Journal Entry 28: A Day of Change Called Wednesday

Yesterday, Wednesday, I rolled out of bed at 6:45. I was going to be a few minutes late for school, which starts at 7:30. Instead of wandering in a few minutes late, I decided to go to the pre-school that opens at 8 and drop off some items my friend, Giana, had sent me.

The pre-school teachers were happy to see me, though they gave me a hard time about missing the pre-schoolers’ graduation last year. I told them I had already left for vacation, which I had, and that I was sorry that I missed it. I meant to send word that I couldn’t attend but I just didn’t get around to it. They were okay with the explanation.

They said how much they appreciated the teaching aides that were sent from America, and the role I played in helping to setup the exchange. The parents and chief of the village, they said, expressed their appreciation at the graduation, too. It was nice to hear.

Then I presented them with the items Giana sent. One of my favorite aspects of doing this is that the teachers are invariably as excited and curious as the kids. For instance, when I presented them with a few ‘interactive’ books their eyes lit up when they pulled the tab to make the duck drink and rubbed a flower’s Velcro-middle. When we opened the 24-set puzzle, of course we put it together; they asked for the recipe for Playdoh; and they started using the flash cards with some nearby learners. These were new and un-chartered waters.















The preschool is nice to visit, first and foremost because the teachers are committed and motivated. That it’s small (there are only two teachers) and not associated with the behemoth Department of Education or insular unions makes it a lot easier to organize, manage and partner with.

From there I went to two of my other schools. Neither principal was present: one had left school to attend a farewell function for another of my principals and the other left school to organize for the upcoming “sports day”. I said hello to teachers at my first school, had a bite to eat with teachers at my second and made my way to the third school where said principal was retiring.

On the way I found a ride with an Afrikaaner who works for the company that is building a tar road through our town. (Dirt roads are in abundance; tar - or paved - roads are not.) About fifteen soccer balls have been punctured in the past two months because of the long thistle-bushes that ring our soccer field. My co-coach, Lucky, had asked me to write a letter to the towns Civic Structure who, in theory, would then give it to the road construction company asking them to demolish the brush with their tractors. I suspect the letter would not have found its intended destination. Serendipitously, I got into the truck with the companies manager, Davey, whom I had never met before. He told me to meet him two days later on the side of the road where he picked me up and that he’d arrange for a tractor to remove the bushes. I thanked him, said I’d see him Friday and made my way to the party. In America, road-side rendevous are rather ridiculous; in Africa, it’s business as usual.

The party was a lot of fun. The principal, Vho Masia, was retiring after 40 years in her profession. It was still difficult for me to justify the children missing school that day and that all the principals from the surrounding area were too (not to mention a teacher from my first school who was helping the ladies cook), but I just reminded myself that this was Africa, not America and left it at that.

The event was typically South African: long speeches and great dancing. Watching the children perform brought a smile to my face, as did seeing Vho Mpondi, my favorite teacher at the school. Besides being a great teacher she’s also very motherly towards me and boisterously calls out “Nwana wanga!” whenever she spots me, which means “My child!”

I also bumped into the Circuit Manager, who told me the doctor he knew and whom I would like to speak at the still nascent HIV/AIDS awareness day we’re planning would like to meet with me.

And I got a chance to speak with the principal from my first school, Vho Raphalalani. Last week we made plans to travel to Thoyondou today, the old capital of Venda, to meet her friend, Martha, who’s a radio personality. Martha wants to help me promote and organize the HIV/AIDS awareness day. Not surprisingly, Martha’s plans had changed since last week and Vho Raphalalani had forgotten about our commitment. Change and amnesia are a hallmark of life in rural South Africa. But to her credit, she promptly called Martha and rescheduled dinner and a meeting for Friday evening.

We also planned two other initiatives: first to meet with the School Governing Body at 9AM this morning (Thursday) to discuss getting shelves for the library; and to shorten each class period by five minutes to give us an hour at the end of the day to help teachers organize the staff rooms and place teaching aides in their classrooms. Teachers have poor organizational skills and the staff room reflects that with their materials strewn about, and after a full month of school all the classrooms at the school are still virtually barren.

After eating, the event finally ended at about 3:15. I began walking the two miles home but was picked up by a car filled with principals and brought back to my house.

I was supposed to play in a soccer game, but apparently it was cancelled because my friend who drives me to the field in Vuwani, a town about twenty minutes away, never called. Instead, I rested at home for a while, read, and studied for the GREs, which has recently supplanted my time spent playing the guitar. After two hours I got up to go for a run.

I ran by the soccer field to say hello to Lucky and let him know the construction company said they would take down the bushes this weekend. A game was starting, so instead of doing the four miles my half-marathon training-program called for (the race is on March 31st!), I decided to jump in. The two sides had bet some money (14 Rand or about 2 USD) and I wanted to help my side win it to help pay for the tournament we were planning to enter this weekend. In fact, we had entered the tournament because the league we had entered – and had already given 500 Rand to (about 75 USD) – only registered two teams. We have yet to get our money back, but we think we will.

I scored (and hit the cross bar twice!) but it was only good enough for a 1 – 1 draw. Though we should have scored often, at least we wouldn’t be losing any money.

The day ended nicely back at home. My host sister had made lasagna, my favorite!, which we have about once a week as a change from the vuswa (a thick porridge) and vegetables or meat we have every other afternoon and night. I must be becoming part African; if I don’t have vuswa for a few days I begin to crave it!

That was yesterday. Just a typical African day when things happen, and then fall through, out of nowhere. On the whole, things probably balance out, but it often feels like I’m going nowhere slowly. I think a lot of Peace Corps volunteers feel the same way, and not just in rural South Africa.

This morning, the principal, Vho Raphalalani, was late for work because her daughter was ill. When she called the deputy principal she forgot to mention shortening the periods and when I brought it up with him, he said he didn’t have the authority to do that. She did get to school by 9AM, but too many of the SGB members didn’t show up for the meeting that was scheduled so it has been postponed to tomorrow. When she called, one of the SGB members was in Johannesburg, which is a five-hour drive from here, but he didn’t call to tell her he wasn’t around.

Two hours later the principal left school. I don’t know why. She didn’t tell me. Teachers leave school a lot. So, alas, we won’t be organizing the staff rooms or putting up teachers aides in the classroom today.

Tomorrow, however, I do have four meetings scheduled: we rescheduled the SGB meeting for 9AM; my roadside rendezvous with Davey, the manager of the construction company, at noon; Martha and Vho Raphalalani in Thoyondou in the evening; and with a lady from Old Mutual, also in Thoyondou, at “somepoint” during the day. She has meant to meet with the principal from my second school or myself for the past three months; having a ten-minute meeting with her is the crux of a 20,000 Rand donation.

How will this all work out? Lord knows! It would be easy for me to say that in Africa, things never work out. But that’s not true. Things sometimes work out. They just never workout like I expect them to.

Some of our plans may materialize but some I can virtually guarantee will fall through. If nothing else, the excuses are always exciting. Maybe aliens will abduct my principal or Davey will be on a different roadside or the SGB members will be in Botswana and I’m beginning to suspect that the lady from Old Mutual doesn’t really exist. But, as my friend says, in Africa, time isn’t money. Time is time! But alas, even there too, I suspect, change is already on the way.