After more than two years of sharing our lives with you on this blog, we have come to the end. As we move on to the next phase of our lives, we have decided to create a new blog.

Beyond South Africa

beyondsouthafrica.blogspot.com

The new blog will still have links back to this blog (as well as the Picasa Web Albums). We simply want the blog to remain as our "Peace Corps" blog and start afresh with a new chapter.

Love you all! Thanks for the support you have shown us over the past two years. It has been a life-changing experience for us, and we will never forget our time in South Africa.

Brandon & Rachel

As you can probably imagine, we haven't had much time lately for blog entries. I am actually sitting here writing this at 5am on the morning we are leaving the village. It's been an emotional past few days and I don't expect today to be easy. As much as possible we've tried to keep our normal routine over the past week to keep ourselves from feeling like it was the end. But now we've just slept our last night in our little home in Kgobagodimo ... it's going to be impossible to keep up normal today.

We are saying goodbye to our best friends, and not just moving to another city, we're moving around the world. When we came to South Africa with the Peace Corps it was hard saying farewell to our families, but we knew we would see them again. Now we are leaving our home with no certainty of ever coming back. Not only is that tearing us apart, but we can already see the impact on those we're leaving. When I saw my best friend Andries off at the bus stop yesterday morning on his way to Pretoria, he wouldn't even make eye contact with me. He basically ran and got on the bus to keep our last confrontation as short as possible. He had never had to say this kind of goodbye before.

It's hard to think of what our next week is going to entail. Not only are we going to be in Pretoria finishing up our last few things with the Peace Corps, but we are going to be in different places around the world. Next Sunday I will be walking out of a terminal in Chicago while Rachel starts a week-long visit with Melanie in Barcelona. Our lives are going to be so different, so overwhelming and exciting, for the next few months. But this morning here we sit facing the most emotional day of our lives. (Maybe if I just keep typing I won't have to deal with it :)

Here are some pictures of what our last few weeks have been like. I wish I had time to write in more detail, but it's just not going to happen.

We went out to Chanda and Jacobus's farm with Paul and Jessica. We gave them aprons as a gift for hosting us on several occasions.

Just before we got started with our braai on Sunday night, the rains came ... and they came hard! We got stuck in the bathroom at their camp on the farm. We stood under a leaking roof and watching the wind literally uproot trees just outside the door.

In order to get back to the house, we had to take off in the jeep while it was still raining and lightning. It was one of the most amazing storms I have ever experienced.

The damage at the house was unbelievable. A tree that has been the centerpiece of the family property for over 50 years had fallen during the storm, as well as 45+ other trees on the farm!

Every year when the rains come, we have one or two nights of these nasty flying termites. They swarm the outside lights of our house at night and then we find thousands of wings on the ground in the morning.

On our last trip into Ellisras, we took Matome with us for a special treat.

She will probably be the hardest person to leave as we say our goodbyes today.

Here she is holding Caden, our friends Stephen and Jolene's baby.

We were invited over to dinner with the Ditsela family. It was our last traditional South African meal, and a perfect farewell get-together with good friends.

Tebogo leaned over at the end of the night and whispered in my ear, "I'm going to miss you so much."

Paul and Jess came over to spend a few days with us to wrap up some things at school. They will be visiting our school every so often when we're gone.

It was also Paul's birthday yesterday (our birthdays are only 8 days apart) and we made the most amazing chocolate cake. We may as well have just taken spoonful of sugar directly from the sugar container. Not a single one of us finished our piece because it was so rich!

Hanging out with the kids in front of the house. Since it's the beginning of the December holiday, more kids are at the house now. From left to right: Matome, Nhlasi, Gaefele, Lerato, Matlatse, me and Khutso.

Just for kicks, we did a sort of documentary on the cockroach population in our pit toilets. If we had a faster connection, I would upload our video footage. Watch for it later. I know this photo is small, but just for the record, there are 18 cockroaches visible. You couldn't believe the sound that hundreds of these guys make!!

The apron sale at the Embassy was a success!! Well, sort of...

Wednesday night we watched the dark blue sky towards Seleka hoping that we would eventually get some of the rain we were seeing fall to the north, south, east and west of us. It always seems to be that way here. Lightning was striking all around and the clouds were falling towards the ground in thin whisps. The sky was nearly black and it was only 4pm.

We were waiting for Jess, Paul and Joey to arrive and spend the night with us in our small house but were a bit worried that they may not make it in the down-pour that was all around. We were getting cell service sporadically and just couldn't connect with them.

Then, maybe around 5 or 6, we watched as a black wall of dust began barreling down on our village from the direction of Seleka. This was not what we had in mind when we wished for rain. Matome started yelling when she spotted it first and the rest of us came running to see what caused the panic. We all quickly got into gear then once we realized just what it was and scrambled around the houses to close windows and block any cracks in the doors and walls with towels to keep as much of the dust outside as possible. This one was going to be nasty.

As the dust storm hit our house and rattled the windows, we stood inside hoping that this time some rain would follow. The last time we had a dust storm like this one, no rain accompanied it and we ended up with a house that looked like an old abandoned beach house that had been partially buried by drifts. (okay...maybe not this bad, but we swept multiple times and produced a pile of dirt like I have never seen before.)

The rain came and shortly after it started, so did our friends. I had begun baking bread and chicken in Mma's oven...so Jess quickly helped me get some potatoes into a pot on the stove before the threat of losing electricity became too real. Luckily, the electricity lasted for dinner and only after we were finished went to low-levels which prevented us from using most of our electronics for the night.

Well, Thursday morning is really where this story should begin since I want to share about the apron project...

We all got up around 5 to get ready for the 6am bus and found that we still did not have full-power electricity. So we all got ready under the glow of a light bulb. With five of us in our small house, we quickly took our turns in the "bathroom" and packed up our bags. We arrived at the bus stop just a few minutes before the bus came and in enough time to purchase our bus tickets at a discounted rate from the neighbor lady before she ran out. Maam Tema arrived at the bus stop at the same time as us even though she lives in the school cottages on the other side of the village but Maam Ditsela was nowhere to be seen. Later, I came to find out it was because she was painting her nails. :) As we saw the bus approaching and no Maam Ditsela, Brandon took off running to her house and quickly ushered her outside carrying her suitcase so that we would all make it onto the same bus.

Once in town, we had a bit of a wait for the Pretoria taxi to fill. So we all went our separate ways. The teachers hit the bank while Jess, Paul and I went to purchase some chocolate buns at the bakery and then teas and coffees at Wimpy's. Brandon watched all of our bags at the taxi.

By half past nine, however, we were all on the taxi and on our way to the cities. The four of us Americans took the front row feeling pretty comfortable with the additional space we were granted by not having a "traditional" sized woman sitting next to us. My two PGC leaders sat near the back in their matching skirts and shirts evidently very excited about their journey.

The drive to Pretoria was a long one since there has been construction on the road lately and we had a sick woman on our taxi. However, when we finally arrived, we all got into a private taxi at Bosman and headed straight for our nightly accommodations at 1322 International Backpackers. When we arrived, we were pleasantly surprised to find that even though we had booked just dorm rooms for the night, our hostess was giving us individual cabins (that we usually sleep in) for the same price since they filled the dorms earlier. The teachers slept in one with two single beds and seemed thrilled! Their cabin was between ours and the Vig's.

We all rushed to unpack and then quickly headed up to Duncan road where we could catch a public taxi to Menlyn Mall. Maam Tema had never been there and Maam Ditsela had only been there once many years earlier. Upon arriving, we bi-passed the mall and walked straight through it to the Metro Fabric store on the other side. The teachers enjoyed seeing where we purchased fabric and were happy to buy some for themselves. They each chose fabric for making skirts and then we all agreed to make a trek on Saturday morning into the Indian shops near the taxi rank to try and find cheaper curtain fabric.

Once we were finished at the fabric store, we headed back over to the mall and all went our separate ways with a plan to meet up at 7 when the shops were closed to eat a special dinner. The teachers, I think, were a bit overwhelmed because when we met up with them later on the fourth floor, Maam Tema was the only one with a bag and they both looked exhausted.

Dinner was at Cappuccino's, an Italian restaurant. We bought a bottle of sparkling wine for the table and then each ordered a special dinner. It is funny because the teachers even get a bit overwhelmed with the menu selection and Monicca even wanted me to order for her. I was able to walk them through their choices to select something they would eat and then also encouraged them to place their own orders. The food was incredible and even though the ladies insisted that they were full, Monicca finished everything on her plate and even polished off the complimentary Cappuccino.

After waiting an hour for our private taxi to come and fetch us, we all got quickly into a bed to get a good night of rest before the next day hit.

Friday morning, Brandon and Paul left early for the Peace Corps office to collect the aprons that we had there. The week before, a few staff members had attended our farewell function/awards ceremony and graciously took back our three large bags of aprons so we did not have to struggle with them on a public taxi. Then all of us ladies called a private taxi which came to take us to the US Embassy just a few kilometers from the Peace Corps office.

We all dressed very professionally and were very excited for what this day would hold. Upon arriving at the Embassy, we were one of the first groups and lined up with the last bag of aprons that had traveled with us. Paul and Brandon got a ride from Peace Corps to the Embassy and arrived just before we were allowed to enter the compound. Unfortunately, there are no pictures for the next 5 hour span because of the tight security that is required at government buildings.

At 10am, we were allowed inside. As Jessica signed our group off on the vendor list, I locked up our cell phones. Then, one by one, we sent our bags through the security scanning machines and then walked through a metal detector. It was fun watching the teachers go through this process since it is unlike anything they have done before. I'm sure it was again, a bit overwhelming as they sacrificed their purses to a black hole in a machine not knowing what was going on.

We were in and ready to set up within minutes though and had what seemed to be a prime location. There were only 25 vendors present but everyone having a wide variety of items to sell. We were situated immediately outside of the front entrance into the lawn, still under the awning and in the shade.

Our biggest task in setting up was re-tagging all of our aprons. Brandon had re-designed a tag for the aprons that included a description of the project and we had just received them in the post a couple days earlier. Since we had already sent our aprons to Pretoria to await our arrival, we could not tag them prior to the Embassy Craft Fair.

We accomplished this task in record time though and Jessica made a very nice display with our aprons spread across two fold-out tables. It was amazing seeing them all spread out and seeing just how much hard work the ladies had put into this project.

The craft fair was not open to outsiders, so we knew that everyone shopping would be an employee of the Embassy. Soon, they started to trickle down into the market we had set up and everyone could tell when the lunch hour arrived when the largest number of shoppers appeared. We had some great interactions with people but we quickly learned that we had to be quite aggressive to pull them close to our table. We had forgotten to make a sign before coming...so most people who saw our table thought we were selling mini bags and not realizing that there were aprons inside. Despite the fact that we were each wearing a different apron and had a few aprons pulled out of the bags to display on the table, we still found ourselves pitching our items by first stating they were 'aprons in a bag.' Once people realized though and word began to travel, our table became popular and we soon became experts at describing our product and its support of the Palala Clubs.

We saw some familiar faces among the Embassy employees and were even pleasantly surprised when the Ambassador came and bought an apron from us. The women had fun watching their aprons sell and even got into the sales pitch a time or two.

Overall, at the end of the four hours, we had not sold many, but we felt that for the quantities of people who came down to visit the tables, we did fairly well. We only sold 50 aprons at the Embassy compared to the 20 we had just sold at the Peace Corps office the week earlier. We were not disappointed though. It was a wonderful experience, and we all learned from it for the next time. The Peace Corps office actually kept half of the left-over aprons because of a large meeting that was taking place at their office this week. They felt they could sell quite a few more in the process of bragging about this PCV led project. So we'll see how that went later. In addition, another staff member called and placed an order of 50 which doubles our sales from this event.

With the Embassy sale behind us, we all went back to Menlyn for a celebration! Each of us went our own separate ways for a bit to get a few errands complete but by 5 we were all back at the mall meeting up to do a bit more shopping. By 8pm, we gathered for dinner at Baobab restaurant and treated ourselves to anther fabulous meal and even included three different desserts to share at the end.

Despite our exhaustion from this event, Saturday morning we all arose early to try and catch the first taxi home. The two guys again split off and took ALL of the bags and headed straight for the rank. Us women headed in nearly the same direction by private taxi to hunt out the Indian owned fabric stores we had been hearing so much about. Situated near the Belle Ombre taxi rank, we felt it would be easy enough to find, but this proved false. We spent nearly 45 minutes walking around trying to find someone trust-worthy enough to ask and then another 15 minutes walking to the shops that were a bit of a hike from where we had gotten dropped by the taxi.

Jess and I, accompanied by our two leaders, found ourselves in a maze of shops in an area of town that definitely did not see white people on a frequent basis. This was proven by the many comments I continued to hear about the "Makgowa" (white people). The area we were in is called by an Afrikaans name that means "dirty" which is the perfect description. We first walked through a bus depot which was littered with trash and then found our way down busy streets with street vendors on every corner. What fascinated me the most were the traditional healing vendors who sold an array of roots, barks and oils.

As we found the shops, it was still before 9 and many of the shops were not open. We spent much of our time just wandering about and were finally able to enter the first shop around half past 8. We only made it into the second shop when the guys called to let us know that the taxi was nearly full. As we all stood just inside a shop to decide what to do, it was agreed that the women would stay and do the curtain shopping they had been waiting all week for and Jess and I would brave the streets and run back to the rank in hopes of still making the first round of transport.

As Jess and I started out of the shop, we both realized that we had gotten a bit turned around during the half hour we spend wandering among the closed shops and found someone quickly to ask directions out of the shopping centers. she directed us towards an exit and once outside we had the next tricky feat of figuring out which direction we were facing and where the rank was. Luckily, the Indian shops were situated on a bit of a hill and we could see the large depot roofs and took off at a fast walk in that direction. Within 10 minutes we were in view of the taxi rank and soon seated on the taxi ready for departure.

It was a very exciting weekend and a great time to spend with my PGC leaders and Jess and Paul. We all joked that it was our own private farewell function, but it was very true. Upon reaching our own shopping town of Lephalale a few hours later, Monicca confirmed that she had also made it home safely (she lives in a town closer to Pretoria, Mokopane) and had found the fabric curtain she wanted shortly after we split ways. Maam Ditsela showed up just an hour after us here in the village laden with bags proving that she also had a successful day of shopping.

So, it's time to play catch up and finally post about some of our final events here in South Africa. With only 2 weeks remaining here in the village, it has hit me just this week that we really are finishing our service and saying goodbye to the home and family we've lived with now for over 2 years. It's not easy. Not only are we leaving our home, village, host family, cats (this is sure to make me cry), schools, clubs, friends (both here and in town), and fellow PCVs (particularly Jess and Paul)...we are also leaving behind familiarity and a unique freedom that comes with being Peace Corps volunteers.

Earlier this month we held the annual PGC and PBC awards ceremonies in conjunction with our farewell function. It was a very special day with many memories that we will bring home with us. The event was suppose to begin at 10, but as time in Africa goes, it was roughly 11 when things really got under way. The morning events prior to the commencement of the ceremony included setting up the meeting hall, preparing speeches (Jess and I both had to practice saying our speeches in Sotho and Tswana) and finally getting Salim's speakers set up for our DJ (Paul).

As 10 got nearer, no one was showing up. I think a few parents trickled in, but otherwise, the meeting hall remain empty. Then, closer to 11, the attendance started to pick up slightly more with the arrival of our Chief Seleka and his entourage. Also, we had the two circuit managers of Palala North and South show up in addition to a "guest speaker" from the FET college in town. By 12, after the event was well underway, the meeting hall was finally full as the parents began really showing up.

There were 27 items on the program, so you can imagine how long this day was going to be. It began with the courtesy speeches made by people that really have no attachment to the schools but are seen as VIPs. Once these were finished, the celebration began and we watched the boys and girls clubs sing and dance to several songs for the audience. Mr. Dibetso (a PBC leader) lead the music and we watched the kids get really into it...even if they did all hardly fit in the front of the room together.

This was followed by several smaller groups of children singing. My PGC council girls formed a trio and sang a special song for us and later came in and did one hip-hop dance and then one Kwaito cultural dance for everyone.

One kid from each of our clubs gave a short speech and then one leader from each club gave a speech also. The highlight of this was actually seeing the children stand in front of a large audience for the first times in their lives and have to give a public speech. While both Vovo and Charlie did an excellent job, there was a moment when we all thought Charlie would melt, pass-out or burst into tears on stage.

We had some more memorable moments from the ceremony as we were pulled into the front and awarded gifts from numerous people all wrapped in the only paper they could find in town, Christmas. We received some very unique and heartfelt items as people tried to say goodbye in the best way they new how. We also experienced a speech by our kindergarten teacher which was filled with animation and her booming, growling voice. It was hilarious even if we didn't understand all that she said to us.

While there is so much I could tell about the day, I think it will just let the photos we've posted tell the story. After the event, there was food served that the women in the community had been collecting donations for over a month prior to the event. There was also women playing drums and dancing as is tradition and many photos were taken.

On this day, we went home and felt the love of this community and our schools and know that we are satisfied with our service.

Hi everyone! As you probably know, our time here in South Africa is quickly coming to an end. We have less than three weeks left in our village and we will be back in the States celebrating Christmas and New Years with our families before we know it.

The past few weeks have been a bit crazy and our schedule probably won't lighten up much over the coming weeks. We promise we will try and keep you updated here on the blog as much as possible, but there may be few entries between now and our departure to the States.

We just got back yesterday from an exciting trip to Pretoria to participate in the US Embassy's annual craft fair. We want to share all about that as well as our recent PGC & PBC Awards Ceremony and Farewell Function at school. We'll try and do our best to get a few posts written in the coming days!!

In the meantime, we thought we would post a quick entry related to our COS (Close of Service) procedures with the Peace Corps. Every volunteer is asked to write a DOS (Description of Service) at the end of their service term. It is a summary document outlining major activities and accomplishments that can be used by the volunteer in the future as an official statement recognizing their Peace Corps service. We have included ours here in PDF format if you are interested in reading them:

DOS-RachelJohnson.pdf (86kb)

DOS-BrandonJohnson.pdf (64kb)

I mentioned in one of our recent posts about our visit to Lambano Sanctuary with Rachel's parents in August. We just got our hands on the photos from that day, and I've finally put together a Picasa album to share some of the highlights.

I was amazed by the amount of attention I received from the boys. It was such a blessing to get to spend time with them, and I felt an overwhelming love for all of the kids there at Lambano.

It was an amazing highlight and finale to our trip with Jerry and Rosy, and I know they were blessed to get to spend their last day in South Africa with these kids.

If it weren't for the need to get to the airport, I think we could've spent all day there. Despite the circumstances that many of these children are dealing with, they exhibited a joy and love for life like I haven't seen in a long time.

Rachel and I have plans to go back to Lambano on our second to last day in South Africa, and we can't wait to see the kids again. We will be going on a field trip with some of them to the Pretoria Zoo!

Our morning bus rides to town are usually not all that exciting, aside from the occasional wildlife we see on the sides of the road or the drunk men (at 6am) trying to get our attention from the back seat. This week was a little different. We decided to go into town on Wednesday to escape the pension rush that would follow the Thursday and Friday pension days in the rural villages (this happens once a month). Town would be far less busy and we wouldn't have to deal with an overcrowded taxi rank on the way home.

We elbowed our way to the bus door shortly after 7am. We like to be some of the first ones on if possible because we have a better chance of getting to a seat before the driver takes off and we lose all sense of balance and accidentally find ourselves in the lap of a traditionally-sized African woman. This time we were lucky. The bus wasn't filled to capacity, so Rachel found two seats toward the middle. But just before I sat down, something (rather, someone) caught my eye. There was a white kid in the back of the bus ... I was sure of it. In South Africa, there are many colors (not to sound insensitive, but it's the truth) and sometimes we see light-skinned people in our area. But this guy was white like us.

That was a first. I sat down and nudged Rachel to find out if she had seen him too. She hadn't, so I quickly filled her in and we began to make our guesses as to what he was doing out in our area. The crazy thing was, he didn't look out of place. He appeared to fit in and was obviously chatting with a few guys in the back. We were perplexed. It became our mission to find out more. As we pulled through Boskop, the first village we come to on the tar road, this guy got off the bus! There goes our curiosity. Now he's getting off in Boskop (which confused us even more) and we didn't even get the chance to talk to him.

The 7am bus takes a long route in the mornings. It heads down the tar road to the Witpoort Hospital and then backtracks to Boskop and goes through Seleka. Sure enough, as we came back through Boskop, we noticed that he was waiting at the bus stop to get back on. I felt a feeling of awkwardness approaching, as I knew he would walk right by us. What in the world do you say? I made eye contact with him as he walked our way, but he was the first to open his mouth: "What's up?"

Really, he just said that. I don't think I've heard those words since being in Africa. No one greets that way, not even the white Afrikaner kids in town. He also didn't seem to have a very thick South African accent. From his appearance alone, I would have mistaken him for a guy from the States. He didn't look like the tourist type though ... more like he came from the inner city somewhere. He was fairly tall, his head was shaved, he wore a tight white t-shirt with shorts sagged below his waist line, he had a fairly large tattoo that was visible under his left sleeve, and he walked with a confident swagger.

Rachel and I were clueless. Nothing made sense to us. Our conversation focused around his existence on the bus and the only possibilities we could fathom as to why. As we came upon Motlasedi, the inspector in the white bakkie stopped our bus. We don't really know what this inspector guy does, but we always see him in the mornings. We think maybe he checks out the legitimacy of the passengers, and whether everyone has a slip, but he usually doesn't do that. He just makes us sit on the side of the road for 20 minutes as he talks to the driver. We were frustrated, as most everyone was, but it soon became apparent that this was the perfect opportunity to figure out this kid's story. He must have been just as curious though, because he was in the seat next to me within just a few minutes time: "What are you guys doing here?" My response wasn't probably the most respectful, but it was purely instinct: "What is your story ... what are you doing here?"

In the short exchange of words that followed, we caught a glimpse of who he was, and vice versa. His English was perfect, and he definitely wasn't from around our parts. He was from Cape Town. The short version of his story was that his dad died a few years before, his mom abandoned him, and he decided to go live in a village. Whoa! Every bit of pride and confidence that usually accompanies our story about being Peace Corps Volunteers quickly disappeared. This kid had an intriguing, yet terribly sad, story. Would it be rude to pry and express more interest? He seemed willing to talk, so we asked as many questions as we could. Before too long though, the previous occupant of his seat came back and made him get up. Our investigation was over, at least for the time being.

Rachel and I sat in near silence for the remainder of the trip to town, both of us sorting through our thoughts regarding the encounter. As we pulled into the bus stop in Ellisras, we made our way off the bus and started heading toward our errands for the day. For some reason, we both just assumed that he was getting off at a different stop. Not so. As we walked around the back of the bus, we heard a voice calling up to us. There he was with a companion, a black guy (but with lighter skin than the norm in our area) that he had been sitting next to on the bus.

His name, we finally learned, was Laurence. His friend's name was Fanie.

We began bombarding him with all of the questions that had been flooding our thoughts for the past 45 minutes or so. Fanie was the guy that he was currently living with out in the village of Rietfontein. They had met at a sports bar in Ellisras about four months ago.

Laurence lived in Cape Town his whole life. As we began to learn, he didn't have the easiest childhood. He didn't meet his father until he was 14 years old, and then his dad died when he was 17 (possibly murdered). Laurence was now 21 years old. He was "chased from Cape Town by guns" and had recently made the trek up to Ellisras (on the opposite side of the country from Cape Town) to pay a visit to his mother and see if he could stay with her. She said no.

So he had to figure something out, and on his own. That's when he met Fanie at a local sports bar. They must have hit if off as friends, and then Laurence moved out to the village to stay with Fanie's family. To date, he's been there for four months. He doesn't have a job right now, and he's in the process of dealing with lawyers regarding his father's inheritance. Supposedly his dad was pretty wealthy and he is expecting (hoping for) something to be signed over to him.

We learned all of this as we walked with Laurence and Fanie toward the Shoprite complex from the bus stop. Fanie had to go over to the FET (Techical) College to write an exam, and Laurence had accompanied him to town. As we continued to chat, we were constantly surprised by the things Laurence said. As an out-of-towner, his attitude and lifestyle were much more similar to ours than the Afrikaans population in Ellisras. We seemed to have a natural bond.

We shared several laughs together, swapped stories about our times in the village, and even talked about plans for a possible get-together in the next month. Laurence and Fanie might come over to our village for a braai some night. I gave them my phone number and we parted ways.

But honestly, who knows if we'll ever see these guys again. Either way, this was an experience that will remain with us for a long time. We feel a great deal of sympathy for Laurence, but his confidence and joy in the midst of the situation were encouraging. We hope things come together for him in the near future, and we'll be praying to that end. Who knew that an encounter with a white kid in the villages would impact us in such a way?

Our final project as Peace Corps Volunteers in South Africa is upon us! We just got the official invitation to attend the US Embassy Craft Fair as vendors and sell the Palala Clubs' aprons.

November 14th, Brandon and I will be traveling with our two founding PGC leaders and fellow Peace Corps Volunteers, Paul and Jess, to Pretoria where we will participate in a four-hour craft fair being held on the U.S. Embassy's lawn.

The women have been sewing aprons every day after school and despite the orders that continue to roll in daily, they have managed to accumulate quite a stock of aprons for this sale. It is our hope that by the time we are ready to leave the village and travel to Pretoria, we will have an excess of 250+ aprons to sell. At this point, we have half that amount sewn with production reaching a maximum of 50 aprons this past week.

Currently, the Palala Clubs have sold almost 250 aprons since its conception in late June 2008 and this sales event is set to double our numbers!

For those of you who are new to this project and have not heard us mention it before, the Palala Club Apron Project was created to ensure the future sustainability of the HIV/AIDS education and prevention project we started in April 2007 called Palala Clubs. It began with just 42 Grade 6 & 7 girls in our host village of Kgobagodimo and 2 female leaders, but through the assistance of Jess and Paul, expanded this last year to reach over 5 different communities affecting over 130 girls and 19 leaders! The Palala Clubs even began a division for Grade 7 boys this year!

With the US Embassy sale in the near future, it has been exciting to think about the large profit that we will be able to earn and just how much of that money will be able to go towards purchasing new supplies for next year's clubs. More children will be able to benefit from this program and there will be an even greater sense of ownership knowing that the funding is coming from their own locally produced project.

In addition to the quantities of aprons being sewn by the leaders, this week we put a lot of emphasis on the quality. Up to this point, there have been primarily two women sewing all of the aprons who do an outstanding job and are examples of perfection in their work. They have full-time teaching jobs plus their responsibilities of leading the Palala Girls Club, but in spite of this, they spend the majority of their free time sewing aprons to raise money for the continuation of clubs next year! These women have amazed me! With their dedication and knowledge of the apron project, they have been able to work unsupervised on the aprons since June earlier this year.

Now, however, because of the increase in business, we have been busy preparing more women to join the sewing force so that our productions can keep up with the demand. With this step towards expansion, we are emphasizing that the quality must remain the same from one person to the next, and therefore, I spent much of this week encouraging and working one-on-one with a leader who was new to the PGC this year. While she has attempted to sew just a couple aprons over the last several months, she never quite gained the confidence and knowledge to feel adequate when sewing mass amounts. This week though she made leaps and bounds in her sewing ability and feels right at home now joining the other two women in the media center after school to sew. While her speed is not nearly what the other two women are capable of, she has perfected her sewing technique and can match the quality we encourage. She has gained complete confidence in her ability to sew and feels much more comfortable now working on various sewing machines since she understands their functions in a new way.

Furthermore, this week, these three women mentioned above have been asked to run an apron training session in Seleka with the Palala North Girls Club leaders. This will be their opportunity to share their knowledge with peers and possibly expand the sewing force even further. Besides the comradery shared by the women, all being full-time teachers and Palala Club leaders, they now have this hobby of sewing which not only benefits the sustainability of the clubs but also provides them with a small profit from each apron sold. During this projected meeting, it will be the responsiblity of these women to share the successes of this project with their peers and demonstrate for them the quality of production that is expected for aprons to be marketable.

It has been an exciting couple of weeks and I will be sure to post an update after this Tuesday's meeting.

In recent months, we have hardly had the time or energy to keep up with the political scene in the United States. It has been a relief to live without the excessive media barrage. However, we personally recognize the great significance of this presidential election and have had no intention to take the matter lightly.

It has been no surprise or secret to us that our political views are in the minority within our current environment. As the election nears, and as the corresponding tension builds, we have developed a strong desire to verbalize our support.

We are in support of John McCain.

While the intent of this blog post is not to debate issues or provide exhaustive reasoning for our decision, we would like to share one resource that we have found to be incredibly valuable. Dr. James Dobson (Focus on the Family) is an individual whom we greatly respect, and whose Biblical worldview we share. His October Newsletter speaks to the significance of the upcoming election.

We are not claiming that John McCain is perfect, or the ideal candidate, but in this election we are presented with two candidates. Although there may be other less dominant options, we want our votes to count. It is McCain that we believe to be the best recipient for our support.

We realize there will be varied reactions to this post. So be it. We feel there is no better platform for honesty and openness. If nothing else, we hope this provides a clearer picture of the personal convictions we hold regarding our beliefs.

Brandon & Rachel

I'll get to the rain in a minute, but I first wanted to share quickly about our most recent visitors to the village. At the end of our time here in Klip, it's been nice to have what has felt like a steady flow of visitors coming to see where we live and experience a rural village.

Not that Mma doesn't appreciate seeing Paul and Jess as often as she does, but you can tell she loves seeing new faces. Our family enjoys playing host to our friends, and we are happy to have such a welcoming home.

Let me backtrack a bit to explain our guests. When the Niebauers (Rachel's parents) were here in August, we visited Lambano Sanctuary in Johannesburg. Barb Anderson, a friend of the Niebauers from Superior, Wisconsin, has been volunteering at Lambano as a house mother for three years now. Here is a snippet I took from the Lambano blog:

"Lambano provides care and support for children impacted by HIV. We currently are permanently caring for 25 children infected with the virus. In addition we are actively involved in helping families impacted by HIV in the Katlehong township. Lord willing, in the near future we will be opening a hospice to minister to sick and dying babies."

Our time at Lambano was an experience that touched our lives dearly. The close contact with young children severely impacted by HIV and poverty, longing for personal love and attention, is something that Rachel and I have missed ever since our time at Agape Children's Ministry in Kenya in 2003.

Barb is also connected with another woman, Ruth, from the Superior area who has been in South Africa for over 30 years now. Ruth's parents attend the same church as the Niebauers. With that short explanation in place, it was Barb and Ruth who came to visit us over the weekend.

We didn't have much time in the village, but it was a beautiful day and we had a very enjoyable time together. Since there isn't much to do around our place, the easiest form of entertainment for our guests is to take them on a walk around the village. The local kids provide quite a show when the white population in the village doubles, and we're all seen walking down the street together.

Although Ruth has been in South Africa for over 30 years, this was her first time to a rural village:

Standing outside of Salim's shop, Barb and I watched as some youngsters struggled to push a donkey cart full of empty drums to go collect water from a tap across the village:

As it was a Saturday, the kids were out in great numbers (with no parental supervision of course):

Outside of Mr. Matshaba's house:

Barb was taking lots of photos to show her kids back at Lambano:

As Barb and Ruth left our village on Saturday afternoon, we had them drop us at Paul and Jess's house in Seleka. The water situation in our village was still extreme, and we didn't want to deplete our family's water supply by doing laundry. Seleka wasn't experiencing the same water problems, so we decided to do our laundry over there.

As we returned from Seleka on Sunday afternoon, it was a hot day and we had just seen that the rain had disappeared from the extended 15-day forecast. Depressing. As we were sitting in a taxi on our way home, I got a call from my mom. She wanted to see if I could get on Skype because she was down in Orlando with my nephew Keller. I told her to give me a half hour because I was on a "taxi" (which I later found out she interpreted to Justin as "track meet" because of the noisy ride ... the whole reason why I didn't want to continue the conversation until I got home).

I jumped on our laptop as soon as I walked in the door, connected my phone to the internet, and signed onto Skype. I had just recently figured out that I was able to receive a video feed through Skype despite our slow connection. Now I could get regular video updates from Keller himself.

After a few failed attempts at getting the video to come through, we finally got it working. Rachel and I just sat for several minutes as my mother tried to get Keller to laugh (in a very grandmotherly sort of way ... no offense mom). It worked, because the kid was quickly showing off his ability to giggle, smile and squirm for us. I know I'm related and all, but I have to admit that Keller is one of the cutest little boys I've ever seen.

Toward the middle of our conversation (after Keller was put down for a nap), I began to give my family an update on our water situation in the village. I also reiterated the fact that I had just seen on the forecast that no rain was scheduled to come our way any time soon.

Literally just after I said that, Rachel poked her head in the door from outside with an excited expression on her face. "It's raining!" I didn't believe her. The real sign of rain is the sound it makes when it hits the zinc roof. But sure enough, seconds later, the pitter-patter began and progressively got louder ... so much so that I could no longer hear myself speak as I continued to try and talk on Skype. I actually had to jump up at one point and help Rachel get the windows closed because it was coming down so hard.

My family couldn't believe it and neither could I. We had been waiting for this day for so long, and I know that so many people (especially our family) have been praying for our village to get rain. The timing was almost emotional. I sat and tried to contain my enthusiasm while continuing the conversation. Rachel was like a little kid outside, occasionally peaking in the door with another excited "it's still coming" or "look at the sky". She was wet like she had just bathed with her clothes on, but completely carefree about it.

The rain continued through the night for many hours. It wasn't one of the hardest rains we've had, but it was steady and long enough to saturate the ground. It's always a good sign when the ground is still soaked the next morning:

But it didn't just stop there. We got more rain the next evening and into the following morning. Two days in a row with rain!! We got a kick out of watching Matome and Lerato walk by our windows with their ponchos or umbrellas:

As I walked home from school at the end of the day on Tuesday, I couldn't help but pull out the camera to capture these guys playing in the puddle in the street. You see, it wasn't just me and Rachel that wanted this rain so bad:

The rain has helped immensely with the dust. The water situation seems to be somewhat relieved, at least for the time being. The water pressure isn't great or constant, but it's more than it was. The next few days are supposed to be cooler and cloudy as well, so I wouldn't be surprised if we got a few more showers.

Thank you to everyone who has been thinking about us and praying for the water situation in our area. But although rain has come, we ask that you continue to do so. With thousands of people in the surrounding villages, two days of moderate showers will only go so far.

The lack of water in our area, particularly drinking water, has become more visible over the past several days. For a few weeks now we have dealt with decreasing water pressure from community taps, eventually leading to about an hour-per-day trickle during the last week. And today, there was no water in the village ... at all. While the reasons for this shortage are not entirely known, we have our hypotheses.

During the winter months our village was lucky enough to get training from the municipality on installing water piping and taps. About 25 local young adults took part in this training and then put their new skills to use by installing approximately 10 new taps in the village. We were fortunate to have a new pipeline dug right in front of our main gate. With Mma Kgonyane's motivation to acquire everything that she can get her hands on, she hired a few men to have a pipe run into our compound just a few days later and a new tap installed (with a few Rand from her pocket).

As it wasn't getting unbearably hot just yet, the desire for water in the village wasn't at its yearly peak. Water was fairly plentiful when the taps were first installed. Mma would literally leave the tap in our yard on 24/7. The water was always being used for something ... cows, garden, bathing, lawn, etc. She was determined to get the most out of the new tap and most of all, the fact that it was still free municipality water. While Rachel and I struggled to see that as a responsible action on her part in terms of conservation, who can blame her? If she didn't take full advantage of it, others in the village would have anyways.

Now fast forward a few months. We have had probably 10 days over 100 degrees Fahrenheit this spring already and the ground is continually getting more and more dry. The rivers in the area are empty and many local bore holes are pulling nothing from the depths of this red soil. The consumption of water in our village has steadily increased with the rise in temperatures and the use of water for gardens has done just the same. It seems to be a simple problem: the demand is growing higher than the supply can manage. There is just no water left from the source that our village draws from, a new reservoir up on the mountain. The pump that feeds the reservoir is coming from the nearby Palala River, but the river is useless at this point it seems ... even meters below the dried riverbed.

Today water seemed to be the focus of all attention in our village (aside from the new shebeen that just reopened). Not a single tap in the entire village was yielding meetse (water). A few homes are lucky to have bore holes that are still operational, and they were selling salty, undrinkable water by the barrel. People don't have drinking water. Animals are being neglected. Crops are losing any hope that once seemed so bright. It's becoming a serious problem and has us worried. Rachel and I are more concerned for the village's sake than our own. The Peace Corps will bail us out if need be. We have that safety net, but no one else does.

So that's the problem. Now we're concerned with the solution. The only real option in my mind - a heavy rainfall in the forecast. But there isn't one, and we have no expectation of one anytime soon. But we're praying for rain, and ask that you do the same. It won't take much to replenish this earth and bring new life to the community. We would really like to see that happen before we pack our bags in less than two months. Right now we are in no position to leave this village as is - it just wouldn't seem fair.

We had visitors to our village last week. Although we introduced them as our friends, it was actually the first time we had even met them face to face. The Nitza family, now living in Gaborone, Botswana, is from Fort Wayne, Indiana. They moved here to Africa in August after Amy received a Fulbright Scholarship to do research and work at the University of Botswana.

Ted made the connection with me through a blog entry posted on Fort Wayne Observed regarding a lesson I did with the Palala Boys Club on baseball, with donations from the Wildcat Baseball League. Ted grew up in Fort Wayne and played Wildcat, and it just so happened that he and his family were going to be moving to Africa ... just across the border from us. What a small world!

We had a wonderful time with their family and we were very excited that the connection was made. They spent just a short time in our village, but they were able to catch a glimpse of what our lives are like as Peace Corps Volunteers in rural South Africa.

We took a walk and they got to see some of the village while meeting many of the children. The local kids loved seeing the photos Ted was taking.

Hope (above) and Eden (below) quickly made friends with some of the kids near our house.

This was the first time that many of the children in the village had ever seen white children before.

Trey (above) also took part in the fun, and got a little dirty along the way :)

All in all it was a wonderful visit, and we wish the Nitzas the best of luck during their time in Botswana. If you would like to read more about what they are doing, visit their blog at nitzafamily.blogspot.com. They have also posted an entry about their visit to our village: http://nitzafamily.blogspot.com/2008/10/ft-wayne-meets-ft-wayne-in-south-africa.html.

It was Friday night and the girls were out behind our house pounding tobacco in the hand-made, wooden pestle and mortar. The sun was setting out front and Mma was sitting in her usual place on a large, empty mealie-meal bag with her back against the warm mud walls of her house with feet outstretched. I had been formulating a plan all day, and it was at this point that I finally resolved to put my ideas into action the very next morning; however, I needed the assistance of the girls which required their agreement and also Mma's permission.

I went to the back window of my house and motioned for the girls to come close (so Mma wouldn't know that we were plotting) and posed to them my desire to have their help in the morning by accompanying me to the Witpoort Hospital just a few kilometers to the south of us on the tar road. They were eager for the chance to get away on the weekend but also just as concerned as I about gaining permission from Mma since everyday is chore day and I would not just be taking one of them but both. Knowing that the girls were excited about this opportunity, it helped me in my next resolve to approach Mma and try out my Sepedi once again to ask if the girls could travel with me.

As I took a seat near Mma on the stoop, I began by explaining that I had to go to the Witpoort Hospital to gather some information/statistics and research the services they had available to pregnant women (and, no, I did not know how to say all of this in Sepedi ... luckily, our sister, Anna, was home for the weekend and helped me along). Then I proceeded to explain that this was not the type of activity that I could do with Brandon along because of the sensitivity of the topic. Mma really understood this. So, I finally had the stage set to ask if the girls could go and participate in this educational experience, and she gladly obliged.

We were set! I rushed to the back of the house where the girls were waiting anxiously and told them the good news. I proceeded to tell that we would walk the eight or so kilometers, leaving around 6am in the morning and heading up and over the mountain like we did one time last year with them to reach the Witpoort Library. Unlucky for me, this did not settle with the girls and they said that they would pay their own way if we could just take a taxi. I gave in very willingly. I enjoy the walk, but the thought of walking that whole distance in the morning with the possibilities of snakes and other animals didn't appeal to me. At least not anymore now that I have seen a Black Mamba and numerous snake trails and holes around our village. So we arranged to begin waiting at our bus stop at 7am and catch the first transport through to Witpoort.

On Saturday morning we were all ready and outside of Mma's house at 7am, which is a miracle in itself since I've been in Africa for over two years now and have adequately adjusted to what is well-known as "African Time." This term applies to the tendency to tell time by the position of the sun in the sky and shifts in temperature throughout the passing of a day. It means that if a meeting is set for 6pm in the evening, I no longer tell people to come at six but to show up at the meeting just as the sun is about to set on the horizon. Furthermore, if I am awake in the morning when the sun is coming up, I can not only tell the time by the location of the sun rising behind the mountain but also the changing of season as the sun tends to get closer to the peak of the mountain during the summer season and move back away in the winter. I don't wear a watch anymore and frequently only know the official time when I ask Brandon to look at his phone or the computer, but this only happens on days when I am confused by the abnormal course of events that seems to be disrupting my concept of "normal" time like the lunch ladies serving the kids at school two hour earlier than usual.

To get back on topic though, we were ready to leave on time and just as we were heading out the front gate to walk the 20 meters to the bus stop, a white bakkie (pick-up truck) was driving past and I, along with the girls, threw up our arms in unison and began pointing in the general direction of Witpoort. We were in luck as the woman stopped for us and was driving to the hospital herself since she worked there. The interesting thing about the woman who picked us up was that I had just met her son the day before during my short visit at Maam Ditsela's house (he is a cousin to the girls, but then again, I don't think there are many people that could not claim this relation in some fashion in our village; everyone seems to be related). She lives in a village about 5km to the north of us but located completely in the middle of the fields with no real connection to the tar road except for a single dirt road that connects with our village at Salim's shop. I always wondered where that road went and now I finally know.

This woman drove us the entire way and then even let us accompany her straight into the hospital's compound. This was the part I was worried about because the only other time I had been to the hospital was two years earlier when our principal was taking us around the area and introducing us at all of the major institutions that existed. During this visit, we were welcomed everywhere except the hospital which put up a fuss about us not having an appointment and they made us sit in the parking lot in the extreme heat until they could find someone willing to talk to us. It seemed to be a problem that we were there and they didn't want to let us in. So I was going to the hospital this time around with a blind faith that I knew the language better and could possibly talk my way in. However, it really wasn't as hard as I thought and we were quickly ushered in with our driving escort. What a provision that she was the one who stopped to pick us up and had the power to get us into the compound and then even take us around the hospital and make sure that I found the right people to talk to about my pending project.

The girls were required to sit in the waiting room while I was shown back to the maternity ward. I was greeted there by two young women who I found out were from the Venda region of the Limpopo Province and both attended university to become midwives. One woman was 25 and the other 36 years of age. I was impressed by their success and motivation in life since I have gotten used to the rural women and the apathetic nature that it produces in so many women their age.

So, now I think I should spell out my motives for really wanting to visit the hospital. I am planning with Maam Ditsela and Maam Tema a village-wide week-long workshop on family planning and general reproductive health for women between the ages of 13-30. (The details are not fully planned but I'll know more after I sit down this week and talk with my teachers.) I have been wanting to do something like this since I arrived her in 2006 and now I finally have done the research and feel like the timing is right for it. The women are excited to organize it with me, and now, the midwives at the hospital are eager to be involved.

Therefore, I spent two hours yesterday morning asking a series of questions that would help me understand not only all of the services available to pregnant women but also the culture of how our area handles population growth and some of the barriers present within the villages that could prevent family planning. It was a very educational experience as they informed me that all of their services are free including everything from pregnancy tests, contraceptives (all methods including getting tubes tied), pre-natal vitamins and sonograms to early terminations (abortion-which seems to be a word that they even try to avoid here) and the entire birthing process including overnight stays if necessary. In addition, they test pregnant women for Syphilis and HIV.

One of the more interesting things I learned which was disappointing was that while the HIV test is preceded with counseling (which I doubted but was happy to hear was taken very seriously in our rural hospital) the early terminations are an in-and-out procedure with no counseling. I would like to think that both of these events in a woman's life can be traumatic and life-altering with many health implications and it is sad that women are not even informed properly before an abortion pill is given to ensure they understand their options. This is very different from the States where there are laws in place to make sure the women gets all of the facts before making her choice. Here, it is very young girls that are going through this process alone and without any knowledge of the adverse affects it could have on their bodies and also their psychological state of mind either immediately afterward or later in life.

I was nearing the end of my conversation with the women but asked them if I could bring back my two young nieces who had come with me so that they could see the maternity ward and see all of the equipment that is used. They were very excited to have the girls come in and when I walked back into the maternity ward, they ushered us all into one of the partitioned off birthing areas and had the girls sit in turn to take their blood pressure. This was the girls' introduction to the maternity ward and it was evident that they were nervous having something wrapped tightly around their arms only to get tighter as the machine beeped louder and more frequently. They both had very high blood pressure!

After taking our BP, we were taken over to the nursery where we were able to see the incubators where they keep the premature babies, and we were lucky enough to get to see a newborn baby also!

To finish my visit with the women, I asked if I could get a copy of their statistics covering the last few months. Unfortunately, their copy machine was broken, so I sat with Ndivhoniswani, the younger midwife, and hand-wrote as much information as I thought was necessary to understand what was average in terms of pregnancy stats and STIs.

As we left the hospital, I stashed my bag with as many condoms as I could carry so that we would have enough samples for the workshop (don't worry, I had permission) and then watched in horror as the security guard searched my bag before leaving the compound to make sure that I had no firearms. Instead, she found a young, white woman laden with condoms. This could have potentially horrible connotations had it not been for Matome and Lerato there to defend me and reinforce what I was trying to tell her.

Outside of the compound, I agreed with the girls that we could walk into the RDP housing village of Thabo Mbeki and visit some of our extended family members. Now, I call them extended, but realistically, they are probably considered more immediate family here in Africa since everyone else in the village and surrounding area is considered to be distant, extended family in some way.

Let me explain briefly for those of you unfamiliar with the term used above, "RDP housing is Reconstruction and Development Property ... RDP housing is very basic and consists of one or two bedrooms, a sitting room, kitchen and toilet and is mainly provided for the poor."

As we walked back farther and farther into the housing complex where every house looks exactly the same from the outside except for the distinctive mural-like paintings and decorative doors that people use to distinguish their house from the next, we came across the girls we were looking for and walked the remaining distance with them to their house. We were welcomed inside by the girls' aunt, my "sister", and invited to sit just an hour while we waited for Joyce's husband to arrive home and then he could drive us home in his car.

As we sat in complete boredom, the girls took Joyce's phone and began listening to music. Still not over all of my American habits, I fidgeted and thought about all the wasted time of just sitting around and asked permission to walk around outside and take photos of the surrounding houses. This turned into a family event and we all trekked outside and I was lead, instead of around the neighborhood, to the river. At first, I was disappointed because I wanted photos of this unique housing development, but was quickly intrigued by the Palala River located such a short distance away.

I was astounded by the fact that there was still water in the river since most other parts of the river are dried up right now because of just coming off the winter months which are the dry season here and we have not had rain in over six months now or more. This section of the river though retained the water and even had evidence of fish life below. The fish were sending up air bubbles occasionally just to prove the fact and the girls proceeded to tell me that the river provided good fishing for the locals. Upon hearing this, I got very excited and wanted to share with Joyce that I loved fishing. Unfortunately, my language skills only extend as far as the vocabulary necessary to teach PGC and talk about crafts and sewing and I had still not learned how to say, "I love fishing." So instead, I settled on, "I love fish" thinking that this would suffice and was partly true ... as long as the fish didn't taste like fish. Well, this translated very well to Joyce and on our walk home, I was pleasantly surprised by our stop at a house where all ages of men were hanging out and drinking traditional beer.

It provided wonderful photo opportunities and I enjoyed the chance to enter a setting that I otherwise would have been very wary of. A few minutes later, I no longer knew where Joyce was and quickly sought out the girls to find out where she had disappeared to. To my dismay, I learned that she was inside the house purchasing fish that had been caught earlier that morning to give me as a gift.

My initial alarm at this kind yet misguided gesture of hospitality quickly evaporated as I considered the fact that it was already an hour past the time promised to us for a ride home and that quite possibly the fish was for me to take home and fix for Brandon and I both. I knew that if this was the case, I could re-gift it to the family without offense. My luck had reversed for the day though and as we arrived at the house, Joyce asked me how I liked my fish prepared and proceeded to fix it in spite of my protest that I could prepare it at home with my own spices and supplies so she didn't have to use her own. This didn't work and I spent the next 30 minutes resolving to swallow it down no matter how bad the taste so as not to offend her. In the mean time though, my mind began coming up with all other types of excuses as to why this was a bad idea including but not limited to the fact that people pee, bathe, wash clothes in the river and donkeys and cows wade into the river and also drink out of it and likely excrete their waste. It was stagnant water in the river and the fish could not be edible. There was bound to be pollution that could affect my own health if I ate the fish.

My worst thoughts were confirmed as I along with the girls were each given a small plate with two pieces of bread (I had three) along with a portion of fried fish (the girls each had a tail, but I lucked out with the entire fish: head including eyes, tail and fins). I tore into my fish still trying my best to resolve that eating it was the only and best option, but my first bite tasted like dirty, fishy, river water with sand particles still stuck to it, and my resolve failed. I proceeded to "fish" through the contents in my mouth to eliminate the tiny bones I had not seen and then quickly ate a piece of bread and contemplated how I was going to gracefully yet discretely discard of the remaining contents on my plate. The opportunity provided itself after a few more laborious bites when Joyce was called outside by a neighbor man wanting to purchase airtime for his phone. I made haste to ask Matome if she wanted an extra portion and slid my fish onto her plate leaving only skeletal bones on my plate to show that I ate some.

While I would like to say that this was a sly solution to my dilemma, I'm fairly certain that Joyce understood that I didn't eat my entire fish and was most likely offended, but in the end, I was just happy I didn't have to eat it.

...Then again, maybe she never did catch on that I didn't eat my own fish. Four hours later than promised, her husband appeared to give us a ride back to the village. Upon our arrival back at our family compound, I ran into my little house to grab toilet paper to make use of the pit toilet that I had been desperately needing when a knock came on the door and I back tracked to answer it. As I opened the door, there stood Joyce holding out an extra bag of frozen fish with a smile on her face! This concluded my travels and adventures for the day. I spent the rest of the day resting on the bed completely spent from the mental exercise I had gone through during the first part of the day.

So here I sit in the Media Centre at Klip. Dust storms are rolling through the village like there's a dust convention in Botswana tonight. Imagine a thunderstorm in the States, but dust instead of the rain. Our reaction has been basically the same. Run and hide. Stay indoors. Close the windows. Except this includes: Wipe the dust off your teeth. Get the sand out of your eyes. Make a note to take a good bath later. Etc, etc.

It's like a party in here. Maam Ditsela and Maam Tema are in for their routine of apron sewing after school. The sound of the embroidery machine is flooding the room as Rachel prepares yet another apron order of six that just came in today. Two Grade 6 learners from the Palala Girls Club, Tebogo and Grace, are sitting at the computers and learning how to type for the first time. And just five minutes ago, the Mokwele girls (sisters that were in PGC last year) just arrived from their hour-long walk from secondary school. They are here to work on necklaces that Rachel promised them.

Today is the 17th of September and we are leaving this village on the 5th of December. With less than three months time remaining, you start to notice the things that you may have said "no" to during the middle of your service. I can't say I've been exactly jumping at the chance to do anything and everything for anyone over the past week, but Rachel has been constantly holding us both accountable. During the middle of our time here, it was important for us to have our personal time. We weren't always excited to find ways to be involved or help out if we didn't have to.

It's an almost embarrassing attitude to share with you. I mean, isn't that why we came into the Peace Corps ... to do as much as we could to help in two years time? Well yeah, but you don't understand! At least that's my excuse. If there's one thing that Rachel and I have had to try our hardest to fight, it's a negative attitude. Let's just say their culture is different than ours. I could share a million and a half examples, but that's not the point. It's been a tough battle and we are constantly having to reevaluate our attitudes and intentions. There are things we can do, everyday. I could be sitting at home and calling it quits right now. I won't lie, that sounds rather enticing. But now two girls have spent their first hour ever on a computer, two girls have new necklaces to proudly display at school tomorrow, and our relationship with our two favorite teachers is continuing to grow.

Why not take advantage of that? But trust me, it's not always this easy to see the positive and lasting benefits. There's often no "thank you". No sign of appreciation. Things are expected of us. Often things are said or done that frustrate the heck out of us! After two years in this culture and with these people, it hasn't gotten easier. Let me tell you. We understand more, but that almost makes it more frustrating. But then we start focusing on the negatives, as I'm beginning to do right now in this blog entry.

With all that said, our goal for the last few months is to take advantage of those little things that maybe we passed up a year ago. Go out of our way to do that something, even if there's no "thank you" in return. We are really going to miss this place and the last thing we want to leave with is the burden of regret. We made a decision to invest two years of our lives into this village in South Africa, and we aren't getting a second of that time back. The sad lesson is realizing that such an attitude should have applied to my life long before Peace Corps, and it should continue long after Peace Corps. "Open the gates and seize the day." I can picture Jack and the other Newsies in my head singing that song. One of my all-time favorite movies.

Back to today. Today was a stressful day at school. Not for me, but for the teachers. We had visitors from the Provincial Department of Education come to "inspect". The school has been preparing for weeks, cleaning the school time and time again in preparation for the visitors. We know that Klip is one of the best schools in the area, but the teachers were still incredibly nervous. Our relationship with the teachers was exposed in the midst of it all, but in an encouragingly positive way. I shared more laughs with my colleagues today than I have in a long time. I adore the teachers at this school and I have grown to appreciate each and every one of them in a different and special way.

Knowing that I can make them laugh when they are scared out of their minds about what the inspectors will say ... we've connected. Knowing that I can ask them tough questions and get honest and real responses ... I've gained their trust. Knowing that I can make fun of them in good humor and they do it right back ... we're friends.

Koketso (Rachel) and I have been asked many times lately about our feelings as we near the end of our service. It's a tough spot to be in. Let me just say it that way. Saying goodbye to so many people that we have grown to love over the past two years, not knowing if we will ever see them again. That's not easy. But in the same moment, getting to see family and friends back in the States that we have been without. I think December will be one of the more emotional times I've had to deal with in my life. I'm not looking forward to it, but I am. It's complicated.

All in all, we are daily thanking the Lord that he placed us in South Africa. In Kgobagodimo. With the Kgonyane family. At Klipspruit School. Across the street from Maam Ditsela and her family. Near other Peace Corps Volunteers that we have clicked so well with. The list goes on and on.

I'll never forget our drive back to Indiana from Virginia where we had just attended our good friends' (Brett and Liz Marvel) wedding in June 2006. We had our packet from the Peace Corps waiting at our apartment with another good friend (Adam Mondy). He was anxiously holding it for us until we got home, for all of us to find out together where Rachel and I would be invited to serve. In the car, Rachel turned and asked me, "If there was one country in Africa that you wouldn't want to go, where would it be?" Our response in unison, "South Africa". God was just laughing his heart out at that moment. Little did we know what He had in store for us. But seriously, when do we ever?

The lesson learned: Trust Him.

It's never a good sign when you see a flaming thermometer upon glancing at the extended forecast ... especially considering that December and January are supposed to be the unbearably hot months of summer. And it's now just the beginning of September??

Maybe this is just Africa's kind way of preparing us to really be able to appreciate the cold when we get back to the States in December. All I have to say is there better be "feet" of snow to return to and possible blizzards in the forecast or it won't be worth it in my eyes!

And on top of this heat, we are in the middle of our third night this week without electricity. So that means no fan once again. I thought it was bad enough when our small refrigerator gave out right before this summer season began ... I'm scared to guess what may still be in store for us.

But on the bright side, we only have to stick it out for three more months. The heat is one thing we will be happy to say goodbye to when we depart this country!

We continue to fill our remaining time here with various activities, and this past weekend was no different. Leaving on a bus at 6am Saturday, we went to town to spend a day and a half helping our good friends Stephen and Jolene move from their rented house in Onverwacht to their newly built house just a few kilometers away. Then, after picking up pizza and groceries on Sunday afternoon, we headed out to Ga-Seleka where we spent the following couple days catching up with Paul and Jess on their busy lives and ours since we all traveled together to Cape Town in July. We even had the privilege of helping them with the Palala North Girls Club on Monday after school.

With the arrival of Tuesday morning, however, we needed to head back to our site and resume work in our own village. On this particular day, the work was decided for us as we quickly realized that it was going to be pension day in our village since the community of Buskop was setting up for it on the tar road and our village was always next in line. Now, there may actually be a systematic way of knowing when pension is going to come around and visit the village, but after two years of being here, I still feel that it is a guessing game of which day at the beginning of each month the large armored trucks will drive through and dispense government money to the elderly women and men and young, single mothers. The only real way that I am ever certain of pension is when our Koko (Grandmother) gets all dressed up and follows the crowd of elderly down to Salim's shop where the village has been momentarily transformed into a huge bazaar of live clucking chickens, pick-up trucks selling vegetables out of the back, women sitting on plastic with an assortment of clothes spread out flat on the ground to sell, and finally the line on the right side of the fence which is all elderly men and the line on the left of the fence which is all elderly women waiting for the truck to arrive and divy out their pension.

Last year, I had the Palala Girls Club members selling crafts they had made at pension and it went very well, but this year, I chose not to have the girls miss class to do this. That is why this year we have done a couple sporatic selling days after pension by walking around the village door to door. Now, for all of you in the States reading this, I can only imagine that you think this to be a very annoying method of sale, but here in South Africa, it is a way of life. There are constantly sales people passing through the village selling various goods either by walking from house to house or by riding their bicycles. We have the advantage of selling in our village though because we can time it to coincide with pension when everyone still has their pockets loaded until they can get to town the following weekend. Also, we can brag that the money is for supporting the local school programs that teach the children after school. 

So, while Brandon stayed home to wash clothes that had piled up from the last couple weeks, I headed to school to begin preparing the crafts to sell and complete some other smaller projects. By long break (lunch), the PGC Council members came looking for me in the media center and I asked Clementine if she saw that it was pension...and she replied (without me even hinting at it), "I think we need to sell today." She and I proceeded to plan it and then Clementine ran off to tell the other 3 girls. And we were off!...after just a couple more periods of class.

It was another hot day that was defined more by the dusty wind than the temperature. The girls were happy to wear the bandanas I gave them to model since it provided protection for their newly braided hair from the dust that flew through the air. The bandanas were a treasure I found while in Cape Town this winter where I purchased them for only R2...I bought them with the intent that we could raise the price to R5 and sell as a fundraiser among our other crafts. As we left the school grounds, we headed first for Susendale (the farthest side of Klip from my house) and went straight for the back row of house where we would start and work our way forward. 

The first house we came upon was a zinc home with several residents. The unusual thing about the residents was that they were all about my age which is rare to see in the village. Aside from their age, they were all sitting around drinking beer while their kids ran around half naked. This didn't deter the girls from entering though and testing out their sales skills. The girls quickly used their sales suave to convince the young mother that her two children would love bandanas and then I worked my persuasive side to convince the drunk man who had just proposed to me that he needed to loan his girl friend the money she needed to buy the bandanas since all she has was R100 and we had no change yet. Success!!

We continued to move on going door to door and for about 10 houses straight, we sold something at every single house. The afternoon continued this way with very few houses refusing the girls a sale. By the end of the afternoon, as the sun set, we had only visited one-fourth of the entire village and had sold nearly everything! 

My favorite part of this afternoon though and the reason why I choose the sales event to talk aboutin a journal entry is because it reminds me of how much I love our village and working with the girls here. It was hot outside, the girls were tired from a long day of school and then also selling, but they kept smiles on their face and remained polite as we entered compound after compound selling goods. They laughed with the residents of each home as they looked at earrings and even tried them on before buying (Mmatema was the designated member who helped the Kokos put their earrings on). At one point, Clementine looked at me and gave me her school sweater telling me that soon I would turn red without it from the scorching sun! Halfway through our sales, one of Brandon's boys club members joined us also and found humor in almost every situation and house visit. There are just so many things about this afternoon that will make me miss Africa and our friends in this community!

Walking back to school just after the sun had gone down, the girls were extremely tired and talking much less. However, once we got inside the media center where the girls had stashed their school bags, the girls excitement was evident as we all sat down with Maam Tema and counted the money they had brought in. Once I began counting past R200, the girls chimed in with me counting in unison all the way up to R305! They were thrilled! As a reward, they know that sale days for the girls club means that they each get a small profit from doing the work. So I divided up a good portion of money for each of them and then further rewarded them by allowing them to keep their bandanas that they chose to model. 

A cloud of dust seems permanently settled over our rural village during this dry, winter season. Sometimes when I am sitting inside our house or in a classroom at school, there is a distinct sound of the wind picking up and the loose leaves and twigs rustling, and when this happens, we all run for the windows to get them closed securely before the ominous dust storms blow straight through the building. Even during the short 10 minute walk from our house to school, I bemoan the fact that it is almost necessary to wear a face mask to filter out all of the dust that blankets our village from the lone car that speeds past on his/her way to work. The buses make this dust cloud even worse if we happen to time our walk wrong and get caught near the road during their scheduled arrival. In spite of my sentiments about the unpleasantries that come with the winter season, I continue to hope that summer will wait a bit longer to come, and that upon its arrival it will bring torrents of rain. I say this because as much as I dislike all of the dust in the air, I loath even more the constant heat that reminds me just how close in proximity we are to the great Kalahari Desert. Going one step beyond this though, today's weather was a combination of what I hate about both seasons: multiple dust storms plus heat that is only suppose to rise as the week progresses.

Just as school was finishing and the PGC members were running home to change into their athletic clothes, one of the largest dust tornadoes I have even seen emerged from the school yard right in front of my room and quickly grew in size as it blew towards the fence-line. Today, I actually had my camera with me since I wanted photos of our "unofficial" girls club, so I grabbed it and "chased" the storm. I started by taking photos of it on the ground as it blew away from me.

As Brandon also came running outside, with his view unobstructed by a camera in front of his face, he noticed immediately the unusual height of this tornado and directed my attention upwards.

We continue to watched in amazement as the dust tornado continued on a path through the wire fence towards the road and right through the herd of cows that were on their way out to the fields to graze. The only thing that eventually caused the tornado to dissipate was the poor house that happened to be next in its path. The dust hit the house with incredible force and then just died, most probably getting sucked straight into the house through the multiple cracks and holes found in the windows, doors and tin roof. Its times like these that selfishly I am so happy that it is someone else's mess to clean up and that my house was saved this rude and unwelcome blast that winter imposes on all of our residents from time to time.

The girls were quick to rush back to school in every color imaginable. It is not very often that these girls get the chance to gather together in their "street" clothes and just have a good time as friends. During the regular school week, they must wear uniforms, so this was a unique opportunity for them to be themselves and wear what they are most comfortable in.

Like I said earlier, this was an "unofficial" girls club, meaning that we weren't sitting in the meeting hall like normal listening to a lesson and following it up with a craft. Today was just a time for me to get the girls together and do an interesting activity with them. As much as I love the regular meetings of club, these times of spontaneity provide me with the best glimpse into the world of my girls and who they really are outside of the conforming confines of school.

Today, the interesting activity was Yoga. This is something that I had never done prior to Peace Corps and probably never would have tried had it not been for the influence of other close friends. Earlier this year, a friend bestowed on me a few podcasts of various yoga sessions that I have thoroughly enjoyed waking up to in the early mornings...and as time has passed, I have enjoyed the different benefits of the various poses. Now, I would never even remotely consider myself an expert on Yoga or even pride myself in fully reaping the benefits that yoga proclaims to give. In fact, I would argue that I am one of the most inflexible people on earth and also add that my body was made so disproportionately that God most likely intended that I stick with exercises that require no bending. Despite this flaw in my physical make-up, I decided that I still enjoy Yoga and that most likely, there are at least a handful of girls that would enjoy trying it out and probably be excellent at it...thus formed the idea for today's gathering.

Being as hot as it was, gathering in the dust-covered, concrete-floored meeting hall this afternoon with hardly any windows for air circulation would have been miserable. So our venue became the small, rectangular patch of grass that the school's gardener tends to year-round to keep it green even during dry season. I spoke with him earlier in the morning and asked him to dispense with today's watering session of the grass so that the girls would be able to lie on their backs without getting grass stains smeared across their clothes. To add to this open-air atmosphere, Brandon hooked up our CD player and while it seemed more appropriate to play some feng shui, all we had was hip hop...so that sufficed.

As the music began, all of the girls gathered on the grass facing me and we commenced with their first session ever of Yoga. Following the advice of another volunteer who has already done Yoga with her girls clubs and seems quite the expert, I started the girls with some deep breathing to make sure that they grasped the concept that their breaths guide their movements. While I don't think all the girls understood because of the language barrier, I tried my best to demonstrate only to realize that it is impossible to breath in and out properly while talking simultaneously. Who ever said that women can do two things at once didn't consider this.

Moving on from the basics of breathing though, I guided the girls through positions like the Child's pose, Downward Facing Dog, Warrior Pose, etc. (As I typed that last sentence, I reflected on the fact that if only the girls understood English a bit more, how fitting and yet how silly the names of the poses would seem to them!) What amazed me most about demonstrating and then having the girls perform the movements with me is that not a single girl quit in the middle. They all held the poses until I guided them to the next and while there were many giggles and girls falling over, they all seemed to find great enjoyment in learning and no one seemed embarrassed even though there were some random young mothers dropping by the school to provide our teachers with Social Grant numbers. We accumulated quite an audience by the time were were finished.

As I wrapped up our Yoga session by having the girls lay flat on their back in the relaxed Shivasana pose, one of my younger but brighter PGC members approached me and asked permission to teach the girls another "pose." I gladly obliged and watched as she had the girls twist their arms behind their back and wiggle them up towards their necks. Within a couple moments she was finished and I had other girls raising their hands and wanting to lead in different poses. So, this turned into an open venue where all girls were welcome to contribute to today's activity. Nearly half of the girls went to the front and lead the group in some sort of aerobic exercise (at first) and then quite quickly it turned into a show-and-tell time of who could perform the craziest poses that no one else could do! It was hilarious and gave me an even deeper understand of the breadth of personality that these girls have.

One of these girls was Abrina. She is someone who inside of the PGC meeting hall seems very reserved but if captured by the camera is always found to have the biggest smile in the bunch. She is missing teeth in front and always has her tongue out with one eye closed, but nonetheless, she is uninhibitedly smiling. Well, today she blew me out of the water with her stunt! She walked up to the front of the group very confidently, sat down on the ground with crossed legs and proceeded to pull one leg up and fold it neatly behind her head. The crowd cheered their approval and a few even attempted to imitate this pose. Seeing how much the girls enjoyed her stunt, I went to the front and stood behind her and whispered something in her ear. She nodded her head and as the whole group watched, I helped her to raise her second foot and also wrap it behind her head to fold into what looked like a pretzel. The crowd went even more wild! She was in her element...as funny as it was!

Another girl who has continued to capture my heart during her last two years in girls club is Julia. She is in grade seven and is the shortest girl in club. She always comes in alone, sits alone and stays fairly quiet during club meetings. But as I have watched her over the last two years, I have realized that she is a friend to everyone and has the unique and rare relationship with each girl that allows her to freely interact with a different group of girls each week. She may be short and appear very quiet, but she is probably one of the most out-going and accepting girls I have. Today, she raised her hand to volunteer, and when she got to the front, flung herself backwards into a crab position and began to walk backwards. The girls were so amused with it that everyone was walking around bumping into each other. I even tried it but couldn't manage to move anywhere let alone get a single hand or foot off the ground.

The time of Yoga and pretzels was finished and I was about to release the girls to go home when they had another idea. They wanted to jive! So, I blasted the music on our small player and watched as the girls organized themselves to first dance in unison, and then second, open up a dance floor for solo performances. This went on for some time and they even managed to get me involved at the end when Julia was left without a partner for the final dance.

Today was one of the rare moments when I got to "play" with the girls as one of them. I was no longer their teachers' friend, the PGC emcee, or even the staple white American that couldn't relate. They allowed me into their inner circle to experience what gives them joy and allowed me to see them as teenagers who want desperately to enjoy life and be someone special. They weren't expected to give the right answer to questions or to try their hardest to replicate a craft project. Today was about being themselves and sharing their talents with their peers.

So, on this dusty, hot, winter afternoon, I captured memories from the children in my village that give me hope that these girls will make it through life successfully. In the two years that I have worked with the school to provide life skills education for the grade six and seven girls, my hope has always been that the girls would gain confidence in themselves and take responsibility for all of their actions. The teachers have always done a wonderful job of teaching and mentoring the girls, and today I got to watch the girls away from their authority figures...and I was proud of what I saw. The girls treated each other like sisters and held each other accountable throughout the exercises to stay focused and not give up. They had fun without being hurtful to others and showed maturity beyond what I have seen in many secondary learners. Again, I am proud. Not because of anything I have done, but because I know that this is a trend that will continue even after I am gone because of the dedication that my teachers have to educating the young girls at school and equipping them for their next stage in life.

For almost two years, I never held a hope that my parents would come and see my home here in South Africa. Between their jobs and health concerns, it just never seemed possible. Then a course of events started taking place in the lives of my parents back in the States and also in our lives here in South Africa that seemed to open up the perfect window of time and opportunity for my mother and father to make the roughly 18 hour flight to come and experience the wildness and beauty of Africa. (Do we really think that was by chance? No. There was definitely some divine planning taking place.) Their journey was not without mishap though as the morning of their departure from the Duluth International Airport my mother had to make an emergency visit to the dentist and was told that she would be lucky if she got to her destination without wanting to pull out all her teeth...or something like that.

So the big day arrived on which my parents would step foot on the African Continent for their very first time...and B and I held no anticipation. Don't worry, my father told me the same thing just a few days earlier. Apparently it runs in our family. Dad was firstly more excited for their two night stop-over in Paris and upon the completion of their time there said he would get excited about Africa. It worked the same for us. B was taking the GRE in Jo'burg the morning of their arrival and until that was over, we could just not muster the excitement that my parents were actually going to be arriving later that night.

There is so much that I could say about the day my parents arrived, but it seems off topic...so let me just sum it up with the word "exasperating" and give a short synopsis. The rental car we were given was a hatch-back with no real boot to put my parent's luggage in. I got Brandon to his exam 20 minutes late and realized that just 10 minutes later and we would have been out the $170 fee and Brandon not allowed to take the exam. The museum that I was going to see with another PCV (Brad) while Brandon took his exam ended up being closed to the public. After Brandon finished his exam, the three of us went to another historical site and took a guided tour. Two hours later when it was still not finished, we decided that to beat rush-hour traffic we needed to leave. Three hours later, we had only driven maybe 20km at best. Another hour later and we were checked into our hotel with Brad, who was resigned to spending the night with us since we couldn't get him back to his own accommodations that night as a result of the traffic. By 8pm, we were at the airport switching into a larger car and by 9pm, my parent were walking out of the terminal. What a way to greet my parents! It all worked out though in the end and we were just happy that we were the ones facing various impediments along the way rather than my parents.

Our real journey started 1 August, my father's birthday. Our first destination was St. Lucia along the Indian Ocean. The highlights of this location were not limited to the Indian Ocean, however. We ate dinner out all three nights and had some amazing meals...all of mine were of course seafood. We had everything from pizza to prawns and oyster in combination with some great South African wine and/or Amarula cocktails. The food selection went from Italian and seafood one night to Portuguese another night.

Besides just the food, we saw some great sites. Our first full day in St. Lucia, we took an afternoon drive through the Wetlands Park and saw several animals like the buffalo and rhino to name a few. We finished our drive by stopping at Cape Vidal to walk along the coast of the Ocean and enjoy the nice weather we were gifted with. This was also my parents first time being exposed to the conniving little vervet monkeys that seem to be present wherever there are picnics taking place. They seem to orchestrate chaos while at the same time amuse everyone watching.

Apparently, even with the large park, Kruger, looming a few days ahead on the trip, we still headed into the Wetlands Park for a second day of viewing after hearing the enticing stories of our B&B host that first evening. It was a crummy day though and perfect for just being inside the car. Even with the lousy weather, we saw one of the most amazing sites that B and I think we've seen...a hippo crossing the lowveld. This huge, ancient looking hippo was just lumbering across the road in front of us seemingly so out of place in the grassy surroundings in the middle of a heavy rain. It was the most beat up animal I have ever seen with scars engraved all over his massive body.

With the rain still coming down heavy, we were not deterred from the evening Estuary Cruise we had booked the day before. While we knew that the evening would not yield us amazing sunset photos, we hoped for the best when it came to croc and hippo sightings and we were not disappointed. The hippos were in their usual locations and out in great numbers playing and putting on a show for the cameras. The crocs were a bit more scarce, but we even spotted one that the tour guide failed to see from below deck.

After a couple wonderful days in St. Lucia and the only day of rain we had the entire vacation, we traveled up through the country of Swaziland and just to the southwest of Kruger National Park where we would stay for the next 5 nights in a chalet on a working Macademia Nut Farm. It was the most beautiful location among the macademia and banana trees, and it appeared that we had it mostly to ourselves. For me, the best part of this leg of our journey was the lapa where we shared a few meals after long days of site seeing. We treated my parents to a good-ole South African braai of lamb with round squash on the side and my mom's famous cucumber salad. The atmosphere was very soothing as we sat under the thatched roof and enjoyed the air through the open air lapa with the coals still glowing in the braai pit next to us.

Over the next five days we visited a famous pancake house, saw many different waterfalls and even washed a couple loads of laundry in the bathtub to make it through the rest of vacation. While all of this was fascinating, it doesn't even compare to the day and half that we spent driving through Kruger. Never in the two years that B and I have been in South Africa have we seen more than 3 of the Big 5 while on vacation and of those Big 5, we had never seen the leopard. Well, this time we not only saw a leopard both up close and once far away, we also managed to capture all of the Big 5 on camera up close! We watched rhinos battle for victory, lions stalk their impala prey, and baby elephants flap out their ears in playful intimidation.

The vacation we had experienced with my parents up to this point was spectacular. It meant so much that the animals came out and made their appearances not only for my parents' sake but also for the sake of B and I since this was our last time visiting any wildlife parks before heading back to the States in December.

The next couple days though following "vacation" continued in fashion to be fantastic. My parents were our first visitors to South Africa to get to experience our village as it normally is during the school year. Our regular family was at the house and school was in session. My parents got to see what our normal every day life is like here in just a couple days spent in our little mud house.

Arriving Saturday night, we unloaded the car and mom and I went to work unpacking the two suitcases worth of gifts she had brought for our friends here in South Africa. This is something that I adore about my parents...their bottomless generosity to others. While I know that it sets them back a bit financially, it rewards them emotionally and spiritually watching the happy faces receive the gifts that they so carefully picked out. Even after they left, people are exclaiming how beautiful the table runners are that my mother and her sisters sewed and how much everyone can see that I am like my mother after watching her help with the PGC.

Again, there is so much that I could say about the two days spent in our village, but it is just too much, so I will try and sum it up succinctly. Saturday night my parents gave gifts to the family. I'm pretty sure that by the third gift bag, Mma and Anna were wondering if Christmas was celebrated at a different time in America because they were overwhelmed by everything they were receiving. The kids were equally surprised by their gifts and took them inside to the table almost immediately to try everything out. The most fascinating part of this gift-giving event though was our Mma's reaction to it all. As my mother and father both tried their tongues at speaking Sepedi to Mma upon our prompting, Mma began trying to speak English back (Which she hardly ever does!!) and all of the adults were laughing simultaneously as if there was an instant bond of friendship. Mma was requesting photos with my parents both outside and inside of her house and seemed to just love having my parents as visitors.

In addition, the next day Mma was equally enthralled with my parents and continued opening up to them. At one point during the afternoon, Mma called us outside because she had put on her traditional Pedi tribal wear and wanted to model it for my parents. (I'm pretty sure she picked up on the fact that my parents both had a third appendage which was a camera and thought she would take advantage of it). Not only did she pose for about a hundred photos in this outfit, but then she proceeded to switch her clothes two more times and have even more photos taken. At one point, she even requested to have her photo taken with just my mother.

During this exchange between my parents and my host Mma, I saw a different side of Mma that really gave her a softness of character that I didn't know existed. She was happy and almost uninhibited around my parents. While I'm sure that I could analyze this change in her personality forever, I'm sure that it has something to do with the fact that my parents have some gray hair showing through and she felt the need to show them respect since her hair is still black (no offense mom and dad) even though they are the same age.

While there is still more to share about our day at school, mom's provision of a wonderful PGC, and our afternoon at Lambano Sanctuary with some children with HIV, I need to wrap this up and get some chores done this weekend.

Overall, it was a wonderful time spent with my parents packed with unique memories. After a year and half of not seeing my parents, it was a special time for me to reconnect with them and an even better opportunity for Brandon to finally get a substantial amount of time with my parents to really get to know them. Saying goodbye was not as difficult as past visitors since we all had the knowledge that B and I would be returning State-side exactly four months from the date my parents left.

It seems like forever that we've been away from site and away from our normal routine. It's nice to be home. Our past few weeks have been a lot of fun and we have much to share with you ... it just might take a while to get around to it. Jerry and Rosy (Rachel's parents) just left last Tuesday night and then we had a friend's wedding to attend in Pretoria over the weekend. It's only today that both Rachel and I are going to be back at school together.

In the few free moments that I've had over the last week, I slowly sorted all of the pictures from Jerry and Rosy's trip. You can see some of the highlights at picasaweb.google.com/africandaylight/niebauersinafrica.

The day that Rachel's parents returned to the States left us with exactly four months in South Africa. With our COS date set as December 12th, it seems like the end of our service is just around the corner. We'll try and keep everyone updated as to what our plans will be after the holidays.

I hadn't anticipated writing this blog entry, and it's rather unfortunate that I am, but a bizarre turn of events this past week has prompted me with a story. On Thursday of last week I found myself alone at the house because Rachel had taken a trip with Jessica to Pretoria to buy some supplies for their girls clubs. I would be alone for a few days trying to keep myself busy and hanging out with the boys (Khutso and Garfield).

In the late afternoon on Thursday, there was a knock on our door. When I opened it, I gazed down to find Tebogo Ditsela's face beaming with that beautiful smile of hers and asking the oh-so-often-asked question at the Johnson door, "Where is Koketso?" I've become accustomed to the fact that I am rarely wanted and I have an almost automatic response now when turning that door handle. This time I had to tell little Tebogo that Rachel was out and wouldn't be back for a few days.

"But it's my birthday and I have a party" she said.

I responded, "Oh, I'm sorry ... when is your party?"

"Now."

"Well do you want me to come even though Koketso isn't here?"

"Yes."

"Okay, give me 5 minutes and I'll be over there" was my final comment before closing the door and hurriedly getting changed out of my lounging clothes into something a little more appropriate. By that I mean throwing on jeans and a baseball hat to cover my raggedy Andy looking hair.

I left the house not really knowing what to expect of this "party". I locked the door behind me and headed to the Ditselas'. Entering their gate and walking into the compound, I saw Maam Ditsela coming towards me. It was instantly obvious that she didn't care as much about her appearance as I did: She was standing there in her pajamas asking "Where's your camera?" I had honestly not even thought about bringing it. Even though our house is just within eyesight across the street, I didn't bother going home to fetch it either. Maam Ditsela had a point-and-shoot film camera we had given her a while back and she was satisfied with using that for the party.

As I walked onto the stoop and around towards the front door of their house, I caught the first glimpse of this festive event. Tebogo was sitting at a table, chocolate cake with lit candles in front of her. Surrounding her were about five other small children from the neighborhood, each with a plate full of sweets and Simba. The remaining guests consisted of Tebogo's family: Komotso (16), Collins (26), Maam Ditsela and one of Maam Ditsela's sisters.

Hardly a few seconds passed after my arrival before Komotso started the group in the singing of the happy birthday song. Tebogo blew out her candles and the party had begun. Collins, the oldest of the Ditsela clan, was the designated DJ for the night. He had moved the family's stereo out onto the patio and put in his "hot mix". I had yet to even greet anyone (which is an important custom in this culture) and now I could hardly even hear myself think because the music was so loud. I simply nodded at Collins across the way and watched as Komotso began cutting the cake.

I knew I was an "honored guest", so to speak, and that a big piece of chocolate cake was only minutes away. Considering Rachel wasn't at home and my dinner prior to coming to the party consisted of a peanut butter and honey sandwich, the cake looked incredibly appetizing. Sure enough, minutes later, I was stuffing my face and trying to have a conversation with Collins above the music.

Collins is home for a while from the cities. He has been living on his own down in Pretoria trying to find work. His mother's opinion (and mine I'm beginning to think) is that he isn't trying hard enough and has been taking advantage of his mother's kindness. Don't get me wrong, Collins is a nice guy and seems to love his family dearly, but something is just missing. He is already the father of a child with a girl he is not in a serious relationship with. His life just isn't coming together right now.

After the cake and snacks were quickly eaten, the sugar-driven children were now out on the mock dance floor and jiving (South Africans often use the word jiva to refer to dancing) their little hearts out. The leader of the pack was none other than the birthday girl herself. For having turned just 10 years old, this kid has more confidence and smarts than most secondary school kids in our village. And her dancing is some of the cutest I've seen.

For the rest of the evening, I just sat back with a huge smile on my face and enjoyed watching the Ditsela family have fun. This was a real treat for me, getting to take part in such an intimate family event. Collins and Komotso began dancing with all of the younger children and quite a show was started. I don't think I said more than two words to Maam Ditsela the whole night. We both just sat there laughing and watching as her children captured all of our attention. The more time went on, the more I regretted not having my camera with me. Sorry I don't have any photos to share!

Later in the evening, Jones Ditsela (23) showed up at the house after having been out with his friends in the village. He came just in time to catch some of the dancing and have a last piece of cake. Jones was on break from school. He is studying to be a lawyer at the University of Limpopo in Polokwane, and he only has one more year to finish up. Jones is a bright kid and another good reason that Mma Ditsela is a very proud mother.

Maam Ditsela invited me into the house where I sat for a few minutes as she began preparing dinner in the kitchen for the family. Knowing that I would soon be asked to stay for dinner, I quickly but politely made an excuse to head back home for the rest of the evening. As is the custom, Maam Ditsela didn't want me to walk out alone. She asked Jones to walk me to the gate. I don't get to talk with Jones much, but I found myself speaking easily this night. After what I had witnessed at Tebogo's party, I told him:

"You sure are lucky to have the family that you do. I can see how much everyone cares about each other. That's a rare thing you know."

He simply smiled as we got to the gate and we said our goodbyes. Although I hadn't been real excited to leave my house earlier in the evening, I was glad that Tebogo came to get me. Her party was just what I needed to welcome me back to the village after a few weeks on vacation. It was the Africa I have grown to love.

-- cut to Sunday afternoon (three days later) --

Rachel came back from Pretoria late on Saturday night and we slept well into the morning on Sunday (for us, that means about 8am or so). Around lunchtime, Rachel was in the kitchen cooking and I was making my way back into the main room to work on the computer a bit.

I suddenly heard mma yelling out on the patio in front of our house. She was directing her anger toward the street and my first assumption was that some of the goats were misbehaving, which typically receives the same type of reaction from mma. But then I heard the voice of a child, screaming at the top of her lungs. It was apparent that the screams were accompanied by tears and that something was happening outside.

The next image I saw still haunts my memory, as it is one of those incidents I was not expecting to see. I wasn't even sure what I saw at first. As I looked out our windows toward the goat and cow kraals, there was a chase taking place on the street. Rounding the corner of our property were two young men. I noticed that the man doing the chasing, who was without a shirt, was holding something high in his hand. My first instinct and fear was that it was a gun. The commotion outside forced my mind to panic and I wasn't really sure what I should have been seeing.

When I focused my attention, I saw Collins Ditsela chasing his brother Jones in shear anger with a butcher knife held like a dagger above his head. The two men continued around the corner of our property as I quickly made the decision to run outside and figure out what was going on. As I did so, our mma had already made her way toward our gate in their direction. When I stepped from our door, I saw that the childish screams were coming from Tebogo Ditsela, who was sprinting at full speed after her brothers. Not far behind her were Maam Ditsela and Komotso, all of whom were obviously trying to stop whatever chain of events it was that had begun at their house.

In the few moments it took me to get outside, I lost sight of the brothers. When I ran toward the edge of our property and toward the gate onto the street, I saw that Collins and Jones had made their way toward our neighbor's compound. Luckily, Collins had not yet caught up with Jones, but they were frighteningly close. Matlatse, our neighbor's son (about Jones' age), came onto the scene quickly as he realized what was happening. Jones ran onto their property because he knew he would get help there and Matlatse luckily caught Collins at the gate before he had the chance to enter the compound. Matlatse grabbed Collins' arm, the one that held the knife, and struggled to hold him back for a solid minute as others approached the scene.

I silently watched in both disbelief and horror as the situation unfolded. I stood at our gate on the edge of the street as Tebogo ran past me still screaming, tears flowing from her eyes. I had just heard Maam Ditsela yell for Tebogo to go get the cell phone from their house. It was apparent that even Maam Ditsela didn't know what to do. I think she was preparing to call an ambulance, or possibly the police.

Collins was now standing at the gate of our neighbor's, the knife having been stripped from his hand. Matlatse, our neighbor, Collins, Maam Ditsela and our mma were all standing there together. Collins was yelling at the top of his lungs and gesturing in wild and animated motions: He was obviously furious beyond comprehension about something.

What could have provoked this?

I stood there, trying to catch my breath, all while contemplating that very question. These two brothers, whom I had just spent time with a few days before, were now so angry with one another that it came to this. And I hadn't just spent time with them - I witnessed the joy and love of their family. It was such a happy occasion. Now the birthday girl was terrified because she feared that one of her brothers might kill the other.

Fortunately it didn't come to that. Rachel and I still aren't even sure what exactly happened and what infuriated Collins so much. We assume that Maam Ditsela will one day get around to telling us, but we don't feel it's an appropriate question to ask at this point in time. We're just glad that nothing serious resulted from the incident.

I don't really know what to make of these two stories. The events of Sunday were horrific, but even more so following my experience with the Ditsela family on Thursday evening. I just hope that the Ditsela family can recover from his. Pray for them. Maam Ditsela is dear to us and we know this took a huge toll on her, especially as such a public event in the community. Gossip is terrible in these small African villages and we know she probably fears the worst about what will be said about her sons and the Ditsela family in general.

After what seemed to be a whirlwind of a vacation, we arrived safely back in our village on Monday night ... after two days straight of driving from the Cape. (One of the biggest annoyances of PCVs in South Africa is when people assume that we hang out in Cape Town all the time and that life as a PCV here is like life in Cape Town. But the reality is that we are as far from Cape Town as Indiana is from Colorado.)

We have a lot of stories we could tell from the trip, but I'm going to keep it simple. I'm tired from the travel and we simply have enough photos to do the talking (as usual).

Following our Peace Corps COS Conference in Pretoria, our friend Paul and Jess Vig picked us up and we headed out on the first leg of our roadtrip that would put us in Cape Town.

The first night we stayed at a really cute and rustic place outside of Aliwal North. The four of us had an entire compound to ourselves: two cottages, a bar and game room, a separate wash room, kitchen, outside braai area and gazebo. The place literally felt like it was in the middle of nowhere. We actually got there after dark and had to follow the owners back into their property. We didn't get to see the place in the light until morning and I think we were all a bit sad we couldn't stay for more than a day. But it was FREEZING cold!

Driving from Aliwal North to Port Elizabeth, we made an afternoon stopover at the National Arts Festival in Grahamstown, which just so happened to be along our route. Jess and Rach enjoyed all of the craft booths that were set up for the day, and I think Paul and I found our satisfaction when it came to Chinese and Indian food for lunch.

We spent two nights in Port Elizabeth, so we made our way over to Addo Elephant National Park to do a little game driving. The Boardwalk along the beach also kept us busy in the evenings with movies, French crepes, and Greek and Chinese food. Oh yeah, and our goal for this trip was to eat as many different international foods as possible ... basically anything other than traditional South African (food isn't exactly something this country is known for).

Leaving PE, we made our way along the coast and spent the morning at Jeffrey's Bay. There were many surfers out in the water preparing for the upcoming Billabong Pro JBay 2008 Supertubes competition. Jess and Rachel grabbed their books and enjoyed a read on the beach while Paul and I threw around a frisbee.

Then it was down the coast further, a stopover in Mossel Bay, and then to the southernmost tip of Africa at Cape L'Agulhas. It was one of those times when we visited a place to say we did it, but it was a bit cold and we didn't stay long. The back roads are always fun though and we definitely like trying to see some of the parts of Africa that many tourists don't. Leaving Agulhas we stopped at Hermanus which is known as the best land-based whale watching in South Africa. The water was too rough though and there were whitecaps everywhere. We saw nothing.

We arrived in Cape Town just as the sun was setting and prepared for a busy next few days. There are literally hundreds of things to do in the Cape area and we had basically three days to do what we could. We got lucky with beautiful weather the first day and decided to circle the Cape Peninsula. Our stops included St. James (photo below), Kalk Bay and Simon's Town (where the SA navy is based).

Then it was on to see the famous African Penguins near Boulders Beach. They were cute but it was one of the most touristy areas I have seen in this country. We were happy to be out of there after snapping some photos. We also had a lot of ground to cover still and our time was limited.

Then we drove down to Cape Point and boy was that a treat. The coastline was breathtaking and very well preserved because it's part of a national park area. We grabbed a bite to eat and sat for a few minutes overlooking the ocean. Despite Rachel's sandwich being taken from her by a bird (encouraged because of the moron feeding them at the table next to us), it was well worth the visit.

Then came our first string of good luck. Aside from Rachel and Jess getting to ride camels on our return trip to the city from Cape Point, we made it to the Table Mountain Cableway just in time to catch the last tram up the mountain. We were lucky not only because we caught the last one that day ... but it was the last clear day of our entire trip and the only day it would've worked to do it.

We got to hang out on top of the mountain until the sun set (which was gorgeous) and then we caught the last tram down at 6pm. Then it was off to Anatoli, a Turkish restaurant that we were very much looking forward to!! They didn't let us down. Although the bill for the four of us came to about R800 (including tip), we were stuffed when we walked out of there later that night. We even had a little Swordfish with our meal!

The next day started with our second bit of good luck. We had heard that booking was essential for tours out to Robben Island. When we called to try and get tickets, they told us they were sold out for the entire next week. We went down to the Waterfront anyways and checked to see if there was anyone that had canceled. The gal told us they had four tickets available for the 11 o'clock boat. We got lucky! The visit to the island was definitely worth it, knowing so much about South Africa's history and particularly Nelson Mandela's place in it. (For those of you that don't know, Robben Island is where Mandela was imprisoned for 18 years during the Apartheid years.)

We drove down to the beach at Camps Bay for the sunset and enjoyed just relaxing for a bit and people watching. Then we spent the evening at the Victoria Wharf. While the ladies did some quick shopping, Paul and I made the wonderful decision to check out the Mitchell's Brewery.

The last few days of our trip were spent in the winelands surrounding Stellenbosch. Although we didn't have ideal weather, it was a great atmosphere to be inside and wine tasting. Over the course of the two days, we visited seven wineries and tasted over 40 wines. And we followed it up with Italian food both days ... a great choice! The wineries were fascinating. Every estate owner and wine maker has their own taste - in their landscaping, architecture and wine. Some of the highlights included visiting the winery of Ernie Els, and getting to taste chocolate and cheese with our wines on the second day.

Our time in the Cape definitely wasn't enough. For me and Rachel, it was our first and last trip down there. We were very happy to be able to spend it with our good friends Paul and Jess. Now we're back at site and have a few days left before school starts up again. And just for a little added excitement, we took our cats to town yesterday and got them castrated. That was an adventure.

With two years under our belt and a lot of ideas about how to make a lasting impact on our communities through sustainable projects, I think we found something. Under the leadership of Rachel and Jess, the Palala Clubs have begun making traditional aprons to sell. The project has been stressful to say the least in its initial stages, but the feedback we have received thus far has been really encouraging. The goal was to create aprons to have available to Peace Corps Volunteers and staff at upcoming trainings and conferences. We already have over 30 aprons ordered and more are coming in daily.

The best part about this project is that a unique item is being hand crafted and packaged. The aprons, sewn from traditional fabrics (most of which are Da Gama), are made in a variety of styles. Some are plain, some have the face of Mandela on a pocket or two, and some are personalized with a name. In the end, the aprons are folded and stored within a small bag that is made from the leftover fabric scraps. How resourceful!! The finishing touch is the small tag, printed on recycled paper, that contains the "care instructions" and contact information for the Palala Clubs.

We weren't sure how this project would take off, and how successful it would be - but we're hoping for the best. And so far there are many good signs. When teachers like Maam Ditsela and Maam Tema are involved, we are encouraged. The next several months will be exciting as more details are developed and strategies for future implementation are put into place. Right now, Rachel and I are just looking forward to showing off these beautiful aprons (and other Palala Clubs crafts) at our COS Conference next week. I have a feeling we won't be bringing any back home with us!

The more we become involved in our community, the more we want to leave behind. We love our village and the impression that these people have left on us. As the months dwindle down to the end of our service, we can't help but think about the sustainability of the things we've done. Could we have done more? What have they learned? Why didn't we do this or that? Will they remember us five years from now? It's an emotional thing to feel when we care about this place so much. But that's why even in our last months we're pressing forward with new ideas and projects. If you look at the faces in this photo below, you'll see our motivation.

(Currently, the aprons are only being made to sell within South Africa, but we're hoping to open it to overseas sales in the future. We'll keep you posted.)

As promised, here are the boys:

Ngwako (Lota) Dennis Manoko

Meet Lota. See that smile on his face? It's one of my favorites. He's 13 years old, born on 26 September 1994. Not only is Lota one of my elected Student Council boys, but he is also responsible for the keys at the school - a responsibility that the principal has praised him for time and time again. He has three younger sisters. Angie and Angela are twin nine year olds and Lesego is an adorable two year old. All four of them live with their mother in this one room house. Lota's mother stays home and his father works as a security guard in Johannesburg. His favorite subject at school is Arts & Culture. In his free time he likes to eat porridge and meat and play soccer. He would like to be a mayor when he grows up. Oh yeah, and that's his dog. He likes his dog.

Tshepo (Peterpeter) Piet Malope

No, that's not a mispelling. His nickname is actually "Peterpeter". It's pronounced more like "pitapita" though. Piet is one of the youngest members of the PBC. He is 13 years old, born on 7 January 1995. He has a younger sister, Johanna (12), and a baby brother, France (1). His father works in water affairs in Pretoria and his mother lives there also, but does not work. When his parents are able to come home to the village, they live in this house.

Otherwise, Piet spends most of his time at his grandparents' house across the village. He lives there with both of his grandparents, five cousins and his sister. English is his favorite subject at school. When he's away from school, he likes to eat bogobe, play soccer and dance. His goal in life - to become a doctor.

Thapedi (Measure) Elias Ditsela

Finally, there's Measure (pronounced "Masher"). At 16 he's one of the oldest in my club (and remember, this is Grade 7). His birthday is 29 February 1992. He is the last born in his family with two older sisters, Ruth (30) and Martha (28), and an older brother, Lazarus (35). Measure's father has passed away and his mother stays at home in the village. Along with his mom, he lives with his sister Martha and her baby girl. His favorite subject in school is Arts & Culture. Measure also likes to eat porridge and meat and play soccer. And like so many of the PBC boys, he wants to be a soldier. On a side note, Measure is PGC leader Maam Ditsela's nephew.

As Rachel and I have taken our morning walks around the village over the past few weeks, we've realized that we rarely put faces with anything more. We wanted to do a special photo project that would give you an opportunity to get to know some of the kids that mean so much to us. Here's a start. These are Rachel's four PGC Student Council girls. I'm hoping to follow this up tomorrow with an entry about my boys. These are some great kids, and we're happy to introduce them to you:

Lerato (Mosquito) Clementine Moloantoa

Here is Lerato. Some of her friends call her "Mosquito". She is 12 years old, born on 4 July 1995. Lerato has only one brother, Herman, who is one year old. Neither of her parents live with her in the village. Her father is a miner in Rustenburg and her mother works at a hotel in Johannesburg. She only sees them when they are able to come home during holidays. In the village she lives with her grandmother, her young brother and two cousins. Lerato's favorite subject in school is English and she likes to play sports (soccer, netball and volleyball) and dance. Her dream is to be an actress one day.

Supa (Charles) Charlie Motlogeloa

Charlie always has a smile on her face. She is 12 years old, born on 11 August 1995. She has a large family; four sisters and three brothers. She is the second youngest of them all. Charlie's mother stays at home and is also one of the PGC leaders at Klipspruit. Her father works as an operator in Mokopane. She lives at home with her mother, all four of her sisters and one brother. English is her favorite subject at school and she loves to sing, a lot. It's not surprising then that she wants to grow up to be a singer.

Mmakwena (Mmalepheku) Cathrine Sethebe

Meet Mmakwena, one of the most stylish girls at school. She is also 12 years old, born on 14 February 1996. She is the youngest of the PGC Student Council girls. Mmakwena has an older sister, Johanna (22), and a younger brother, Sarel (3). Her father is a policeman in Johannesburg and her mother works as a maid in the nearby village of Seleka. In this small house she lives with her mother and both of her siblings. She also likes English class at school and has aspirations to be a professional singer.

Mmatema (Mowa) Sina Morudu

Finally, there's Mmatema - the oldest of the Student Council girls. She is 13, born on 23 January 1995. She is also the oldest member of her family. She has a younger sister, Priscilla (8), and a baby brother, Pravin (1). While her mother stays at home with the family, her father works at a municipality office in Johannesburg. Aside from her mother, she lives at home with her brother, sister and two cousins. Mmatema's favorite subject at school is Technology and her hobbies include netball, soccer and dancing. What does she want to be when she grows up? A dancer.

During week 9 of the PGC, the girls each got to experience exactly what happens inside a pregnant woman by following the development stages of the baby from as early as 7 weeks after conception all the way to birth through the visual aide of Fetal Models we purchased from a US company, Heritage House. Last year for this lesson, all we had to provide as resources were statistics and photos, but this year we were able to invest some of our PEPFAR money into Fetal Models to have the girls truly see and feel what a developing baby is like during each stage of pregnancy.

Anyone that knows me, understands that this is one of my favorite lessons and something that I have enjoyed teaching since high school. Since being Wisconsin Teens for Life President and then an intern for National Right to Life, I have always had a passion for people (specifically teens) to understand how precious each baby's life is and how early it truly has all the characteristics of a living person. By 21 days after conception, the baby already has a heart beat! Just 3 weeks later the baby has detectable brainwaves! How amazing!

Now, I had the opportunity to bring this knowledge to pre-teen girls in Africa where pregnancy is not something to be hidden but actually a competition that has caused alarming rates of school drop-outs and HIV infections.

Like I said, last year I tried this lesson out and it was successful as far as photos could portray what a baby looked like inside a mother and as far as my English and broken Sepedi could get me in teaching. This year, however, I had two new weapons: Maam Tema and Fetal Models. I was very excited to see what the outcome would be now that I had learned a bit from experience.

Maam Tema is a phenomenal teacher. While she will quickly admit that the craft time is her favorite part of girls club and that Maam Ditsela prefers to tell the stories, she is an excellent speaker and has a way of making the girls pay attention and laugh at some of the most taboo topics. Well, after watching me teach the lesson last year and equipped with all of the resources I could provide her with, she took on teaching the Fetal Development lesson this year. The girls loved it! She first read a short story that is meant to give the girls basic knowledge of the topic and then open the floor for further discussion among the leaders and members. I was glad to see that the girls understood from the story that pregnancy was a 9 month process. When I did an evaluation earlier this year, less than half of my girls knew how long a woman was pregnant before giving birth...and the discussion went more in depth after this once we introduced the Fetal Models and began teaching what happens during the 9 month period of pregnancy.

I think Maam Ditsela was even more excited than Maam Tema to introduced the Fetal Models because she had each of them in her hand before Maam Tema could even get her hands on one to talk about how old he/she was and what is happening to a baby during that week of development. It was quite funny even watching the leaders' fascination over the life-like babies they were holding in their hands. I'm sure this was a result of them each already experiencing pregnancy and now having the realization of what their children once looked like inside of their wombs and in fact just how big of babies they carried. Even more fascinating for them, though, was learning how early the baby can hear, suck his/her thumb, feel pain, recognize the mother's voice, etc.

Well, once the Fetal Models were free of the leaders' hands, Maam Tema was able to begin passing them around for the girls to feel and cradle. She started with the first trimester collection which included weeks 7 through 10 and taught all about what was happening to the babies during this early stage...sometimes even before a mother knows that she is pregnant.

Then she moved on to the babies that portray weeks 12, 20, 26 and 30.

For these older models, the girls gave such varied reactions. Some girls would take it and cradle it, rocking it back and forth as if it was a real baby, and then once the 30 week old baby came around, there were actually girls that would shake their heads in fear who didn't want to touch the baby. For some, the baby felt too real and it scared them a bit.

The lesson was successful. Maam Tema did an excellent job teaching and the girls loved having the models to really understand what a pregnant woman was going through. After class while the leaders began teaching the craft of sewing baby bibs, I left the babies on the head table and watched as girls who were shy earlier in touching the babies and holding them came up confidently and took their turns holding each model.

I've always known but never fully realized how important it is for young girls to see and feel what the baby is like inside the mother's womb during pregnancy...specifically in the culture I now live in. It can teach so many lessons to the girls that I could have never imagined. Young girls here don't get sexual education and don't even have parents at home who can give them advice in such areas. Girls are either completely ignorant about their bodies and that menstruation now gives them the power to pro-create or they understand that if they have sex and it results in pregnancy and birth, they will be given money by the government to take care of themselves and the baby. Young girls also view pregnancy as a symbol of success and acceptance. If they can obtain pregnancy during secondary school, it shows that they are women...it becomes a right of passage almost.

So what lessons do the girls learn specifically from seeing and feeling the Fetal Models? What I would like to think is that they learn to be responsible. They understand more fully the realities of what can happen when not abstaining from sex. They understand that while babies are cute and lovable that they are also a lot of work and probably best to wait for until after their education is finished and in a faithful relationship. They understand that abortion is not a solution to their problems. Finally, they understand just how precious human life is from conception to death and that it is something to be protected and taken very seriously.

The last girl finished sewing her baby bib just after the sun had set below the horizon and we quickly picked up the school's meeting hall so all of the leaders could get home to prepare food for their families. As Brandon and I walked home that night carrying the Fetal Models, we were stopped along the way by our friend Andries who is a 20 year old secondary student and good friend of ours. He was interested in seeing what we had and grew very excited as I explained it to him. He had us come into his house and show his friends who were inside. As it turned out, this was exactly the topic they were discussing in his Natural Science class at school that week and he was in wonder of the small babies. He was also very eager for me to bring them down to his school some day soon to allow the students there the opportunity to see and feel the babies...which I hope will work out. He has a very good grasp on what it means to be a responsible young adult (seeing as he takes care of his two younger sisters with no guardian or parent assisting him) and is an excellent student.

In conclusion, this lesson was very special for me in several ways. I was able to watch the girls learn about fetal development and pregnancy, but I was also able to personalize the lesson a bit...my sister-in-law is pregnant and due any day now (hopefully the morning of the 8th). Justin and Beth are expecting a boy to be born here very soon and I have myself experienced so much wonder and joy from watching them prepare for the birth of their son understanding just how special this new life is to them. They have kept a blog to update all of their family and friends on how their role as mother and father is coming and to give frequent updates on Keller.

For me, it has been so special to watch how this gift of a son has truly brought out some of the most beautiful characteristics of marriage in my brother-in-law and sister-in-law...the union of two people who love each other so much and now are prepared to share that love with another little one that they have created together and intend to raise with so much care and passion. Every time they talk about little Keller, their love speaks volumes as to how they feel about this life growing inside of Beth and I know that everyone who has watched them go through this process would agree that they radiate thankfulness and joy as a married couple for this gift they have been given...to bring a new life into this world and bring him up as the best young many they possibly can.