Foundations

"The successful man is the one who is able to lay a firm foundation with the bricks that others throw at him." --Proverb

As I've mentioned previously, the three schools where I work as a Peace Corps Volunteer are BIG schools. Chumana Primary School (my key school, the one where that proverb is written on the wall of the principal’s office) has 870 learners and 23 educators; Makgubuketja Primary School has 810 learners and 23 educators, and Dumazi Primary School has 480 learners and 13 educators.

During the last school quarter I spent weeks--literally, weeks--just sitting with each educator individually for anywhere between twenty minutes and two hours, interviewing them, finding out what they want help with. I find that interviewing teachers and listening to their needs is a useful tactic here; instead of me being this outsider intruding on these peoples' work spaces, I'm learning from them, and coming up with helpful suggestions and solutions to THEIR self-admitted problems. Change shouldn't be some externally applied force; it needs to be self-implemented for it to be sustainable.

One of the strengths and weaknesses of my duty as a PCV is the general vagueness of my job. There are certain areas where we are supposed to assist our schools--i.e. mathematics, science, and English instruction, outcomes-based education, etc--but aside from that, the job is what we make it. There is a lot of room for us to customize our term of service based on the individual needs of our schools or our own preferences or initiatives. It's amazing to me to hear the variety and scope of all the things my fellow PCVs are doing in their schools and communities.

I call this vagueness both a strength and a weakness because it allows us the customizability to really attack the problems of our school and make our own assessments of what we need to do. (and, as common knowledge dictates, people will always be more willing to change if they've had a hand in making the changes themselves) I call it a weakness because the scope of the work is HUGE. It can be overwhelming, and it can lead one to think, "Where do I start?" I know this because I've been at points where I've been incredibly grateful for the flexibility in my assignment, and points where I've been frustrated and overwhelmed. Sometimes those emotional peaks and valleys even happen on the same day.

The flexibility adds to the project's sustainability, which is the most important thing in any sort of aid work. (apart from those special situations that Dr. Paul Farmer would refer to as "Areas of Moral Clarity") What's the purpose of building a library if nobody wants to maintain it? It will fall into decrepitude and books will gather dust on their shelves. Likewise, what would be the usefulness of doing something at my schools if nobody wants to go along with it? That's the question that we as PCVs are faced with.

The interviews served as a great way to meet the teachers and to hear their needs. Conducting the interviews was time consuming, though; it took me almost the entire month of May. I did get some useful, if predictable, answers though. Most teachers want help with lesson planning (the Department of Education is putting a lot of emphasis on ensuring that teachers write up lesson plans), teaching style ("How do you teach in America? Can you do a demonstration lesson so I can see?"), RNCS (the Revised National Curriculum Statement, the framework that South Africa has in place to implement Outcomes-Based Education), IQMS (the Integrated Quality Management System, a self-evaluation tool that the Department of Education uses, which many educators are having a tough time with), fundraising, classroom discipline, etc.

There's a lot to do. And, while the Department of Education is trying to make changes, I don’t think they’re doing a very good job. Let me give you an example: for year and years (generations perhaps), the norm of classroom discipline was beating. Teachers carried sticks; if you misbehave, you get hit. If you're late, you get hit. And so on. So, when the government made Corporal Punishment illegal during Mandela's presidency, many teachers were stuck in a Catch-22. They had NO idea how else to discipline learners. The government said they couldn't hit them, but didn't give them any alternatives. Those who stopped hitting were left with no methods to discipline, and their classes were out of control. Those who kept hitting were breaking the law. Even to this day, many teachers are still using their sticks, not because they like to hit children in some sort of sadist way, but because they have no idea of what else to do. And that's just one example, indicative of a much larger lack of professional training.

In addition to assessing the situation at my schools, I have also started doing some work, which has been coming along very well. I've been giving some workshops to school leadership and will soon be expanding my scope to include more teachers. In my interviews and observations I also noticed some serious intra-staff conflicts at one of my schools, with cliques forming and the school situation becoming incredibly tense. It was a bad state of affairs, and to some extent still is. So, my next workshops will be on conflict management and resolution. I'm optimistic that they will serve to at least normalize relations at that school.

I've also branched out of my three schools and into the community. At one of the local high schools, the Grade 12 Mathematics teacher killed himself in January, and for over two months the Grade 12 Maths class was stuck without a teacher. Eventually the physical science teacher took on the class in addition to his regular class load, but the class is way behind. They have their Matriculation exam in October, and they need to be brought up to speed. The school asked for my help, and so I went a few times after school hours in June, giving 90-minute calculus lessons to a class of 35 Grade 12 students.

They're currently in the middle of pre-Matriculation trials, but once they finish I'll be going back to continue my calculus lessons. That task may not be sustainable, but it is incredibly rewarding. It did give me one of the best moments I've had in a school setting here. I was in the habit of giving weekly homework, but at the end of this lesson, I said, "Good news class! I'm not going to give any homework this week!" To which the class replied, "What? That's not good news! We want homework!" Granted, I didn't end up giving them any homework because I didn't have any prepared that week, but hearing their eagerness to learn and their desire for work really gave me a sense of satisfaction that most work doesn't give.

Up until now I haven't been doing much work on the HIV/AIDS issue in my community. I know that the disease is a problem not only for South Africa as a whole, but also for my village. I visited the local clinic in my village and from speaking to workers there, I've discovered that 1 out of every 4 HIV tests conducted at that clinic turns out to be positive.

Knowledge is a huge problem in the area, and I'll illustrate using an example. I was at a SADTU (South African Democratic Teachers Union) workshop in May. The topic of the workshop was HIV/AIDS education; it was meant to help teachers approach their schools to introduce HIV/AIDS education for their classes. At one point, a teacher asked "Is there safe oral sex?" and one of the facilitators (a facilitator, not a participant) replied, "You mean, like when a man puts a condom on his tongue?" I mean, wow. Wow! My work is cut out for me!

I am starting soon, though; I'm currently in the process of setting up a Life Skills Training Series, in which I will be meeting with high school students weekly after school with intensive training on HIV/AIDS, safe sex, responsible behaviors, peer pressure, and assertiveness. I've seen that this sort of venue for addressing Life Skills can be effective; my friend Caitlin recently did a similar training to high school learners in her village, and was very successful. I was able to visit her and witness her Life Skills Training first-hand and I was impressed.

My goal is to train a committed group of high-school learners to be peer educators, and also to have them start going to the primary schools and speaking to Grade 5, 6, and 7 learners on a semi-regular basis, because by the time learners are leaving primary school, many of them are sexually active. And, at such a young age, they are at the highest risk to make bad choices.

I have been keeping busy, but life here is all about down-time; time at school, sitting in the principal's office with nothing to do, hours spent sitting around in the afternoon at home, etc. In all of the downtime at home in the evenings, I got to spend a lot of time with James, my host brother who I've previously mentioned. He was incredibly bored as well; he's used to big-city fast-paced Jo'Burg life. But, he was stuck in the village, recovering from his bullet wound. We had some great discussions; it got to the point where I could understand what he was saying just by watching his lips move (since he couldn't speak). James is one of the very few South Africans that I've been able to have such in-depth discussions and debates with, and it was great to not have to hold back in the name of "cultural sensitivity" with him.

Since then he has had some more operations, though; he's talking again (very softly though) which is great news. He is also back in Jo'Burg and has returned to work, so he's not around the house anymore.

I'm reminded of one conversation I had with him in early June. We were debating a number of issues--the outcome of the Jacob Zuma trial, Thabo Mbeki's call for a woman president, etc.
The conversation shifted and we started talking about work ethic and change. James basically said that, in large part (but not totally), my job is hopeless because teachers have a low work ethic; teaching is just a job that pays the bills, as far as they are concerned. Many of them never even wanted to be teachers in the first place, but due to limited job opportunities (during apartheid, job opportunities for blacks were limited to teacher, police officer, nurse, and a very few others) many were forced into their jobs. They don't want to do their jobs well; they don't want to change. They won't change, as far as James is concerned. He says the reason they still like me is because I'm "new" and "exotic"--an American! He predicts that the friendliness will fade, eventually, and I will see a lot less cooperation.

He gave me the example of his dad, Ben, my host father, who was sitting at the table grading papers as James and I were debating. Ben, a Grade 12 English teacher, is hard-working as far as South African teachers go. James told me to ask Ben how many friends he has among his coworkers at school. I asked Ben, and he said "Not many." I asked why, and he shrugged. James told me to ask Ben if it was because he is a hard worker. (the reason I was relaying messages was because by that time I could understand James better than anyone else, pretty much) I asked, and Ben said yes, that is the reason. He said that his coworkers think his hard work makes the rest of them look bad, and they resent him for it. As James and Ben framed the situation, it seemed pretty bleak, and I was left for a few minutes to think about it. Eventually I said:

"No, it can't be hopeless. It can't. I have to believe that I'm doing something good here, that things can actually and WILL actually change. I mean, if people won't change, then maybe we just need to get tougher on them to keep them in line."

At that point, James looked at me and mouthed these words: "I tried doing that at my job. It didn't work; all it ever got me was a bullet in the neck."

That ended the conversation; it silenced me. How could I possibly argue with that? I've never been friends with anyone who'd been shot before, let alone someone who was the victim of an attempted pre-meditated homicide, and by his own coworkers! Sobering stuff, I must say.
Soon after that conversation, the second school quarter ended, and I was off for three weeks of vacation. My friend Caitlin and I went down to Pretoria; we were there for almost a week. When we were there, it was COLD. Late June / early July is mid-winter in South Africa, and the temperature would drop down to one or two degrees C at night. It even slipped below zero during that week when we were there. In a country where the concept of indoor heating basically doesn't exist, that is freezing! I'd have to sleep in a fleece and 3 blankets. When I came to Africa, I'd never expected to be freezing; isn't it supposed to be hot here?

I was down in Pretoria for two reasons. One of those was to do some work at the Peace Corps office; I wanted to research conflict resolution materials, in relation to the conflicts at my schools that I mentioned above. The second, more important, reason that I was in Pretoria was because I was anxiously waiting for my Mom and sister to arrive into South Africa. Ever since I had first learned that they were planning on visiting me, I'd been excitedly waiting for their arrival. And, by some crazy coincidence, they just happened to be on the same incoming flight as Caitlin's family.

So Caitlin and I went to the airport in Jo'Burg and met our families. It was great to see my Mom and my sister, Sara. I took them up to my village; we spent two nights in my home with my host family. I took Mom and Sara driving around the Limpopo province, from the savannahs around Polokwane to the lush hills near Tzaneen to the mountains of Venda and even to my old village, Gonani, where I introduced them to Max, Happy, and Hlaluko. It was especially great to see Hlaluko again. Mom and Sara both enjoyed seeing my villages; Mom especially enjoyed it. I think that using pit toilets traumatized Sara, though!

I put in a lot of driving during those two days; our rental car covered a lot of ground. It felt fantastic to be driving again, and adjusting to driving on the opposite side of the street was a lot easier than I had expected it to be.

After the villages and our tour of Limpopo, our next destination was Kruger National Park, one of the best safari parks in the world. Mom and Sara came in with the mental image of safari parks as places where you go around in an open-roofed 4x4, driving off-road through endless plains, with nobody else around, alone with nature and abundant wildlife. They were surprised to learn that their preconceptions were not true in Kruger, which is full of tarred roads, where we could take our own car, and where thousands of other tourists were on the roads looking for the same things that we were. We did manage to see a lot of wildlife though: wildebeest, vervet monkeys, baboons, ostrich, kudu, impala, zebra, giraffe, elephant, buffalo, white rhinos, black rhinos, and some hippos too. We didn't see any of the big cats--lions, cheetahs, or leopards--but they are notoriously difficult to find.

The highlight of my vacation, however, was Cape Town, a two-hour flight from Jo'Burg. Cape Town is quite possibly the most beautiful city I've ever seen, and it really reminded me of the best parts of San Francisco and Rio De Janeiro. The weather was nice; it was still a bit chilly, but not nearly as cold as the rest of the country.

Throughout my time in Cape Town, I had to keep reminding myself that Cape Town is a part of South Africa. It looks nothing like what you would expect of Africa; in fact, it looks much more like a coastal European city. Also, Cape Town is a very diverse city; it's one of the few places where black people are not the majority. To be honest, it felt a little strange not to be surrounded by black people.

Cape Town is also much more integrated than other South African cities; it didn't have the de facto segregation that I've observed in the rest of South Africa. I saw a lot of interracial couples, which was awesome. In addition, I hardly saw any poverty or signs of poverty in or around Cape Town (apart from driving past the townships and settlements of Khayalitsha and Gugulethu). It was actually a bit of a culture shock for me to see such a lack of poverty. Knowing that my village and ritzy places like Clifton or Muizenberg are in the same country is a bit hard to reconcile.

The views in Cape Town are stunning; I can't tell you how nice it was to wake up in the morning, walk out of the front door, and go running on the slopes of Table Mountain. The views alone made it worthwhile; I don't think I could ever get bored of runs like that.

We also went up Table Mountain; the views from the top are breathtaking. We took the cable car up, but I really wanted to hike down, so we did. Bad idea! I made the descent pretty easily, without any real difficulty, but sometimes I forget that my mom is almost fifty years old and not in the same physical shape as me--descending down a STEEP, 1000-meter mountain (without a single railing) might not have been the best idea for her. I enjoyed the stunning views on the way down, but Mom and Sara were really struggling. From that day forward, Sara began referring to Table Mountain as "Broke-Leg Mountain."

Another worthwhile experience was heading down to Simon's Town and Cape Point, both on the Cape Peninsula. Boulders Beach, in Simon's Town, is one of the very few places in the world where you can actually get up-close with penguins, in their natural habitat, without any barrier between you. It might actually be the only place outside of the Antarctic where that is possible, actually. Further south, we reached Cape Point, the southernmost tip of the peninsula. It is the point where the cold Atlantic current and warm Indian Ocean currents meet. It is a gorgeous place, and the drive there, along some steep, sheer cliffs, was exhilarating.

We also went to Robben Island, which was quite an experience. We were supposed to leave on the 11 am ferry, and to board at 10:40 am. But at 10:40, when we didn't start boarding, one of the ferry employees informed us that we were waiting for someone who was going to board the ferry first, and also going to disembark from the ferry first. I looked over and saw police officers with bomb-sniffing dogs on the ferry, and my curiosity was piqued. Then I saw bodyguards, military generals, an entourage dressed in khaki, and a man in a suit walk by. As I discovered, that man in the suit is actually the President of Tanzania, home of Lake Victoria, the Ngorongoro Crater, the Great Rift Valley, Zanzibar, Mt Kilimanjaro, and the Serengeti. Tanzania, the country I had initially hoped I'd be assigned to for my Peace Corps service.

I couldn't help myself, so when we were on the ferry, I approached one of the bodyguards and asked if I could possibly speak to the president for just a minute or two. I wanted to say hello to the man, to say who I was and what I do, and to talk to him about some of my plans for after I finish Peace Corps service (which will hopefully bring me into close contact with many African governments). I was expecting the bodyguard to immediately say no, but to my surprise he said that he'd see what he could do.

A moment later, one of the president's handlers approached me. He got up in my face, very close, and said, "Well? What do you want?" I told him that I'd like to speak to the president for just two minutes if at all possible. He gave me a long, steady look and said "No. No way. It's not at all possible." And then, just like that, he walked away. It was a very amusing encounter.
Robben Island was a very sobering experience. It's an island that served for many years as the apartheid regime's most high-security prison. In that way, it's similar to Alcatraz, but much farther away from the mainland, and the water between Robben Island and Cape Town is teeming with great white sharks.

Robben Island was the infamous prison where political prisoners like Nelson Mandela, Walter Sisulu, and Ahmed Kathrada served out their prison sentences. Our tour guide was a former ANC political prisoner who served over ten years on Robben Island, and who now lives on the island giving tours for a living. We got to visit different areas of the prison, including Nelson Mandela's cell. Like all prison cells in Robben Island, it measures 2 meters x 2 meters square, with only a bucket and three blankets, without even a mattress! One blanket would serve as a "mattress" of sorts, one as a pillow, and one as a covering. The cell had no glass on the windows; just a hole in the wall with bars. On a rainy day, the cell would get wet. I can't imagine how cold it must have been in the winter with just one blanket on top of you to keep you warm.

It was sobering to see the evidence of some of the horrors of the apartheid regime at Robben Island. I see its lingering effects every day in my village, and so visiting Robben Island was an especially poignant experience. But, as those former political prisoners who serve as our tour guides say: "Forgive, but never forget."

After Cape Town, Mom and Sara flew back to New York, and I returned to my village. I've gotten myself back into the daily routine, and I feel like this vacation and the family visit served as a refresher for me. I feel re-energized and ready for the next 15 months.

That's all for now. Take care.