Two Year Blues and Dues

This weekend marked a few major cycles. Nine years since 9-11, a good bye parting with Johannes onto Belgium, my mother rejoining me in her motherland and 2 full years since I moved to South Africa. Needless to say, 9-11 was on the back burner of the my mind and the rest of my brain was swimming with the more ego-centric cycles pertaining to my little life. Something like New Year's Day starts looking very small in comparison when such larger circles are in play.

For today's purposes of looking into the greater pluses and minuses of my life in SA, I must make a few lists. Bear with me.
What I don't like about my life in SA and who I am here:
* being far from family; even though I know my "extended" family has been my rock so many times I cannot help but miss the lint in their pockets
* being far from the friends with whom my relationships have been tried, tested and remain true
* being an American in another country
* technology being far too expensive
* the lack of choice in internet, electricity, transport, cell phones, etc; because it is such a small country, there are far too many monopolies and exploitative prices here
* a government that is not organized
* becoming more brash and more direct (well, sometimes good)
* people assuming I speak Afrikaans and am small minded just because I'm white
* always treated by lesser-thans as if I need to be constantly giving hand outs, including adults asking me for sweets
* becoming quiter and more inward because I don't have the friends I need (around me) to talk to about the itches on my mind
* becoming a bit hard and strict with how others live (judgemental)
* potholes and crap dirt roads
* constant road works and streets without signposting
* sun damage to my skin
* race being so prevalent as a way to describe my way of life or what it is I'm doing -- that there's always a need for the distinction of white versus black, or black versus white
* always being different, no matter what race or economic level I am with

What I like about my life in SA and who I am here:
* old houses without electricity just for the sake of an older way of living
* the movement to go slower
* cheap ass tomatoes
* slightly changed accent that confuses people about where I'm from
* I have friends who may not have known me for a long time or what my background is, but they're still prepared to pull out all stops to care for me in good & bad times
* being able to say "Jy ma se poes" or "Jy het baie klein bolletjies" in perfect diction and surprising the daylights out of America-haters
* changing peoples' opinions about America and what types of people it includes amongst the fat, overloaded, twinkie-grubbing ignoramouses who love Bush and watch crap television and hate to go places without their tennis shoes, who detest adapting to understanding foreign accents, in addition to having a lack of imagination and spunk
* being able to man-handle a dirt road even if they still make me grit my teeth
* constantly surprising myself by what I can still learn to eat: fried eggs, instant coffee, pap 'n vleis, elephant and unsalted avocado
* being able to braai without the assistance of a man
* making lots of good fires from scratch
* naturally blonder hair
* an acquired spirit that is constantly being pushed to new limits
* always learning new parts of new languages
* the capacity to be in other people's spaces for long periods of time
* constantly being around children and learning how to be more affectionate (and less germ-scared) around orphans and neglected children who truly need touch
* learning to live with less choice and to be happy with what I have (most of the time!)
* learning to cook more simple food
* realizing that I can be just as happy to see rain as I would be to see snow (after 4 months without rain!)
* amazingly cheap red wine and olives
* naughty South African humor
* being able to "sit" and just enjoy the stars, the sunset, the fire, what is playing out in front of my eyes
* constant opportunities to see beautiful places and walk in them
* the generosity of people to let strangers stay in their houses at the flip of a switch
* finding that I can create my own happiness most of the time (but this is not an easy thing and I'm still hard at work on it)
* learning that "family" is a bigger concept than who you're born to grow with
* always being different, no matter what race or economic level I am with


Should I stay or should I go?I have now booked my ticket for Christmas. The three-week trip home is looming at the front of my mind as a very exciting prospect ahead in my future. I truly cannot wait and 18 months is too long to stay away from those whose love fills your soul.

I didn't want to admit it a year ago, but Johannes did play a very large role in why I wanted to stay in South Africa. Despite all our differences and despite the great distances between us (8 hours of driving) we have managed to grow our love even more. To my own horror, I spent all Saturday a blubbery mess at the cusp of his departure for Belgium. He'll be there 7 months, possibly longer, and it's difficult to predict how our relationship will play out during this time. While I can be honest that I needed to stretch my stay in South Africa to excercise myself within the expanse of a relationship, I also have come to know, love and respect the people and the land I greet daily.

I know everyone wants to know. Am I here? Or am I not. I spend one day at a time and my life here does not get easier. I don't know if it's because I'm a masochist or because this country has seeped too far into my skin. I'm not making any commitments as to where I want to be. I'm just letting my life play itself out and will see where it leads me. On a day like today, where everything seems to be working against me, I'm ready for a zipline across the Atlantic. On other days I am right where I want to be. I think a lot of people my age could probably vouch for the same feelings, regardless if it's because they're still stuck in their home town, faced with dozens of dirty diapers, too many graduate school books spelling out a life of thankless academia, a career that doesn't match their hopes and dreams, an engagement that makes them breathe a sigh of relief and then fills them with fear that they actually have everything they want, or being on the precipice of an amazing opportunity that means leaving what they know and love behind.

I know. Nobody ever said life was going to be easy. If I look at my lists, it leaves me absolutely confused. So rather than fulfill everyone else I know with some false expectation of where I'll be in 5 years, I'm just going to keep going. As long as I'm taking stock of what it is I have, what it is I know, what it is I need and what it is I want and that I grant myself the space to not know all the answers, I'm in an okay place. Wherever that may be on this forgivingly gracious globe.

My mlungu

One of the stories I've been writing in my head for a while now is the story of Sibusiso, a.k.a. Mazino. While I was in KZN I thought about writing his story so many times, from his perspective and his "voice". Admittedly, I was too afraid to try it, nervous that the racial/educational implications were too broad and that it wasn't fair for me to insert myself into someone else's head. It felt too preposterous and all-assuming. However, Sibusiso, as a failing student will struggle to ever tell his story. For now, I'd like to try and imagine it and tell it as he would say it aloud. I'm only sharing his story along the lines I know, which is why I am included:

Every day I wake uhrly to feed the chickens. I eye-ron my school shirt, the one from the day before, hanged cleaning on the line. I walk down the dirt road from the top of Magudu mount to the tar road. Next to Xolani's hut. I try to hike a ride to school. Sometimes it takes long. In a way that's funny, I like these long waits, sometimes. I'm always very uhrly just in case a car comes along. Cousins and bruh-dahs are on the side of the road. They say hello and sometimes I find a stick of cane in the middle of the road to suck on while I waiting. Some days it take too long to hike. It's too far to walk, maybe thirty Ks. I don't have a watch, but if it's too long sometimes I just go home.

At home I'm not much of an anybody. The whole village of Magudu is full of Ntshangases. I'm a Ntshangase. That means I have many bruh-duhs and sis-tahs, whether we share blood or no. I don't have a work and am still going to school so I don't give a money. My real muh-dah lives in Richard's Bay, so I live with my fuh-dah and his wife. She don't like me a lot. She treat me like nothing. I work hard, always doing a cleaning and a clothes washing.

But at school, I'm someone. Everyone knows me for something. I'm Mazino. It's an old short name because I have big teeth in front. I know EVERYone. Everyone thinks I'm funny and they like me cause I always smiling. I don't let anything bother me, some say I just let it roll off my back like anything.

I have 24 years and in Grade 10. I cannot even say how long I been Grade 10 ler-nuh. I could stop school but I stay because it give me something to be doing. Sometime it got really hard to go because of hiking. But Miss Shah-non, she changed these thing.

Miss Shah-non, she's a mlungu. That means whitey. He's the only white person I ever knew up close. She's from America he say but I don't really understand why she's here. She teaches me a English and every day she gives me a lift to school. She drives a big bakkie and he looks so funny, this tiny woman in this big car. In cold mornings it warms me up because the car is warm and I don't have a jacket. Sometimes he is late to school and I wait a long time. I could even hike with other cars, but I wait for Miss Shah-non. He listens to funny music that I never before knew.

I don't speak English very much and his Zulu is missing so we don't talk. Miss Shah-non she tries to learn some Zulu but he has a bad memory and says the words in funny ways. I'm the same at English, I always forget. We work for a long time on the difference between who, where, what, why and when because she wants to get to learn about me more. Sometimes we don't understand eachother at all. I try to teach him Nkosi Sikele i'Africa because she likes hearing it at our school in the morning. I was very afraid to sing for her alone and my voice shake!

I try to clean the bakkie for Miss Shah-non sometimes and make it really nice. He likes that a lot. It's my way to say thank you for hiking me. Miss Shah-non says it's not hiking, it's hitching. Hiking is supposed to be up a mountain? Strange.

Miss Shah-non gives me things sometimes and I tell other children in Zulu. They are a bit jealous that I have a mlungu driving me who gives me things. No one else knows a mlungu either. For no reason she gives me a Steer's chips or a ice cream. She gave me Coke one time and I threw the bottle out the window. He said it's bad to throw out things, that I should burn it instead. I didn't really understand, but I know mlungu people, they like things clean a certain way.

But Miss Shah-non, before World Cup, she gave me a vuvuzela that came for free with her vodka. I think she heard me blow it from all the way on her farm! I hope so. I love Miss Shannon.

He gave me a Zulu-English dictionary for present. I never had one before because they cost a hundred rand. After I got the dictionary I never saw Miss Shannon again. I don't know what happened. She didn't show up when the term started after World Cup ends. I had to hike to school again. When I got there I found out she left for a different job. I wonder was she without happiness? He didn't say goodbye. I hope I know more English the next time we meet. I miss her. She's the only mlungu I ever knew and I don't think I'll ever know another one unless I get a gardening job. Miss Shah-non, I tell him Sawbona when we meet again and I hope she remembers!

Poetry in Motion

On the horizon you are nothing but a sliver.
You surprise me with your curves
your bounty.
As I catch on your wide, toothy lips
you make me falter.
I swerve to caress your contour
but you still catch my rim.
You make me hesitate.
At times you are so vast, you grip my entirety.
At times you are so fruitful, you shake my mentality.
I wish you to be filled, for the road ahead
to be vacant,
And yet you smile every time you cause me
to bite my lip and stutter.
Africa might move ahead in its economy
were it not for you.
Potholes.