Everybody's Sister Has a Crush on Morgan

Its now officially summer break (though I just can’t bring myself to call any vacation that encompasses Christmas that – I’m sticking with “December Holiday”) which means that there’s not a whole lot going on in any of my schools. Mostly the teachers are just marking exams, filling out schedules (which is apparently pronounced ‘shed-ules’ and is essentially a list of all their learner’s grades) and I am desperately trying to find something – anything! – to do with myself. Last week I went to a Grade R graduation, and today I’m going to another. Last week’s was so adorable that it was nearly pain-inducing, and I’m hoping for similar things today. Its essentially a kindergarten graduation like you would see in the states (I think I vaguely recall having one myself) but everybody gets very into it! 3 or 4 of the teachers wear official graduation gowns, and all of the little kids wear caps and gowns as well. Then they all introduce themselves: “hellomynameissfisoiwanttothankmymommydadmybrothersmysistersandevvvvvvverybodywholovesme.” And there are speeches, recitations, poems, skits, gifts, you name it. I saw that many of the moms were in tears – this is a big deal. My personal favourite was the traditional dances performed by the little girls and little boys in turn. It was too cute, especially the little boys since I think (but am definitely not sure) that the men’s dance mirrors a sort of stylized fight. The little boys had such serious looks on their faces, and they stamped their feet down like they meant business. I was very impressed, and even a little bit jealous that despite everything I know I will have in life that they may never have access to…they still have this. They know where they come from. They have a traditional culture that is still alive and well and, well, kicking.
That’s something that I think is lacking in the US, and that a lot of people are trying to make up for. We’re an immigrant nation, which is wonderful and I think where the large majority of our strength comes from, but immigrants have to grow new roots to replace the ones they’ve left behind. Do I speak a word of Irish, Yiddish, Italian, Russian? No. I don’t really know my family’s history, or what our traditions were, or honestly anything to do with how things were more than 50 years ago except for what I’ve researched myself. I certainly didn’t grow up with this blend of old world and new that seems to be nothing special for all of the people in my village. Where one day they can sit down at a restaurant for a burger and coke, and the next be cooking samp over an open fire. Where learners put on a traditional dance while their mothers ululate with pride, and then turn on some 2Pac and do the latest dance moves that they saw on Jikamajika .
Its something very rare, and it seems like it should be (in my eyes at least) a delicate balance. But to the people around me its not. Its just the way things are. My house is half rondavale (traditional round hut) and half western. We have an electric stove and a solid collection of kettles for cooking over the outside fire. Everybody speaks in a mix of shongon, siswati, and english -- whistles and clicks and "hey, how ya doin'?" Is some of this just me romanticisizing an extreme poverty? Well, yes. But I think its also the recognition of something valuable, and rare, and worth holding on to.