There you go

Today I learned that, in siswati, the word for "why" and the word for "story" are the same. How completely perfect.

Binary

Last week, on wednesday, I sat in the classroom of one of my favorite teachers (at my least favorite school) and found myself starting to cry. It was just one of those days, where my sheer inability to change anything got to me -- the excusess, the apathy, the fact that I was watching the exact same scenarios play out that I have been for a year with no appreciable change or improvement. Except maybe for the fact that now I just rationalize what I see more.

Today, on wednesday, I again sat in the classroom of another of my favorite teachers (at my favorite school) and again I started crying. This time though, I was watching one of the teachers who had put together Likusasa Letfu conduct a session on gender roles with every grade 6 and 7 girl in the school as part of the weekly club that they planned back at camp. In front stood the four girls who had attended, helping out Violet (the teacher), leading discussions, and generally showing off all they'd got. I've never been more proud of anybody in my life, I don't think.

I'm pretty sure I have a great job.

More Photos

There are new pictures up on the snapfish site from mine and Roy's vacation, including some shots of my village and house. And lots of animals from Kruger, too. Enjoy!

No Excuses

Recently I've been teaching grade 6 and 7 English after hours at one of my schools. I really enjoy it, partially because I like working with the kids, and partially because it helps me feel productive. I'm operating on the exact opposite of most South African teaching methodology, that is very little lecturing from me, and a whole lot of activity from the kids. (Well, as little lecturing as possible from me. I still love to talk more than practically anything else out there). I figure that since my siswati would be a whole lot better if I actually practiced it, whats going to improve their english much more than just practicing it as much as possible? I figure that I'm providing facilitated practice with a native speaker, as a supplement to their regular classes, which honestly aren't all that bad. Mostly.

Anyway, all of that is nice, in an "I'm being productive in the Peace Corps" sort of way, but honestly who cares about that? Here's the good part:

Today in grade 7 we were doing some writing, so I thought I'd bring in some music to listen to while they worked. After class some girls stuck around to hang out with the exciting and seemingly newly accessible American. (In fact, I think I'm slowly beginning to drift away from 'exciting white lady' and closer to 'exciting really weird lady.' Whatever, I'll take it). They told me that they'd like to dance a bit, so I bust out some Big Bad Voodoo Daddy, a little Bon Jovi, and then...then I hit upon the Flogging Molly.

Today I instigated a Flogging Molly moshpit in a grade 7 South African classroom. Life is good.

#50

So the other day I almost got a puppy -- his name would have been Max -- but then I didn't. Now his name is Bobby.

I wasn't (and still am not) planning to get a puppy, understand. A few of my friends have, and while I am very jealous of them and their pet-having fun, I also feel like I am very, very bad at taking care of things when left to my own devices (witness: Sigmund the Beta). Plus I'm leaving in a year (!), and what would I do with it then? So I know, puppy = bad idea.

However. When I showed up to school one cold, windy morning I started hearing the saddest yelps ever the moment I walked in the front gate. They were coming from a tiny little puppy of the standard village mutt variety. He couldn't have been more than 8 weeks old, his eyes were barely open and I could hold him in one hand, and he was just crying and crying. He was cold, he was sad, and children were yelling and poking at him. What was I supposed to do? I found him a box and brought him into the office. (While the clerks made jokes about my new 'child'). Then I decided that he might just be lost and have a home to go to, so I brought him and his box back outside, along with a jar of water and some of my lunch later in the day, on the theory that if he wanted to go home he could, and if he didn't have a home, well...

I spent my whole morning chasing mean children away from 'the' puppy, as in my mind he slowly morphed into 'my' puppy. I started planning how I would take care of him, how soon I could get him to a vet, who I could get to puppy-sit when I went on vacation, all that. In other words, over the course of just 5 hours I went from "pets = DOOM" to "I have a puppy!"

So imagine my shock and desolation, then, when I walked out of the office at about noon to check on my puppy -- and he was gone! Box and all! I immediately dropped what I was working on (a very challenging and productive game of solitaire, I believe) and went on a puppy-finding mission. After much diligent reconaissance work, ("What are you looking for, Nomvula?" "My puppy!" "Oh...he's over there.") I discovered that one of the Grade 1 teachers had decided that since he was outside, he was fair game, and she'd been wanting a dog for a while. I was very sad at the loss of my potential puppy, but she would of course be able to take care of him much longer (if not better!) than I will. So it is all for the best. I suppose. I made her promise to take good care of him, and to give him a good name. (Bobby. Not bad. I guess.)

The end? Not quite. The next day, the puppy's (original) owner called the school and demanded his dog back.


And that was how I almost had a puppy.




Also, remember this post: http://slainteafrica.blogspot.com/2006/12/renovations.html ? Yeah. I finally got around to the painting party. All I need now is a rug, it will really tie the whole room together.

12 down

Today and yesterday I did the (in)famous corporal punishment workshop with 8 of my foundation phase teachers. I say infamous because it's something that nearly every volunteer does at some point or another, but that doesn't exactly mean its all that succesful. But its sort of like the pit toilet and the mocking and the muggings. Sort of a rite of passage. (No, I have not been mugged. Though many would add to that: "yet")

So, we do the workshop. And I ask them to come up with 2 types of positive reinforcement that they could use in their classroom. My favorite answer, by far:

"Well, instead of yelling: 'Hey Stupid! Stop making noise over there!' we could use their name. Then they will feel proud that we know what their name is."

Yes friends, its been one whole year in the peace corps well spent.



(Also, Molly Weasley is my new hero.)