Christmas Day

Normally Joey and I would have spent Christmas buying things for people that don’t have real meaning, racing from family to family (4 gatherings in three states), opening hordes of gifts, wrapping/ripping/tossing tons of paper, and eating a feast at each place. And probably showering and washing hair daily. A lot of that seems so wasteful now. I have even more respect for my sister-in-law Ally’s newsprint wrapping paper and handmade gifts. We take so much for granted.


All week we’ve asked the children and adults that we’ve connected with what they are doing for Christmas hoping that we could tag along to one of their family gatherings. Almost all of them looked at us strangely and said they would be at the village center. A few have travelled a distance on foot, bicycle or in rare cases a car to see family in a surrounding village. But the vast majority spent Christmas day in the village just as they would any other day. The villagers are protestant Christians. They converted a century ago or more and they take their religion quite seriously. They maintain their tribal traditions, but also attend church service, listen to Christian music and pray to God and Jesus. But on the most important of Christian holidays there are no feasts or gifts.


Maybe it is a cultural difference but certainly it is a difference in priorities for what little disposable income is available. I’m not sure they even have an equivalent term for disposable income. We certainly missed our families on Christmas day and couldn’t skype with them as planned due to a slow connection. But I must say this is one of the most special Christmases that we’ve ever had. We spent the day at the center with the kids and visiting with Chief John, Sulume and the ladies. We had traditional African meals just like other days. The time we spent with the kids was very special. They were so happy and wishing us a “happy Christmas”. It was really cute and a lot of fun.


On Christmas night and the following night we had parties at the center. All the kids were tucked away at home and the adults came for some fun. We had Hansas and Brutal Fruit drinks, listened to loud house music, and talked at length asking any sort of questions about each others culture and traditions. In that moment we weren’t Americans or Ndebeles. We were just friends sharing a drink and a chat. It was excellent.


Both nights we had awe-inspiring thunderstorms with bright streaks of lightening, loud claps of thunder and no electricity. We made due with candles glued to plates with hot wax and carried on with our carrying on.


We learned so much from the Ndebeles…I’m certain we learned more than we taught. We were reminded that water is precious. We learned that if its yellow let it mellow, but if its brown flush it down. We learned that nothing is garbage – newspaper, soda caps, and boxes can be recycled into learning, fur and art for the kids. Music transcends continents, cultures and generations…John Legend, Beyonce, and Jay-Z to name a few favorite artists of both our cultures. Some symbols are internationally known and accepted…the thumbs up, “say cheese”, “ahh” after cool drink, and the “guchi, guchi goo” tickle monster works on all children. And finally, we learned that kids are the same no matter where you are. They are curious, beautiful, intelligent and lovable and I grew very attached to them in only a week. And boys are generally as naughty as girls are good.


When we left the village I shed many tears and part of my heart will stay in the village even though my body has moved on.  We will stay connected through letters, email and hopefully another visit just now. 

The Little Ones

Mpo and the kids

Noko

Initiation

When we arrived in the village the initiation of the boys had just taken place and the initiation of the girls was in progress. This is the quinceanera or bat mitzvah of the Ndebele tribe when the kids become men and women. But much, much more intense. For the boys initiation school happens every four years. The boys leave the village for the mountains for three months. Yes, three months. They make their own housing, cook their own food, and survive in the bush. They also get circumcised. The rest of the tradition is quite secretive and only meant for those who have been through it. The tradition is much more medically sound today than in years past, but there is still a risk given that the surgery is not done in a sterile environment. Many boys have not survived initiation due to infection or loss of blood. When the boys return to the village there is a parade and celebration. Their skin is covered in ash that looks like white paint to symbolize purity and they're decorated in extravagant beaded head dress and traditional blankets. If a boy were to not make it, the ceremony is the first time the mother would know because her boy would not return from the mountain.

The girls initiation is much safer in comparison. Sulume invited me to join part of the girls initiation and it provided a window into their culture that I valued tremendously. Girls stay in their family home for four weeks or so. There are many ceremonies and lessons on how to be an Ndebele woman during this time, which are also only meant for those who have been through the initiation.l The gogos started in a circle outside the girls' home singing and chanting. 

Initiation Part I

I followed the gogos into the small main room of the girls’ home and sat on a straw mat. The women were chatting in Tswana and all I understood were a series of “Mmmm” agreement sounds. Hot homemade biscuits and tea were served with heaps of sugar and milk. They like it sweet.

Initiation Part II

Suddenly one of the gogos made a call slightly louder than the rest and all the women responded with a chant that sounded like it had come right off the Lion King on Broadway. The songs that followed were rhythmic and beautiful with a lead chant and responsive harmony. A couple of the women began to dance a unique traditional dance pointing a wooden baton, striding side to side and skipping on a certain beat. It was exquisite and mesmerizing.



I felt so lucky to have been included in this sacred ritual and thanked them many times before heading back to the babies in the village center who were waiting on me to return. Ntokozo even came to the house and asked for me to come back. So cute.

Priscilla and Shelly in Initiation Blanket

Volunteer Work

Our goals for volunteering only became clear to us after the fact. We knew we wanted to help people and experience the culture in an authentic way, but we didn’t really understand what the meant because we didn’t know the people. Marnie and Jeremy at Voluntours (www.voluntours.co.za) developed several ideas for us and gave us tons of recycled materials with which to work. We had food boxes, newspapers, travel magazines, and the staples – tape, glue, markers, paper, crayons and glitter. For the smaller ones we focused on math, spelling and arts and crafts. For the older ones, we focused on sustainable projects that could generate income or improve quality of life. The world cup is coming in 2010 and the tourists will be ready to buy souvenirs, so we tried to give some ideas.

We used paper mache to create bowls, beads for jewelry, cover bottles for vase or candles and painted the objects in the traditional Ndebele style. The kids loved the hands on creation technique and loved painting even more. A couple of the bowls and bottles were painted beautifully and with practice could be sold to tourists.

Paper Mache

Mmakgashi, T, Kagiso

The boys enjoyed creating Tippy Taps, which are milk jugs converted into water taps that conserve water. This was very relevant because there was no running water in the village and washing hands sometimes falls in priority to drinking water and can increase illness. And the kids’ hands were constantly dirty from playing baseball and arts and crafts. We hung two tippy taps on the front gate and the kids could rinse off their hands after the potty, a messy play session or before lunch.


The gogos make beautiful beadwork and we tried to think of ways that they could capitalize on this skill. They make cute little bead dolls that we taught the kids to sew onto regular clothes pins, which are readily available. They could be used to hold down a table cloth, for chips or anything else you want to clip. We also told gogo Sulume out wine glass charms as another income opportunity. I think the tourists would snap these up and they could even end up on the shelves of Pier One or World Market with the right connections.


The girls and a few boys constantly asked to learn math and English. We practiced spelling, writing, phonics, shapes, addition, subtraction, multiplication and division. I tried to teach them to read a clock, but the concept of time is very different in the village and the language barrier was too high. My favorite activity was when the children wrote the story of what they want to be when they grow up and how they would achieve that. Neo wants to be a teacher. Thaimo wants to be a police officer. Kagiso wants to be a journalist to tell the story of the village people and to help them.

Kagiso & Neo

 Kagiso and Mmakgashi Practicing Shapes

At the end of the day we would have clean up time. The kids would race to grab the broom to sweep and rags to scrub the glitter and paint off the primary colored kiddie tables and chairs. They would take the rag from my hand and carry out my task. When we said “thank you,” they would reply “pleasure” (pronounced /ple-sha/) with a huge smile and I think they truly meant it. What kid ever enjoyed clean up? These kids are good, good through and through.

The Village Elders

The village elders were amongst the most interesting people that we've met. Gogo Sulume is a larger than life figure and the only gogo who speaks English well enough to have a conversation. She has raised all ten of her children in this village. At the end of a long day with the kids, we walked to Sulume’s house to learn from her and watch her make beautiful bead creations. She sits outside her small concrete thatch roofed house at a table and beads from early morning to late at night. We had a beer and she had a cold drink and we talked and listened. She made us feel included in the village by sharing her culture and traditions with us. She even included me in the female initiation ceremony which is meant to be kept within the village women. More on that later. The other gogos were equally as intriguing.

Sulume

Gogo Joanna

Joe, Shelly, Gogo Sarah

Chief John is the leader of the village which means he organizes and leads the traditional ceremonies. He drives a taxi for a living and works from 6am into the night despite being the chief and in his later years. The chief made us feel at home in his village by stopping by the center to visit us daily and inviting us to his home. We sat on his front porch and his wife brought out butter cookies and ginger soda with brandy. It was surprisingly delicious and refreshing. The chief has a beautiful garden with various flowers, plants, fruit trees and a pumpkin patch. He is a very generous man and gave us a pumpkin for Christmas. We promptly ate it for dinner and it was the best pumpkin we’ve ever had.

Chief John

Pastor Peter is another great character who we met on the first day. He is one of the village pastors and we got a great sample of his sermon. He is passionate about the people in the village, their health and maximizing their opportunities for a fulfilled and successful life. We learned so much about the people’s struggles sitting with him and it allowed us to better serve the community during our stay.


And finally there were the ladies who were with us everyday helping, cooking, eating with us and looking after us: Elizabeth, Mama, Connie, Dinah and Esther. Elizabeth and Mama have big personalities and we had a lot of fun with them. They carried out her duties with toddlers attached to their back with a cloth or towel and pinned in the front. These women could cook! I had no idea what to expect from African cuisine and was pleasantly surprised that I loved it. I cleaned my plate every night and that’s generally not my style.

The Village Kids

Day one we tried to herd the cats and get all the kids to do the same thing at the same time. Not going to happen. Then we tried unsuccessfully to have “stations”. That’s what we did in Montessori school, but I’m sure my teachers spent hours planning out the lessons and I did not. At the end of our first day the village multicenter, we were all covered in paint from top to bottom. More paint was on us than on the Christmas cards the kids were decorating. But the cards were beautiful…almost all of the cards were to Mme or uMama, both words for Mother in Tswana and Zulu. The kids would bring the cards to me as they finished seeking an assuring nod or pat on the back. I could see the pride shining through their eyes and big smiles.

When the kids were in the groove, I decided to sit down and paint with them and I painted a big green Christmas tree and began to decorate it with glitter and sequins. I looked up a few minutes later and all of the kids had drawn their own version of the same Christmas tree. The yearning and talent for duplication these kids have is unsurpassed. Mind you none of these children had Christmas trees in their homes. Or Christmas decorations. Or presents with bows. Or Santa. They had food on the table and the lucky ones got a new outfit as that is the priority. This is only partly due to economic conditions and partly due to the Ndebele culture and tradition. You should not be sad for them because they are not sad for themselves. They are quite happy little children…happier than many American children I’ve met that have all the material things you could ask for.


I love all the children we met in the village, but a few carved out a big space in my heart. There was Ntokozo who is a little boy about age three. Everyday he would run into the center, stop abruptly and give me this look and smile that made me want to scoop him up and give him a cuddle. His reply to everything I said to him was “yes” in a quiet, cute little voice. I soon realized he had no idea what I was saying and began to teach him a few words and signs. By the end of the week he knew Shelly (instead of lekgoa), please, thank you, juice and the sign for food. He is mischievous, but a very good boy at heart. One day he spilt a bucket of water and by the time I found a rag and came back to clean up he had used that water to wash the floors on his hands and knees and I had to physically pick him up to get him to stop.

Ntokozo...How cute is he?

There was Noko, Bungi, Gnani and Smgelie who are also about age 3 and travel in a pack. They are the cutest little girls with bright eyes and smiles. They came to the center everyday and loved arts and crafts and legos. Joe put playdough in front of them and they had no idea what to do with it. They stared at it for some time until we realized and helped to spur their creativity. They loved to attach themselves to my leg, hold my hand and touch my hair as it is quite different than they’ve ever seen before. Gnani's name is pronounced with a click between the G and N and it was fun to learn how to include clicks in words.

Smgelie and Shelly

There were a group of girls including Kagiso, Neo, Mmakgashi and several others whose names are above my skill with the local dialect. These girls begged to be taught…”We want to write the English”...”We want to do the maths”. Mind you it is Christmas break from school and these kids are begging to learn. It was touching to see their enthusiasm and natural abilities.

Noko, Shelly, Bungi, and Gnani

Buidling a Village from Recycled Boxes

There were a pack of boys…Thepiso, Thabiso, Thabung, Thaimo, Mpo, Tabo, Mseyo, Little Thabung, Sagat, and so many others ranging from about 6 to 13. They picked up baseball in a matter of minutes and many were hitting it out of the park by the 3rd at bat. Thabung, Thaimo and Mpo were big helpers translating and taking charge with the kids.

The Boys

Mpo, Julius, ?, Thepiso, Thabiso, Tabo, Thabung

Joe, Sagat, Little Thabung, Thepiso, Perry

The boy we worked with most frequently was Fence (pronounced /fen say/). He was the one boy in class who acts out and is naughty naughty. There is always one. Same same. We found that if we worked with him one on one he was attentive, focused and responsive. But in a group of kids he would hit, steal, and generally cause trouble. We wonder what hurt happened in his life to make him so angry and defensive. We tried to help him by showing him love and including him in our work in special ways, but there is only so much you can do in a weeks time.

Fence

KB, short for Kabelo, was our right and left hand. He is 18 and recently went to initiation school where he became a man and was give the new name Thulare. He managed the bar in the village center and was always around to help us with the kids, clean up, translate, really anything that was needed. We helped KB prepare a CV (resume) to find a job. We hope to help him research opportunities to fund a university education.

David was quite the character. He is about 23 and in his 2nd year of university. He is quite smart and speaks impeccable English. It takes him two hours and two buses to get to his university. He is tenacious and committed in his studies and helping to care for his family. (Ntokozo is his nephew). He is also a rockin dancer and loves his house music.

KB and Joe

David

 

Meeting these kids opened my eyes to the inequities they face. They are very intelligent and capable of doing great things, but they don’t have the same opportunities that other kids have. They don’t go to English speaking schools, but much of their country deals in English. They aren’t growing up with access to computers and the internet. They don’t assume they will go to university funded by parents or student loans. Many don’t even know how to apply to university or get government assistance, which many would surely qualify for.  Joe and I both feel a strong calling to help them...to connect them to opportunities so that they may realize their fullest potential.

Life in the Ndebele Village

Ndebele Mapoch Village

The village is set back far from the dirt road and is centered around a multicenter that was built by the tourism office. There are two dirt lanes – one for the Msiza family and the other for the Buda family. Each lane has about 10 homes on each side and a large tree in the center for social gathering. At the end of the Msiza lane is the chief’s house and at the end of the Buda lane is the lodge where we stayed that is made up of 8 rooms and also built by the tourism office. The village is literally made up of these two families…everyone is related. There is no concept of cousin – everyone in a generation are brothers and sisters. Nieces and nephews are treated as one’s own children. The familial culture of the village creates a safe environment in which the children can run wild once they hit age 3. All the village adults are watching out for them. They travel in packs around the village and you can hear them before you see them. They jump rope with a scrap of rope found on the road. They play cards with 10 ratty cards left from an old deck. They draw something like hopscotch in the dirt. They join hands, sing and dance, something like ring around the rosies. They are smiling and happy and the most polite, helpful children I’ve ever known. I was blown away by these kids.

Bungi and Gnani

Neo and Girls Jumping Rope

Ndkozo, me and Fence

The village felt completely safe and like a second home within a day. The ladies were helpful and inclusive, the men were curious and talkative, and the kids were as affectionate and loving as they come. The villagers were protective of us, making sure we felt comfortable and enjoyed our stay. There was always someone there watching over us.


The lodge room was very comfortable with two twin beds pushed together, a stand up shower, toilet, sink, and even a small tv. The village did not have running water when we were there. We were meant to have a bit of running water at night, but it only came every few nights in the form of a trickle. Most of the water came from a water truck that came by the village every few days. When the truck came rumbling down the road all the women and children scrambled to get their buckets ready. Once the truck filled the buckets they were carried back to the houses mostly by women and children. I tried to help and I couldn't even carry the bucket a few steps. The gogos were carrying a bucket in each hand. They are tough cookies. We had electricity most of the time, but it went out several times because of the thunderstorms or other unexplained reasons.

Water Truck

The ladies would put a bucket of water in our room each day and we had an urn to heat it. We heated the water each night, transferred the warm water to a bucket the size of a laundry basket. Now the process for washing could take multiple paths. I prefer standing in the bucket, soaping up with a washcloth, then rinsing with a small pitcher. We were advised that you could stand outside it and lean over, but my back isn’t as strong as the local women. I only washed my hair once during the week because it was a whipping. I did this by placing the tub on the toilet and leaning over it. I was exhausted at the end of the process and decided I would survive a la naturale. Plus, the water didn’t come in the taps for several nights and the water truck didn’t come either. I couldn’t justify wasting whole bucket of water on my hair when others wouldn’t have any water to drink. It amazed me how significantly my priorities shifted in such a short time.

Our Bathtub

 

The ladies took turns cooking us breakfast lunch and dinner. Breakfast was cereal, toast, yogurt and sometimes a fruit. Lunch was bologna sandwiches with lettuce, tomato, cheese and margarine. Yes margarine. That’s what is eaten on sandwiches. The kids got peanut butter and marg or apricot jam and marg. We would buy fresh bread from the village shop each day for the kids. The shop is a 6x6 tin 3 sided shack filled with a few necessities. When we passed out the sandwiches the kids went absolutely nuts grabbing and shouting. Most of them get decent meals at home, but some do not. We learned to sit the kids at the tables and hand one to each of them. We had 10 cups to distribute the bucket o’ juice that we made each day to the 30-50 kids. Dinner was the most delicious. The ladies are very good cooks. We had chicken each night – fried, grilled, baked in amazing spices and juices. We had rice or mealie (kinda like mashed potatoes, but made with corn and stickier), yummy spinach creations, sweet pumpkin, and a saucy tomato based vegetable dish that went over the rice. It was all new flavors, combinations and textures and was soooooooooooo good.

Delicious Ndebele Meal

Each day both adults and kids would disappear at some point in the afternoon and come back washed up and in clean clothes. It seemed to be a common time to bathe. On Sundays the families do big meals, much like the meals we ate each night.


The society is patricarchal, but they could have fooled me because it seems that the gogo’s (grandmothers) are running the show. They sit in their yards making the most gorgeous beaded bobbles like Christmas ornaments, coasters, trivets, dollies, vases, jars, etc. These are sold to the Legkoas (pronounced /kuas/ meaning whities) when they come to the village. The daughters run the tourism program doing the tours, cooking, and minding the lodge. The women bring in good income when there are tourists. The men seem to sit under the tree or a fenced off yard that makes the men’s club drinking beers. Many of them have jobs that take them outside the village, but many of them start drinking beers at 10am. I know this because the bar is in the multicenter and I was always surprised when they popped in for a large bottle. The bar’s close vicinity was convenient for us at 5pm when the last of the little ones had run off. Each day after managing these kids we earned a cold brew.

Gogo Sulume and Daughter Minah

The village has its own economic and legal system albeit very informal compared to “outside” as they refer to the world outside the village. Each week the men meet under the big tree in the center of the lane and sort out finances. They join funds and pay bills as a group. They also pay for or loan money for large expenses like funerals and home repairs. If there is a dispute, the men will handle it within the village and will only contact the police if it cannot be resolved within the village first.

The village and surrounding areas are suffering the loss of many family members far before their time. There are various causes of death, but the main cause is HIV. It is a cultural taboo to discuss medical conditions or to take AVRs that help keep many HIV positive people alive. Many of the village people take what the public officials say as truth and unfortunately they information they give is incorrect. The most recent minister of health said that HIV can be treated with olive oil and beetroot. Coincidentally, she recently died. The villagers tend to go to the village doctor who practices tribal medicine, not western medicine. The village doctor may tell an individual infected with HIV that they have been cursed by another villager instead of sending them to a medical doctor. It is common for the men, married or not, to have many girlfriends and the men do not like to use condoms. If the women suggest using condoms they may be accused of being unfaithful or overridden. Because of this, men are bringing HIV into their homes, men and women are dying before their time, children are left orphaned, and wives left to fend for themselves. In this small village area there were 11 funerals in the month of December. The health authority does not provide condoms to the villages and condoms are not carried at the local village stores. Most of the villagers do not have access to money or transport to get condoms.

On that sad note I will sign off and will post more about the characters in the village tomorrow.