist obscures the view of the bottom and many of the waterfalls disappear during low flow periods. After a few rejuvenating hours, we began our journey back to Vezubuhle.

Just as we pulled into the airport, we realized that we had forgotten our rafting video at the backpackers. Eek! The shuttle driver calmed us down by telling us that her colleague would be returning in an hour and would bring it for us. We then fought over a now illegal $25 tax, paid it in frustration, got ripped off on postcard stamps and finally boarded our plane. Everything went smoothly (Kelli was even able to get a visitor’s visa) until we hit the baggage claim. For those of you who have heard our airport baggage claim horror stories, you understand our hatred. An all too familiar scenario found us as some of the last people anxiously waiting for our bag after the carousel had shut off. We tried to remain calm as we realized that our remaining possessions were probably lost somewhere in southern Africa. After an hour of waiting and trying to figure out where our bag was, the airport staff finally discovered that the carousel had broken and the remaining bags were sitting downstairs.

It turned out we weren’t in that big of a hurry since the Kramer’s plane had been delayed and we had over an hour before they were due to land. Keeping ourselves entertained with airport games, we finally met up with the Kramer’s and were ready to begin yet another adventure. The first obstacle was getting to our village. Kelli’s dad bravely maneuvered the rental car onto the left side of the road and despite four backseat drivers, a crummy map and a couple of wrong turns; we finally made it to the village. Ma and Dora gave us all a warm welcome. After a brief tour of the house and lessons in bucket baths we crashed into bed.

Class V Adrenaline Rush: December 26

Awaking from some crazy Larium (malaria medication) dreams, we excitedly dressed and pumped ourselves up for a day of rafting. Kelli was a bit scared about her back as it was still in constant pain, but couldn’t let that stand in her way of rafting one of the most exciting rivers in the world. Popping some ibuprofen and dousing ourselves in sun block, we were ready for anything.

The tour began with a pleasant breakfast where we signed away our lives and were scared speechless by the safety talk. Shakily grabbing our helmets and paddles, we re-convinced ourselves that this would indeed be fun. A short walk straight down into the canyon found us on the bottom of the falls, staring at the first of 26 rapids. We were also treated to a view of a brave bungee jumper plunging off the bridge spanning the canyon and numerous micro flights zipping around the falls. We were surrounded by crazy people.

Kelli immediately informed our guide of her metal implants and assured him that she was feeling good about the trip. He kindly responded by making sure to pull her into the raft first after a flip or a swim. Following a quick review of rafting commands and a brief test, we were ready for the first rapids, or so the six of us thought. In order not to be smashed to bits by the looming rock wall, we had to power across the first rapid. Confused by the wrong commands shouted by our guide, we quickly found ourselves gulping water and swimming for the raft. Scared by the rude awakening, we all scrambled back into the raft, ready to try again.

Our second attempt went off without a hitch and we soon fell into a rhythm of crazy paddling through class IV and V rapids followed by enough of a lull to catch our breaths and get to know our fellow rafters. Three of the other rafters were from Canada, volunteering and working in Africa through an organization called the VSO (Volunteer Service Overseas). They explained the organization as the Canadian equivalent to the Peace Corps without government interference and stifling rules. After sharing our story, one of the women, a staff member for the VSO’s main office in Canada, said that we should look into an in-country transfer to the VSO as they were always looking for qualified volunteers. (Kelli had a little bit of a hard time imagining any sort of future as she became increasingly convinced that she was not going to make it out of the canyon alive with each new rapid.) Our fourth rafter was a friendly man from the UK at the end of an African vacation full of scuba diving and sightseeing.
Although we had a few close calls, we only flipped once more. After a quick lunch, the river calmed down a bit and we were even able to swim a few rapids and catch glimpses of small crocodiles, colorful birds, deer, lizards and the elusive Zambezi rock, spotted by Joe =). Thankful to still be alive (one of the other rafters had been evacuated on a stretcher at lunch after a long swim and a terrible shock), we exited the canyon via rotting wood ladders and a pulley operated tram. An hour plus ride along an extremely bumpy dirt road, complete with free drinks and views of primitive bush camps, found us back at the lodge where we enjoyed dinner and the movie of our day. We couldn’t resist buying the video as it was very well put together and would be happy to share it with anyone who wants a good laugh. Returning to the backpackers, we quickly shed our soaked clothing (our bathing suits had been stolen on the mountain) and decided to treat ourselves to a second dinner in town. Although it was already dark, we were assured that it was safe to walk. Nevertheless, we flinched every time someone passed us and couldn’t seem to get comfortable walking in the dark. Understandable since it was the first time that we had left a building after dark since arriving in Africa. We almost gave up after a few wrong turns and our fears started to get the better of us, but were rescued by two locals who kindly guided us to ‘the best burgers in Africa’.

pictures: our put-in location; the bungee bridge; the flip; still alive

A Christmas to Remember: December 25

After another wonderful breakfast at the backpackers, we found ourselves once again at the Jo-burg airport. Killing time before our flight, we decided to check out the gift shops in search of information on Victoria Falls, as we really had no idea where we were going or what to expect. We discovered that we would be traveling to the Zambia side of the falls and that they were much further north than we had originally thought. Woo hoo! We were in for an adventure all right.
A quick flight in which we were able to get a glimpse of the falls landed us at the small Livingstone airport where we were able to catch a ride to the Jollyboys Backpackers.
Complete with friendly laid-back staff, endless mango trees, pool and hot tub, numerous open areas filled with cushions and plenty of hammocks to go around, the backpackers truly lived up to its curious name. After picking out our bunks (we were staying in the co-ed dorm in another attempt to save money) we decided to plan our stay. Leafing through the countless brochures, we decided on a Christmas sunset cruise, a full day whitewater rafting trip and a tour of the falls on our last morning.

In true African fashion, not only was our shuttle to the sunset cruise late, but also ridiculously inadequate. A bombastic young man informed us that all seven of us would have to fit into his car and that we needed to hurry if we were going to make the cruise. In college fashion, we stacked our bodies into the car and were on our way. Detangling ourselves from the spontaneous twister game that was our ride, we quickly paid and boarded the pontoon boat, or as Joe described it: layers of scrap metal topped with a thatched roof duct taped to two inflatable hot dogs.
The cruise turned out to be perfect. Open bar, on deck BBQ, and a relaxing cruise on the tame, upriver Zambezi where we spotted groups of hippos and elusive crocodiles. As the sun sank below the flat-topped trees, we also caught glimpse of Cape buffalo, impala, monkeys and numerous birds in the surrounding wildlife preserves. As the cruise ended, the on-beach party began, complete with music, drums and lots of dancing. We chatted with some locals and learned that this was one of the only places open to local black people, as the others were reserved for whites and tourists. Prejudice knows no bounds.

The day concluded with a few friendly games of checkers back at the backpackers and preparations for tomorrow’s big rafting trip. All in all it was a highly unusual but nonetheless very memorable Christmas.

pictures: Jollyboys; hippos!; one of the 'nice' boats

The Pretoria Zoo: December 24

Hoping to cheer ourselves up, we spent the day at the Pretoria Zoo. Arriving around 10 am to a deserted, desolate zoo where the animals appeared to be projecting the pain and sadness we were feeling, we almost called it a day after the first few concrete exhibits. Stubbornness and frugality thankfully overruled and we soon found ourselves in a newer section of the zoo, complete with natural enclosures and barriers. Pretty soon we were laughing at the elephants, searching for the lions, shaking our heads at the rude behavior of other visitors, snapping lots of pictures and staring in amazement at the American crocodile. Even after Kelli tried to convince Joe that the crocodile was fake (it literally didn’t move for the 30 minutes that Joe insisted that we watch it, proof in the coins that had collected on it’s back) he amused himself by taking hundreds of photos and telling anyone who would listen that this was possibly the only zoo in the world that had a crocodile. Satisfied that we had walked every inch of the zoo and taken a picture of every animal, we caught a taxi back to the backpackers where we cooked some pasta and fell asleep to Charlie and the Chocolate Factory.

Fond Farewells: December 23

The morning began with Linky knocking on our door informing us that there was a bride at Ma’s house. We excitedly got dressed and grabbed the camera, as this would be our first SA wedding, even if we only got to watch a small portion. The bride emerged from the house, surrounded by her dancing and singing wedding party. All of our neighbors quickly joined in the dancing and singing as the bride made her way to the car. Ma cracked us up in her work clothes and house slippers, waving a multicolored feather duster in the air and continually moving a straw mat for the bride to walk on. Just as the bride reached the car, a heard of cattle rounded the corner and charged towards us on their way to the fields beyond. As everyone scurried behind fences, Ma bravely stood in front of the bride, waving her feather duster. It was nothing short of spectacular.
We bid Ma and Dora farewell as they left to attend the wedding and were picked up by the PC driver shortly after. If all went to plan, we would be back in our village on the 27th with Kelli’s parents for their two week vacation. We optimistically left most of our belongings locked in the house, taking only what we would need for our Victoria Falls adventure.

On the way to the airport, we picked up one of the other separated PCV’s and got a preview of the heartbreaking good-byes we would be making in a few weeks. Frustration reigned as we couldn’t help but reflect that the true punishment was falling on our villages and the people who had placed so much hope in us. Pulling away from our villages, our driver spotted a neighboring PCV walking along the road. We begged him to stop and had a few minutes to try and explain and say good-bye to one of our close friends. There were so many people that we were going to miss.

A quick stop at Pretoria backpackers to pick up our other friend (she chose to pack up her belongings and return to Pretoria yesterday so as to not draw out the painful good-byes) followed by a delicious lunch in Hatfield, and we were on our way to the airport. Saying good-bye to Siepo (the wonderful PC driver who had been racking up over-time with us over the past few days) we gave him a picture of the five of us in Royal Natal and thanked him for his flexibility and kindness. It was then time to try and change our tickets and bid farewell to our two ‘accomplices’. After bumping around the ticket counters, discovering that there were hefty fees for changing flight dates and that almost all of the return flights were full for the next few weeks, we finally hit upon some good luck. We found a man who was willing to override the system for us (after telling his co-worker to look the other way) in order to book us on a full flight returning the same day as Kelli’s family. Furthermore, he refused to charge us after hearing our hellacious story of the past few days. He encouraged us to use the saved money to return to SA, which we assured him we would do as soon as possible. We then wished our friends safe flights home and made tentative plans to try and meet up in the states.

Finally returning to the backpackers after waiting over an hour for the shuttle, we were again surprised with generosity. We had brought our camping gear in order to save some money by not paying for a room, but as it was pouring down rain, the owner persuaded us to stay in a room at no extra cost. We graciously accepted and quickly passed out, too exhausted for dinner.

What Can We Say?: December 22

The morning was spent closing our bank accounts and filling out PC paperwork. Because we had had lived modestly on our two stipends, we had managed to save a fair amount of money. Joe was only slightly paranoid carrying close to $1,000 cash in his money belt (Kelli’s had been stolen) and we were eager to get the wad off our hands. A perfect opportunity presented itself when we returned to the backpackers to pick-up our bags. An advertisement for an all-inclusive Victoria Falls trip had caught our eye and we impulsively booked the 3 day trip for the 25 -27 of December. We were excited at this opportunity to visit one of the seven natural wonders of the world and help distract ourselves until Kelli’s family arrived on the 27th.

Finishing our paperwork, we were driven to our respective villages where we had roughly 24 hours to pack and say our good-byes. Pulling up to our house, we were confronted with the enormous task of trying to explain our situation to our host family. Ma was sitting outside and immediately ran over to us, giving us big hugs and crying, “Welcome home!” She showed us the new car that she had purchased and apologized for storing the extra tires in our kitchen. We had just let down an entire village and she was apologizing for putting tires in her own house. Amazing.

Sitting in our living room, we rehashed every detail of the past week. Ma listened attentively and expressed some of the same questions and frustrations that we had heard from our families and friends. She also informed us that she had tried to contact our country director upon hearing the news and that the first time the phone was off and the second time the woman was very short with her, to the point of being rude. Our hearts broke for our host mother who not only didn’t fully understand what was happening (it’s hard enough for U.S. citizens to understand the rules and nuances of U.S. government organizations) but had been ignored by the organization she was supposedly working with. Ma consoled us by stating that even though we would have to leave South Africa, no one could take away the connections we had made with our new friends and that we would always be a part of her family.

After speaking with Ma, we couldn’t help but attempt one final avenue in order to remain as volunteers. Joe had his mom look up the contact information for the PC director of Africa. Unsuccessfully able to reach him in his office, Joe was almost done drafting him an email when he returned our call. Sharing our experience over the past few days, Joe highlighted how badly we wanted to remain as volunteers and how we felt ignored and neglected by our PC office. Furthermore, we couldn’t help but feel that the whole administrative separation process was highly unprofessional. The director actively listened, taking notes along the way, and explained that he would do his best to address our concerns. Unfortunately, he was not able to overturn our country director’s decision and there was no chance of us remaining as PC volunteers. Although ineffective, the phone call was the professional exchange we needed in order to bring closure to our fight to stay in PC.

Not ready to attack the packing process yet again, we took advantage of the last few hours of light to take a stroll around the village and play Frisbee with our favorite neighbors. Laughing with the kids, we couldn’t help but reflect that this was what PC should be about, this was life, this was pure happiness, this was all the things that we would miss the most….

Crushed: December 21

We spent another early morning at the PC office in a last-ditch attempt to hold onto our volunteer status. In the midst of yet another sleepless night, one of our friends had developed a fool-proof way to guarantee that we were not traveling outside of our villages without permission. The plan involved our supervisor calling us with a specific word or phrase for that day. We would then use our phones to take a picture or video at a designated spot in our village with the specific word on a piece of paper. We were excited by this plan as there was no way to cheat and all it required was our supervisor calling us at random with a word or phrase. Theoretically, supervisors should be in continual contact with their volunteers, so it wouldn’t be any extra work for him. Along with this new check-in, we also added the following to our previous behavior contracts: loss of 6 vacation days, forfeit of our PC passports so that we could not travel outside of South Africa until the conclusion of our service and the option for any PC staff to visit us unannounced in order to assure that we were indeed in our villages. We realized that we were offering up most of our civil liberties, but were blinded by our desperation to remain PC volunteers.

Printing our rebuttals and new behavior contracts, we hand delivered them to the country director well before the noon deadline. One of our friends wanted to make sure that the country director fully understood her new phone plan, so she attempted to explain. Before she could get out more than a few words, the country director exploded. Paraphrase: “Phone! I had to turn off my phone last night because of all the calls and SMSes regarding you! It went on all night! Do you have any idea how annoying it was?” Momentarily speechless, we looked at each other in disbelief before calmly explaining that we had no idea what she was talking about and that our phone comment was regarding a new consequence we had devised for our behavior contract. After hearing our idea, she angrily snapped that it wouldn’t work because PC staff were not allowed to have picture phones. We explained that we could e-mail the picture and she responded by telling us that she would have a decision by 4 pm that day.

On our way to Hatfield, we couldn’t help but reflect on the country director’s statements about turning off her phone. Just the other day she had informed us that her phone was always on and that we could call her anytime. She had also told us that we could have people call her on our behalf. Now she was angry that people were calling her in regards to our situation, choosing to ignore numerous calls. Our disbelief quickly turned to anger as we were once again confronted with the fact that the country director had made up her mind well before our first meeting and had no intention of changing it.

Halfway to Hatfield, we received a call from a PC staff member informing us that Kelli had to go to the U.S. Embassy in Johannesburg in order to replace her passport. As there was really nothing else to do, the whole gang decided to join her and we were quickly picked up by a PC driver. Along the way our friendly driver sadly informed us that he had already been booked to drive us to our villages and the airport over the next few days. We struggled to hold onto the little optimism we had left.

After roughly six hours in which we were lead to the wrong section of the building, told we had to go to the nearby mall to get photos taken, locked out while the staff were on break, and shuffled through security way too many times, Kelli finally received a new three month passport. Speeding back to Pretoria, we were more than an hour late for our meeting with the country director. Apologizing for our tardiness, we anxiously sat around her table while she told us that not only were our rebuttals not what she expected, but they were also extremely well-written. Small consolation considering her next news: we were being administratively separated.

Emotionally and physically drained from the last few days, we sullenly listened as we were told that we would be issued plane tickets for December 23 and would have about a day to return to our villages, pack, and say goodbye. Furthermore, the country director informed us that she could not change the date on our tickets to accommodate the Kramers’ visit. Instead she offered the following advice: “I’m not telling you that I and other volunteers have changed the dates of our tickets at the airport”. We took the hint and planned to change our tickets when dropped off by Peace Corps at the airport.

Following days of sleep and food deprivation, crying and fighting with everything we had, our emotions were dead. Despite our anger, we all decided to resign instead of being officially separated in order to maintain clean records and receive the post-PC benefits, including a month of free health insurance.

The resignation process began that evening with exit medical exams administered by one of the PC medical officers. The PCMO was very kind and informed us that she had fought for us and believed in giving people second chances. Everything seemed to check-out and we got vouchers for dental cleanings, TB and stool sample tests to use when we returned to the states. Kelli’s WHO card had been misplaced, so the PCMO forged her a new one and we were on our way back to the backpackers for pizza, cards and packing.

A Second Chance?: December 20

We got to the PC office early in order to type up our newly formed behavior contracts, outlining our consequences. Our behavior contracts consisted of: house arrest for six months (forfeiting any travel outside of our village), a weekly activity log signed by a supervisor in our village, inability to serve on a PC committee for one year and time spent helping the administration address the problems of unauthorized leave. We sent our drafts to the country director asking for her feedback, informing her that we were willing to make any necessary changes in order to stay in country. We lunched on smoothies and muffins at a nearby mall and tried not to drive each other crazy waiting for a response from the country director.

After a day full of anxiety, the country director finally met us in the computer lab around 5 pm. She regretfully informed us that our consequences weren’t much different than ones she had rejected from PC staff members who had offered contracts as an alternative during their staff meeting a few days ago. We understood her explanation that she didn’t want to put extra work on others for our mistakes, but were shocked when she informed us that she couldn’t trust anyone in our village not to lie for us about our whereabouts. We continued offering suggestions, all of which were denied for one reason or another. Although she liked any ideas that involved making our supervisor work harder (she revealed that she thought he was incompetent and was actively helping him look for a new job), she claimed that she couldn’t trust us or our supervisor. Kelli joked about ankle bracelets and she actually responded, “I wish I could get them for all of the volunteers.” Frustrated, one of our friends offered to name her first born child after the country director, to which she replied, “I already have enough kids named after me.” Angry, dejected and depressed, we were too tired to eat and settled into another sleepless night.

Rebuttal: December 19

We spent the day on the computers, writing and rewriting our rebuttals, and keeping our U.S. families up-to-date. Many friends and family members helped out by e-mailing us suggestions and corrections for our rebuttals. The day continued with another meeting with the country director in which we were given the written notice of our administrative separation. We also took this opportunity to bring up the problem of the Kramers’ upcoming visit and the best way for us to stay in the country for a few extra weeks. The country director seemed to empathize with our situation and said that she would investigate some options for us. She concluded the meeting by telling us that all of our crying was making her cry and that she really did feel badly for us and our situation.

Frustrated and emotionally drained, we walked to the mall in order to get supplies for dinner and grab some fresh air. Our country director phoned mid-walk to inform us that in order to stay in the country for her parent’s visit, Kelli would have to replace her visa and passport on her own unless she resigned and returned to the states immediately. More stress! We stocked up on comfort foods (carbs and candy) and were almost back to the backpackers when our country director called again. Kelli and our two friends were insanely curious as Joe spoke to our country director with a smile on his face. After taking a few deep breaths, Joe informed us that the country director had told him that she had been thinking a lot about our situation and the potential for an alternative consequence to administrative separation. Although she could not think of an appropriate consequence, she informed Joe that if we could come up with one, she would consider it. We were ecstatic and spent the remainder of the evening brainstorming punishments and fantasizing about our next two years in South Africa.

An Even Bigger Loss: December 18

None of us slept much that night. One of our friends awoke early in order to replace her stolen bank card, per PC request. We took this as another good sign as there is no need for a card if you are getting sent home. The four of us had a meeting with the country director scheduled for 10 am, but due to long lines at the bank, we all agreed to begin the meeting with only three of us.

The meeting began with the country director asking us to describe the previous day’s events. Our friend gave a detailed description of our hike, the theft and our rescue from the mountain. The country director then asked us why we had left early and not informed the PC office. We explained that there was no excuse for our actions and that we deeply regretted our poor decisions. The country director and accompanying staff member (the same one who had helped us the previous day on the phone) listened politely before dropping the bomb.

The country director informed us that not only were we the hot topic for debate at the morning staff meeting, but that she had decided to initiate the administration separation process. What!? We sat there in complete shock as she explained the details, none of us fully comprehending what she was saying. As Kelli sobbed, forced to use her t-shirt as a tissue, Joe began to analyze the situation, asking the country director if there was anything we could do to change her mind. When she curtly replied that her decision was final, Joe concluded that he was free to speak his mind and voice some of his frustrations with Peace Corps and our reasons behind the decision to travel early.

The conversation quickly turned emotional as the country director took many of our comments personally and we were shocked and exhausted. The meeting concluded with the country director asking us not to speak to the other conspirator (who was still having trouble at the bank replacing her card) and requesting another meeting for that afternoon.

We blew off some steam by walking to Hatfield (a section of Pretoria that is similar to a college town in the states) in an attempt to enjoy some ice cream. Just when we were pondering what to do next, our other friend called asking us to meet her at the backpackers. We expressed our apologies for her having to hear the heartbreaking news by herself and we spent the rest of the afternoon brainstorming for our afternoon meeting.

Although we were well-prepared and brought up several relevant points in our defense, it soon became clear that the country director had no intention of reversing her decision and was actually persuading us to resign. She confided in us that she actually had no idea who we were or the projects we had been working on and because our supervisor was on vacation, there was no one involved that knew anything about us. Furthermore, she was well aware that unauthorized travel was a huge problem, and that many of the PC staff were absent for most of our training. However, she went on to state that it was her decision whether or not to separate us (in the PC handbook unauthorized in country leave is not one of the offenses that necessitates dismissal) and that because unauthorized travel was her personal pet peeve and that it had been awhile since anyone had been dismissed for it, it was time for a reminder by using us as an example. Although it was apparent that nothing we said would change her mind, we still held out hope that our written rebuttals might change our outcome. She informed us that we had until Thursday at noon to submit our written responses and that we could resign at any time, even after receiving her final decision on our separation.

Feeling as if our worlds were falling apart, we were surprised by a phone call from Amphitheatre backpackers. Apparently some of our hiking friends had searched the mountain top after our departure and had found some of our gear. They then convinced the Amphitheatre staff, who were up top on a day hike, to carry our stuff down and inform us of the discovery. Wonderful people! The only obstacle now was retrieving the gear. Upon informing PC, they sent a wonderful driver down to get it and we were soon reunited with 2 backpacks, camelbacks, miscellaneous toiletries, our friends ID’s and a few clothing items.

That evening, after unsuccessfully trying to distract ourselves with a movie in Hatfield, we began receiving our first SMSes, e-mails and phone calls from other PCV’s who had heard about our story through the rumor mill. We were not only shocked that so many people had heard the news, as we had not informed anyone outside of our families in the U.S., but also surprised by the magnitude of misinformation. Stories ranged from us being arrested to traveling outside of the country to being rescued by the military. Gotta love gossip.

Shoe Stealers and Helicopter Rescues: December 17

Awaking around 1:30 am to a strange noise, Joe shot up and immediately looked out the mesh window of our tent. Kelli will never forget awaking to Joe’s voice,
“Kel, our stuff is gone!”
“What!?”
“Our stuff, it’s all gone!”
We scrambled out of our tent, using our headlamps to try and penetrate the storm for some explanation. Someone had had pulled out the ground stakes on our rain fly and taken off with everything that was in the vestibule of the tent. While Kelli yelled four letter obscenities into the storm, Joe tried to alert the other campers to pull their gear inside their tents. Awaking our friends, we quickly discovered that all of their belongings had been stolen as well. Returning to our tent, we took a toll of what had been stolen:

-All of our backpacks
-Three pairs of boots (Kelli was the only one left with footwear)
-Money, passports and ID’s (Joe luckily had kept his on his body)
-Water bottles and water purification tablets
-First aid kits and medications

-Leatherman's
-All of our rain gear
-All of our food
-Clothing (except what we were sleeping in)
-Cooking gear and tent bags
- Joe’s beloved IslandWood hat and his brand new sunglasses (which had taken months to find)
- Bathing suits and pack towels

It soon became apparent that there was no way we could hike back down and that we would have to call Peace Corps for help. We spent the next few hours crying, talking, laughing, worrying and anxiously waiting for the sun to come up. In our small tents, 3,200 meters above civilization, we couldn’t help but feel vulnerable and helpless. Would the thieves return for more?

Joe left the tent at first light, trying to figure out how to use the bathroom with no shoes to protect him from the wet, cold ground. He finally settled on using a backpack rain cover (one of the few things that was not stolen) and was able to shuffle a few feet from the tent. Kelli was able to walk around to the other tents, notifying them of the situation. We discovered that the three other groups of campers were native South Africans and knew to sleep with all of their gear, so as to avoid our situation. Everyone was very sympathetic and offered us warm clothes (it was a bit chilly), hot drinks and advice on how to get us off the mountain.
Using Kelli’s shoes, Joe was able to shuffle to the edge of the plateau in order to get cell reception. After taking a few minutes to enjoy the view, layers of thick, puffy clouds covering the canyon and creating jagged islands out of the surrounding mountains, he made a call to the PC duty phone. Explaining our situation, Joe began by apologizing for breaking the rules by being on vacation a few days early. The PC staff member told Joe that although she had never had anyone stranded on a mountain before, she would do her best to get some information in the half an hour before Joe was to call again.

Trying to stay calm, we passed the time by talking to our fellow campers. We met a very nice couple who frequently camped and hiked the Sentinel. They informed us that theft is very common, especially shoes and rain gear. This is due to the extreme poverty of the neighboring mountain country of Lesotho. It seems as if thieves from Lesotho target campers on the Sentinel frequently, especially in storms so as not to be heard or seen. We could only marvel at the desperation of someone willing to hike over mountains in the middle of the night, in a thunderstorm no less, for some camping gear.

While waiting to call PC, we weighed our options for escape. It soon became apparent that we were stuck; we couldn’t stay on the mountain without any of our basic needs, nor could we hike down the treacherous trail without our packs and shoes. One of our new hiking friends was able to contact someone he knew who worked for a local mountain rescue company and discovered that it would cost around R7,000 ($1,000) per hour for a helicopter rescue. We were too tired to figure out how many loaves of bread that amounted to; it may as well been seven million dollars on our PC budget.

After exactly thirty minutes, Joe returned to the cliff and talked with the PC staff member. Good news! The park had notified the PC staff member that the park budges for helicopter rescues (it’s included in the park fees) and that a helicopter should be on the mountain within the hour. WOW! Joe scurried back to the tents in order to start the packing process and to warn our neighbors that they should secure their gear so as not to be blown away by the helicopter.

As we were scrambling to roll up our tents and gather the remainder of our belongings, the helicopter rose majestically over a nearby mountain peak. As the other campers stood in amazement at the quickness of the rescue (many of them claimed that it would take up to 24 hours to get us off the mountain), we felt extremely relieved to have the U.S. government on our side. After months of being ignored and frustrated by the PC, we finally felt supported and connected to a larger organization. These feelings would prove to be quite ironic as the events of the following days unfolded.

The helicopter made a few passes over the surrounding valleys before landing about fifty yards from our campsite. Upon landing, the pilots explained that they were searching for the thieves and hoping for an opportunity to locate and make an example out of them. Pondering their means of punishment, we searched the helicopter for guns or large sticks, but thankfully didn’t find any. Extremely friendly, sympathetic, and apologetic, the pilots helped us load our belongings into the helicopter and shared countless stories of thefts in the area. They told us that as many as thirteen tents were robbed in one night and that it was not uncommon for hikers to be mugged along the trail and have their packs and shoes taken in broad daylight. Furthermore, they shared that local thieves are so desperate and skilled that they often take cattle from villages surrounding the park and lead them up the steep jagged edges of the mountains by throwing cow patties in front of the heard to convince them the steep and narrow trails were safely maneuvered by pervious herds.

Before taking off in the beautiful helicopter, the other campers on the mountain insisted that we pose for a few pictures. Apparently no one would believe their stories about the stupid Americans unless they had visual proof. The ride down in the helicopter was breathtaking! It only took us about five minutes to cover the twelve hour hike we had painstakingly endured the previous day. As we approached our landing area the pilot warned us to brace ourselves. He told us that the cloud cover was getting very thick and that he needed to perform a spiral decent to save time before the clouds made it too dangerous to land. He then dipped the nose of the helicopter straight toward the ground and started a spiraled fall. The force of the maneuver made it difficult to move any part of our bodies, turning our stomachs inside out. Upon landing, the park staff ushered us to a cabin ironically called “The Dump” (it was actually quite nice) and offered us hot food, drinks, and much needed warm showers while we waited for a PC driver to pick us up. Everyone was very helpful and supportive and laughed at our growing fears of how the Peace Corps office would respond to our actions . . . Prior to departing on our hike we had left some extra clothing and gear locked in the visitors’ center. Among that gear was food, clothing, and best of all sandals for our bear feet. Unfortunately we had safely secured the gear in a wire mesh lock and the key to the lock was now somewhere in Lesotho. If only we had been that careful with our gear on the mountain. After some searching, the park staff were able to locate wire cutters in order to free the few belongings we had left. Attempting to keep our minds off the possibility of getting thrown out of the PC, we busied ourselves by filling out police reports, buying post cards, and canceling our reservations for the remainder of our trip.

Siepo, a native South African and one of the staff drivers for the Peace Corps, arrived to pick us up around midday. Despite the fact that he was called to pick us up on a weekend, he was very excited to see the Zulu Kingdom and accompanying mountains for the first time. We spent some time taking pictures with him before driving back to Pretoria. Our anxieties concerning our future with the Peace Corps heightened with every mile that took us closer to Pretoria and the PC office. Siepo had been instructed to drop us off at the backpackers and inform us that we needed to report to the PC office the following morning. We decided that we wouldn’t be able to sleep before speaking to a PC staff member about the consequences for our actions and decisions. Upon our arrival, we immediately phoned the PC office and spoke with the staff member who had been helping us all day. She said that the Country Director had just returned from a vacation in Paris and that she would have to talk to us the following day. However, she informed us that to the best of her knowledge there was no precedent for volunteers getting dismissed from PC because of undocumented leave in country. We took her kind words as a good sign and headed off to bed after a LONG day.

pictures: our friendly neighbors; nice view; the rescue; we hiked that?!; the dump; our awesome driver

What a Hike!: December 16

We awoke at 5 am to perfect hiking weather- overcast and cool. It didn’t take us long to pack up our gear and hit the trail where we were instantly rewarded with a baboon sighting. We once again followed the river and ravine from the day before, winding higher and higher into the mountains. We had a great time observing the ever-varying landscape and stopping frequently to take pictures of, well, everything! Waterfalls, lush vegetation, steep cliffs, amazing views…we were in heaven. After several hours, we came upon a run-down resort pretty much in the middle of nowhere. From there, we traveled much longer than we would have liked on a dirt road before arriving at the parking lot for the Sentinal Trail. Unlike us, this is where pretty much everyone else begins the hike to the top, most of them making it a day trip. We began to understand why as it had already taken us 7 hours to get to this point and the steepest and most challenging parts of the trail still lay ahead.

We checked-in with the rangers stationed at the parking lot, filled up our water and tried to convince our exhausted bodies that we could make it to the top. It was strange to have hiked most of the day in complete solitude to now be met by groups of hikers climbing up and down the trail. We pushed on, climbing higher and higher on ever narrower trails that often had us scrambling over rocks. After another two hours and near the point of exhaustion, we had to make a decision: go back down and spend the night at the ranger station at the parking lot or keep going to the top. It was during this rest break that a group from the backpackers passed us (remember that over-priced guided tour that we turned down, even after being told by the staff that we would never be able to do it on our own, especially in one day). The astonished look on the staff member’s face when he recognized us was all it took; we were making it to the top.

The hike continued to increase in intensity with the scaling of two 30 foot long chain ladders straight up the mountain. With shaky arms and legs, we managed to claw our way to the top. A few wrong turns later and we were finally on the sentinel, a large flat mountain top plateau. After a little searching we were able to locate the camping area near the top of the waterfall (one of the highest in the world) where we were able to set up camp and even snap a few pictures before dark. However, we were not able to cook our freeze dried Indian food before being assaulted by another thunderstorm. Too exhausted to complain, we dined on energy bars and collapsed into our sleeping bags.

pictures: heaven on earth; chain ladders; the top!

Royal Natal National Park: December 15

Eager to get into the park, we quickly packed up our gear, grabbed breakfast and flagged down the first taxi we could find going in our direction. It wasn’t hard for the four of us to convince the taxi driver to take us the extra distance to the visitor’s center of the park; he probably doubled his monthly earnings on the added fare! After checking the weather, we decided that the next two days would be the best for our overnight hike to the top of the amphitheater. Making friends with the rangers, we obtained maps, a campsite for the evening and a secure place to store our extra gear while on our overnight. With all of the logistics in order, we spent the rest of the day playing in the mountains. Following a river through the canyon, we were treated to amazing views of the towering mountains before us and lush valley below. At the first waterfall, Joe and one of our friends decided to scale some boulders in search of the top while Kelli and our other friend took the opportunity to rest and fill up on water. Joe’s adventurousness was rewarded by a glimpse of a bright red freshwater crab and an unexpected plunge in the cool water up to his bellybutton. (Our waterproof bag thankfully saved the camera.) Energized by the waterfall, we decided to seek out another. A steep climb and a little bit of scrambling landed us at Gudu Falls- a spectacular fall emptying into a perfect swimming hole, which we took full advantage of! Our quick dip gave us the energy needed to speed back to our campsite before dark and the impending thunderstorm.

pictures: Royal Natal National Park; waterfall swim

Eyes Wide Open: December 14

The morning began with the stress of our friend losing her bank card. We searched every nook and cranny of the backpackers before finally having to leave to catch our bus. Although upset, we assured our friend that she could cancel her card over the phone and that we would all chip in to make sure she had enough money for the trip. Although our bus was late, we were in high spirits as we were on vacation and had the entire day to reach our destination. The hours flew by as our faces were plastered to the windows trying to absorb as much as we could; we were finally seeing the country! We arrived in Harrismith with a few hours to kill before the backpackers’ shuttle was due to pick us up. Taking advantage of the last town we would see for awhile, we stocked up on food, ate some pizza, chatted with some locals, played cards and finally found a cheap pair of sunglasses for Joe. It was also at this point that our friend received a call from the backpackers informing her that they had found her bank card and would hold onto it until our return. Relief!

At 5:30 pm we crammed ourselves into the backpackers’ shuttle and were on our way. Once again, we found ourselves drooling at the spectacular views: large dammed rivers, rolling hills leading up to towering flat-topped mountains and shades of green we forgot existed. We dipped into a valley and found ourselves at one of the most spectacular locations for a backpackers we could imagine; a 360 degree post card perfect view. Even the rudeness and condescending attitude of the staff could not diminish our excitement. (They were disappointed that we insisted on being cheap and independent, failing to take them up on any of their high-priced guided trips, meals or shuttles.). We enjoyed touring the facilities and quickly found a place to pitch our tents, in full view of the amphitheatre (a famous natural amphitheater made of large rock structures jutting from the surrounding rolling hills). The rest of the evening was spent taking a quick dip in the chilly pool (we had to out of principal), cooking dinner, enjoying yet another shower, and gazing at the amazing array of stars.

It wasn’t long after we snuggled into our sleeping bags that we were treated to the most amazing thunderstorm that we have ever experienced. The lightening and thunder turned our tent into a techno night club complete with strobe lights and eardrum bursting bass. We watched the thick bolts of lightening crack the sky, touching down on the nearby mountains, and the thunder made our hearts skip a beat more than once as it shook the ground below our tent. As the wind howled, we were very pleased and impressed with the resilience of our new tent (REI of course) and the awesome power of Mother Nature.

pictures: the amphitheatre; our new home

Ready or Not: December 13

Kelli had her third and last physical therapy appointment before vacation and although was not feeling any better, she was glad to be done with the torture massage. We caught up with our two other friends who would be joining us on the backpacking extravaganza, did some food shopping and spent the evening repacking our bags. Who knew that this would be our last dull day for the next month?

Salad Screamers: December 12

The morning started with another shower and a wonderful breakfast. Wonderful not only because it was free, but included all you could eat granola, eggs, toast, fruit, yogurt and juice. We tried to eat enough so that we wouldn’t have to spend any money on lunch and we did a pretty good job of it. After checking our e-mail (with pictures!) at the PC Office, we were off to another physio appointment for Kelli. Although the deep tissue massage left Kelli cringing and gripping the sides of the table, she tried to remain positive that the ends would justify the means. With the afternoon open, we decided to walk to a nearby mall where we couldn’t resist splurging on smoothies and were delighted to find an independent movie theater where we thoroughly enjoyed Eastwood’s Flags of our Fathers. Afterwards, we picked up groceries for dinner and quickly began the walk back to the backpackers so as to not be caught on the streets after dark.

Just as dust was setting in, Joe noticed three young men following us. Not terribly worried as we were only a few blocks from the backpackers, we made a sharp right. The three men followed, crossing the street with a wide right. The men proceeded to slowly cross to our side of the road and continued to follow us. Starting to get a little worried, we crossed the street where we saw one of the backpacker’s employees getting into his car. He offered us a ride, but as we were at most a five minute walk away we politely declined. As the car pulled away, the three men again crossed to our side of the street, two in front of us and one behind. At this point, we could no longer pretend that they were headed in the same direction as us. We were sandwiched and before we could attempt to cross the road again, one of the men in front turned around and grabbed Joe’s arm. Watching as if it were all taking place in slow motion, Kelli took a few steps towards the street and started screaming. Pretty confident that none of the men had a weapon; Joe wrenched his arm free and started yelling “awa! tsotsi!” (no! thug!). The three men just stared at us for a few seconds before slowly moving away.

Although nothing drastic happened, we were pretty astonished that none of the other pedestrians, and there were quite a few around, even flinched. However, when you live in the ‘crime capital of the world’ in which pictures of murdered bodies appear daily on the front page of newspapers and anything not stapled to your body is free game, our incident probably didn’t even register on their radars. After we got our breathing and heart rates to within normal range, we concluded our trip to the backpackers where we immediately informed both the staff at the backpackers and the PC duty officer of our incident. Although nothing was stolen, we felt that the backpackers’ staff should be aware in order to warn their guests and that the information would help the PC alert and train future volunteers (plus, they like to keep statistics on all that stuff).

The PC duty officer kindly listened to our story, thanked us for reporting it and offered us sleeping pills. We politely declined, as the incident left us more angry than scared. Speaking of angry, the backpackers’ employee, incidentally the same one who had offered us a ride, was furious when he learned what had happened. He spent the next five minutes searching for a big stick and trying to convince us to come with him to track down the thugs so that he could “beat them”. We declined, telling him that we did not believe in violence and that he could potentially get hurt provoking the men, whom we assumed were drunk from the smell of alcohol on their breaths. Unconvinced, the employee sped off in his car carrying a large metal pole.

Sitting down to a nice salad and soup (thanks to Kelli’s screaming), we had a good laugh retelling the story to our fellow PCVs. The laughing was the result of the realization that we fought the thieves for a plastic bag of salad ingredients, a water bottle, a map and a rain jacket. Our money and phone were relatively safe in Joe’s money belt, which would have taken a lot more effort to obtain. In an effort to make light of the situation, our friend, who was able to contribute more than a few mugging and robbery stories herself, christened us the ‘salad screamers.’

The Beginning of the End: December 11

After a full day (yes, a full day) of packing, we were ready to start our adventure. You’d think that all of our previous moves and adventures would have trained us to be expert packers, but it continues to unnecessarily stress us out. It’s really not that easy to pack clothes, food and gear in one bag for three days in a city followed by a week and a half in the woods. Well, not for us cheapskates at least!

So what is an adventure without a transportation mishap? And since this would be our biggest adventure to date, it would only make sense that the mishap be in proportion. Although we left our village (quite a site with each of us carrying a very large backpack) in plenty of time to make it to Kelli’s appointment in Pretoria by noon, we almost ended up missing it. About thirty seconds into our bus ride we realized that something was dreadfully wrong. Ever few minutes the bus would jerk violently, flinging unsuspecting passengers from their seats. Realizing that the bus was not going to make it, the driver finally gave up a fourth of the way through our journey and pulled to the side of the road.

For the next half an hour our bus driver desperately attempted to flag down another bus, but they were all either full or going in the wrong direction. One very full bus finally pulled over and defying all laws of physics, another 20 people crammed themselves in. As we watched the bus pulling away, scraping the back bumper on the pavement, we were thankful that we were not yet at that level of desperation. Thankfully an empty bus pulled up beside us thirty minutes later, just as we were pulling out our cell phones to reschedule Kelli’s appointment.

We all piled in, including our first bus driver, and were on our way once again. That is until we made our first stop. Although this bus did not jerk, it did stall out every time we stopped. To fix the problem our original bus driver would jump out of the bus, make some loud clanging noises and we’d be on our way. Joe was convinced that the bus had a lawnmower engine and had to be restarted by pulling the cord…it didn’t matter to us as long as it worked. The situation became more comical as we entered the city and the bus stalled at every stop sign and light. Needless to say, we were very happy when we finally made it to the PC Office.

Kelli’s first day of physio was pretty uneventful. The woman did some deep tissue massaging before hooking her up to a TENS unit (think low level electrocution) accompanied by heat. The session seemed to loosen things up and Kelli’s back was not as stiff. Things were looking up. On the way back we convinced the PC driver to drop us off at the Pretoria Backpackers where we would be spending the next few days. We were excited about our first backpackers experience and it surpassed any and all of our expectations. Backpackers are similar to youth hostels in that they are relatively cheap, have communal kitchens, bathrooms and lounges and offer varying accommodations from camping to communal dorms to single rooms.

Since all of the dorms were full, we were fortunate enough to have a double room all to ourselves. Although the lush gardens were appealing, the swimming pool was tempting and the comfortable couch was calling our names, the thing we were most looking forward to was the shower. After five months of bucket baths our bodies had all but forgotten what it felt like to have water falling on us from above, not to mention HOT water. Although we are environmentalists and try very hard to conserve, we took more than a few minutes to stand in awe at the fact that our entire bodies were wet at the same time and send our respects to the person who invented this wonderful luxury.

That afternoon we met up with a volunteer whom we had met during our training. It was great to see her and we spent an enjoyable evening exploring Hatfield, gorging ourselves on frozen yogurt, salad and pizzas and exchanging stories late into the night.

Vacation Plans: December 10

Looking forward to our upcoming school break and the end of travel restriction, we had been toying with the idea of a hiking and backpacking trip with two of our fellow PCV’s. We were super excited at the prospect of seeing more of the country, especially since we had only moved 30 minutes from our training site, and stretching our legs on some spectacular hikes in the mountains. The tricky part was that Kelli’s family had planned a trip for the last two weeks of our school break and in order to go hiking we would have to leave a few days before our travel restriction was up. One of Peace Corps many rules states that all volunteers must spend the first 90 days in their respective villages. While trying to make this decision, we carefully considered many factors:

-all of our schools would be on vacation from December 5 – January 9 and even our secondary projects were shutting down for the summer

-over the past three months we had been working very hard to integrate ourselves into our community and as many of our new friends and family members would be on vacation during this time, they encouraged us to explore the country as well

-due to the absence of PC staff at our initial training, we were trained by current PCV’s who spent numerous hours encouraging us to travel as much as possible and even giving us advice on how to bend the rules in order to accomplish this

-due to the lack of support and guidance from our PC advisor, we had cultivated a support group among our fellow volunteers and wished to spend some time together rejuvenating and refreshing ourselves in the great outdoors

-we had worked extremely hard over the past few months learning a new language, building relationships, renovating our house, getting acquainted with a new school system and culture and planning and implementing school projects and we truly felt that engaging in one of our favorite activities, hiking, would give us the break we needed to start the next school year fresh and full of enthusiasm

After carefully weighing all of these points, we decided that the benefits outweighed the feelings of guilt for breaking one of the rules. Therefore, we planned a week and a half long hiking extravaganza with two of our friends. Our plans included two national parks, scaling the fourth highest waterfall in the world, overnight backpacking, showers, swimming pools and lots of wide open spaces. Kelli was a little anxious about her back, but her excitement for hiking (her all time favorite activity) overwhelmed her anxieties and she was hoping that three days of physio in Pretoria would fix her up. Nevertheless, she made sure to pack lots of Ibuprofen.

The Final Touches on the House (We hope!): December 7 – 9

After three grueling days of painting and cleaning, we can now proudly say that the inside of the house is done! With NPR and BBC to cheer us on, we washed and painted the hallway, living room, guest bedroom and accompanying doors. Kelli was even able to cover up the splotches in our bedroom with some fun murals. After completing the final touches, we had a celebratory bonfire with all of the drop cloths, used masking tape and incredibly disgusting rags. Although we were completely exhausted, we couldn’t stop walking around the house admiring all of our

hard work and how incredibly different the house looks.

As though it was perfectly timed, we also received four, yes four packages during this time filled with lots of fun games, food, crafts and love from our wonderful friends and family. We don’t even know how to begin to thank them, as they will never realize how much their love and support mean to us. Now that our house is done, our door is always open… even if it is a little far away!

Pretoria and a Pain in the Back: December 6

As is has been alluded to in our previous posts, Kelli had been suffering from pretty consistent back pain for the last three weeks. Finally deciding that the problem was not going to go away on its own, we made a trip to Pretoria to see our friendly PCMO’s (Peace Corps Medical Officers). In an attempt to add a little more adventure to our lives, Joe decided that we should get off the bus a few stops early. It was a simple mistake, but knowing our sense of direction, let’s just say it took us quite a bit longer than we thought it would to find the PC Office. Once there, Kelli was evaluated by one of the PCMO’s and then advised to get some X-rays taken at the nearby hospital. Forgetting to alert the X-ray technician of her metal implants, Kelli got a good laugh when the woman could not hide her surprise after checking the X-rays for quality. The doctors got the last laugh however, as Kelli had to get more X-rays to get a complete picture of the implants. Everything seemed to check-out with the X-rays so the PCMO advised Kelli to schedule three appointments with a Physical Therapist for the following week.

Deciding to take full advantage of our trip into Pretoria, we met up with some fellow volunteers at Menlyn Mall. Besides stocking up for our upcoming hiking trip, we enjoyed some good food, laughs and air conditioning. Figuring that one transportation adventure was enough for the day, we opted to pay more money to take a taxi home instead of testing our luck with the bus.

Assistant Peace Corps Director Visit: December 5

After canceling his appointment for the previous day, we were a little weary as to whether or not our PC advisor was going to show up for our site visit. Our PC advisors are required to do two site visits for each of their volunteers over their two years of service. The site visits are a chance for the PC advisors to touch base with the volunteers and their school counterparts in order to make sure that things are running smoothly on both ends. Since our advisor decided to schedule his visit on the last day of school for the teachers, he was not able to talk with any of our counterparts about our progress as they had all left by the time he showed up. Furthermore, instead of asking us about our experience and integration into the community, our advisor spent our whole visit telling us stories about other PC volunteers. We were not terribly disappointed since our expectations for any help or guidance from our PC office had steadily been declining over the past three months due to the office failing to respond to our numerous messages and questions.

Deciding to make the most out of the situation, we asked our advisor if he could drive us to the nearby Cash Build so that we could pick up some more paint to finish off the house. We needed a ride because although Joe is strong, there was no way that he could carry 20 liters of paint the three miles back to our house and we had unsuccessfully been asking around the village for a ride for the past month. Picking up the last few supplies we needed for the house, we also imposed on our advisor to help us find a washboard so that we wouldn’t have to borrow Ma’s every week. We had previously tried to explain our need to the employees of Cash Build, but they either didn’t understand our English or did not carry washboards, even though everyone assured us that Cash Build was the place to get one. After speaking to a few of the employees in a number of different languages, our advisor was stunned to learn that not only did Cash Build not sell washboards, but that they didn’t have any ideas on where to purchase one. How can this be? Everyone in our village has a washboard except for us, and we had spent the last three months searching every store we could find for one. However, once we began asking people where they got their washboards it became clear that these necessities are passed down in the family and are handmade from scrap boards found around the village. Guess we have another project on our hands!

Sunning on the Roof: December 3

After our 4 am laundry session, Joe decided to give the roof another go. Since the rains had washed away his last attempt, he took advantage of the sun and used up the last of the waterproofing supplies. However, despite showering in sun block, the sun took its revenge by giving Joe a nasty burn on his lower back. Hopefully we’ll have a dry house to show for it! We spent the afternoon resting and planning for our upcoming vacation before treating ourselves to a nice evening run along the outskirts of the village. Since it was our turn to cook the Sunday meal for the family, we decided to surprise Ma and Dora with a traditional fare of umratha, spinach, beans, butternut squash and veggies. We had borrowed Ma’s utensils in order to make the umratha and were pretty proud of our first attempt at cooking it by ourselves- it was actually edible! The only problem was that Ma and Dora were nowhere to be found. We knocked on their door three separate times and tried calling and SMSing before finally sitting down to dinner alone. Although worried about the whereabouts of our family, we enjoyed our traditional meal almost as much as the sheep enjoyed our leftovers. [We later found out that Ma had been sick that evening and had gone to bed early. She was very upset to have missed our dinner, but we assured her that there would be many more over the next two years.]

Return to Bundu: December 2

After weeks of promising the Nkosi’s that we would come to visit, we finally decided to take the short trip back to our training village. We had SMSed Sesi earlier in the week to let her know that we would be coming and to make sure that she would be there for our visit. We left early because although Bundu is only a 30 minute drive from Vezubuhle, we have to take three taxi’s to get there which not only adds to the amount of time it takes, but also to the adventure. At our first stop we decided to pick up a gift for our family and against our better judgment, we opted for a chocolate cake. We were treated to a good laugh on our last taxi ride when the driver turned around and exclaimed with great excitement that Joe was, “the yebo guy!” The driver had hosted one of the other volunteers and remembered the yebo skit from the family party at the end of training. Arriving in Bundu, we ran into two other PCV’s and had a great time catching up. However, we had to cut our conversations short as we were anxious to see our family and the chocolate cake was melting in the sun. We enjoyed the short walk to the Nkosi’s, noticing the new greenness due to the recent rains. Upon arriving at our former home, we were greeted by gogo who was working on a plastic mat in the yard. Searching the premises for someone we could talk to, we immediately noticed numerous changes: a new gate between the main house and the kitchen, the start of another fence, a chicken coop, freshly painted rooms, and plans for a garage. The family had been busy! We found Ma doing laundry and she indicated that everyone else was away for the day. What?! We chatted for as long as our limited vocabulary allowed, then decided to take a walk around the village in the hopes that someone else would be home by the time we returned. Along our walk, we explored some new areas of the village and picked up some plastic bags for Ma. Returning to the house, we enjoyed chocolate cake (at least we all pretended to enjoy it) while playing with the NYC cards we had given the family upon our initial arrival. We taught Ma and Precious (Antocia’s sister who was visiting) how to play war and build card towers. Ma really enjoyed the card towers until her early morning started to catch up with her and she began drifting off. We took this as a sign to go, but Ma was insistent that we stay until Sesi returned. We were a little weary as to when that would be because we quickly came to realize that everyone thought we would be staying for 4 days. Just as we were trying to explain that we were not prepared to stay that long and that we needed to get back to Vezubuhle before dark, Sesi walked through the door. We had a wonderful time catching up over the next hour and made plans to return in a few weeks when we would hopefully be able to see more of the family. Arriving home safely, we enjoyed a stir fry made with the vegetables Ma and Sesi insisted that we take.

pictures: a greener bundu; gogo on her mat

World Aids Day: December 1

In a country where it is estimated that 1 out of every 5 people are infected with HIV/AIDS, it was very telling that neither of us were even aware that December 1 was World AIDS day until we were talking to some of the staff that afternoon at The Project. The day passed without one school, child, teacher, or neighbor mentioning HIV/AIDS. We’ve seen an overwhelming amount of advertising about HIV/AIDS on billboards in Pretoria and even some TV programs, but this incomprehensible epidemic is rarely mentioned by the people of rural South Africa. Furthermore, due to this silence, there is still a lot of confusion and ignorance surrounding HIV and AIDS. Joe sat in on an elementary class in which the teacher told the students that the first case of AIDS in the world was in 2001. This is not altogether all that surprising in a country that just recently acknowledged that HIV/AIDS is a real issue. However, we were excited to learn that the Department of Education is thinking about incorporating HIV/AIDS as one of its core curriculum strands, alongside Math, Science, etc. Furthermore, we are looking forward to attending the Peace Corps HIV/AIDS workshop next March so that we can learn more about how to incorporate HIV/AIDS awareness and education into our school projects.

Closing of Schools & Lesson Planning: November 30

Although the official closing dates for the school year are December 1 for students and December 5 for teachers, school had been pretty much done for the past few weeks. For some reason our schools scheduled all of their year end tests and exams two to three weeks before the end of school. Thus, once the students have finished taken their tests, there is no incentive for them to report to school. Amazingly, some students still show up to their classes, even though the teachers and most of their peers are absent. When the teachers are not administering exams, they spend their time in the teachers lounge grading papers, tallying reports, scrapping together lesson plans to turn into the Department of Education, and complaining that none of their students show up to class. We mistakenly thought that we would be bored to tears with no classes to observe and everything seemingly shutting down for the year. To our surprise, we have been loaded with work, asked to help with everything from typing up year-end reports to tallying students marks to writing a years worth of lesson plans in two days. Procrastination is an understatement. We have been helping as much as we can while trying to hint that some of these tasks should have been begun half-way through the year, at the very least. However, it has given us some great project ideas for the upcoming school year which we have incorporated into our strategic plan. Plus, it’s nice to feel useful and we have had the opportunity to develop relationships with more teachers.

picture: empty classroom

An American Thanksgiving: November 25 - 27

American holidays are challenging topics of conversation. For instance, imagine trying to explain Halloween to a deeply religious group of South Africans. As a matter of fact try explaining Halloween or Thanksgiving to anyone! Do you use the myths of the holidays, the Hallmark versions, the way that you and your family celebrate the holiday, or the most historically accurate description- whatever that is?

We also found our American families to be a source of great amusement during the holidays. We had a number of family members that asked “How do South Africans celebrate Columbus Day?” or “What are the people in your village doing for Thanksgiving?”

We decided to bring Thanksgiving to South Africa and celebrated by inviting all of our neighboring Peace Corps volunteers to spend the weekend at our house for a Thanksgiving potluck dinner. We also invited Ma, Dora and Baregile (our language instructor) to share in the festivities, which they found both interesting and highly entertaining. A few of our guests arrived Friday evening with the majority showing up on Saturday and staying through Sunday. We even had a few surprise visitors from across the province! By Saturday morning our small kitchen was bustling with activity. The aroma of Thanksgiving was alive and well in our small South African village, with only one small omission, turkey. Since many of us are vegetarian and the challenges of finding, transporting, storing and cooking a full turkey were a little overwhelming, we decided to skip that small detail. However, the mostly vegetarian spread was as appealing to the eyes as it was to the mouth and we were soon overstuffed (with the omission of our meat-loving South African friends who were utterly dismayed that you could have a celebratory feast without meat).

Although the food was delicious, the highlight of the weekend was the chance to share and reflect with our colleagues. These may be the only people in the world that can completely understand what we are experiencing. We treasure these opportunities to learn from each other and talk about topics such as interactions with the Peace Corps administration, how we are adjusting to our communities, funny stories, language mishaps, successes, and ideas for the future. One topic of conversation that is always brought up when a group of volunteers gather together is corporal punishment. All of us are witness to some degree and form of corporal punishment on a daily basis. Since we were not told how to react or deal with this reality of rural education, there are a variety of different approaches to the issue. Some volunteers are able to ignore the issue, others have chosen to use the first three months as purely an observational period and not confront the issue until they have built relationships with the teachers, some have tried to start non-confrontational conversations around the topic with teachers, and a few have decided to take a firm stand against this illegal form of discipline. Some have gone so far as to threaten to report teachers to the board of education and the police. No matter what our approaches to or beliefs about any of the discussed topics, the act of talking about them with our peers allows us to learn from each others’ successes, mistakes, and novel ideas.

On Sunday as everyone headed back to their villages for the final stretch before the end of the quarter, the challenge of explaining Thanksgiving became much easier. Thanksgiving has always been a time to spend with family and friends, to celebrate each others successes, to support each other, to rejuvenate ourselves in the company of loved ones, and to share in activities (cooking, eating, service, TV, games, etc.) that infuse in us a feeling of camaraderie and joy.

pictures: the spread; our PC family

An African Thanksgiving: November 23

Although we weren’t officially celebrating Thanksgiving until the weekend it seemed as if our schools had decided to adopt the holiday, at least the not showing up to work part of it. Kelli’s back was bothering her, so she spent the morning resting while Joe went into school. After spending a few days researching the EMS (Economic Management Systems) curriculum, Joe was excited to run an informal workshop with teachers from two of our schools. The workshop was designed to give the teachers an opportunity to share ideas, methods, teaching aids and lesson plans with each other in preparation for the upcoming school year. All of the teachers are required by the Department of Education to submit phase, year, and individual lesson plans for each of their subjects. Because many teachers teach numerous subjects, the curriculum has been rewritten several times, and most educators have had no formal curriculum training, this task is extremely daunting for our teachers. It’s a little daunting for us as well, as Kelli put it, “How do you teach someone to do a triple toe loop when they’ve never put on ice skates before?” However, we are excited at this opportunity to use our experience and education – our master’s degrees in curriculum and instruction will be put to good use – and realize that it will take many baby steps to get the teachers comfortable writing their own lesson plans. Although many of the teachers chose not to attend, Joe was happy with the three teachers that showed up and they made plans to get together again the following week.

Our second workshop for the day, ‘Getting to Know Thabo and Thandeka’, was unfortunately cancelled since our schools were pretty much deserted by lunch time. Undeterred, we decided to spend the afternoon at The Project. No matter how frustrated or depressed we may be feeling about our school projects, spending time at The Project never fails to pick us up and remind us of how lucky we are to be spending the next two years living and working in this amazing community. Since Kelli’s back was still bothering her, she opted for passive activities and had a great time teaching the kids how to make their own graph (checkers) boards with cardboard, sharpies and bottle caps and drawing with Linky. Joe amused the active kids with Frisbee and soccer.

Although probably not a big deal to anyone else, we must take some space to congratulate Joe on his soccer victories- his first and potentially last. Although Joe had played soccer in his youth (the position BEHIND the goal) and he was almost as big as the playing field, he was a little intimidated by the small goals and the group of boys who had started playing in the womb. During the game the boys had a great time showing off their dribbling and passing skills, but Joe finally defeated them with a basketball standby: the fake. He delighted in faking a hard kick, waiting for the kids to flinch / duck and then taking a shot at the goal. Worked like a charm and Joe was feeling confident enough after the win to accept a one-on-one footwork challenge from one of the boys. The game consisted of trying to kick the soccer ball between the legs of your opponent. Joe likens the story to the scene in Indiana Jones when the villain swings his sword with great skill before Dr. Jones takes out a gun and shoots him. The young boy danced around Joe dribbling the ball up and back around his body like an elaborate dance. Always the jokester, Joe got a few laughs from the crowd by standing with his legs wide open. Taking advantage of Joe’s silliness, the young boy took a shot. Joe closed his legs just in time and fired the ball right back at the boy, which rocketed right through his legs. WINNER! We celebrated Joe’s victories that evening with some treats from our Thanksgiving package from the Petricks and a game of cards.