Party Hard

Last week was my birthday, and I am now 24 (which is just weird. I'll be 25 when I come home, which is even weirder). I had mentioned to one of my teachers in passing about a month ago that my birthday was coming up while we were driving somewhere. She said, "Oh but you must be at our school that day, we will sing to you!" I laughed, and so did she, and then we kept driving.

So, on my actual birthday, I found myself in a kombie full of grades 4-6 learners on our way to the nearest piano to practice "Funniculi Funnicula." As we pass my key school where that teacher works, I saw her out on the road waving her arms around and trying to flag down the taxi. It stopped for her, and we said hello, and then she talked to one of the other teachers a bit, said something to the kids, and then told me that the next day I had to be at her school to help out their choir (which, incidentally got first place at the competition and will be continuing next week. Awesome.) As we're talking I all of a sudden hear 20 learners burst into:

"Happy Birthday to you, Happy birthday to you, happy birthday dear Nomvuuuuuuuula..."

She had apparently told all the kids to sing happy birthday to me, just like she promised. I cracked up. (Although, some of the fun of having all the kids sing just to me passed when they immediately followed up by singing along with the radio's remix of "f*** you you ho." Seriously, wtf Africa).

Anyway, I figured that that was my birthday sing along and that things were all taken care of again until next year. So, the next day I wandered into my key school, where all of the teachers were acting...a bit shadier than usual. I was constantly deflected from the office, told to go hang out in the grade 7 class (where, when the teacher dissapeared for the 3rd time in 15 minutes, I spent an hour or two playing Anagrams and Hangman with the kids). Despite the fact that I was specifically there for a choir practice, the choir didn't seem to be actually practicing.

Finally, at about 11, one of the teachers called me. "Nomvula, come here, we are having a staff meeting." I walk into the classroom, and there were all my teachers sitting in a row, my host parents up front, a giant pink sparkly cake (I immediately though of Emily) and the words "Happy Birthday Nomvula Sambo/Rebecca!!!" written on the blackboard with pictures and multicolored chalk. They had thrown me a surprise party!!! There were speeches, candles, singing, and even a gift. I'll be honest, when it was my turn to give a speech I started to cry a little.

It was so amazing, not only that they would take so much time and effort to do this for me when I don't even know what I've done for them yet (my favorite line from a speech: "Nomvula has done so much for us, I can not even list them all one by one" while I thought to myself, "funny, neither can I.") but because for the very first time I felt like I was being seen as a person. They weren't celebrating the white person's birthday, they weren't just happy that I was there because I'm different, they were throwing a party for my birthday, me as an individual person whom they like on a personal level. I know volunteers who have been at site for two years and still don't feel that way. Some people feel like they are just dolls, without dimension or feeling to the people around them. But now, with only 8 months on site under my belt, to at least a few people I'm just me. Still a white me, of course, that will never go away I think, but at least me.