Welcome

This blog will offer insight into my life in rural South Africa. I am a U.S. Peace Corps Volunteer working primarily in the field of education. My duties include training teachers at three primary schools, strengthening relations between the schools and community, and working with the community on other projects. I arrived in South Africa in July 2006; my service will conclude in September 2008.

Last week I met Vusi, who works for the local home-based care group, around 5 PM outside the clinic. We were going to see the mayor of the municipality, who actually lives in my village, to inquire about using the land near Sipho Bar for our vegetable garden. We initiated the garden project with funding from PEPFAR (President's Emergency Plan for AIDS Relief). The objective is to provide vegetables to local orphans, vulnerable children, and their guardians.

At the mayor's house, we spoke with a relative who said the mayor wouldn't be back until 7 that evening. By then it would be dark. Plus, we didn't really want to wait for two hours, so we decided to try to catch her early the next morning. As I headed home, trying to suppress my frustration at yet another plan dashed, I walked by the community hall seat of the village despite its crumbling facade. A crowd of raucous teenagers was scattered out front. A bit of dread welled up in me as I braced myself for the whispers that sometimes accompany my presence as the lone white woman in this village of 20,000.

A group of girls quickly engulfed me, all talking excitedly but all saying the same thing: "Come to our drama practice!" After this initial barrage of invitations, I encountered Andries and Jack, who seemed to be the leaders. They explained that they were all members of a performing arts group that had just finished their daily practice. Jack suggested I write a drama for them to perform. Andries hoped I could provide feedback on their performances. Honored by their interest in having me join them and excited by their enthusiasm, I said I'd try to make tomorrow's practice if I was available. Then Andries and Jack walked me nearly all the way home, even though they lived on the other side of the village and one of them had to weave slowly on his bike to keep from getting ahead.

When I showed up at the community hall at 3:30 the next day, Andries told me he was so glad I had come to give them my support. He also said, "From this day forward, I will trust you because you kept your promise." I winced a little, remembering how much I'd tried to emphasize the possibility that I would come. This is one thing that causes me stress: my concept of promise versus how I've encountered it in my village. More than once I've said: "Maybe. I'll do it if I have time" or "I'm not sure, but I'll try" only to learn that these statements were interpreted as firm commitments. When I don't have time or I try and fail, I seem to disappoint people despite my overt attempts to give no guarantees. I think this linguistic confusion falls into the realm of cultural nuance that an outsider like me can never fully grasp.

I tried to avoid mulling over what would have happened had I been unable to make drama practice that day. Would I really have been viewed with skepticism from the start? The thought was unpleasant. It was even more unpleasant after I witnessed the incredible talents of this self-motivated group of teens singing beautifully and dancing in the Ndebele tradition. The dances included complex coordinated steps and the rapid thrust of a leg up into the air; some of the guys kicked so high they seem to be aiming for the sun.

As I sat in that dark and echoing hall, soaking up the fervor of more than 20 young people choosing to spend their free time pursuing the arts, I felt like a proud parent who couldn't stop smiling. They were a motley team, hair dyed red, gardener pants, rainbow-colored knee socks, a lip piercing, a floppy sunhat, formal slacks, black leggings, a leopard-print shirt, a baseball cap. But they were all committed to the same ideals.

Practice runs every weekday for 1.5 hours, during which time the group performs original song, dance, poetry, and drama?often promoting HIV/AIDS awareness. Taped up on the cement wall behind the stage is a sheet of chart paper outlining which art form is to be practiced on which day. I wondered how I'd managed to live in the village for almost nine months before hearing about this group. They were as organized and dedicated as any high school drama club with access to ample resources. And yet they had overcome the tendencies toward apathy and idleness that have affected so many of their peers. Since then I've been to several more practices, and I am still deliriously happy about this small miracle I've come across. When the group members ask for my help, I want to promise them the world but I'm afraid all I can do is try. Maybe this time it will suffice.