Boys to Men

Amasokana (boys from initiation)

According to tradition every three to four years, during the coldest winter, the Ndebele King approves the boys to prepare for manhood. This initiation referred to as Circumcision School takes place in the mountains and the boys will gain community respect once it is completed.

For four months the boys stay outside their parent’s home in an unknown rural area. Without the assistance of a nurse, there the boys are circumcised. It appears the families are aware of the risk that surrounds this procedure since it is in these early weeks that the boy’s families gather for their first thanks giving at the village’s chief, who is said to be protecting their sons. The fathers and mothers sing and dance for the chief. Unaware if their son’s have made it through these first challenging weeks, the fathers kick up dust with their grand warrior dance moves, holding spear and shield embellished with animal skin.

New research identifies that earlier circumcision reduces the risk of HIV transmission (at birth circumcision would be ideal), but it is unlikely that this will influence parents to challenge tradition which may result in a lifetime of scorn from the community. An increase in community member HIV/AIDS education has however influenced more sterile procedures performed. This year, 20 cases of death caused by infection during the mountain school were reported in a neighboring community, this number is significantly less than past years. As time advances, controversy surrounding the perpetuation of these sorts of cultural practices will increase. More recently, communities are allowing a community specialist from the clinic to join and assist the boys, although custom recommends otherwise, Health officials are strongly suggesting these alternatives.

This year’s winter months ranged from 30-50 ® Fahrenheit. Wearing animal skin on their waist, in a thatch home they have built, the boys warm to a night fire. Here daily, the boys are given lessons in life skills and learn cultural stories, dances and songs. When the boys return, the family will watch the boys perform their practiced chants and moves, in exchange for small coins. The community keeps the stories living by passing its tales verbally; the lessons have no written directions, but are systematically delivered to the boys by respected community men who come to present their specialization. Some find these teachings crucial to a young man’s development and therefore an adequate substitute for the three terms the boys are away from secondary school and living in the mountains.

Each family designates when their boy will attend Mountain school which is typically around the age of 17, but lately boys as young as 14 years have urged their parents to go away. Some people suspect that this rise in early age initiates correlates with the increase in young pregnancies. Once the boys are made men they soon tend to take on sexual relationships, sometimes in the form of rape, a sort of conclusion to their initiation.

The boy’s mothers are very concerned for their boy’s long time away in the cold. What helps the parents to cope is a weekly prayer gathering. Mothers traditionally shave their hairs and then keep their head covered for the duration of the boy’s manhood celebration. Good friends assist in the preparation for these gatherings at the home, and the parents will dress in traditional garb, the mother’s heads holding heavy traditional jewelry, ibhande, and everyone will enter the home singing and dancing and then, drink tea and eat cakes.

As the boys’ return from the mountain approaches, the males begin revealing their dances. Girls and young children playfully search out the location of their homes and go to try and sneak a look at their activity. Staying some distance away, wearing face-paint, the males perform; making sure it is difficult for those who have gathered to distinguish family.

When the men finally arrive, they have much to celebrate. They return to their family with a new name and are wearing their own set of beading and traditional outfits. First, the new men greet their home and the homes of neighbors with song and dance, later they will welcome and warn the cow they will in the afternoon slaughter. The mothers awesomely lilizela yelp in delight, communicating their happiness to once again see their family.

The elder men are found gathered with their initiation cohort reminiscing while taking traditional, sometimes pineapple flavored twala beer. The ladies are grouped separately preparing salads for the meat feast and help each other to plenty of cake and tea breaks.

In turtleneck, tights, wool coat and cap, I stroll to school. Gloves and scarf are finally optional and by lunchtime’s raised sun, I can tuck my coat into a Shoprite environmental initiative grocery bag. As I am planning for the final dry cleaning of my winter wool, I take time to reflect on this cold season’s exclusive cultural events. Cutting hair and cabbage, baking cakes in preparation and each night being serenaded by the boy’s hymns, I have gained an understanding of the beauty of this culture.

Meditation Retreat, about and around Cape Town

At the start of July, I ventured to Cape Town, where I celebrated a very special time-my one year anniversary for living in South Africa. I attended a 10 day, silent meditation retreat and explored the big city on the coast.

Once my flight arrived in Cape Town, I took a scenic drive in the mountains. With baboons passing the roadside, I relaxed into my usual self chatting with a new friend, who volunteered to lift me to the Vipassana Meditation center located in Worcester, a rural setting 2 hours from city center.

That evening segregated by sex in our eating quarters, new students nervously giggled in groups over our first prepared vegetarian dish. One woman questioned whether she was, “the only oldie” of our bunch. 75 years wise, Ida and I immediately bonded. That evening, at the sound of the 9pm gong, we all began our vow to live in noble silence without voice, gesturing or making eye contact with other participants. Reading, writing, exercise, or activity in other hobbies was also not permitted. At the female entrance to the meditation hall, I boldly smiled to myself, unaware what exactly was this something new, I then sauntered into the dark, subtle lighted room and took my seat legs crossed on the royal blue cushions. Ahead of me nobly sat the two assistant teachers that would guide our learning’s. After our sessions we followed the moonlit sky to our chalets. I choose a cot next to Ida, and nightly I fastened myself in my sleeping bag and slowly drifted off to sleep after thoroughly pondering the lifestyle I had accepted.

The next 10 days, I would follow a rigorous routine beginning with a morning wake at 4:30a for a meditation session, then after: breakfast, a short rest, group meditation session in hall, own meditation session, lunch, short rest, own mediation session, group meditation, own meditation, dinner, group meditation, night discourse, and then a final meditation closing at 9:30p. Bells and gongs signify time elapse and the start and close of the 2 hour meditation sittings.

With our living spot surrounded by miraculous nature, I negotiated devoting my days to the draining activity as it would be rewarded with walking the outdoors for a few hours anonymous (a rarity in the village). As we dished our meals of stew and salad spiced just right, I found it difficult holding back from a second helping. Served breakfast, lunch, and then 5p last meal of popcorn and fruit, I savored the flavors and sitting by myself either inside or by mid day ogling the multicolored land and sky.

With each day’s sensations, peace, tears, and teaching, the inner learning became more apparent. I know that I have surely gained a valuable tool that is helping me to be a more reflective and less reactive person. At the closing of our 10 days, participants were given time to talk with each other before leaving the center. Our group of women from all walks of life, giggled over the weeks challenges and obsessions to the extent of headache.

The next morning, I received transport from a group of Capetonian girls to my Cape Town central backpackers and quickly returned to a world of sound and first-world normalcy. The girls blared old-school tunes and we sang along to Alanis Morsette and Little Mermaid, stopping at the nearest Shell gas station to grab junk snacks, cold drink and chow down on all our cravings.

With the news of my parents visit to South Africa in December, I was under little pressure to attend to all the gobs of touristy activity the area breathes, and rather traipsed the city shops by day with coffee in hand and hanging out with the new friends I had met from the retreat in the eve. Venturing around Cape Town the next few days was invigorating.

An afternoon at Ida’s waterfront flat, listening to French music and eating quiche, engaged in heavy genuine conversation with new friends, and then Mexican eats, Mojito drinks, live music, and dancing nights. A celebration of all sorts!

guavas and swine

With the cold comes a golden tasty treat. South Africa is located in the southern hemisphere, our seasons are just opposite of U.S.A. and since the start of May we have entered the winter months. My home and stretched green grass yard provide me with plenty of fine gifts like room for yoga with my girls group or my favorite- morning fruit bites. With the passing of another cold night , I can waken to a new ripe Guava to sink my teeth into. Either yellow with a yellow center or green with a pink center, these pear necked fruits are just delightful.
When a different fruit tree has begun its blossoming, then I wait in anticipation for what delicious snack I will be able to pull from its limbs. With arrival usually comes a stomach ache as I snack on too many leaving me finished for the day only to grab a hold again tomorrow. In addition to stomach pains the guavas arrived with something else- a bit of diarrhea. Please excuse my t.m.i (too much information), travelers don't seem to have difficulty sharing these facts.

I should mention that the pulpy center of the guava is nutty. Having never eaten this fruit before, I began my self-diagnosis, heredity pointed to diverticulitis (digestive disease found in the large intestine). With all this talk of swine flu and my host sister off in the hospital ill, my mind has been wandering. But with a bit of Googling, I am left feeling just right as I discover how much greater this Guava fruit really is. Not only is it an excellent source of Vitamin C, far more than most fruits but it promotes a healthy colon, and rids bacterial infections, therefore it is rather normal that it would be cleaning me like so. Could it be that this winter wonder has been keeping my freezing toes and nose in good health? Well, in any case I have increased my hand-washing and sanitizing as recommended. So pick yourself up some Guava juice! Don’t waste your taste with a sugared version, take a swig of 100% fruit and join me in soaking up some Vitamin C!


Lungile, my sister and I help each other pull Guavas

Sepedi wedding

In need of a little cultural activity, I attended the wedding for my primary school principal’s daughter. In the village, traditionally everyone is invited to attend the wedding celebration which is usually held out of the church and a lebola of cattle gifted to the ladies family is absolutely required. Lebola is a price that the groom marrying pays to the bride’s family. A mutual respect is gathered between the two families, because the exchange helps the bride’s family cope from the loss of a daughter. My host-family hosted a wedding for their daughter last year and 4 cows were given for lebola. This ancient tradition of gifting cattle is being challenged as families move to the suburbs and instead lebola is being gifted in the form of money, televisions, or anything the bride’s family requests.

For most South African black’s weddings, the money put toward feeding all that attend is rather grand (at least two of the lebola cattle is killed for the event, in addition goats and chicken are usually served). The dinners are usually self-catered by the family who is hosting the celebration. The mother depends on their “women’s society” or neighbors and colleagues to assist them in the preparation and waiting of the meal made of plenty salads-one always being a delicious beet salad, and then other combinations, I don’t think I’ve seen the same salad twice! A mix of cubed cheese, apple, corn, and mayo was my favorite at this occasion!

With sometimes 2 or 3 days of celebrating, everyone in the wedding party and immediate family is found exhausted. Families travel from afar, staying up all night to celebrate and dance, crashing finally on a woven mat, warmed by a lush blanket (usually provided by the family hosting). These gatherings take place at the communities of both the bride and groom’s parents, following one another. A White wedding (where the bride is dressed in white with modern wedding traditions that most Americans are familiar with) is usually followed by a Traditional wedding, when the bride, groom, and wedding party change attire to do another grand entrance. The look of the tented area is also transformed, center pieces are exchanged and draping on the chairs and walls are all changed into the “traditional” theme.

I stay in the land of the isNdebele people and so I am fairly familiar with our traditions and clothing customs. On this occasion the ceremony was that of Sepedi people who have their own traditions unique to their culture. The Sepedi language is closely connected to the Setswana and Sesotho languages and I greeted the elders with the small bit I learned in pre-service training. Sepedi attire is drastically different from that of the isNdebele and I was most interested in seeing their “traditional” vibrant colored outfits. Women wear a baby-doll style dress with lace and pattern and complete the crafty masterpiece with stringing beads around their neck that are usually large and colorful an absolutely fabulous accessory to their already breathtaking outfits. The mix of colors is miraculous on the dark skin and for sure a white girl could not pull it off quite so beautifully.

The traditional wedding entrance involves a wedding couple and party costume change and dance alteration. Attending to detail each lady and man can be seen sporting a unique Sepedi number. The men dressed in these loud colors are especially full of pride. This wife and husband resemble the African Queen and King I have dreamed about.

Sepedi dancing I filmed

From headwrap to shoes they are adorned in their wedding theme print.

With the wedding party entry, guests hover to see and shout. This is about the time I get teary, realizing I am really here actually present in all this beauty.

firsts

April and its’ holiday break was very eventful as I participated in the Long Tom half-marathon and went hiking in the Drakensberg Mountains. Both activities were firsts and absolutely amazing!

With support from stateside friends and family I was able to qualify and raise $150 to put towards the KLM foundation and participate in the Longtom half-marathon. The KLM foundation funds a scholarship program for very talented South African learners coming from disadvantaged homes. It was very moving to be involved in such a large event and our group of 50 Peace Corps Volunteers all running for KLM was really impressive. The most amazing long legged South Africans were in abundance and I felt honored to be in the presence of such talented athletes. Sabie and this marathon attracts a great number of participants because of the glorious Long Tom Pass, one of Mpumalanga Province’s most scenic areas. All but two of our PC bunch participated in the Half-marathon: 21 km, rather than the Ultra-marathon: 56 km, and were bused to our starting point. The almost hour drive up and across the mountains, I was blown away by the beauty and overjoyed to begin. It is really grand to have received support from back home for this event and been able to give to this worthy project. I am most definitely participating next year!

PC SA 16,17,18 Long Tom marathon participants

Afterwards our group cleaned and gathered for delicious brai eats and to catch up with volunteers from other programs. Catering to our minor aches and pains we had no idea what was in-store for us the next morning and week. 6am, our group of 15 climbed aboard a hatchback and set off to a taxi rank, where we negotiated with a gentleman to take our tired, sore and cranky butts to Sani. After 10 hours of sitting in a vehicle we had arrived.

With backpacks jammed pack with travel snacks (various trail mixes, guava strips, the popular: Rusks, mouth-watering tuna packets, and peanut butter), water bottles, and thankfully first-aid kits we set off for the Giant’s Cup Trail, a self-guided, 3 day hike, that extends across the Drakensberg Mountains, the Zulu name, Ukhahlamba means “Battlement of Spears”. We passed through tall grasses, over rushing rivers, stepping this way and that through rains and sun shining days. Quite the interesting bunch, our group moved at varying paces but cared and encouraged each other as we all had our own mix of ailments. I moved along the way thinking of nothing other than how I love first times and being out in nature, venturing through this beautifully preserved land. We took water from the streams that are said to be safe despite the recent Cholera outbreaks in Zimbabwe. Rinsing my face in the cool traveling water and grasping a friend’s helpful hand, out with nature for a few days apart from lively culture; I felt cleansed by the physical activity and thoroughly enjoyed my time.

The first night, warming up to a chimney fire, eating roasted marshmallow with chocolate, we listened to favorite tunes on portable itunespeakers. The 2nd day of our hike we were lost for sometime and I was convinced we would be staying outside in the cold being unable to reach our nightspot before sun down. It was within the first 30 minutes of our day’s hike that we had lost our way. Navigating back to our trail was deemed impossible once we took to a course assumed to be ours requiring that we scale a mountain. However, we rather rewardingly discovered some fabulous San art.

The San people and their rock-art is said to be 8,000 years old and depicts all sorts of traditional survival activity-hunting, historical events-coming of the white man, and traditional gender roles. The San, already under pressure from the tribes that had moved into the Drakensberg foothills, were finally destroyed with the coming of white settlers. The San art is found in caves all around the mountains in over 500 locations. The small paintings are only able to be seen by those that take the hikes out to the areas and were only discovered within the last 50 years. By far one of the coolest historical artifacts I have ever seen.

our map-readers

After those shining moments things got a bit rough. Staring at our Topographic map, our 5 map-readers determined that our stay stop was just over the way down in the valley. However, we had no path to get down from the cave location and with having already stopped far too many times, we knew it was time to move on if we were going to get to our sleep spot in time. For 4 hours-real team work was in action, we helped one another slide down the hills, held hands and bags in support and ran ahead to ensure passage possible. Thankfully, one of the girls found the site we would stay at for the night tucked under a little place in the valley. How? I have no idea, it was dark and getting cold, I was prepared to open my sleeping bag. I had been praying to my Saint Christopher that I wore around my neck, he for sure had been watching over us.

Jo, best friend, nurse and travel planner

In all this fun, I forgot to mention that I had been suffering. Our half-marathon run, prior to our hike had been fabulous and all but rather rough on my feet. My lousy shoes and continuous on-the-go travels only added to the uncomfortable situation. My dancer-feet have been worn down before but not like this. I am very thankful for the imitation nurses in our group, pulling together all the med equipment, assisting me with mending my wounds. On our travels back, I returned to headquarters for medical care and was told that my feet and their sores were both infected and was placed on antibiotics. I am well-recovered and running almost everyday. As the rain starts to pour down, I suppose an indoor yoga session will do just fine for today.

a love for reading

I found out that there was a Shopaholic movie out only a week ago; I don't get to see many advertisements. When I heard about it, I immediately made a timeline as to when I could see it (movies are one of my new found favorite first world activities). My sister, Carly and I had a very serious obsession with the series when we were in University.

I figured I could find time when I am in the capital in two weeks time for a literacy conference at headquarters. Then I ran into my buddy Mjama and he had just got a visit from his American mother, who brought him a few movies. So I watched Confessions of a Shopaholic a bit ago.

I totally annoyed my host-sister Lungile reminiscing about my love affair with the books. Lungile is a big reader, so totally got it! I now feed her a chapter book a day, very healthy grade 5 habit. I proudly steal (liberate) books from wherever I find them, my school libs or friend's libs. She giggles when she reads, I love it. One of my favorite things is to see young children laugh when they are listening to a story read by educators in home-language or like Lungile have something to read alone. So into the moment they irrupt with emotion. When I am observing educators and assisting in the classroom at my one school, I can be discouraged for most of the morning but once the educator grabs a book to read to the learners and their smile finally turns on, I am back in the present and happy to be a part of their day and its learning.

Grade 1 Educator, N.V. reading to learners

Recently, in searching my comp for old education files, I discovered a most talented Tess Leyser's paper about read-alouds. It reminded me how very valuable the skills I am teaching educators here are. The first skill I teach educators during one-on-one sessions is reading to their learners. Unfortunately, I don't find that flashing research helps to influence educators. Instead, the educators and I discuss why reading can be valuable and what resources we have available to us. I have gained their faith and trust, although I may be 30 years younger and 30 years less experienced than them. They humor me and attempt my peculiar requests and perform fabulously. My encouragement and continued review reassure them and we have another success story.

What I can do

I have agreed to start a resource room for learner intervention in Literacy. Educators have identified learners to receive special attention in English language, reading and writing. The room identified as a library, in which I had organized textbooks in, had also acted as a staff lounge for two educators. The educators have agreed to graciously move (quite a change for them, I am very pleased they are willing) and the room is being cleared for me to begin my work with learners following Easter holiday.

It was in last year September that I first entered this very room. What I found was a room stacked to the ceiling with text, their spines to the wall. I think any American would have jumped for joy in discovering this mess of black and white, crisp, untouched pages. The librarian in me and forever-organizer dressed in a long skirt would daily climb the high book cases, throw the boxes down and begin to toss books around the room, what I swore to room-owners was actually order. The dust kicked up and I was accused of turning the room into a mess. I tried to quickly skim books, find their copyright and recognize what would have to be removed (despite Educator preference) because their date told me they were from the Apartheid Era, a time when learner materials would designate the whites as the superior race or present ineffective techniques to teaching(recite and repeat, also known as bantu education). Many Educators prefer using the teaching manuals they had followed for the last 20+ years and I had come in and declared these items as useless. This here is my first PCV mistake, I should have had educators sort with me, but I am pretty sure that the same disagreements would have still occurred. Oh well, lesson noted.
untouched Library room once organized, new cupboard units fixed on ground,soon to come..pic of room decorated

It took much time for me to realize the work I had ahead of me, the books and me. Months since, I now understand that it is more than correct placement and ridding of historically-inappropriate reading material. I find there to be a divide in our appreciation and interest for these items. The educators did not have text in their classrooms when they were students, nor did their teacher trainings include an introduction to these items (thank you previous regime). I have since been holding workshops and working one-on-one with Educators about the benefits of using print in the classroom and providing techniques for using the text. I explain that 2nd language English learners are in need of more visual representation and overall stimulation in the classroom. Some of the books are at a much-too-high level for English 2ndlanguage learners and so it is also suggested that Educators use a text sometimes two grade-levels below that they are teaching. I recognize that organizing a room of books doesn’t increase educator curiosity or book value and am now moving towards helping what can be helped.

In addition to telling the Educators about classroom practices, I will start to model a few for them in the resource room. I am pleased that Educators seem enthusiastic to learn more, Educators are curious to see how I teach and will be encouraged to visit my room daily. Don’t worry, I am not naïve in recognizing that this work will be very complicated for me(a non-native speaker) and that Educators may still not care to adapt the techniques I demonstrate. As in any situation, it is much simpler to blame others and have someone do it for you then to take on the act of changing or improving one’s self. Educators may have a tendency to over-identify learners with barriers-so that I can take care of their problems, but I will try my best to use a variety of self-made assessments to designate learner need. It is hoped that further identification will allow some learners to return to their typical classroom learning and then educators can use effective educating practices of their own.
grade 1 learners in inclusive setting
SA is unique in that it has supported so many fabulous policies since it became a new nation. Inclusive education along with equal rights for gays and lesbians are just some of the promises their new constitution holds. However because the democracy is still young and resources are limited, some implementation is only beginning in some of the rural school districts or underserved areas during the Apartheid era. Teacher training including methods of identifying learners with special needs has been introduced this year. The extent has been one training, one educator attended and a booklet examining their SIAS system that imitates our system. I am very pleased to have had completed my Masters in Inclusive Strategies for General Education, have a fairly good understanding of work in this field and have the ability to assist educators.

I originally wasn't interested in working one-on-one with learners with special needs here since the system is so pre-mature. Especially since it is hoped our projects will be sustainable beyond our service and training educators would allow for this type of impact. However, I have decided I can still hold my weekly workshops to explain effective educating and one-on-one intervention with educators, in-addition to having my own room for practice and educator observations.
an educator created visual :Bithdays chart
I knew I wasn't interested in teaching because having my own class in Ghana was much too difficult, little respect to be gained from learners that are disciplined by only corporal punishment, doesn't matter what the classroom management you present, you are still an outsider and the only one sometimes (in most schools) working with a new discipline system. A classroom of 60 learners with limited English is also just a sticky situation for a non-native speaker. Instead I will take in 15-20 learners at a time and provide help and attention. We will see what comes of it all.

I am excited to have my own space and be able to give these learners the attention they absolutely rarely receive. Learners usually with any sort of disability are found in the back of the room, completely ignored (I have seen grade 6 learners that only write the number 1 because that was all that was required of them). I was shocked to see that some educators would just avoid communicating at all with some learners. There are some "special schools" (as they are called) where the severely disabled learn (however these sometimes are in very poor condition and equally unfair to learners). It is hoped that record keeping of learner progress may ensure that the learners receive services appropriate to their abilities, hopefully someone that is qualified in the area of learners with special needs, can come to our school and work permanently and replace me.
learners in a que to wack a pole at numeracy assignment on the board
My room will possibly hold a bit of music, as well as use of technology, (if our computer lab ever comes about-comps are 10 years old and have been in a store room because the strong room hasn't been built). We have a copy machine and books though, so I will use resources to work out the challenges, like it is thought will answers our problems in the rural villages. Little do the providers know that for now it is the American girl that strongly values text and resources?