Maybe this week could have been worse, but I have an hard time imagining it.
Thursday was the Swearing In Cermony, with our Country Director, US Ambassador to SA, and the founder and CEO of Operation Hope to inspire us. It was a really amazing day, followed by a night at the backpackers. What should have taken 2 minutes to assign us rooms ended up in a 2-hour-visit-3-different-hostels monstrosity. Dinner in Pretoria helped balance out the mood, and a hot shower was much appreciated. The bus ride early the next morning gave me an up-close-and-personal interaction with a creeper guy. A boring 6 hours later put me at a bus stop to get picked up by 2 women and a man who couldn't stop asking me for money to start his business. He was subtle about it, so I felt good just pretending not to understand.
I moved in my new home on Friday. My host mom, Violet, wasn't quite ready for me, and I had to call my Peace Corps Director to explain a few things to her. My furniture isn't here yet, thank you Department of Education, so Violet loaned me a bed. She'd bought me pink curtains and a yellow pee bucket, that was nice. She's also loaned me bedding, a rug and some pots until I get to town to buy my own. Her grandson, Lebogang, lives here too, and as long as I wanna watch cartoons or play cards he loves me. Basically we get along splendidly. He also walks with me to the Tuck Shop (small convenience store), water tap and to school. I don't think he minds so much, but I think the other kids tease him about me.
So I almost immediately had to try and explain that I like my personal space and I'm not sick if I don't spend my every waking minute in someone's company. I practically have to push people out of my room, everyone is curious and everyone loves to visit.
Saturday: Violet takes me to town, I buy a small fridge (to be delivered on Tuesday), a small stove/toaster oven, some food, flatware and buckets to hold water and wash in. Violet would have helped me unpack, but luckily she had a meeting to go to. But she did come home and move my empty boxes to make them into tables for me. She knows the perfect way to arrange my room for me. It took me an hour to convince her I wanted my box/table in this corner, yes, now and forever, this corner.
Sunday: Violet's church is the ZCC, or Zionist Christian Church, and they are kinda kooky. I'm not sure what to say because I haven't had to go to one yet and only heard the stories from other PCVs, but she came home all excited that the Church is coming here, to our house, next Saturday to sing and dance all night long. Literally from like 10pm until 6am Sunday morning. I've already told her I'll meet everyone and stay for a few songs, but I'm going to bed my midnight. She seems okay with that.
Monday: My Middle School Principal, Grace, picked me up for school. I was intimidated to meet all the teachers, but I quickly figured out that my Primary school is awesome, and the Middle school is in poor shape. At the primary, all the teachers say hello to me and seem passionate about their school and their jobs. Not that they are always in class when they should be, but no one is in the villages. At the middle school, it's a whole different story. The teachers don't like or respect the principal, the buildings are run down and the learners (students) are out of control. That's largely because of the learner-teacher ratio, 870 kids to 14 teachers (including the Principal who doesn't actually teach any classes). So the teachers don't care so much, don't often go to class, and the kids all fail. Literally all but 1 learner failed the national exams in June.
I also found out that a teacher at that school is in some legal trouble, but I've been asked not to give the details because my school and village could be identified if anyone cared to check it out. So the school has major problems.
Tuesday: My Primary Principal, David, tells me about the possible protest tomorrow. Last time, recall, I couldn't even get into my village because people were blocking the roads with burning tires during the toytoy. This time they say they will hijack the educator's bus and force the teachers to go protesting to Mafikeng with them. Also tomorrow is a big memorial service for the 9 teachers from across the Province who died in a car crash recently. So possibly no educators will be at school, but David will call me in the morning to confirm.
At home, some men have started to install my burglar bars, and they are painfully slow at the job. Honestly I think it should have taken 5 or 6 hours to install bars on 1 door and 2 windows, but it took 4 whole days here. This is Africa. And my fridge is not delivered.
Wednesday: David sent me an SMS (a text) that it would probably be best if I didn't come to school today. As I was doing my happy dance for a day off, Violet walks over and says we must clean. So I help her move all my furniture, scrub the floors, and organize my things. I had to insist she leave so I could tidy up some in peace.
The burglar bar guy was outside working on my door bars and nearly burned down my room with the sparks from his work, I had to stomp out embers on a bag of plastic bags. I'm terrified to not be here when he's actually working inside on the windows. But at least my fridge came today. Violet did have to help me make the box into a table and decide where to put it.
Thursday: Nothing actually happened in school yesterday, I could have came, but safety first, I guess. At the morning faculty meeting David says a 4th grade boy has died and the funeral will be on Saturday. He and I will go, and some of the other teachers. I observe a 6th grade class at the primary school in the morning and move over to the middle school in the afternoon. The 9th grade math teacher started her lesson, then handed me the book to ask if I knew how to solve a problem. Of course, I said yes. Wrong answer, she tells me to finish the lesson and leaves the room. Somehow the bell rings early and mass chaos ensues, the kids all run around the rest of the afternoon, only about 12 of the 90 kids in my 9th grade math lesson attend.
A group of 8th grade girls asked me for homework help after school and proceeded to follow me home. Apparently they were super close to the previous PCV in this village and expect the same kind of relationship from me. I offered them coffee, because that's the norm in South Africa, and we sat on the floor to play cards. One girl washed the dishes even though I said she shouldn't. I've seen the way South Africans wash dishes here. I don't think their English is good enough to understand my OCD, so I let her wash and I washed again later. They asked for food, I said I was a volunteer without a salary and couldn't afford to feed the children. I ran them off at 5.
My mom had been in my room to wash the blankets. She has spare keys, I'm considering getting a “lock block” to prevent any more surprises. The burglar bar guy left early, and another one came to start painting. It's not done yet, but he painted anyway. He insisted on a cup of tea and was a little put off when I only laid out the ingredients instead of making it for him.
Friday: The Primary school starts with an emotional hour long Setswana meeting. The only English in the meeting is stuff like “an injury to one is an injury to all,” “it is not safe,” and “then we MUST.” I'm a little nervous at this point. In his office, David is going to explain everything to me. He starts off with “I don't want you to worry, Gina, I'm sure you will be completely safe.” Not at all reassuring. He continues to explain that some small group of people in the community want him fired. He says they are all bark and no bite, and that the Tribal Office and police already know about it. His staff is extremely supportive of him, passionately against that group of haters. So hopefully it will all fizzle out. Until then, David's trying not to be found after school hours, not even sleeping in his own bed. Are you reassured yet? Meetings are planned all day with staff, the School Management Team and the School Governing Board. I sit in on one. One is enough for me.
In a 6th grade math class that I'm supposed to be observing, the teacher starts off strong, gives the kids a few problems to work in class, and leaves. They finish quickly so I try to keep the peace by giving more problems. I help a couple learners but most just pretend to be doing their work. The school “knocks off early” to let the choir and drum corps practice for the funeral tomorrow.
I walked over to the middle school to check out a couple of classes, but they've knocked off early too. It's barely noon and the kids are out of school. They are preparing for a school sports trip tomorrow. I leave. That same gaggle of middle school girls follow me home again. They've grown, now we're up to 6. I try to say that I have a lot of things to do at home, that maybe my burglar bars aren't finished yet, that maybe they should go home and prepare for tomorrow, but they don't take the hint. I thought South Africans were really indirect but these girls didn't care. On the way home, I understand enough of their Setswana conversation to hear “I want chocolate” “cook food” and “cakes and cool drinks.” Great. The burglar bar guys immediately send those girls with the wheelbarrow to the water tap. I try to intervene but the painter guy stops me to explain that even though they are “done,” he'll be back Monday to finish.
I know these girls want stuff from me, so I make them sit outside. Most don't say anything to me. One starts petting my hair, so I take it down and let them play for a few minutes. We spend some time playing the most complicated game of Hop Scotch I've ever heard of. We play in the dirt with broken glass. The ringleader has put herself forth; because of the relationship she had with the previous PCV, she thinks she's entitled. She walked into my room to get water without asking. Asked me to make her some food to take with her tomorrow on her sport trip. Wanted to come visit me this weekend. Hoped I'd let her use my laptop and give her some of the chocolate she found in my fridge. I disappointed her in everything. And my rules about visitation will be much more strict starting next week.
So yeah, great week, huh? Tomorrow I'll go to the funeral of the 4th grade boy. I hate funerals. Especially one for a child. So far week 2 isn't shaping up all that great.
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