| Editor-in-training’s (her mom) note:: I am learning how to enter Angie’s blogs correctly – I just noticed in the last two that the right side was partially cut off. I think it’s when I include a picture. I will try again without any and see how it goes…thanks for your patience! April 23, 2010 Socializing is mostly done outside, but depending on the intimacy or honoring of the guest, it can be inside. With family members or neighbors visiting casually, we sit outside watching the village happenings or work side-by-side doing gardening, washing, or cooking. If a guest comes, maybe you go inside for tea or coffee. If an honored guest is visiting however, you are brought inside to a nice place to sit while the host leaves to prepare a plate of food or to purchase a cold drink for you. This took me a few visits to figure out. I was invited over to people’s home, sat down and left alone for 30 min. to an hour. Only then was I was served a plate or drink and sometimes the host would leave again while I ate. At first I thought it was because we didn’t speak the same language and they only had enough food to feed just me. Now I understand the customs better by watching fellow Zulus treat each other the same way. It is a luxury to sit inside comfortably, eat a full plate of food and relax. It is a luxury to have a full stomach and to compliment them on how full you are afterwards. Also, the use of the ground here is broadened. Sitting is mostly done there, therefore plates and cups are also set on the floor. There are absolutely no carpets here. The dirt is swept from it, bare feet walks on it, animals poop on it, buckets for washing on it, straw mats for sitting on it…dirt is not dirty – it’s just part of the blending of inside and the outside. Once this blurring of the line was understood, I more easily accepted things that I admit really grossed me out at first: the military-like lines of ants that crawl on my wall, the cock roaches that make their appearance at night, the mosquitoes that hit my bare butt while using the outhouse with the roaches that I push off the seat before I sit down. The flies still annoy me and the animal poop is everywhere (but after all, it is great compost & fire-burning material!). After a day full of working outdoors, studying and visiting neighbors, I’m happy to close the door to my hut and sit down to read, write letters or listen to music. This is determined by what source of energy is available – a single light bulb (electricity), solar (charged battery), or candles. I haven’t started practicing yoga here yet. During the day, I walk one to four hours to visit family, colleagues or friends at their family compounds, so I’m pretty tired when I return. Family compounds are like small communes. Zulus don’t purchase land, instead they receive permission to live on a selected one-fourth to one acre from the local “Inkosi” (chief ) and reside on this lot. There are several huts or square mud/cement structures that are gathered in pods, each housing great-grandparents, their children and their children’s families. They share stacks of firewood, a “crawl” (where animals sleep), latrines, sitting rooms and communal kitchens. Most compounds are very clean with cut grass, swept dirt paths connecting the structures and fences around the piece of land. Each day the animals are herded in and out of the compound and return to their designated family on their own each night to be fed. Surprisingly, aside from the way the mud homes are built and the sharing of amenities, it reminds me of an American cul-de-sac. People step outside to chat and say hello, yet respect each other’s space and then retire home for dinner. Inside their respective huts, the walls are painted, pictures are hung, large beds and armoires, couches, refrigerators, ovens, TV’s, DVD’s and sound systems are all set up and arranged. Most Zulus take local transport to work each day dressed in freshly-pressed casual wear with polished dress shoes. Fashion and clothing are a sign of respect here. Even if they only have one to three outfits, they are washed and pressed daily. Consider what I wrote in the first few paragraphs and then in the last few. How maybe we picture Zulu living like primitive tribal-cave dwellers. Yes, mud housing with thatched roofing can seem to portray this, though inside, the people who live there live just like us. In the mornings, they get ready for school or work, head to town, make a few calls on their cell phones and come home to watch TV and eat dinner with their families. The way this is all done does look very differentfrom our ways, yet both of our hearts, desires and struggles are so similar: the upkeep of health, the support and care of family, surrounding ourselves with our community of friends, the continual practice of spiritual peace and growth into our highest selves. Last week I met with the Inkosi and his tribal council members. I introduced myself (in Zulu!) and then had a translator share more about what the Peace Corps is all about, thanking them for welcoming me into their village and then presented a small gift for my gratitude. It went well. One of the community members told me the whole village feels responsible for my safety, comfort and well-being here. And that if they failed in this, they would be letting down their responsibility of representing South Africa. I suppose it would feel the same if a South African came to my home town of Carnation for two years. I received the highest of compliments from my counter-part Mcebisi yesterday. He told me that how I show respect in my day-to-day interactions with the community, is like I was born in South Africa. Sometimes I feel the same, though as I work with my hands & spirit while living here in Isandlwana, my heart and feet are still deeply planted with you at home. April 27, 2010 I told Bheki “Ubabe wami e Melika Usebenza egardini” (my father in America works in the garden) and wants to send us seeds. He was very excited about this. We agreed to experiment with other kinds of crops, although it’s difficult to convince others to try new food or veggies – for once they are grown, they may not sell as well. But we already are trying basil leaf (I got seeds from another PCV here) which he’d never heard of before. The aloe plant grows like a weed here. Yesterday I took a four-hour “class ” with Bheki on how to harvest this for traditional healing methods. It was truly amazing! As I walked around the village carrying two huge spiky aloe arms, then later with a large bowl of its white-harvested meat, a few Zulus approached me in curiosity. First they were like, “Silly white American, are you going to cook and eat that?!”, then I explained it’s for medicine. They were so shocked that a common “weed” could be used for this. Mama M (the grandmother of the compound I live on) called me a “Zulu doctor” and asked if I would teach the family how to use it. Of course! Many die here from wound infections, digestion or respiratory problems that can easily be treated with this plant. Of course, I cannot administer the treatment, but I can show them how to use it and they can then decide for themselves. It’s kind of funny – here I am writing about the aloe vera treatments and I can anticipate questions of what does this have to do with HIV outreach, community development or working with orphans and vulnerable children? Many site placements are so rural that they differ greatly from other PCVs who go into an office daily. We were trained on capacity building, fundraising, organizational leadership, etc. for the first two months. In Isandlwana, I’m finding more inquiries of basic needs like nutrition, food storage/spoilage, gardening methods, crafts, infant health, and reading or writing English. I think my best title here may be “Community Outreach” because this is how I’ve spent my days so far, by visiting community members, talking and getting to know each other, and gleaning from their local knowledge. Slowly-by-slowly making my presence known, respectfully integrating, then learning what they feel would be helpful for the community. I am not here to impose an agenda. Any changes made will be chosen by them, not me. I do not enlighten others, but remind them what they already know: you are important, your life is unique, your dreams are possible — HOPE HEALS POVERTY. I will let you know about what would be best to send to support the kids and village here. It’s difficult now to give or bring material items. I have to be careful about what new things I introduce into the community. What I’ve found most beneficial, without disturbing or changing local culture, is the gift of my knowledge, time and presence. Your support of me – letters, phone calls with their encouragement and updates about family and friends back home, give me more energy to give here. Today I am wearing a “new” sweater from my friend Khabo. She was concerned I was cold and gave me one of her sweaters last night. For the little amount of clothing they have here, I was honored and respectfully received her kind gift. It’s been a difficult exercise accepting gifts from the Zulus. They have so little and what they are giving me is a lot for them. To refuse the gift would be dishonoring and really would take away their blessing of the “gift of giving”. I ate diner in Khabo’s family’s hut; we sat around the fire in the center, the door open to the full moon, eating cornmeal, potatoes and fish with sweet tea… |
angela dora
