Lady sings the "I've got jet lag" blues

[picture of the day: some graffiti from the Bat Centre, featuring Zulu condoms going to war with AIDS.]
Well, I've been wide awake since 4:30 this morning, so I decided that it was finally time to do something productive with my morning. And, since the final copy of my paper is due at midnight tonight, what better way to use my time than update my blog!

All of our various flights went well . However they were, of course, terribly uncomfortable, and I also COMPLETELY lost my voice somewhere between point A and point B, leaving me with a rather dismal whisper. Most people in this situation would be like, "finally! A reason to not talk!" But for me, that whole not talking thing really doesn't work too well. If at all. So I've been whispering away like an overly talkative kid playing hide n' seek.

It's good to be home. Seeing my mommy and sister, my wonderfully wonderful and terribly cute kitty, making cupcakes, sleeping in my own bed, swimming in my own pool.

But I do miss South Africa. It's a great country and a great place to be. I loved practically everything about it, and I really can't wait to go back. This whole experience was just so awesome and enriching. I learned so much, experienced so much, and really loved it.

I guess I don't really have too much to write. My trip has ended. And that's that.

Which means this blog will go on temporary hiatus until yet another voyage comes up. Luckily, it's Summer which means there will be at least two more trips yet to blog about so it's not the end yet.

So farewell for a while, my friends.

A.

p.s. my other blog, the poor neglected thing, will be being updated more frequently now. I promise!

Honey, I'm Home!

Well, I've arrived safely and am currently baking cupcakes with my baby sister in a vain attempt to de-jet lag myself.

I'll let you know how that goes.

A bigger and better post to follow when I'm more coherent and human-like.

C'est Incroyable

I'm actually packed with time to spare.

Just for the record.

A Final Hurrah!

[picture of the day: me and the girls all being insane before our last night out.]

Ok, let me preface this by saying, "no, I'm not as loserly and studious as I probably appear to be from the past few posts." Granted, I have been working my butt off, but we've been having a lot of fun in the downtime. Problem for this blog being the fact that my blog time (late evening) happens to correspond with the time I do work. So sadly, given my proclivity for procrastination, the two appear to be mutually exclusive.

But on to an actual update!

We had our final day at St.Philo's on Thursday, and I'm really going to miss those kids. We essentially spent the day just hanging out, playing some 3D cut-throat monkey in the middle, and exchanging email addresses. Spending time at the children's home was a real eye opener for me, and the kids really made an impact my life. It's just so inspiring to meet kids who, despite their less-than-perfect circumstances, work hard to overcome the lot they've been given and manage to still keep their smiles. Also, meeting the people who lived with them and essentially dedicated their lives to enrich those of the kids was inspiring, humbling and really made me reevaluate my priorities.

Friday we gave our presentations and my, was that an all day experience. And by all day, I mean from 8:30am until 4:30pm. It was grueling, painful (I was sitting in a plastic lawn chair all day), but informative and the feedback we got was really helpful. So, naturally, after such a day, we deserved a night out. And that's exactly what we had.

Though we've gone out fairly regularly while we've been here, this weekend was particularly cool because the clubs we hit were the "local" clubs and a lot more mixed than the touristy clubs we'd been going too. Here in South Africa instead of there just being Black and White, there's African, White, Indian and Coloured, and I fall into the latter category. For what ever reason, I find not being considered "white" a totally liberating experience and love it when random people we meet allude to my colouredness. That having been said, this weekend's choice of clubs were mostly coloured and Indian, and were by far the most fun of any of the other one's we've been too.

So Friday night was a night spent dancing until the morning, and then Saturday we went to the marketplace to finish up our shopping, back to the B&B to continue our paper writing, and then out yet again for a final hurrah. Which lasted until 5am.

Which brings me to today, which so far has involved much writing, procrastination and resultant self-loathing, an incredibly grumpy packing spree, and a farewell dinner at Vukile's, one of our professors here.

The farewell dinner was a blast. Great people, great food, great times, and all of us enjoying each other's company and trying to ignore the fact that we were witnessing our last evening in Durban. It was a lovely way to cap off a great-- nay, phenomenal-- trip and had the equal parts of celebration and melancholy requisite for farewell events.

So that means that most of the excitement for the trip is done, and I'm left with a partially packed suitcase, an almost written paper, and a missing voice (which I'm blaming on the fact that I've had about 9 hours of sleep since Friday). Oh, and a dreadfully long flight(s).

So I guess next time I post here, I'll be back on American soil, sleeping on an American bed, eating American food, and pondering the reason why American dirt is so brown. My journey here is almost at end, but never fear! I'm already planning my next trip to South Africa. Which, at the latest, will be summer 2010. Also known as the World Cup.

And on that note, I'm going to try to get at least a little bit of sleep (though I only have the physical possibility of getting 4) before the arduous trek back to the States commences.

Goodnight and sweet dreams.

A.

Super Quick Update

I rocked my presentation.

Work on the paper is ongoing.

I leave tomorrow morning, which makes me incredibly sad.

And I will actually post a detailed post later this evening.

This is what I am doing.

I have now written 8 pages.

And I have purchased everyone's souvenirs.

Onward I go, for my presentation of research is tomorrow morning at 8:30. I think that sleep may fall by the wayside for tonight.

Days like today make me want to do cocaine.

Strike Update

*EDIT: For more information, click HERE*

[image courtesy of Time.com]
Well, whether or not we actually have a chance to leave the B&B today is up for debate as the strike is intensifying into a "sympathy strike," with many other South African unions showing their solidarity with the striking public servants.

The most disruptive new development is the addition of the KZN Taxi Alliance to today's sympathy strike. As I've written about before, most of the "public" transportation around Durban is by way of Khumbi, (I spelled it Combee before, but one of the Zulu speakers who works here just spelled it for me. Hey-- I can't spell in English, so if you were expecting any spelling prowess in Zulu from me, think again.) privately owned taxi-buses that ferry people around the city. This is how most people in the area, especially from the townships, get to and from work and them striking will affect almost all business in the city.

Actual taxis in the western sense of the word are also helping out with the whole ordeal by clogging traffic by driving exceptionally slow today. There were rumours that taxis would block roads to and from Durban International Airport, but those seem to be untrue. Instead, they'll just make everyone late.

Universities, including UKZN, are also on strike for the day as well as members of the South African Municipal Workers' Union (Samwu). However, essential services are not supposed to be disrupted. (not that that matters as we've already lost our water. They say it's a water main break, but who knows?)

To quote the first paragraph of the front page in "The Mercury" today:
"Commuters in and around Durban will not reach their destinations on time today, streets will not be cleaned, refuse will not be collected, no government services will be rendered, schools and hospitals will remain closed and KwaZulu-Natal-- and the rest of the country-- will come to a grinding halt when unions embark on a "sympathy strike" with striking public servants."

So... what we'll be doing today remains to be seen. We were supposed to go downtown to Victoria Street Market, but Downtown is a bit on the unsafe side today; these people take their striking very seriously.

However, hopefully we'll be able to make it to the orphanage to spend our last day there with the kids.

So... until later, I suppose.

A.

Today

I wrote, researched, and outlined.

I also ate breakfast, lunch and dinner.

The end.

One more week left!

[picture of the day: a generic Bird of Paradise. Because I haven't taken any pictures in the past couple of days.]
I need to be writing papers. Which is precisely why I'm updating.

So yesterday I had my first South African church experience. A group of 8 of us went with Vukile, one of our professors here, to his church in downtown Durban. According to my friends who belong to predominately black gospel churches back home, it was a church that felt just like home. For me, it was a totally different experience.

First off, I was one of the 3 lightest people in the entire crowd of approximately 500. Me, the pastor, and my fair-skinned Mexican roommate. When I say that we stood out like sore thumbs, we truly did. People were infinitely polite, but everyone was curious to know where we were from. And then when we told them "the United States," it was always accompanied by a long, "ahhhh... well now, that makes sense."

I suppose I had been expecting more Africany sounding music with drums and loud vocals, but for all intents and purposes, it was gospel. Albeit half of the time sung in Zulu. The contrast between this church and my church back in Fray-town was incredible. Instead of the weakly pathetic singing of our church's starkly white congregation, this congregation was LOUD. Loud, excited to be there, and really into what they were singing. (even while clicking! that was the coolest part as mid-word the entire congregation would use a resounding "click" in some of the Zulu songs. It was super cool.)

Though I didn't agree with some of what the pastor was preaching, he was gregarious, funny, and long-winded. A Durban native and former drug-dealer, he used personal anecdotes throughout the sermon to illustrate what he was saying and made the 2 hour sermon more tolerable than it would've been otherwise. All in all, an interesting experience.

And then we came back to the B&B and did work. Until our Taco Zulu excursion.

Yes, I did just say Taco Zulu, the local Mexican Restaurant. Not exactly authentic, but tasty nevertheless. T., my Mexican roommate, was vexed that it did not taste like her grandmother's cooking, but for those of us who did not grow up in Guadalajara, we were pretty satisfied. My chimichanga was really more of an over sized, mexicany egg-roll, but hey-- it had guacamole. And generally if there's guacamole involved, I'm not complaining.

Speaking of guacamole, I should mention that these South Africans love their avocados. They're EVERYWHERE!!! We even had avocado on our pizza the other day. And, believe it or not, it was fabulously delicious. You should try it if you get the chance. Just put some slices of avocado on pepperoni pizza and "mmm." Yes... it qualifies for a "mmm."

But back to Taco Zulu. It was interesting with the brightly woven cloths everywhere and the Corona and Jose Cuervo adverts adorning the walls. And the West-Coast rap blaring from the speakers (I was informed that it was West-Coast rap by J; apparently there's an obvious difference from East-Coast rap. Not being a rap aficionado, I'll take J's word for it.) There were also security guards carrying assault rifles. Two weeks ago, there was a shooting in a local restaurant, and restaurant owners all over Durban have taken it seriously.

Unlike security people in the U.S. with their nice little uniforms and big flashlights hanging from their belt, security people in South Africa don't give a shit about being politically correct and blending into the surroundings. They dress in street clothes, black hat included, and sling M-16s around their necks like they're merely murses. [definition: a man purse. Man + purse = murse.] And then they glare at any black male in sight. Last night, a few of our guys got glared at, which was kinda scary. Luckily, when you start speaking loudly in an American accent, they decide you're not really a threat as you're just a tourist, and look elsewhere.

But anyways, Taco Zulu was relatively good (despite the fact that they were out of stock of Corona and Tortilla Chips. I mean really. They call themselves a Mexican Restaurant! The silly kids.) We had fun. Then we came home and went to bed at an hour that would make most Farmers quite happy.

Today was not very interesting. We went to an under-stocked museum about Cato Manor (read: one room exhibit detailing the years 1940-1960.) and went to the orphanage.

Where Pumi professed his undying love for me and tried to kiss me multiple times. I finally told him that he'd have to wait until he was taller than me, as I only kiss boys who are taller than me. That seemed to work, though he has a while as at the moment the top of his head only reaches my waist.

There was also a security guard at the supermarket today who asked one of my friends how he could "get" the white girl. She then told him she would ask me. Which she did. I, being ever the bitch, just flashed him a smile and laughed. Sorry, but South African Security Guards aren't exactly my type.

And that was my day. Plus one nap, and a paper that I have yet to write. With 30 minutes of battery remaining on my laptop. So tonight will be an interesting one. Especially as we stocked up on some more fabulous South African wine while at the Pick-n-Pay.

Ha! Like I've ever been productive until the very last minute in my entire life. I have until tomorrow at 4.

So wish me luck! And I officially come home in one week, which I've decided to start thinking very positively about. Here are the things/people I can't wait to see/do upon my arrival:

* First and foremost, My Mommy. I'm so pathetic-- I definitely cried myself to sleep on Saturday night because a.) I had a mommy and b.) because I missed her. I swear, sometimes I think I'll never grow out of my 4-year-old stage of life. 21-years-old and still crying for her mommy...sheesh.
* Bwurp. ie. my baby sister. With whom I shall make cupcakes upon my return. Because I've really been craving cupcakes lately.
* Mister Wiggles. ooo... kitty. I love my kitty.
* Lyds! For, like, three days until she leaves me for frickin' Oxford. I mean seriously, how lame is that? Who goes to England?
* My fabulous grandparents.
* Taking a bath. A long, luxurious bubble bath.
* Eating crap-loads of grape leaves from Schotts. mmm.
* Seeing my garden. (sidenote: Mom! You never sent me pictures of my garden! You failed!)
* many other people and things, but these were the ones on the front of my brain today. But if you were not mentioned, never fear! I have a HUGE brain! you're in there somewhere!

Ok. This procrastination is insane. And my battery is about to die.

So until tomorrowish-but-more-likely-Wednesday,

A.

Busy Busy Busy

**EDIT: This post was completed yesterday and meant for publication then, but the wireless had a different view on the matter. So two posts for today, though this is technically Sunday's.**

[pictures of the day: a tie. The one on the left is the Valley of 1,000 Hills and on the right is a group from the Isicathamiya competition.]














Well, it's been a busy couple of days, and that's not even counting all of my reading and researching and writing!

Yesterday (Saturday) morning we went on our tour of the Valley of 1,000 Hills which is precisely what its name implies: a bunch of hills (roughly one thousand) and valleys. We started off with a tour of a crocodile prison (it had another name, but that's the more accurate version) where we watched a bunch of variously sized and aged crocs (one was 104 years old!) lie catatonically in the sun. Some with their mouths open.

Then we went across the street to the "Zulu village," a tourist attraction with fake Zulu huts where we listened to guides talk about traditional Zulu life, and then watched a dancing performance. Though it was well done and informative, I felt extremely awkward and voyeuristic the entire time as if I was personally exploiting Zulu culture. Which I guess I wasn't, but still. Didn't make me feel any better about the whole ordeal.

After our touristy portion of the day, we then went to an AIDS orphanage that was situated in the Valley of 1,000 hills. Though we've been volunteering regularly at St.Philos, this was a vastly different experience. The orphanage itself is the home of the woman who runs it, and after her husband died of AIDS, she decided to care for the children who were also suffering from the loss of loved ones, or even from AIDS themselves. So she did, and slowly over time through generous donations and whatnot, its expanded to the point where she currently cares for 50 children.

And these are not just children who come from bad homes. These are children who have no homes-- orphans in the truest sense of the word. All of their parents have died from AIDS, and the vast majority of the children are infected as well. So while these children were delighted to see us, eat the oranges we brought, and teach us Zulu songs and dances, many of them will die before they reach their next birthday. Some of them were going blind, clearly had thrush (a common disease of AIDS), and had open sores around their bodies.

I spent most of our time there hanging out with a little girl and her orange. She was around 1 and at that stage where she's physically capable of walking, but just not so good at it yet. And, for whatever reason, she liked me. So while the bigger kids sang and danced and ate their oranges, we sat on a step and rolled her orange back and forth, back and forth. And then she crawled up in my lap, and I peeled her orange for her.

She didn't speak a word of English-- in fact, I don't even know if she spoke at all-- and I have no idea if she was healthy or not, but it was a very powerful experience. Seeing this adorable little girl who had no family in the world, who may be dying, who was so happy just to roll an orange.

But after a few hours there, it was time to go home and rest for our big and exciting night for it was a Saturday night and Saturday nights in Durban mean one thing: Isicathamiya competitions.

The word Isicathamiya means "to tread softly like a cat." And that's precisely what they do on stage. Evolved from traditional Zulu singing, Isicathamiya is an a capella form of singing in precise 4-part harmony with careful choreography, The competitions themselves have been going on every Saturday night for at least a century, though the outfits evolved after American jazz singers made an appearance in the 40's, prompting the change to tailored suits and snazzy shoes.

The singing itself is mind-boggling. The amount of sound that only 15 men can produce is incredible-- easily filling the Durban YMCA and reverberating through the broken windows. It envelops the listener like a warm, down blanket and seeps into your every pore while the harmonies flow through your limbs. It's just pure, unadulterated sound the way only the human voice can produce it.

And this is a serious competition. If any of you have ever heard of Ladysmith Black Mambazo (they were the African group featured on Paul Simon's "Graceland" -- I know you know of them, Dad.), they were the most famous group to come out of this competition. It also seriously influenced the Broadway Lion King. If you listen to the soundtrack, the portions that are a capella are Isicathamiya. They both sound good on CD, but nothing compares to the live performance.

The performance itself is an all night ordeal. And by all night, I seriously mean all night. As in, from 11pm-6am. The competitors are different groups all aligned with a different area YMCA and identifiable by their uniquely different suits. What happens is that each group has a 20 minute "warm-up" on stage from 11-4:30. Then the official judging of the competition is from 5:00- 6:00. So warm-up = the time to really show off; the competition = the time to be nervous, as there is a moneyed prize at stake.

Unfortunately, we only stayed until 1 (it had been a long day) and only had a chance to see some of the warm-ups. However, the experience was one I won't be forgetting anytime soon. It was Awesome. As in the original definition of the word.

And I officially only have one week and two days left until I leave. Though I don't know if you ever really leave Africa. People say you don't, and I'm inclined to believe them. I love this place. I love these people. I love these cultures. I love the deep red of the dirt, the blood red of the setting sun. The sound of the monkeys as they bicker on the roofs and the long-necked birds as they caw mid-flight. I love that people actually care about politics and take part in them. I love the Ubuntu.

In a nutshell, I can't wait to come back.

And you should come with me.

A.

Temples, the Children's Home, and How South Africa is Going on Strike

[picture of the day: me with pumi in a picture in which he's convinced i look like a bunny
rabbit.]
So things are officially crazy: I have one huge paper due on Tuesday, and then Friday -- as in exactly one week from today-- I have to give my final presentation of my research to the entire History faculty of UKZN, the UofM professors, my trip mates, and a plethora of students who apparently show up just to see how Americans give presentations.

I also have to write my thesis.

So if postings get more erratic than they already are, it's probably because I have no life and am spending every waking minute doing work.

But on to the stuff you actually want to hear about!

When last I wrote I promised an update on our "ethnic identities" tour. Essentially we went to a mosque, a traditional medicinal market, and a Hindu temple. While all were equally interesting, I was particularly fascinated by the mosque. Having never been to a mosque before I wasn't really sure what to expect, but I loved it. Something about the mosque just seemed 20x more sacred than any church I've ever stepped foot in. Maybe it was how you had to wash your feet, hands and face of your external worries and troubles before entering the sanctuary. Or maybe how prayer was treated as such a special, formal thing between you and God. Or the stillness and elegance of the elaborate marble.

I really can't articulate it, but I certainly felt closer to God while sitting in that Mosque than I ever have in my entire life.

And then we went to the market and temple to continue learning.

In addition to touring around, we've also spent quite a bit of time at the Children's Home. I'm loving hanging out with the older guys, but one little six-year-old has particularly decided to attach himself to me. A rambunctious little kid with what has to be ADHD, Pumi has, for whatever reason, decided that I cannot move an inch without his permission. It's kind of cute in way, but yesterday I nearly lost all of my limbs when we had to leave. I ended up having to teach him what a pinkie swear was, and then pinkie swear that I would be back next week.

It's just so heartbreaking to see these great kids and know that they don't have safe homes to go home to. Pumi certainly doesn't-- yesterday when he was being stubborn I plucked him up to carry him away from the soccer field and saw a huge mass of scars crisscrossing his back.

But the kids were having a great time yesterday as they didn't have school due to the strikes. Which brings me to topic #3: The Civil Servant Strike here in South Africa, which is currently the largest strike since the end of Apartheid.

Today is the biggest day (so far) of the Nation-wide Strikes here in South Africa. Essentially what the unions are demanding is a 12% pay increase-- not an unreasonable request as high government officials just got a 50% increase. The problem is this: the pay of people has been no where near equal to what the inflation here has been. The rate of pay for a public school teacher at the moment is barely enough for them to qualify as middle class. For a public school teacher who splurges on nothing and lives as frugally as possible, they may just be able to afford a two bedroom apartment.

So what's going on is pretty much all civil servants are striking. The most problematic issues of this is that almost all schools and most major hospitals are closed, so for the past few days critical patients have been being transported to neighboring private hospitals and students have been preparing for their exams at home. So far things haven't gotten violent here in Durban, but in Cape Town and Jo-Berg, police have been firing rubber bullets and water cannons at the strikers, and I believe in Jo-Berg a few people were beaten to death.

We were supposed to go on a tour of a few schools and Gandhi's settlement (located on a school campus) today, but due to safety concerns we'll be hanging out at the B&B to work instead.

As of now, all's well in Durban and today is expected to be the biggest day of the strike. However, UofM is keeping a very close eye on the situation and sending us regular updates. If anything goes wrong, we'll be flown out of South Africa immediately. In other words, don't worry; we're fine. (we're having an official debriefing at the moment, and it looks like everything should be fine after today's work day.)

But research calls and I have papers to write, so off I shall run.

love and kisses,
A.

Sorry for the lapse in posting...stupid internet.

[picture of the day: a zebra, because I haven't taken any pictures since I got back from the Game Reserve.]
Well, I'm back! Sorry for the long delay in posting...the Internet here sucks. As in really, really sucks. But no matter-- on to the post!

We were at the Game Reserve from Friday afternoon until Sunday afternoon and man, was it great. Despite the weather. It rained, it poured, it let up for a bit, then it monsooned, the sky fell, and I was sure that it would be only a matter of time before we'd have to build an Ark, pack the animals away, and stay afloat until god knows how long.

In other words, it was like Norway. With elephants.

Terrible weather non withstanding, we had a great time. We stayed in these snazzy tree houses on stilts (to better keep the Black Mambas out) that were set up like camps you'd see in old-school safaris (see previous post for the picture of my room) with yards and yards of beautifully draped mosquito netting, a gorgeous thatch roof (which, amazingly enough, actually kept out the rain) and teak flooring. These little tree houses were connected by wooden pathways where impala and these little gray monkeys liked to hang out and also led to the Dining hall, the bar and the lounge. All appropriately snazzy. It was pretty much one of the most amazing places to stay ever.

For the actual safari part, because our group was too big to all pile into one open land rover we split into two groups and, if I do say so myself, I had the world's best guide-- Milton. (The other guide seemed fine, though he had an eerily perfect resemblance to Joakim.) Milton was super cool, a freakin' genius on all things African wildlife and could, and did, track an elephant through a rainstorm. He has also been attacked by a leopard and lived to tell the tale. (we thought he was joking until he showed us the scars running up and down his arms and crisscrossing his chest.) So, as we had the world's best safari guide, we saw a crazily large amount of animals super close: Zebras, Giraffes, Baboons, Rhinos, Buffaloes, and Elephants.

It was fun and often wet and chilly, but nothing beats seeing an elephant in the wild only a foot away from your face. That is, until he nearly attacks you.

So, we're just chilling in the Land Rover watching this elephant do elephanty things like eat and urinate and flap his ears... until he suddenly turns around, looks directly at our Land Rover, starts flapping his ears at a much higher intensity than before, begins waving his trunk like he's directing traffic and rumbles closer. But then Milton stood up, started making some hideously ugly loud noise, and the elephant turned around and went back to his tree.

But all in all, the game reserve was a great experience. Our group really bonded while sitting in front of the fireplace playing cards in the lounge while it poured outside, or watching the monkeys steal fruit from the dining room (i tell you-- they're just like squirrels but with posable thumbs), or snuggling together miserably as the open land rover flew through the freezing cold rain on the way back to the resort.

So we came back to Durban on Sunday with no complications except for one flat tire and I have been being academic ever since with a paper due yesterday and TONS of research to get caught up on.

And then yesterday we took our "ethnic identities" tour around Durban, where we visited a Mosque, a marketplace for traditional healing, and a Hindu temple. But that requires another post completely, so I think I'll write about it later this afternoon when I get back from the Children's Home.

Until then.
A.

And the Safari was AWESOME!!

For more pictures, click HERE!