Woop! Woop!

…that’s the sound of the police if you’re a hiphopper…

But for me these last few days it’s the sound of the house alarm going off. A piercing siren scream that shatters your ear drums and make you frantically decide should I:

1. Go look around the house to see if an intruder is about.
2. Stay put and wait for the security company to come check the place out.
3. Take a sledge hammer and smash the alarm box

Decision 1 or 2 is scary. #1 is scary because if you stumble upon an intruder you don’t know what could happen next. In South Africa, burglars do not mess around. I’m sure not every breaking and entering ends in a person getting killed, assaulted, raped, etc…but I really don’t want to find out how statistically accurate my personal experience would be when compared to everyone else. Ya know? #2 is scary because you are helpless and shivering under the covers with the boogie man potentially out there I (I actually slept w/my shoes on the other night). Hiding out is not my style, but being brave right now is a bit tough. #3 enters your mind if the wind or a tree or some other phantasm has been setting off the alarm all day for no apparent reason. I was definitely in the mood for #3 today cos the alarm has been tripped about 10 times today for mysterious reasons.

I guess Choose Your Own Adventure stories never really did go out of style…

Right now (and for the last week or so) I’ve been housesitting for the family of a friend of mine whom I met at the radio station. Her family, like many SA families, have headed to the coast for the holiday season. My friend, Karlien, was here with me for a few days and then went and joined her family leaving me in charge of the Kuun household. I’m no stranger to housesitting. There were times in Champaign-Urbana where I would have my choice of 3 different houses. I have house/pet sat for about 5 different families at home. But this is the craziest housesitting gig I’ve ever agreed to. It’s really making me think “what have I got myself into?”

Housesitting for people is usually the awesomest job you could ever get. First of all you get to stay in a house that isn’t yours. This means perks that you might not have at your own modest apartment. For me this means watching TV, lounging on couches, reading new books, checking out people’s family photos on the walls (one of my favorite parts of other people’s houses. My friend Clara has the coolest photo room in her family's house), sleeping in big comfy beds, and enjoying people’s outdoor spaces (porches, backyards, etc). Also you get to play with other people’s pets, cos usually the point of you housesitting is to look after the pets. So you get to snuggle with other people’s dogs and cats, go for walks in the neighborhood with them, and generally just bathe in the love/personality quirks of an animal for a week or so…and then you get to give them back. It’s like grandkids. Sometimes people let you use their cars. Usually they buy you food for the time you are there. And you get to explore a new neighborhood. Sometimes on top of all this…you get paid. It’s a pretty sweet deal.

Normally when I housesit the only thing I worry about is that the plants might die (I’m terrible w/plants) or that I might get a stain on the couch. Or that the dog will run away (I almost lost a cat once…). But the worries when you housesit in SA are WAAAAY different…

Maybe you will remember my “All you see is crime in the city” blog post about crime in SA. I think I wrote it in Feb/Mar, so check the archive links on the right hand side of this website if you’ve forgotten it. Crime’s a big deal here. It’s on everyone’s mind: rich, poor, black, white, Indian, and colored. It affects those living in shacks and those living in mansions. You can be robbed in broad daylight by little kids here. People might rob you for R20 (almost US$3) and stab you afterwards without even thinking twice about it…or so I’ve heard. Most houses have elaborate security systems: razor wire, electric fence, burglar bars over the windows and doors, every gate locked up, safes, and lots of dogs. There are a lot of gated communities here for those that can afford it. A lot of people’s cars even have special gear locks on them that you have to either unlock or use an immobilizer (it’s sort of like a little remote control you have to press before the car will start). My university has a gate system (that resembles a cattle handling facility) where you have to swipe your card before you can gain access to the place. There are security guards everywhere, some with guns. You will rarely see women walking alone (especially at night). It can be dangerous to walk around alone, but not unheard of. Like I said in a previous post, girls don’t ride bikes here to get around…which makes me a bit weird. It’s perceived as unsafe. Yeah…crime is a part of everyone’s life here.

All that being said, I don’t really feel that unsafe here. I don’t feel as safe as I was in Urbana. This is the first time I’ve ever had to operate a security system in a house. But the difference is that at home I have the luxury of not having to constantly watch my back. I’ve walked, alone and drunk, more than once from downtown Champaign at 3am to my house in W Urbana without thinking too much about it (a distance of maybe 1-2 miles). Even when I lived on the near South Side of Chicago or just at the edge of the W side of Chicago I didn’t feel like I was in danger…even when alone at night. I mean I would watch my back in those places, but what I would do there at night is not something I’d do alone here at night. I’ve been and done a lot of things in SA that no white South African in their (right?) mind would do…so it’s not like I’m living a sheltered life per se here in SA. But I’m definitely not as free here as I am at home. So when I say I don’t feel particularly unsafe here in SA it’s not because I stick to the sunny streets…I just feel that way because of my attitude and behaviors.

I stopped being afraid for my life and safety about 5 years ago. I was in Pietermaritzburg SA with some girls I went to school with who originally came from the USA and Canada. We went out to a club that we really liked, but when we arrived it was closed to the public for a private party. We were all dolled up with no place to go so we decided to go to another place in the city center of Pietermaritzburg. Because the taxi we took had left we decided (although we were scared) to walk thru the city center at night to this place. Admittedly PMB isn’t the scariest place in SA (it’s called Sleepy Hollow for crying out loud), but sometimes here the smaller towns are actually more dangerous. Why? I don’t know. And the city center is usually the most dangerous dirty part of the cities here.

So we started walking and we were acting all scared and stuff. We were talking loud and started to separate ourselves into groups of two spaced out down the sidewalk. After awhile I realized how stupid this was. We made our decision to walk there and if we were going to do this right we had to change our behavior. So I made everyone stop. Asked them to please be quiet and walk together. The only way people can tell we are foreigners is if they hear our voices (hey I would rather rob an American than a South African any day…Americans are rich, right??) and it’s just stupid to walk all separated when strength is always found in numbers (there were 6 of us). So we huddled up and continued in silence. And…we made it! Can you believe it? Yeah I can too…

This event caused me to think a lot about being scared of crime and stuff in SA. I had only been in the country a short time and to hear the stories and “this happened to my cousin” from the South Africans…you would have thought the sky was falling. As a foreigner it’s hard at first to tell what is right and wrong in a country because it’s all new to you. You just have to listen to everyone and forge your own path. Being scared sucks. Fear is a paralyzer that makes you pretty useless. So after this event I decided to stop being scared and just try to be smart. If something bad is going to happen to you then it will happen and you probably can’t do that much about it. I’m no super woman but I try very hard not to rile myself up over nothing until I need to. Being in SA in 2002 was my first trip abroad to a non-western country. Since 2002 I’ve done quite a bit of traveling on my own in quite a few other countries. I’ve learned a lot. I’ve learned that my policy works for me. I don’t expect others to follow me or even understand my methods…but I do stand by them. People have been kind to me more often than not. I’ve never been mugged or assaulted. I had some things stolen from me in Cape Town earlier this year (the fault of the place I was staying). I was almost pickpocketed 2x since I’ve been here (once in Grahamstown and once in Mozambique), but I knew I was about to be robbed, so I got out. If you are paying attention you can usually tell when you will be pickpocketed.

So after all this learning and traveling and experiences…here I am. Cooped up in someone else’s house at the mercy of a finicky alarm system and a boogie man that may or may not be there. How did I get here again?

The other night at 4am I heard some alarms going off in the neighborhood and I woke up. I was getting annoyed cos I wanted to sleep. But then my friend called me and asked me where I was. I said I was sleeping in her bed cos it was 4 in the morning. She whispered for me to push the panic button on the alarm remote control because someone was in the house. The panic button is a silent alarm that alerts the security company that they should come but doesn’t make an audible noise in the house. So now I’m freaked out. I just woke up and now someone is in the house? How is this possible? Every entrance to the house is covered by the alarm system. If someone tries to come in, it goes off. I’ve set it off a few times because I forgot it was on and stretched my arm out to pet the dogs thru the back door. The alarm in my house hadn’t gone off…I was confused and now I don’t know what to do. Plan #1 or Plan #2??? I opted for plan #2…hiding under the covers with my shoes on. I saw some flashlights in the backyard and hoped it was the security guys. One of them stopped at my window and I squeaked out “ADT?”

Thankfully it was the security guys and I guess what happened is that the neighbor’s house was broken into. Because the address of the neighbor’s house (147b) is similar to the address of the house I’m at (147c) the security company made a mistake and phoned my friend telling her someone was breaking in. Oops…a mistake…a freaky mistake. So I just stayed awake til the sun came up and went back to bed when I thought all the boogie men might be in bed too.

An interesting part of all this is that attitude determines everything. I think one reason why I’m so tweaked out here is that my friend set that tweaked stage for me when we stayed here together. She told me that she couldn’t sleep until I came to stay with her…which I now understand. Every door must be locked behind us. The alarm must be set at all times. But I think her paranoid attitude (although not completely unmerited) helps to perpetuate her fear. And now it’s working on me too. It really sucks. I think my friend’s paranoia is a microcosm of what a lot of South Africans (particularly whites) experience every day. Their paranoia and fear and wariness (although not completely unmerited) sets the stage for bad things to happen. And in an environment where bad things aren’t exactly too far away from you at any point in time…it’s sort of a destructive cycle. A self-fulfilling prophecy. Ahhh, but what do I know? I’m just some foreigner who thinks I know better than everyone here…I guess I can only call it as I see it.

I don’t like what this house is doing to my brain. I’m scared, despite my previous conditioning, and I don’t like it. I want to change my attitude, but I’m alone, it’s high house robbing season (cos most folks are at the coast), and I’m basically locked inside a house w/a security system just waiting to go off and freak me out more. It sucks. But I have a responsibility to my friend since I said I’d watch the house. This has probably been the most stressful 10 days of my life…and I had a car accident w/a donkey in Zimbabwe in 2002. I thought that was the most stress I’d ever seen, but this week takes the cake. I feel like a caged animal.

The most ironic part of this whole situation is that as scared as most people (especially white people) are in this country of all kinds of places, people, and situations…I would guess that they feel the most safe in their houses. But this is the most dangerous place I’ve ever been in South Africa or anywhere else in the world…nestled in the bosom of an Afrikaans family’s house in Pretoria. If you don’t find that ironic I don’t think anything is or ever will be.

It will be a long time, if ever, that I will housesit in SA again…

I know there's a lesson to be learned from all this, but the sound of the alarm is making my brain constrict and thoughtful ponderings are not really happening at this moment. Let me ruminate on it and maybe it'll end up in a future blog post...

On a positive note…I’M COMING HOME!!!! Via Chicago, babies! I’m leaving on Jan 15^th in SA and will arrive Jan 16^th around 11am/noon-ish. Just in time for tacos and margaritas ;) I’ll be home for about 2 weeks (til Feb 1 or 2). I’ll know the exact dates and times in a few days. If you want to be part of the margarita/steak taco extravaganza when I arrive then call my mom (847-782-8211) and organize with her. That phone # will also be how you can reach me while I’m at home cos I won’t have a cell phone. I’m going to try to make it down to Champaign-Urbana, up to Wisconsin (Janesville to see my dad and Kenosha area to see my 2^nd family), Waukegan, and of course…Chi-town!

Happy 2008…may all your resolutions be realized. Remember only you can make them happen!

Keep the faith and spread it gently

Love
Lynsee

It's bigger than hiphop

"It aint nothing like hip-hop music
You like it cause you choose it
Most D.J.'s won't refuse it
Alot of sucka M.C.'s misuse it
Don't think that Wu can't lose it
Too much to gain you'll abuse it
The name of the game is rapture
This one is completely captured bass"

-Method Man "Spazzola" from Tical 2000: Judgement Day

One of my favorite groups, the Wu Tang Clan, just released a new album in the last week or so. 8 Diagrams came out on Tuesday 12/11 and features all the living members (RIP, ODB) of the Clan. I’ve spent a good part of the week excitedly thinking and speaking about the new disc. I’ve also been making a plan about how to cop this new item. Music from the USA takes some time to get here, especially music that’s not mainstream. Although the words and beats of the Wu Tang Clan are on every hiphop head’s mind…they are apparently thought of as underground here in SA. I went to a music store here to enquire after the new disc and the sales clerk actually laughed in my face. A long, loud laugh exploded from her as she explained they wouldn’t probably get the CD, if they get it at all, for at least 4 months because of its underground status. 4 months…are you freaking kidding me?

So in the meantime I’m going to have a friend download the album online for me until I can lay my hands on the actual album. I’m not above collecting music through nefarious methods…but some CDs I must own. This is one of them. If I was at home, I would also have made a point of getting the album the morning it came out. I won’t do that for everyone, but if you are Beck, Method Man, The Wu Tang Clan, or the Smashing Pumpkins…you can rest assured that I will be standing outside the record store before it opens for the day waiting anxiously for your latest album.

I’m writing about hiphop music today because it’s been coming up a lot lately. It’s been a common ground to stand on with strangers and new acquaintances. It’s even more interesting here in SA because I’m a white girl and white girls should not know stuff about hiphop…at least that’s not the norm here. But I definitely don’t fit too many norms here. I think a lot of people are usually impressed that I know anything…let alone being able to delve deep into theory, artists, lyrics. I’ve had discussions about 2pac in abandonded parking lots with strangers that melted out of the dark night. Pillow talk about Pharoahe Monch and KRS-ONE. Conversations with heads over Talib Kweli, Doom, 9^th Wonder, and my hometown hero, Spinnerty. Even had a chat over tea about the state of SA hiphop with some ladies that could never be mistaken for fans…that was interesting to say the least. I’ve swapped trax produced by friends at home for SA trax. Learned about new groups, rappers, and DJs from around the world. Heck, I’ve even learned a thing or two about commercial bling bling hiphop. I can safely say that hiphop music, more than anything else, has acted as a passport of sorts for me in this foreign land.

For those of you not so familiar with hiphop, let me drop some knowledge on you (as they say in hiphop circles). I think hiphop gets a bad rap (yeah…pun intended) from a lot of people that don’t understand the music. Mostly I think this occurs because of the way hiphop is accessible to the masses. If you don’t dig hiphop then most likely you will only get hiphop in its most available commercial forms. You’ll hear people bumpin’ (aka radio blaring) some trax from cars shivering under the weight of fat bass lines. Maybe you’ll see some people on TV or in the newspaper. Maybe you’ll see some baggy-jeaned thug wannabes at the mall. However hiphop comes to you, if you aren’t into it, then you’re probably just seeing the commercial aspect of a very multi-faceted genre.

Because of what’s readily available to the masses…you might be thinking that hiphop is all flashy cars, diamond pendants swinging from platinum chains, bitches n hoes, and other shallow and materialistic crap. If you’ve put hiphop on the shelf because of this, then you’ve made a mistake. Letting these people, being pimped out to the radio c/o record executives looking to cash in on what’s cool today, represent a whole genre is like letting Britney Spears or Christina Aguilera represent all women singers. And that ain’t right. Nina Simone would be spinning in her grave as I type this…

Do you like jazz, soul, or funk? Do you like poetry? Do you like collage art? If so, then hiphop is for you. I rarely read poetry (I have no attention span for it), but I don’t need to because I listen to hiphop. Hiphop is poetry set to intoxicating bass lines and catchy hooks…a collage of sound pieced together from sources old and new. A good MC (aka rapper) can take you on a journey through words that may start off describing a story that will wind its way via metaphor and simile, resulting in an examination of important social issues. Even commercial rappers like JayZ do this (see 99 Problems, the part where he’s talking about letting the police search his car w/o a warrant). A good DJ can take 4 beats of any song from any source and create an entirely new song from it. Hiphop can be an expression of places and things that some listeners have never seen and probably never will. A sort of anthropological text depicting a life as foreign to some as that of the pygmies living in the forests of the Congo. I wanna say it was KRS-ONE, but I may be wrong, that said that hiphop was a way for black kids in the ghetto to tell their white counterparts in the suburbs what they were living. A vehicle for understanding…or at the very least, exposure to different circumstances. There’s a great song by Sublime called ‘KRS-ONE’ that talks about how “I know because of KRS-ONE.” In other words the singer didn’t know about some stuff until he heard a hiphop song by KRS-ONE. Hiphop can make me laugh. “In a room full of crackers I might cut the cheese.” (Method Man) Hiphop can blow my mind in just a few words or with an amazing beat. “Kurt Loder asked me what I’d say to a dead cop’s wife. ‘Cops kill my people every day, that’s life.’” (Talib Kweli)

But by far, the most wonderful thing about hiphop is how it speaks to people all over the world. There is not a country in the world that has not been affected by hiphop music. I can guarantee you that even in the desolate landscapes of Mongolia there is some kid layering his voice over a hiphop beat in his head. You can hear hiphop done in Japanese, Korean, Zulu, French, German, and any other random language that some folks somewhere are speaking. Hiphop is absolutely universal. And people aren’t just consuming hiphop music. They are creating it. Letting it speak for their conditions, lifestyles, and aspirations…making it their own. Besides Bob Marley, I can guarantee the only other person you can see painted on any wall anywhere in the world is 2pac Shakur. Hands down.

Hiphop, in the form we know it today, began in the 1970s in New York City. Apologies now if my history isn’t as accurate as it could be or missing some elements here and there. I’m just piecing it together from what I know and from what I’ve heard. Feel free to correct me if I’m wrong. Hiphop has 2 fathers and 2 origins in New York City…who actually started it depends on where your allegiances lie. Basically there used to be these big block parties in parks in NYC in the 1970s. A guy called Kool Herc and a guy called Afrika Bambaata, one of them a Jamaican transplant, brought turntables and big speakers and started playing records together via a mixer that can make one song play continuously into the next song. And hiphop music was born. Other people put on other little touches, like scratching (Grand Master Flash), and the musical form evolved from there. There’s a famous line in hiphop songs (originally from KRS-ONE, I think) that says “hiphop started off in the park,” which refers to these origins I’m describing.

Hiphop was originally a DJ-centric music because the first people to do hiphop were DJs. But as time went on people would start rapping over the beats laid down by the DJs and then MCs (aka rappers) would battle each other and in time less emphasis was placed on the DJ. And that’s what you see today…where a rapper will be more well known than just about any DJ out there. Other “elements” of the genre also started to surface…things like break dancing and graffiti.

Originally hiphop seems like it was just the soundtrack to the party. But in time people started to use it as a way to express their lifestyles. To talk about issues in their community, etc. A lot of the early hiphop actually has something to say, some commentary. Not all of it, but a lot of it. Of course there are things like gangster rap that evolved out of this social commentary…which disturbed (and still does disturb) a lot of people. But what you have to realize is that a lot of the people who were rapping about violent situations and drugs were conveying what was happening in their community. Instead of shooting the messenger, maybe it would be more useful to examine why the situations people are rapping about are happening in the first place. Today, hiphop has been substantiated as a money making vehicle. Black culture has always been marketable (see Rock n Roll w/respect to Chuck Berry vs Elvis) and record executives have found a way to market hiphop to a broader audience, such that it’s been watered down and commodified. Heck, even McDonalds has “cool” “urban” commercials featuring hiphop beats. This isn’t to say that there aren’t people making hiphop songs that deal with bigger issues than what cool car the singer drives and how many hot chicks he has on his arm…there are quite a few of these “conscious” hiphoppers out there, but you will never hear them on the radio. Their tunes won’t be keeping the club jumping on Saturday night.

I think hiphop has such a universal appeal because its roots come from all over the world. Breakdancing incorporates elements of African dance, old time black dancing from the USA (sorry I can’t think of the term right now), and even from capoeira (an Afro-Brazilian martial art). The first hiphop block parties took elements of the big street parties of Jamaica and other places in South America/Caribbean (I’ve seen similar parties w/walls of speakers in the streets of Brazil). I’m sure there are myriad other little elements that make up hiphop that have been gleaned from cultures all over the world. Because of the collage of elements that make up hiphop I think that it has a universal appeal. People that hear hiphop in Angola, Laos, or New Zealand are able to see/experience some element in hiphop that may have originated in its pure form in their community. Or have some analog in their community. Hiphop is also easily reproducible. Hiphoppers can create beats with their mouths (called beatboxing) and an MC can throw a verse over that. Drum beats can be banged out on anything from the latest high tech electronic mixer/turntables to plastic buckets.

How did I come to hiphop? How did a white girl fed on Kenny Rogers, John Denver, and Alabama in her early years on the farm come to hiphop? Well because of the time I grew up (late 80s/early 90s), hiphop music was already starting to be on the radio. It was starting to become part of the common USA culture, no matter what your origin. If you listen to musical boxed sets representing specific decades (ex: 70s, 80s, 90s), the first decade to have a really varied popular set of songs was the 90s. If you listen to just about any 90s box set you will hear Pearl Jam being followed by Naughty by Nature. My first 3 CDs were: Nirvana “Unplugged in New York,” The Lion King soundtrack, and Warren G “Regulator.” Although I knew some popular hiphop tracks from the radio (like Whoomp! there it is and What about your friends?), my real introduction to hiphop didn’t come until 1997.

In my 3^rd year of high school, I shared a table in my English class with a guy called Kevin Irons. He was one of the most popular kids in school cos he was hot, played soccer really well, was smart, and also streetwise (so he was down w/the thugs…yeah there were thugs at my school. Waukegan High School…Wauk-town til we go down!!). Kevin started to talk to me about hiphop one day and I told him I didn’t really know that much about it. He made it his mission to teach me about the Wu Tang Clan, beef, and other aspects of hiphop culture. I think it was cute to him that a nerdy white girl (so I think I was perceived in high school) was interested in all this thugged out stuff. I think I became a pet project to him. In the end he made me some tapes of the Wu Tang Clan and some other artists like Cypress Hill and 2pac. I learned a lot and fell in love with hiphop.

The next major development for me and hiphop came at the University of Illinois with and organization called UC HipHop. The organization was started in the fall of 2001 to promote hiphop culture on the campus. The organization exploded within the first semester of its inception…they were throwing the hottest parties, rap battles, breakdancing battles, and weekly ciphers (where rappers come together in the park or somewhere and freestyle rhyme with each other. freestyle=making up raps on the spot, like improv). Chill in the Grill on Wednesday nights at the Canopy Club was not to be missed. The semester after UC HipHop started, I went to South Africa for the first time. The only thing I missed more than my friends and family while I was away was UC HipHop.

So what was so great about this organization? Well there was a lot of nice talent coming out of this group and that was cool cos these were people that were my neighbors, friends, and classmates. I think music is so much more special when it comes from your friends/acquaintances vs. coming from some rich superstar you don’t know. Plus they threw good parties with music I liked. I learned more about some of the elements of hiphop that I didn’t know much about, like graffiti and breakdancing. And I learned more about the finer points of hiphop, like less commercial stuff and more arty or “conscious” hiphop. Hiphop that really spoke to me. Don’t get me wrong, I still like to hear a nice vulgar song by ODB every now and again, but the conscious stuff is really what gets me going. But the best part about UC HipHop, hands down, was the love. This was an organization composed of all kinds of different people: Indian breakdancers, Filipino/Irish metal head rednecks who had discovered hiphop, heads from the deep dark parts of Chicago, nerdy white kids from the suburbs, Puerto Ricans, and many more. But we all came together and broke bread, regardless of possible differences, at the table of hiphop. And everyone in the organization had love for everyone else (although at times there was beef…but that’s hiphop). I made a lot of really good friends thru this group…friends which have remained good friends to this day. Because of the love in this organization, with a side of hiphop, I think that hiphop became even more important to me.

Yeah, so that’s hiphop to me. I just wanted to share some thoughts I’ve been having about hiphop lately…cos like I said it’s been coming up a lot with people. I’ve been detecting a pattern in the topics that I’ve been connecting with other people over…and hiphop is the leader. That being said, one thing I deeply miss in SA is being around people creating hiphop (and creating other things, but mainly hiphop). I haven’t found the people that are making hiphop music here. I’m not sure why. I know there are people making music here and breakdancing and stuff, but I don’t know if I have access to their communities yet. I think I’m going to need a visa for my hiphop passport. Working at a rock station and living in Pretoria hasn’t exactly exposed me to much hiphop here ;) I did meet some MCs a month or so ago in Pretoria, but I haven’t had time to get connected with them. I’m going to do so when I get back to Pretoria. I mainly have a negative view of hiphop in this country because I mainly just see people consuming the hiphop that I don’t like from the USA. The commercial crap. But I’m confident there are heads here…I just need to find them. I think I’m making progress and my ear is always to the ground when it comes to hiphop.

PS: My favorite DJ from home just came out w/a new CD. It’s actually a funk CD and not hiphop per se…but you can check it out and his other music at:

www.spinnerty.com

There’s also a really great article about producer extraordinaire Rick Rubin on his blog.

Much Love to you all. Happy Holidays and all that jazz

Keep the faith and spread it gently!

Lynsee

The Great Trek, part 2

Welcome to part 2 in a ?? part series…I’ll let you know how many parts it is once I finish saying what I got to say ;) Oh yeah, the “Great Trek” is an allusion to the long journey the ancestors of the Afrikaans people in SA took in the early 1800s. It was like their version of pioneering into the wild lands of “here be lions” Africa. There was a group of Dutch farmers that did not dig the rules imposed by the government in the Cape (I think mostly the disputes revolved around paying taxes and not being allowed to keep slaves anymore) so they left and headed inland…eventually ending up in the area where I live now. These pioneers were called “voortrekkers” which I think means forward trekkers/migrators or something in Afrikaans. There is a Voortrekker St in just about every town around where I stay and even a monument to the Voortrekkers in Pretoria…a massive stone tribute to the ancestors. I thought it was appropriate to rip off this phrase in describing my own voyages of the last month or so…

Last we left off I was in Swaziland visiting with Rotarians and giving speeches…

So I visited 3 clubs in Swaziland: Manzini Club, Malkerns Club, and Matsapha Club. I spoke at all 3 and also gave a speech at a high school for girls. I spoke about myself mostly, but also gave a speech on radio in honor of my baby radio station’s (in the USA) (WRFU, Radio Free Urbana) 2nd birthday. WRFU turned 2 years old at 5pm on November 13th…the first time we went live in 2005. Congrats!!!!! The radio speech was the best because people were really interested in the topic (a testimonial to radio’s weight around the world) and I got into a lot of good discussions and received a lot of good questions. None of the clubs had powerpoint ready for me, so I had to give free form speeches…but it was all good. I just wish I could have shared my photos! They really are worth a thousand words!!!

In Swaziland a custom I observed w/respect to Rotary meetings was a toast to the king, King Mswati III. Swaziland is one of the last remaining monarchies in the world. I don’t really know how that plays out for the people, although I’m guessing that the King doesn’t do much for the people as he seems to be very very wealthy and his people seem to be extremely poor. PS: The King uses DeKalb corn in some of his fields…Midwest represent! And you KNOW I got a photo of that…

Manzini is one of the main towns (although still fairly small) in Swaziland, besides the capital city of Mbabane. Manzini is the place I called home for most of the week when I stayed with Julian. Julian’s a young Rotarian (I would guess late 30s/early 40s) who has her own business doing environmental impact assessments (something done in conjunction w/building and developing). As I said, she has 2 kids: Letu (13) and Phephiswa (1½)…both boys. There is also a housekeeper/nanny that stays in the house, Jabu. It was really great to stay with Julian. It was nice to be a part of a good family for a week and to hang with young kids. It was particularly cool to spend time with Letu because he’s really smart, inquisitive, and eager with the questions. And you can tell that the way his mother raised him is very open to the world such that when you speak to him you don’t have to choose your words so carefully. I mean he’s still 13, so you can’t necessarily speak to him like an adult, but he’s been exposed to a lot so you don’t have to worry that maybe you are corrupting a youth. You don’t have to think in the back of your head “Is this something I should be speaking about or is it something that only the parents should speak to their kids about.” I really like that in kids and in parents because sometimes I think kids are so sheltered that when life happens to them they don’t know how to deal with it.

The Manzini club was a good sized club and mixed as far as age and race. In fact, most of the Swazi clubs were very mixed with respect to age and race…which reflects how Swaziland differs socially from South Africa. This is the club I gave my radio speech to and I think it was my favorite speech that I gave. I love to talk about radio and it was nice to get feedback about radio in Swaziland (100% government controlled) and to hear people’s impressions of radio. Manzini Club meets on Monday and during the day Julian showed me some of the projects the club is involved with. We went to an orphanage that is on a farm. The Manzini Club took this orphanage as their Millenium Project (a project done thru Rotary in honor of the 100 years of Rotary, which was celebrated a few years ago) and the club sponsored the building of some dormitories there, a tractor, and an irrigation system. It was a really nice place and I wouldn’t mind being an orphan if I could live at a place like that. They had huge tracts of fruits and vegetables planted: papaya, corn, cabbage, sweet potato, spinach, tomato, green beans, and probably more. We also checked out a preschool that the Manzini Club helped to build. And we went to a hospital where the club sponsored sitting room furniture, a TV for the children’s ward, ambulances (2, I think), and maybe some other things that I have now forgotten.

Tuesday I went to Malkerns Valley and stayed the night with another Rotarian, Angela. She stays out in this beautiful valley surrounded by pineapple fields. Her property borders a game reserve, so I saw zebras and Nguni cows (an indigenous speckled breed) chowing grass together on the other side of her garden…nice! Angela lives by herself with a few people that work in her house and gardens. She has a gigantic great dane and a tiny terrier. It was nice to get a change of scenery and Angela is a very nice lady, so it was a good time in Malkerns. I like staying with older people sometimes because it grounds me a bit in a different reality. It’s sort of like visiting a grandma, aunt, or uncle. You need to be on your best behavior and remember to not act like a crazy 26-yr old. It’s good (as a young person) to be put in this situation because sometimes I don’t have to buckle down and act right. Staying with older people makes me remember that not everyone is living the unbuckled life I am and that I need to respect them too. It’s a good lesson I guess…and if you are listening, people different from you always have something to teach you. Especially older people.

Angela set up the high schooler talk for me, so I gave that speech during the day and at night visited the Malkerns Club. Malkerns is a small farming community, so the club was also very small. But, as I’ve found here in Southern Africa and at home, the best clubs are the ones that are outside the big cities. They are usually the most informal and jovial. Good-natured teasing and friendly. Malkerns definitely fit this model. I think it’s one of the best clubs I’ve been to in D9250. And they actually cook dinner (Angela’s house lady cooks the meal) and eat together. Many clubs that I’ve visited here do not have a meal together. Some of them share snacks and drinks, but it’s just not the same as sharing a meal with people. I understand that it can be very expensive to have a catered meal here, so many clubs opt out of eating together…but there is something so nice about having a meal with your colleagues. The clubs I’ve been to that have a meal are: Pretoria W, Hatfield (Pretoria), Malkerns (Swaziland), Matsapha (Swaziland), White River (SA). So that’s 5 clubs out of the 10 clubs I’ve been to here in D9250 that eat a proper meal together during their meetings.

I visited one of the projects that Malkerns Club sponsors, a “care point.” A care point seems to be a place where kids from the community come to get some learning as well as a meal. There was a small building with 2 classrooms and a separate outside cooking area. The cooking area featured a special oven setup designed by one of the members of the Malkerns Club. The Lion Stove is a stove that takes less fuel and creates less smoke (I think). One of the members of the Malkerns Club is an inventor from Canada. An interesting guy to say the least. I’ve never met an inventor before and it was certainly a pleasure to hear about this guy’s projects. Dad and Ben, you would love this guy! I also met a really nice older man from Pennsylvania, in the horticulture business, that has since relocated to Swaziland. It was great to talk USA shop with him ;) Sometimes it’s refreshing to meet people from home cos I don’t really meet that many Americans here…although most people here know something about the USA due to our incredibly good ability to spread our culture around the globe. Ice cold Coca Cola anyone?

Quick on the USA tip…I was in the grocery store w/Angela buying some food for the Rotary dinner. There was a guy walking around and when he spoke I thought I detected an American “twang” to his voice…sure enough a few minutes later he came by and asked if we knew where to buy turkey in Swaziland. Dead give away…an American celebrating Thanksgiving. It was a few days before Thanksgiving at this point. I didn’t celebrate because I didn’t plan ahead and I don’t really need to celebrate my holidays here. I need to celebrate SA holidays, right? But I hope you all digested enough pumpkin pie and mashed potatoes for me too J

It was also nice to visit Malkerns because it’s my Swaziland name place. Years ago when I was in Swaziland with my dad I visited a Swazi friend I knew from university. We took him back to his house and met his family, who only spoke siSwati. Grandma had a hard time saying our last name (Melchi) and so she just called me Malkerns…close enough I guess! So it was nice to finally see my Swazi name place J

Wednesday I went to the Matsapha club in the morning and then left for South Africa in the late morning. Matsapha is an industrial area in between Manzini and Mbabane…I guess smack dab in the middle of what could loosely be construed as the Manzini/Mbabane megalopolis. Not exactly a megalopolis, but probably the most populated section of Swaziland. Matsapha was another friendly Swazi club. I wasn’t able to see any of their projects because I had to get back to SA, but I’m sure I’ll be back in Swaziland soon! You can bet on that. It was nice to go to the Matsapha club because I saw a guy (Bheki) that I spoke with a lot at conference. I forgot he was from Swaziland, so it was a nice surprise to see his smiley face in Matsapha…especially cos the club met at 7am before my morning coffee. I also gave a speech at this club.

Wednesday I also went back to Pretoria via kombi as there is not really any other way to get from Manzini to SA. I had to go back to Pretoria to take my last final exam in Genetics. The sick test. I wanted to get back in order to have some more cramming…I mean studying…time. I stayed with a guy I’ve been “kickin’ it” with, Charlie, cos I had moved out of my dorm room. “Kickin’ it” is the best phrase I can bring from the USA. It’s super expressive and vague at the same time, which is precisely why I love it. You can kick it with friends (meaning you are hanging out with them, relaxing with them). You can kick it with a cute boy you like (meaning anything from hanging out, kissing, and more). You can kick it alone (hanging out). The phrase just has a nice vibe to it…relaxed, chillin’, maybe getting some lovin’…it’s all covered with “kickin’ it.”

I’ve been kickin’ it with Charlie for maybe a month now. I had been meaning to get to know him better since the beginning of the year, but for various reasons just never did. I remember the first time I saw him in my dorm (we lived in the same dorm complex this year)…it was at the welcome braai (bbq) at the beginning of the year. He was wearing an army helmet and cape made out of a South African flag. I just thought “this is a guy I need to meet.” I got lost in a swirl of freaking out and being upset and away from home, so I never talked to him. Shoot, even that night at the braai I was so upset (for reasons I do not remember now, thankfully) that I almost started crying while I was in line waiting for food. Months later I spoke to him, exchanged pleasantries, but didn’t get his number til a few months ago. By that time I was thinking so much about Raoni that I didn’t want to think about other boys…which in retrospect sort of sucks. All that time I was living a few houses away from Charlie and now we are provinces apart…the timing of life is just wack sometimes.

So we’ve been kickin’ it…movies, dancing, chilling. It’s refreshing to meet a guy like Charlie cos he’s a lot of good things: smart, funny (hilarious, actually), loves hiphop (good hiphop), and a nice guy. He seems to care about me, so that’s great! White guys rarely talk to me here, which is no problem. I like guys, no matter what shade they come in. Black guys always talk to me, but they usually got nothing but a lot of game…which is not something I’m too interested in. Also I can’t tell if boys just want to talk to me because I’m from the USA or because they are actually interested in me. I would hope that they are intrigued only at first because of the USA thing, but that my personality and all that kind of stuff keeps them interested more as time passes. Who the heck knows. But, at any rate, I’ve been very choosy here because there are a million guys “falling on my head” (as Raoni put it) and if I just wanted a guy I could have one. I don’t know if that guy would be worth it though. Oh yeah, and there’s this little epidemic called HIV/AIDS that is pretty prominent in this part of the world, so it’s good to be choosy.

The other dilemma w/black guys is that I’m a nerdy white girl. Sometimes here there are a lot more “black” things that I relate to compared to “white” things…but at heart I’m still a nerdy white girl. At home these white vs. black things don’t seem to matter as much, but as this is SA, they make a huge difference. I guess when I say they don’t matter at home I mean that the things I like and activities I engage in at home are drawn along the lines of interests as opposed to specifically drawn on the lines of race. Admittedly if you go to a rock concert in the USA you will most likely encounter a predominantly white crowd. If you go to a hiphop concert you will encounter a predominantly minority crowd (depending on the venue/artist/etc). And if you’ve ever taken the Red Line from the North to the South of Chicago then you can see where the race lines divide people getting on and off the train. Don’t let me paint the picture that everyone in the USA is holding hands and singing “Kumbaya,” cos I would be lying to you. But it has been possible for me to gather a posse of all sorts of people and experiences at home without feeling too out of place at any time. There’s some common ground somewhere such that people from different backgrounds can come together (bless hiphop for this!!...UC Hiphop, represent!!). But here’s it’s like the line is drawn in concrete and is life and death…where as at home I don’t feel the division as much…even if I’m kickin’ it on the South Side of Chicago w/the Thornton clan. Clara…bathing in your positive vibes as I type ;)

Because this is SA the events I attend, activities I engage in, things I’m interested in mean that I have to decidedly pick what group of people I’m with tonight. And it’s a deep division. It’s really frustrating for me because I’m a person with people in every place/race/whatever. The polarized nature of SA means that I have to swing from one extreme to the other and sometimes being at the extreme is really really weird. And makes me feel really really weird. It’s like you have to be at this end or that end and there is no in between. It makes me tired sometimes and makes me have to give up a part of myself sometimes in order to “fit in” with whatever polar opposite I’m with today. It means that sometimes I feel like I can’t be myself because I won’t be accepted or will pick fights with people over different ideologies. Ambassadors do not pick fights…they just don’t. So that means I just keep quiet a lot and don’t express anything…if those of you that know me can believe that. Which is also a form of giving up a part of my personality.

I’m about to make a bunch of generalizations…so bear with me. I don’t dig stereotypes, but there are often trends that can be agreed upon. As I’ve said before…the problem lies with judging individuals by these trends. And that is really something I try to avoid until I get evidence to the contrary. My judgement of people/places/situations is an ever-morphing creature…able to change with new information as it’s encountered.

If I hang out with white people here then I have to endure a lot of talk about other races that I really don’t like to hear. And believe me, I can’t challenge every little negative (or at least not positive) thing that comes out of people’s mouths here…I would be drained of all my energy in about 48 hours. Sometimes you will be hanging out with people that you think are decent and then someone will cut them off on the freeway and “bloody kaffir” will fly out of their mouth as if it were attached to their normal respirations. Are you kidding me? It’s like shouting “f**king n**ger” in the USA. It’s unbelievable. And confronting people about negative attitudes they have about their fellow human beings usually results in me being accused of being the wrong one. I’m “a foreigner that couldn’t possibly understand what it’s like to have grown up in SA.” Well of course that’s true, but it doesn’t take too much understanding to know that racism and hate are wrong…sorry to sound so self-righteous. I don’t care what circumstances you were brought up in. But pointing this out to people usually makes me the bad one. I don’t get it, so I usually prefer to be quiet instead of having the same conversation over and over with people. The white people in this place seem to construct barriers between themselves and the other people around them. Barriers that don’t need to be there. Yeah there are very different cultures in this place. Heck, even the two white tribes of SA are pretty culturally different…but it doesn’t mean that there can’t be some common human ground. If I can have a mother in Honduras, a Brazilian soul mate, a posse of Filipino/Irish/Indian/Puerto Rican homies in Chicago, a lesbian Zulu friend, and many other meaningful relationships with other assorted people that are different from me then I don’t understand why we can’t all create these bridges instead of putting up walls. Maybe I am the weird one after all…

Hanging out with white people here also usually means that I listen to music I don’t really like that much. It means I go to places I don’t really like that much or don’t feel that comfortable in. Of course these are generalizations…so please don’t take offense or think that every single thing I’ve done w/white people has been an absolute horror. And mostly the generalizations I’m talking about above refer to hanging out w/people my own age…but not totally. In Pretoria, hanging w/white people often means that I don’t speak the language and so I often sit and stare blankly/space out a lot and don’t engage in what’s happening around me.

If I hang out with black people here it usually means I’m the only, or one of the only white people around. Which hasn’t bothered me in years, but it still means that I stick out, ya know? It only gets easier and easier to ignore ‘all eyes on me’ when I go somewhere. Also this aspect isn’t usually a negative thing, as in people don’t treat me negatively for it. But if you are a black person in an all white room you can probably bet money that there will be at least some negative vibe toward you. But I think that’s also true in the USA…don’t know I’ve never been black in the USA. Hanging out with black people usually means I won’t speak the language that people are speaking some of the time, but usually there is enough English going around that I can still engage a bit in what’s happening. Depends on who I’m with. Hanging out w/black people usually means hearing music I like more and being places where I feel more comfortable. Although sometimes it means that there’s a noticeable cultural gap in my information on how to blend, but to get around this you just have to act extra polite and smile a lot. Greet the elders, lend a hand, and did I mention smiling?? People usually understand that I’m a white girl from the USA and may not know all the secret handshakes and nuances of interaction in their place, so they are usually understanding if I make a faux pas. But the thing I give up sometimes is being a nerdy white girl. Not all the time, but this is usually the part of me that doesn’t translate well. It doesn’t cause people to be rude to me, it is just a part of me that isn’t expressed as openly.

So…I almost lost the point here…but I’m back! One of the best things about Charlie is that I don’t have to give up anything to hang out w/him. I can be a nerdy white girl, enjoy the music I like (all of it…even rock n roll. Mom I even played him “Gonna be an engineer” by Peggy Seeger), and generally be at ease. It’s so cool. Sometimes there’s a small cultural glitch between us, but that happens with almost anyone I engage with here. It’s just part of the territory of being in a different place. But overall, hanging w/Charlie is very very cool. I really want to date him, but I’m not exactly sure how he feels about that. And, geography is working against us for the moment…so we’ll just have to see how things pan out.

So I stayed with Charlie for a few days. Relaxed, failed a test (don’t worry…I passed the class), tried to make sure the lady that runs our dorm didn’t catch me in his room, did some radio stuff, and enjoyed my last few days in Pretoria before shipping off to my new semi-permanent home…Midrand.

Midrand is a place that’s halfway between Joburg and Pretoria. It’s a big sprawl of townhouses and mini malls and in that respect reminds me of some of the less nice suburbs around Chicago. Your Hanover Parks and such. Habitation pods for the urban population to be close to the city. My friend Cliff just got a really nice townhouse there and I have moved in with him and his fiancé, Chido, until the next school year starts. Chido’s away doing an internship, so mostly it’s just me and Cliff. I’ve known Cliff a long time and it’s always chill when we hang out, although we are very different people. He calls me Eminem cos I’m “his favorite white person”…whatever that means. I like when we meet new people cos folks are always confused about how the heck 2 people like us ever came together in a place like SA. And that’s when I can say “it all started in Zimbabwe over the corpse of a donkey…” which really confuses people. Sorry…I can’t tell that story now. It’s best in person. Cliff just moved in and doesn’t have any furniture yet, so that is kind of a bummer…but it’s a place to stay with good people. What more can I ask for? I stayed w/Cliff for a few days and then headed off again for my next Rotary destination…White River.

White River Rotary Club invited me to come and speak at their club about 2 months ago. They are one of the most proactive clubs that I’ve encountered as in they actually called me first. Most of the speaking/visiting engagements I’ve done w/Rotary have been things I’ve sort of set up on my own. It’s pretty cool to be invited first instead of saying “Oh please can I come visit your club?!?” They were having a Foundation evening in honor of the month of November (Rotary Foundation month). My scholarship is funded thru the Rotary Foundation so it was fitting that I was there to enjoy the festivities with the club. There was a nice dinner, some speeches on the programs of the Foundation and the club, and I spoke for about 5-10 minutes about my scholarship and what I’ve been doing in SA.

I was staying with a really fabulous lady named Cheryl, her very German and large-moustached husband (Horst), their 19 yr old daughter (Karin)…although Karin just left to go work at a spa as a chef’s assistant, their house lady (Josie), the garden guy (Alec), and 2 little dogs (Da Vinci and Mokewe). I arrived here thinking “oh I’ll just stay a few days to see what the Rotary Club is up to.” Cheryl is a person who hosts people and she was under the impression I was staying for much longer. So, since I didn’t have anything else I needed to be doing, White River is pretty cool, and the invitation was open…I stayed. The countryside is fantastic (the Lowveld) and the people I’m staying with are really nice, fairly open-minded for SA, and relaxed. They show me cool stuff (Horst took me to a taxidermist) and are flexible enough that a girl with her head in a cloud can still move along without causing too much bother to her hosts. Cheryl’s a very outgoing and friendly person although she sort of threw me for a loop when I first met her. Within the first 30 minutes of meeting her she joyously proclaimed that she was “colonial” and that her husband was a racist. The combo of these 2 traits left me a bit nervous as to whom I might be spending the next few days with…but I understood her descriptions a bit better in time spent with the family. “Colonial” just means that Cheryl likes to have her tea brought to her in bed in the morning by the house lady. But it’s still a sort of a scary way to start a stay with someone you don’t know. I don’t know…South Africans are just complicated like this.

My week in White River was really fun and filled with Rotary. I went to a total of 2 Rotary meetings (the Foundation night and a regular meeting). Had chats with old men about ‘the war,’ saw some wonderful people receiving awards for uplifting their community, and lost a few wine draws. Having Christmas parties for orphaned or disadvantaged children is a really big thing here in SA. It is sort of like the “Toys for Tots” program the US Marines sponsor. A lot of Rotary Clubs seem to have some party that they sponsor each festive season (as the holiday season is called here in SA) and it seems like other organizations do similar parties as well. White River Rotary had about 3 parties for kids in the week I spent there. I helped sort presents, distribute presents, and at one party I ended up cooking with some ladies. That last party was the best one…

I went to a party in a rural area with some Rotarians. The organization running the party set up a tent, had music and food, and overall it was a pretty cool party. I think the kids had fun. The Rotary Club brought presents and cake. A lot of times when I’ve been out to Rotary projects I just end up standing around…which I don’t like. It’s a different form of being a tourist and also just bogus to come check something out and not help…or at least offer to help. At this party I asked the lady in charge if I could help and she directed me to some ladies chopping vegetables. I asked them if I could help out in any way. One lady said “Can you cook?” I said I could, so she said “you can cook the cabbage.” This was scary. I have never really cooked cabbage before. I have never really cooked cabbage in an iron pot on a wood fire before. About 50 odd people will be counting on this food, so I don’t want to screw it up. But I said okay and asked if someone would help me. So I took turns stirring cabbage in an iron pot over a wood fire with another lady. It was SO fun!!! It took a long time cos there was a lot of cabbage. Our spoon was too small. The smoke was insane. Your arms get tired from stirring cabbage that doesn’t want to move around. I was so worried that I would knock the pot over cos it was sort of perched on this homemade metal thing over the fire. But it was still fun. I cooked with the ladies all morning and into the afternoon. Chopped vegetables, served food, cracked jokes. It was great. Mumbley, I even told them about the myth we have that if the campfire smoke is following you then you are the prettiest girl. Everyone thought that was really funny. Apparently now, according to these ladies, I will be able to find a nice African husband because I can cook. Whew…what a relief…my sleepless nights of worrying that I’d never find a good husband to cook and clean for are OVER!!!

The party I went to the day before was really freaky. It was put on in partnership with some missionary people that were there from North Carolina. They told the story of Jesus’ birth, but because the lady couldn’t speak siSwati she narrated and a guy translated. And she made sure to tell all the little kids that if they wanted to, they could “give their heart to Jesus” if they hadn’t done so already. I’m sorry…but that is freaky. I went to a few vacation Bible schools in my days and I took Jesus into my heart cos I felt pressure and also that it was the thing to do…but it hasn’t meant anything to me. I just don’t see how a 7 year old kid can make a conscious decision to take in Jesus. I couldn’t appreciate that decision as a 13 year old.

As I sat there watching this story being told, and then re-enacted by some confused kids that were moved around by the missionaries, I’m sure I must have caught some flies in my mouth as it was totally agape. Absolutely shocking. I just sat there thinking “people seriously still do this? This is some ‘Dr. Livingstone, I presume’ shit!!” I really couldn’t believe it. That’s one of the greatest things about Rotary…no strings attached. No politics, no religion, no nothing…except goodwill towards humanity. I really respect that and think that is probably one of the reasons Rotary has lasted so long. Those religion/politics issues are really the things that tear people apart and also cause people to view their fellow man as foreign. The greatest dividers of our time… I guess it’s good that the kids got presents, a party, and cake…but at what indoctrination cost?

Most of the rest of the time I spent in White River was spent chilling out. Reading, watching TV, sitting outside, writing this. I went out with Karin (the 19yr old daughter) one night. It was nice to get out and be with people more my age, but it was one of those situations I described earlier that made me feel a bit weird to be white. If that’s possible. These are supposed to be my people, right? We went to a 21st bday party for a bit (nice…there was an open bar!) where I met some really interesting girls. Had some good conversations. Karin seems to have pretty cool friends overall. Then we went to some bar in Nelspruit called “The Keg” and then we went to the coup de grace…Stables.

We walked into Stables and I saw people “shooting the kudu” and soekking (sorry I don’t know if that’s spelled right…) like their life depended on it. Wow! I just thought to myself “Oh god, I’m going to shoot a kudu tonight…” “Shooting a kudu” is a really great phrase I heard used in order to describe a type of very typical Afrikaans dance that is done here in SA. It’s normally called “soekkie,” but “shooting a kudu” is a phrase I can not pass up. A kudu is a really huge antelope here. It has huge horns and a beautiful marking pattern…google images, baby! The dance seems to resemble a Texas two-step sort of dance, but it involves sticking one arm straight out like you are shooting something…probably where the other nickname came from. It’s a dance done between 2 people, usually a man and a woman. I’ve never done it, but if someone asked me I would. Soekkie music is usually not music I would prefer, so I didn’t enjoy Stables per se (in the music department)…but in the gauntlet of cultural experiences I can definitely say that it was an experience in itself. I had a decent time (thanks to the previous open bar) but mostly just felt out of place.

Karin also took me out to this cool place called Kaapsehoop (or something like that) which is maybe 30 minutes-1 hour away from White River. They have wild horses there (which we saw a few of) and it’s sort of just a quaint little spot with a great view. It was SUPER misty and foggy that day, so we didn’t see that view, but the mist was really cool in its own right. We went with 2 of Karin’s friends and we had a really nice walk up to the lookout spot…where we just saw more fog. I really enjoyed this little trip.

Because Karin has just moved to KwaZulu-Natal (the Midlands) for the next few months and is then going on to university, she was getting rid of a bunch of clothes. We are very similar sizes, so I got a bunch of new clothes…hurrah! Thrift store shopping fix sort of indulged. I’ve been sporting new threads ever since. And it’s a good thing she gave me these clothes because I only brought enough clothes for 3-ish days on my trip to White River. Or more like clothes for 3 situations: dress up, dress down, and multi-purpose.

On Friday of my week in White River, Cheryl, Karin, and I went to a small town called Chrissiesmeer where Cheryl has a house that also doubles as a self-catering country lodge-y place. It is in the middle of nowhere and has a stunning view of a lake…Lake Chrissiesmeer. The house is up on a “hill” of sorts and the land slopes down in a wetland-y sort of way (they called it the “moor,” a term which I’ve heard before, but don’t really know what it means). There are lots of neat rock formations that are subtle and just calmly stick out of the landscape. The rocks sort of look like cowpies that were deposited via the placid movements of a migrating herd of hoofed herbivores. We took a walk, with the 5 dogs Cheryl’s sister has, down to the lake one day…a nice walk with some mud and rocks to navigate. The best part of the house is the porch…sending one up to my High Street porch haven!!!! The porch looks out on the lake and the moor…gorgeous. The sky is big there just like the Midwest prairie sky. The security system is a pack of dogs and a lock on the door which is really cool compared to the laser beams, razor wire, armed guards that you find everywhere else in SA. The security situation here is something I understand, but still keeps me feeling a bit caged in at times. Like when I stay at someone’s house that has a certain security system it usually means that once they go to bed I have to stay in my room or else I will set off the security system’s laser beam detection system. Yuck. But I guess it has its place here…

Cheryl’s sister, Heather, just built a house next to the lodge (they just moved in this month), so we spent our time with them mostly. Her husband works on contract for a sugar plantation in Kenya (so he wasn’t there), one son is in England, and the other son (Callam) is there helping out his mom and “finding himself” (if I had to classify his life path right now…I guess). He’s in limbo now while he waits to go to Thailand to teach English. In limbo…now that’s something I know a little bit about ;) There is also a grandma there that has suffered from a stroke and is having her last few days in a country paradise.

Staying at Chrissiesmeer was fantastic. We just went up for a few days, but I’m going back there later this week. Heather is a self taught veterinarian (she holds clinics for people in her area and in Swaziland where she’s lived for the past few years) and a kindred spirit to be sure. She actually had a pig (Angelina…named after the Jolie w/the big lips) that she recently rescued from a culvert. Angelina was in quite a state, but was starting to perk up after getting some food, some meds, and some satisfying mud wallowing. Heather and her son are into what might be labeled ‘new age’ stuff like yoga, raiki, astrology, and the like…but like many ‘new age-y’ people…they aren’t flakes. It’s just the stereotype, man! Dave Mockaitis you would dig these people so much. Mom, you would feel right at home…it kind of reminded me of visiting your friend in Mountain, Ontario.

On a random food tip…I ATE CORN ON THE COB!!!!!!!!!!! I know that’s random, but I’m from the Midwest, dammit! I haven’t had corn on the cob since I’ve been here and I ate 2 ½ cobs at Heather’s place. I could have eaten all she cooked, but I had to be at least a sort of polite guest so I cut down my consumption to 2 ½ cobs. Watermelon and corn on the cob are 2 things I can absolutely gorge on…even if my stomach is about to explode. They are just associated with good summer times and they taste fresh and wonderful. And with watermelon you get to spit the seeds without getting yelled at for spitting. How can you go wrong? I also had tortillas at Heather’s place. Man, she really hit my food spot!

Now I’m back in Midrand with Cliff. I came back here for a few days/week to touch base w/the homies and get some more of my clothes. I’ll be going back to Chrissiesmeer to hang w/Heather and her son until around the 20th. Because Heather just moved in, she has a lot of small work to be done and it will be nice to help out and use my muscles a bit. I’ve been sitting around like a bump on a log for a span now and it’s just not my style. I’m too restless for such sloth activities.

I’ve been chilling with Cliff for the last few days…doing nothing. Getting my things together and having lots of chats. I thought I would be hanging out w/Charlie here cos he’s in a township just next to where I stay…but he’s so far been elusive. Oh well… It’s pretty boring here cos I’m isolated and Cliff’s car is messed up so we have no transport…a crucial thing in the ‘burbs. So I’ve been hanging at the house for the last few days hiding from the rain.

It’s been a good ride so far…living the vagabunda lifestyle. Although being a vagabunda has been stressing me a bit (it would be so nice to have a home of my own right now)…I have to count my blessings that I’m here and able to eat and do some of the things I want. I have just been getting a bit stressed w/feeling out of place lately…the things I was describing earlier in this post. The great SA race debacle is something that gives me a lot of stress. I don’t know how to care less about it because it really upsets me when people say and do things that are not good to other people. I just don’t understand it. The unnecessary walls constructed here are just trouble in the end. Not having my place here and not having my true people around me (wherever/whoever they are) has been sort of weighing on me because it means I haven’t been able to really be myself and really at ease for quite some time. Although I’m feeling MUCH better since when I first arrived!!!! Maybe this is something I’ll always have to deal with if I’m away from the USA…don’t know.

Many thanks to all those that have helped me along the way. I only hope I can return the favor one of these days!! I’m really hoping to come home before I go back to school at the end of January, but with my resources and family’s resources scraped together it still doesn’t look like there is enough money to come back and hug you all and eat tacos. But I’m keeping the faith until I must keep it no longer…

Much love to all of you readers! I have tons of pictures to post, but no reliable internet connection so these things will have to wait for awhile.

As always…keep the faith and spread it gently.

Love Lynsee

The Great Trek, part 1

Greetings loyal blogsters!

To say that I’ve been moving and shaking in the last few weeks would be a bit of an understatement…since I left my home in Pretoria on the 12th of November I have been in 3 countries (SA, Mozambique, and Swaziland) and about 3 different provinces of South Africa. Right now I’m living the Rotary dream! Traveling around, giving speeches, and bathing in the hospitality of the beautiful Rotarians of District 9250! Many thanks to all the people that have put me up and put up with me…no easy feat at times when dealing with a girl with her head in a cloud…I’m sure!

I took my last exam on the 22nd of November (it was a sick test for Genetics cos I was sick during the actual exam), but otherwise I was mostly done w/exams around the 10th of November. Exams went decently I guess. So far I’ve gotten 2 As (aka Distinctions) and one 69%...which I was happy about because the class I got a 69% in had a really tough final exam. I bet a lot of people failed that class!! So unless I really fail this last exam I’m waiting on the results of…it looks pretty good that I’m getting into veterinary school here. Woohoo!!! I find out about whether or not I’m going to veterinary school in a few weeks. By Christmas I should know.

So, in the last few weeks I’ve been traveling around the Rotary District in order to take care of some of my scholarship duties…acting as an ambassador, spreading peace and goodwill, absorbing the good vibes and hospitality of Southern Africans, and giving speeches. I’ve spoken to Rotary Clubs in Mozambique, Swaziland, and South Africa…and even got a gig speechifying to a group of high school girls in Swaziland. I’m sad to say that I wasn’t too happy with my efforts on that speech. Which is unfortunate. It’s good to speak to Rotarians, but the chance to inspire youngsters is a unique opportunity and one that is probably worth more than giving 100 speeches to Rotarians. I have so many wonderful things to say to young girls and I think, to date, my life’s been something that young kids could probably look up to…I just wish I could have expressed that better to them. I suppose I have a long way to go before I become a motivational speaker ;)

I started my sojourn in Mozambique a few weeks ago because my visa for Mozambique was expiring the 17th-ish of November and it was a damn expensive visa. I got the embassy to give me 2 entries into the country on the visa…so I really wanted to use it to its full potential. I was put up in Maputo (the capital city) by Rotarian/Assistant Governor Max Scott. Max is in the business of importing car parts from overseas, particularly truck toppers. He was born in Scotland, but has lived his entire life (since the young age of 1 ½ years) in Southern Africa (Zambia, Mozambique, Malawi, South Africa). When he was telling me the story of his life, at least the geographical story, I was just thinking to myself “Wow, people like you really DO exist!” It interests me to think of the life of a person who is sort of a foreigner in the sense that his original culture is somewhere else…but that has really only known Africa as his home. It sort of made me think about the future of my own life and the potentially rootless character that I can imagine it taking on.

Max lives in a townhouse sort of setup in Maputo with his son (maybe his stepson) Claudio and a young lady named Elena. Elena’s about my age and originally from Swaziland. I don’t think I’ll go into too much of a description of the house structure because one thing I’ve learned here is that sometimes a lot of people live together in complicated woven tapestries of life (i.e. not necessarily directly related). As a person spending a day or three or four in a house as a guest it’s really not my place to tease out all the information of this interconnectedness. Who am I to sort it out? People live together and that’s that. This takes another form here in Southern Africa as well, in particular with black families. Extended family networks stretch out past the horizon…cousins and aunties and moms and dads and brothers and sisters and grannies and such. For example when I was in Swaziland I stayed with another Rotarian, Julian (more on her in a bit). We went to go visit some “family” on a Sunday. She introduced me to a woman that was the “friend of the grandmother” of Julian’s child. So I said “oh so this is also grandma?” and Julian was like “yeah.” Friends of the family often take on an extended family role such that they are also referred to as family members like auntie or grandma. It’s not something completely foreign cos at home I have an Uncle Bobby that is not related to my family by blood and I’ve never known him as anything other than Uncle. I also have a second family in the USA as well…the family of my best friend since I was 6 years old. But here the networks of people go on and on and on. I think it’s really nice because it’s always good to have “family” around. But I’m sure having so much family around can also get complicated and messy…isn’t that what movies have taught us about the Thanksgiving and Christmas holiday? See, makers of Home Alone 1, 2, and 3…I was paying attention!

There are a few other cultural items that also lend themselves to this great big extended family network. A lot of houses (or you might call them homesteads) are arranged such that on the property a family inhabits there is a main house and then one or a few smaller houses or “flats” on the property. This is something you will see in white and black families here, in rural and urban areas. In white families these flats tend to be where the older children live (like kids my age) or sometimes they are rented out to strangers. In black families these flats tend to house more family…or also the older kids. It seems in particular that if a person lives in a more urban area that these flats will accommodate relatives coming from the rural areas that are looking for work in the city. And this trend seems to hold true in many countries…even as far north as Kenya. So, where as in the USA we might just have the main house and that’s it, there is plenty of place to put people up in houses here. One of my friends from Durban was telling me about her family’s place and it sounds like there are a number of houses where the family lives. She said she has like 25-ish people living there. It might be even more than that. She said she has like 50 brothers and sisters…but like I said when someone says ‘brother’ or ‘sister’ here who knows if they mean blood or extended family. And does it really matter anyways?

Another cultural item that lends itself to large family networks is what I will call the ‘love ‘em and leave ‘em’ phenomenon. Or maybe you can call it the ‘baby’s daddy’ phenomenon. It seems like a lot of families here might be constructed of kids from many different fathers. It’s not necessarily a negative thing like we might think in the USA. I really like the way it plays out here because instead of being a big deal it seems like people just get on with this business of living. I heard a phrase here from a Congolese guy that went “no fruits, no roots.” While I can safely say that I’m not interested in putting down any roots right now…I can dig the concept. I’m sure that people here get abortions and stuff, but it seems like having a baby here isn’t a life ruiner as it might be construed at home. So from these ‘many daddies’ there is also an extended family network that comes with each daddy…making the network even bigger.

Okay…so I stayed at Max’s house for a few days and visited with all the Rotary clubs in D9250 that are in Mozambique. There are 3: Polana Club, Maputo Club, and Matola Club. The first 2 are in Maputo (the capital of Mozambique) and the last club is in Matola, a town just outside of Maputo to the west. Maputo and Matola are predominantly Portuguese clubs and Polana is predominantly English-speaking. I spoke at Maputo and Polana…in English. My Portuguese skills are not quite up to speech giving just yet. Raoni, you gotta teach me more!

Many thanks to all the Rotary Clubs of Mozambique! Muito obrigada e muito prazer! It was nice to visit your clubs, see so many familiar faces from conference in May, as well as making new friends! Mozambique still has the friendliest people in my book ;) I look forward to visiting again!

A quick note about Rotary Clubs in Moz re: customs. It is customary for everyone in the club to clap after the Rotary bell is rung at the beginning of the meeting. I saw this at every club in Moz, and not really anywhere else. There isn’t really a “seargent” part of the meetings (that I can remember) where people are light-heartedly fined for various infringements. I can’t recall exactly, but don’t remember seeing a “wine draw” like what I’ve seen at clubs in Swaziland and SA. A wine draw is where raffle tickets are sold at each meeting to raise money. There’s a draw during the meeting and the winner gets a bottle of wine. I’ve seen 2 clubs in SA (White River and Hatfield) that do a variation of this where each person in the club either puts 2 hands on their head, 2 on their butt (“tail”), or one hand on head and tail. Then 2 coins are flipped. If it’s 2 heads then the people w/2 hands on their head go on to the next flip and all the rest of the people sit down. You can switch up your head/tail combination between each round and this continues until someone wins a bottle of wine.

Polana was my first club and speech in Moz. Polana is a smaller, younger club. Younger in the age group of attending Rotarians as well as the actual length the club has existed. It seems like they have some administrative things to work out, but I can see them being a very vibrant club. Maybe the hip young professionals club ;)

Matola Club was my next visit. This club is a bit outside of the main happenings in Maputo, so that is something that brings flavor to their club. They seem to be a club that has been around for a bit and are fairly established with dedicated members. I heard a speech on biofuels while I was there. I say heard because it was in Portuguese and if it weren’t for the powerpoint slides…I would have been 93.5% lost ;) I think there was some miscommunication as far as my giving a speech was concerned, but that also seemed to just be par for the course when dealing with the Mozambiquan clubs. Maybe it was a language thing, maybe not…I’m not sure.

Finally, Maputo Club. It’s the oldest club of the 3 that I met in Moz and the largest. There was a pretty diverse crowd there as far as ages were concerned, but it seems like it is the more prestigious club of the 3 I visited. They meet at a super fancy hotel overlooking the ocean…nice! They actually had a powerpoint set up for me, so I gave one of my prepared powerpoint speeches. There were even representatives from Rotaract (the “youth league” of Rotary…ages from highschool to 30-ish years old). I don’t really see Rotaracters or Interacters (high school age Rotary program) at many clubs in SA, but they seem to have some sort of presence in Mozambique and Swaziland.

Staying at Max’s house was really cool. He’s really laid back and took me to all the clubs as well as gave me rides to some other places. Thanks!!!! It was REALLY hot in Maputo while I was there…like almost 40C (104F) with the blazing Moz sun. But it was really nice and because Maputo’s by the ocean there is always a nice breeze blowing thru the city…even if it sometimes feels like an oven breeze. So it was nice to get rides! Max works from home, so he was basically around most of the time and I didn’t have to worry about disrupting his business day, per se. He has a lady that works in the house during the day (I forgot her name, d’oh!) and she would cook food and steal my clothes to wash them when I wasn’t looking. Sneaky ;) One day I opened up the pot for lunch only to see whole baby calamari lounging in a sauce. I got sort of scared at the first glance because all I saw was lots of tentacles. I sort of yelped to myself and then said “well I’m going to eat that, no matter what it is.” I figured out it was calamari and relaxed a bit after that. And…it was SO delicious. It was cooked in the perfect way so as not to be too rubbery and chewy. Nice job! Such a nice job that I ate it for lunch and dinner!

Maputo is a really cool city. It’s easy to get around. Walking isn’t too bad (unless it’s 1 million degrees). The local transport isn’t that hard to figure out and people are pretty nice. Also the streets are all basically grid-like in the main city area, so it’s not that hard to figure out where you are. And the streets are named after famous socialist/communist/African heroes, so it’s easy to remember the street names cos they are names you already know like Mao-Tse Tung and Vladimir Lenin. Plus, although it’s a tired looking city, it’s a really beautiful place. Colonial at times, big avenues, always something to look at. And because I was there a few months ago (and had walked around a lot when I was in Maputo w/Raoni) I sort of knew where things were in relation to one another. It was like being in Chicago until I moved to the city…I recognized parts of the city when I passed thru them, but didn’t always understand how the geographical puzzle fit together. Give me some more time in Maputo and I’ll be set ;)

It was really nice to meet up again with some people that I had met my first time in Maputo. Jane, a German girl studying in Maputo, and I went out a few days and just spent time together. We went to a market in a place called Xipamanine (SHEE-pah-ma-nee-nee). A large sprawling affair where you could purchase just about anything you need: muti (traditional medicine remedies), rat poison (there was a stall that sold only poisons), fresh fruit/veg, fish (of course…this is Moz), pots and pans, cow head soup, Raiz beer (which I had never seen in Moz), and such. Someone tried to rob me while I was there (Raoni, you were right), but they were not successful. When we first arrived in the market I had a shoulder bag on my shoulder, but I wasn’t feeling comfortable with it on my shoulder. There was too much crowding in the market passageways and also I felt like at one point someone was trying to do something to my bag…and I was right. Someone cut my bag w/a razor, but they didn’t cut all the way thru so I didn’t lose any of my stuff. But, because my spidey sense was tingling I moved my bag around even before I realized someone had tried to rob me. When we stopped for a cold drink I realized my bag had been cut (d’oh!...my Beautyshop Band Bag is now in shreds…no more representing Champaign IL) and then I was on point and looking out for robbers. Sneaky bastards…I got some sandals (that have already broken, but will be fixed soon), some things from the witch doctor pharmacy, some beautiful cloths, and some Mozambique matches (cos they have a cool map of Moz on the box). A really nice lady in the “pharmacy” part of the market gave Jane and I both bead anklets as a gift, which was really nice. Mine was red and yellow and Jane’s was multicolored. Mine fell off already, but when I get home again I’m going to fix it. She said it was a gift to traveling friends. Nice!

I also hooked up w/some crazy Brazilian dudes I met with Raoni, Junior and Elias. Junior is super funny and taught me all kinds of swear words in Brazilian Portuguese. It’s weird, but I can understand so much of the Portuguese he speaks. I think it’s because he tries really hard to talk to me and make me understand. He doesn’t speak any English except to say “my name is Junior and I make music” or something like that…so we really have to stretch and work hard to talk to each other. But it was really nice to go say hi to him. I just came into where he was staying shouted “porra cara…” and it was on. If you don’t know what “porra cara” means then go make some Brazilian friends…it’s the only way you will learn. I also saw this guy I went out with one night called Sibia. He’s a musician as well and we spent a lot of time talking and stuff when I was there before. Also, we kissed when I was in Maputo the first time w/Raoni. But I had to avoid him this time for reasons I will go into later. He gave me a ride back to Max’s place one day and it was nice to see him again… it was also nice to get a ride cos it was REALLY hot that day!!

After Mozambique I headed off to Swaziland to do my Rotary thing in a different area code. I took a minibus to Manzini and was met by Rotarian Julian Mlangeni, a really awesome Swazi lady with a great family: one son 13 (Letu) and one son 18 months (Phephiswa, said: PEH-pi-swa), and Jabu (the house lady/nanny). Swaziland is definitely a place I could see myself settling into. It’s really really beautiful with rolling hills, green moutaintops, rocky outcrops, and expansive fields of pineapples and sugarcane. It’s a very rural country with some hints of the urban and generally seems to be lacking the mental static that comes with being in South Africa. Crime, yes in some places, but not to the extent that is experienced in South Africa. And Swazi people are super nice too. The country is so small, so you can drive across the whole thing in a few hours. It’s like Connecticut or Rhode Island in that respect.

I stayed with Julian for almost a week. She has a big scary dog that had never really seen white people before, so I had to stay in the house most of the time, but it wasn’t so bad. I watched a lot of TV, which is pretty novel for me and not really boring since I never do it at home. I arrived on a Friday and during the weekend we went out for dinner, relaxed, visited a dam in the south of the country, and visited some relatives.

Again, many thanks to the Rotarians of Swaziland. Again, I saw a lot of familiar friendly faces from Conference in May…in particular Bheki of the Matsapha club! Great to see you again!! Julian is also a lady I met in Pretoria at the conference in May and because I remember her the best, I was eager to stay at her house. She’s pretty young for a Rotarian, maybe late 30s/early 40s, and we got along really well. It was so wonderful to be part of a family for a week-ish. Her family’s great. Letu is very inquisitive and super smart so it was really cool to talk to him. Phephiswa’s a very adorable baby and he was fascinated by me, so we had a good time. When we went to go visit Julian’s family on Sunday she was joking that I was going to be Phephi’s future wife but that in the mean time the father was going to “take care of me” until Phephi was old enough to do it himself. All I could say is that I’m worth a lot of cows because I have a university education ;)

Oh yeah, on a random note…when black people get married in Southern Africa the husbands have to offer a lobola to the family of the future wife. Nowadays it takes many forms: money, cars, cell phones, cows, etc. But back in the day it was primarily an agricultural offering (usually cows as that is a sign/currency of wealth). For example, my friend Cliff is going to be marrying his girlfriend in the next year-ish, but before he can do that he needs to pay lobola to his girlfriend’s family. I think he’s just giving them money…which he is working hard to produce right now. The guy that ran my dormitory is a Xhosa guy that was marrying an English lady. As a part of his symbolic lobola to the English family he sent 100 greeting/post cards with pictures of cows to his fiance’s father. Lobola is something that, like many old customs, has definitely changed with the times to meet the demands of the modern Southern African family. Lobola isn’t just in Southern Africa either. I think it’s something that can be seen in many different cultures around the world. But, of course, we have nothing like it in the USA…so far as I know. I haven’t gotten married too many times, so I might be wrong.

With that little tidbit of cultural information…I’m going to end this post. I have much more to say, as I’m sure you can imagine, but it will have to wait til tomorrow! I’ll finish up my story tomorrow.

Enjoy it!

Keep the faith and spread it gently
Love, Lynsee