I’m sitting in school today grading papers and thinking about how my life is beginning to feel a bit mundane. I’m trying to think of ways to spice up my life while my grade 7B’s are doing oral practice of present continuous, but my thoughts are interrupted as a head teacher strolls into my classroom. Assuming she’s come to yell at the learners or to borrow some kids to do some menial task, I’m surprised when she tells them to carry on and walks up to me with a stern face. “We have a problem, Kabelo”, she says. “The strikers in the municipality are marching and they will give the learners trouble. We must send them home immediately”. There has been a strike going on in a nearby township for the past three days, protesting dirty water. It hasn’t presented much of a threat to Lego, save that it’s blocking the road to town and people are running out of food. I figure the teachers are just using the strikes as an excuse to end the school day early. The learners all start to cheer when I tell them to pack up their books, and I obligingly head down the dirt road towards home. I send a quick SMS to my nearby volunteers to see if they’re experiencing the same thing, only to receive a call from one of them telling me that a shop was burned down in their village last night by the strikers. It looks like my village life just got a little less mundane.
I have had an overwhelming urge to be a recluse this week. Last weekend I trekked out to a town on the other end of the province to visit some other volunteers and relax and stuff my face with pizza in a gloriously air-conditioned hotel. I had my hair cut on a mountain by two volunteer friends and they did a stupendous job. I’m thrilled to have short hair again, as nervous as I was about taking the plunge. A great weekend it was, but I’m hardcore reclusive right now. My mind has been churning with deep thoughts of hurt and love and womanhood and taking care of myself and taking risks. Change vs. status quo. I read a 400-page novel in 2 days and broke out the sketch book and drawing pencils. I feel the need to create. Always the perfect cure to foggy, muddled, swirling thoughts (ah, if only I had a penseive and wand).
Another member of the family has showed up to live with us. Gogo’s younger brother has been booted out of several other sisters’ houses and Julia urged Gogo to take pity on him. I don’t mind him- he drunkenly twittered on and on about his four years of law school and his preference for civil cases over criminal cases. If that’s his version of Old Drunk Man, I’m happy to have him.
I stopped by my friend Wire’s shop today to pick up a thing or two in an attempt to remedy my empty cupboard and fridge. Due to the strike, his stock is also dwindling and we commiserated together about our need to get to town. Somehow the topic of my old host mother came up and he quickly turned serious- “that woman is no good” he says in a hushed voice. “She tried to make trouble with you, but why should anyone want to make trouble with you? I won’t say any more, but it’s good you no longer stay there”. And now I’m remembering the battle I went through to advocate for myself and my gut instinct. I’d better hold on to that gut instinct and keep up the strength to do the same again.
My goal is to produce a few non-me-centric posts- as in, to talk a little about the culture and the lifestyle, which I tend to forget people outside of SA probably don’t know much about, but probably would like to. In the meantime, please don’t forget to donate to the KLM Foundation for the upcoming marathon! I haven’t yet reached my minimum goal so I need your help! See previous post for details.
