3 generations in Gueydan, LA-Milly aka RG Dimple, Megan, Bronwyn, and Peg

It's been a long time since I last wrote. I really didn't think it would take me this long to get on the ol' blog and update about life back home.... but time has flown and I'm not sure where the weeks and days have gone. It's hard to believe it's been over a month since I left South Africa... and almost a month and a half since I've seen all my family and friends in Metz... really hard to believe. The last month has been pretty great and it's been really fun to see family, friends, and Austin again.

Top fun things? I flew with Keri halfway home, we left South Africa together and flew to London where we split up to take our next flights. A good group of friends and my family met me at the airport and welcomed me home. The first week was a daze... I spent lots of time sleeping and sleeping hard at that. Jet lag can really do a number on you... and recovering from about 30 hours of traveling. I've had many good coffee dates with good friends, dinners, Mexican food, conversations, and lots of laughing. I went to visit my Grandma and all my family in Louisiana... they welcomed me home with a nice sign and plenty of hugs. I had coffee and conversation with my grandma and every morning I was there, I was made a bowl of Malt-O-Meal. My cousin June got me a ticket to see Bruce Springsteen in his home state of New Jersey and the concert just so happened to be ON my 31st birthday. An amazing show.. and one I don't think I'll ever forget, I'm glad June and I got to go together. I spent a lovely few days walking around the Baltimore Harbor, drinking coffee, and people watching. I had a chance to meet up with Ronda, who's living just outside of D.C. It's nice to know that bonds are still tight between volunteers even when we're on "this side." Dominique, one of my closest friends, threw me a birthday party where I got to celebrate with some of my favorite people. My friend Jen, who was in AmeriCorps NCCC with me in Denver right after I graduated high school, flew in for a visit over Columbus Day weekend. We had some good laughs and good conversations. I've been 80's dancing and I've seen my friend Brian DJ.... two things I really missed doing.

I can't put into words what I'm feeling and how I'm transitioning... I'm just taking it one day at a time and trying to get settled. Everything feels like a dream. Was I really in Metz Village for 2 years? How small was my room? What did it feel like to be all sweaty and hot and smushed in a taxi? I miss my friends and family there greatly and I feel so lucky to be back home with my friends and family here. I think I've grown up, I think I've aged, I think I've let a lot of things go... I really feel like I'm one person that has lived in two different worlds. Two worlds that don't have much chance of touching... two worlds that only a select few people have seen and know about. It's surreal. Very, very surreal.

I am planning on keeping this blog up for a little while... post some pictures of life in the states, of things I think are important.... it just might be sporadic for the next few weeks, I'm still trying to organize pictures and get used to the internet being so fast and computers being available all the time... shockingly, that's a little overwhelming. So, I'll be in touch... I'll be back on here soon.

This is Megan Mmapula Owen signing off at 11:05 pm, it's time for bed. The Phokungwane family has now been up for a good 2 hours.

On my last night in the village we had a cake from Taposa. Emma, the woman MmaDiapo has hired to help with things around the house, won R1,000 in a women's running competition and used R50 of it to get a "Goodbye Mmapula" cake. While sipping juice and eating tons of icing, Maite came over to sit with me, said she wanted to tell me a story. Earlier in the week, while they were all sitting on their back stoop, Karabo crossed her legs and was genuinely confused when the family seemed to be amused. "Karabo! Where did you learn such a thing? Are you a lekgowa (white person)? Only white people sit with their legs crossed, we Africans sit with our legs straight in front of us." "I'm not a lekgowa! I saw Mmapula sit like this! I'm just sitting like Mmapula." "Mmapula is a lekgowa, she is white." "No, no, Mmapula is just like me, she is just like you." Maite said she and Margaret were so excited that Karabo would think such a thing... think that I was no different than her in any way, that I was one of the family. That was the perfect end to my chapter in Metz. I know there were a lot of things I wanted to accomplish when I found myself in Peace Corps and in my village, but those things were constantly changing during my service. Now that it's the end, I see that I was pretty successful with my service and am most proud of all the relationships I made and cultivated during my time here. I have friends, family, and a place for life in a little, rural, South African Village.

I left good ol' Metz 3 days ago and it's been a whirlwind of activity ever since.

I'm not sure what all is going to come in the future, what directions I will turn and take, but I'm really, really glad I did this and stuck it out until the very end. There are new adventures ahead. New people to know. Old friends and family to keep in touch with. Food to eat. Bowling and dancing to do. Beautiful places to see. Thank you for this life.

This is Mmapula Phokungwane signing off in Metz Village and South Africa for the last time. Stay tuned for updates on the adventure of transition back to America!

This winter, because it would get dark so early, I spent a good chunk of time making not one, but TWO blankets with the colors of the South African flag...black, green, white, red, yellow, and blue. One for me and one for MmaDiapo as a thank you gift. I sent my finished blanket home with June in her big ol' suitcase and presented MmaDiapo with hers tonight. It's about 5'5" by 5'5", wasn't made off of any kind of pattern, and I couldn't tell you how many skeins I used. I think it turned out pretty well!

Thanks to so many giving people that I am lucky to know in the States some pretty awesome things have been able to happen while I've been living in Metz.

My Uncle Hansford, who lives in Gueydan, gave me a little bit of money to do something for my village, and with the help of my high school English teacher, Cohen, I was able to successfully support The Women's Literacy Group of Metz with new school supplies! This is a group of women that comes together under the mango trees in MmaLetsoalo's yard three afternoons a week. They are learning to read and write in their mother tongue, Sotho.

I spent one lovely afternoon with their teacher, Maggy, at her house, hanging out with her family, and going through all the supplies I was able to buy.

Here's Maggy with some of her grandchildren and some of the supplies that were purchased.

And here's the amazing traditional meal we ate together after we had our meeting. At one point, Maggy looked at her daughter and said, "I am eating with my friend Mmapula and it is so nice for my heart."

I told Maggy that people at home wanted to help me support projects in Metz. Her literacy class has done so much for the ladies and we wanted to do a little something to help her be able to teach them just a little bit better. Each student was given a plastic folder with a new notebook, pens, Gueydan Museum pencils, a sharpener, an eraser, and a pencil bag to keep everything organized. A whiteboard with new markers, a filing system, and two books for Math and Writing were given to the teacher.

Some of the money was also used to buy World and Africa maps for the Kodumela office and all 7 of the drop in centers.

Rejoice, June, and I all drove to all the centers to hang them up and give the cookers and kids little lessons in geography. I can't tell you how awesome it was to see kids really interested... and how cool it is to sit in the office and watch people try to find places in the world, have discussions about locations on the maps, and ask me questions about different countries and continents. HUGE!

SO many people are touched by the generosity. It's pretty neat when you think about how much we're all working together.

This morning, John and Mary came out to visit Metz and all the projects the R20,000 funded. It was a nice visit, with the three of us smushed in the front of their bakkie, riding around different villages seeing the sites and catching up. We talked of how beautiful the mountains are, we talked of how successful Kodumela is, and they expressed interest in trying to help Cedric with his home gardens plan... they may have some funds he can apply for!

Here is what some of the money went towards:

A brand new bed for Ophelia's house!!! She had been sleeping on a boxspring.

The steel doors for the drop in center storage rooms at Sally's Place Creche in Makgaung Village. These doors replaced some wooden ones that weren't holding up well after all the big rains last summer.

Each of the 7 drop in centers got a filing cabinet for the new filing system Rejoice is trying to create. When all is said and done, each center will have a file with a birth certificate, proof of grants, and other personal information about each child on the register.

Ophelia's yard (shown) will have a nice fence going all around it. The new fence will go along with the new toilet and house that was built by the Limpopo Provincial Government. (in the picture you can see the foundation that was laid for her house... she's been waiting for 2 years for this to happen and it FINALLY is!!)

And Mokgadi's yard now has a new toilet and water pipe and tap! I have to say, the new additions go nicely with the house Kodumela built them and their leafy green veggie garden.

Here are some pictures of the government housing (RDP- Reconstruction and Development Programme) and the houses the families lived in before they got their new ones. Sometimes there is quite a difference.

This RDP house is still in the finishing stages... it needs a roof!

Straight ahead is the newer government housing and to the left is the house the family was living in before.

Most families move into their new housing and still use their old house for an extra bedroom, storage, etc.

My Sunday evening consisted of dancing with some of the women in my family. Aw yeah. Maite, Karabo, Lethabo, MmaDiapo, MmaKori, Linda, Margaret, Salome, Maria, and I all squeezed into MmaDiapo's living room and danced to Brenda Fassie... the queen of African pop.

Worcester Primary School.

There is a kid in the WorldVision Sponsorship Program at Kodumela who is attending the primary school in Worcester, a village down the tar road from Metz. When his sponsor heard how many children were attending the school and how much space they had in the old buildings, he donated the funds to build a whole new wing! The new school building doubles the size of the school and it's beautiful. The principal and all the students are so excited for the final touches to be finished so they can move in and start using the new rooms. Thank you, Anonymous Donor, the support you are giving this community is very much appreciated. You are, for sure, helping the future of this country. I hope you know that.

Today was my Cold Drink and Simbas Farewell Party at Kodumela. With 6 types of Simbas, some peanuts and raisins, sweets, chocolate from America, 4 different kinds of biscuits, and an assortment of cold drink that Nyasha, Rejoice, and I all hauled from Taposa... we had a right nice time. I'm going to miss all of these people so much. When it was time for my speech it went a little something like this:

"Oh you guys, there are no words to really express how much you've done for me. For a long time I struggled to find myself a place in Metz and six months ago, when I walked through the door here and offered to work with you, everything changed. I'm proud of every single one of you, for the work that you do, and the passion you have for helping people in Metz and all the surrounding communities. Please don't ever underestimate the impact you've had on the children and families in this area... and the impact you've had on me. You welcomed me with open arms and there is no way I could ever forget you. You are part of my African family and I'll love you forever."

And then there were speeches from a few staff members that made me tear up. Mosuma, one of the security guards, told me to go well and that God had many wonderous things planned for my future. Ledile said that she wished I didn't have to leave, that I would always have a family in Africa who loves and cares about me as much as the one I'm heading back to in just a few weeks. And Collins' speech. Wow. Collins talked about how much he was going to miss me and how impressed he was with me as a person. That he felt I never drew a boundary between me and "them".... that my relationship with everyone in that office and the community went beyond color and culture. He ended by saying that I would always belong. I didn't cry then, but I certainly cried later on when I was thinking about it. Amazing.

Kodumela ADP with its dairy project, goat project, community garden, 26 lay counselors, 26 carers, 112 home visitors, 30 full time staff members, WorldVision Sponsorship Program sponsoring over 3,000 kids in the local area, 7 drop in centers with their cookers and staff, 15 "kids" sponsored by an ABSA grant for monthly food purchases, overseeing several construction projects in the local area including a disability center and a school building in Worcester Village, arts and crafts trainings for income generating activities, mealie meal grinding, and the list goes on.....

And here's some of the awesome staff....

Our cold drink and Simbas party which included lots of singing and dancing.

Mmapula and Mmapula, the YellowWood Tree, my gift to the office. It's going to grow big and shady, and when it blooms, it is covered with yellow flowers. It was planted right in front of the office.

The teapot I gave Maite so she could continue to enjoy tea times after I'm back home.

Rejoice enjoying her gifts!

This is the facial expression Lethabo wears most of the time....

BUT you give her some Ritz Cheese cracker from a package and spend the afternoon with her...

and look what happens! I love this kid... and that grin... and those two big front teeth that just came in a month ago.

A few weeks ago,MmaDiapo asked me if it was possible for us to visit an airport and see a plane up close before I left to fly home. I told her I would try my level best to see what we could do. Yesterday we had quite the adventure... and it was a day I'm pretty sure none of us will forget.

MmaDiapo, Rejoice, Nyasha (a new volunteer for Kodumela who is from Zimbabwe), and Mmapula all set out on the open road.

First stop was dropping off Simon (pronounced Sea-Mon), Maite's brother, at the banana plantation in Lestitele Valley. He just got a job there. I ate a banana or two and talked to some of the workers...

Then it was off to Tzaneen, with the car SMOKING again (near the emergency brake), to buy some cigarettes at the Cash and Carry to sell in Metz, visit with Solly, MmaDiapo's brother-in-law, AND get the car checked out to make sure we wouldn't blow up.

After running all our errands in town, we, once again, hit the open road. Not 10 minutes down the road, we were pulled over for speeding. As soon as the officer noticed that I was from Texas... we were free to go after a brief conversation about America and about how the speed limit signs were just a little too hard to see.

THEN we made it to Polokwane International Airport. Yep. Up until this point in her life, MmaDiapo had only seen airplanes on TV...

MmaDiapo, Nyasha, and Mmapula.

We made it just in time to see a commuter plane from Jo'burg land, have all its passengers unload, refuel, and then prepare itself for another trip back to Jo'burg. We had the perfect view from the second floor of the airport, in a little room with windows all around. It was pretty loud and VERY cool. We saw a plane land and then, a plane take off... and we were RIGHT THERE.

Then we went and stared at a big plane they had on display outside and took photos of the whole experience.

Lunch time was spent at Maxi's... a restaurant that is a step up from Wimpy. We all stuffed ourselves silly with avocado, chips, and chicken plates and sandwiches.

And MmaDiapo very much enjoyed a Passion Fruit Milkshake.

The whole ride home, between long periods of silence because we were so tired and full, someone would pipe up and say, "Woo, eish! That was a nice day! A very nice day." And everyone else would agree. Man, it was a nice day.

Mmapula, Rejoice, Jane, and Gift with some of the "kids" who go to Pick 'n Pay once a month to buy their groceries through an ABSA sponsorship. Jane is the Customer Service Manager and goes above and beyond the call of duty. Any time the store has food that it must donate or find a home for, she said she thinks of Kodumela. That's what I call networking, folks.

I am SO excited to announce that a proposal Rejoice worked on and sent in to ABSA Bank (here in South Africa) a few months ago has been accepted!!!!! The drop in center program has received a whopping R480,000 for the next year! You know what this means? This means more balanced meals at the centers! This means TWO meals can be served a day instead of just one! This means there are no worries about the centers running out of food any time in the next year! This means all those kids are going to get to eat! This means Rejoice rocks!

I never thought I would count the days. My whole goal was to be present, be in AFRICA, while I was in Africa.... but, yeah, that whole idea has been thrown out the window. It's Tuesday and although there are plenty of things I could be doing at Kodumela, I feel like there are a ton of things I need to do at home... because they need to be done and because I need to chill out and tell myself everything will get done. I need to chill out. Last week I was talking to Matt online and he asked how I was feeling about my impending departure from the village and my return to good ol' America. You know what my response was? I told him I was feeling nothing. And.. I really was feeling nothing. I could care less about deadlines, I was focusing on having fun with my family and coworkers, I didn't feel like I had all that much stuff to pack, and I couldn't even think about everything that might happen when I found myself back on American soil. A few hours later, Chris called me on his way to his last day at his job in San Antonio (he's moving back to Austin!!!!) and I told him the same thing when he asked the same question. While on the phone I was standing in the middle of a garden at Kodumela. I ate a piece of Spring Onion, I weeded around a tomato plant, and I listened to his excitement about a new change, moving back to where he wants to live. I was so excited for him. A few minutes later we said goodbye and I headed back to my desk. As soon as I sat down PANIC hit me. Heart pounding, tears coming to my eyes. What about a job? What about adjusting to a town I once knew so well? What are my friendships going to be like? What the hell am I going to do when I'm still adjusting, but I've been home long enough that people are used to me being around? How am I going to say bye to all these people? How am I going to leave Metz without kicking and screaming because I'm not sure I'm ready for the unknown... or sort of known? I think this lasted about 15 minutes and then I distracted myself or someone asked me a question....

I have decided, once again, that I hate transition... and I've never been good with change. These feelings, of course, don't stop me from trying new things and putting myself out there, but man they suck. With that being said, I wouldn't trade all the people I know, the love in my heart, and all the amazing experiences I've been given to not feel the pain of saying goodbye and to not face all the weirdness of change and adjustment. No, I wouldn't, and I'm going to remind myself of that weeks from now and months from now.

From the Africa side of things... I'm trying not to stress too much about saying my goodbyes and finishing up last minute things. I'm also not going to add any more things to my to do list... time is running short and I have to stop thinking so grand. And I'm still trying to figure out how the hell you say bye to people who mean a lot to you, who have carved places in your heart, and you're not sure when you're going to see them, some people you'll never see again. That's a toughie. In some ways, although I'm going to miss a lot of things, I'M JUST READY FOR THESE LAST FEW DAYS TO JUST SPEED UP.

From the America side of things? Can I say that I can't even go there yet? I have plans to hang out with people, watch them laugh, hear all about what they've been doing since I've been gone, get plenty of hugs, and just hang out. I have visions of meals I want to eat. I want to walk around Austin and soak it all up. I want to go to Gueydan and have coffee time with my Grandma. Then the plans stop. I can't go any farther. No, no, it's not denial... not at all. I'm aware that things are going to be different and there are most certainly going to be challenges. I get all that for sure. I just can't think too far ahead because I have NO idea what to expect. When you have NO idea, how are you supposed to make plans? How are you supposed to know what you're going to be feeling or what you're going to want to do if you're not in that situation yet? Uh huh. It stumps me.

Kodumela used some of the money they got from one of their funders to purchase a herd of goats for part of a project they wanted to start with some local kids. Everyday, after school, about 5 boys walk from Metz, across the tar road, through the front gates of Kodumela, and to the area where the goats have been grazing all day. All the goats are then herded into their pen for the night, given fresh water, and the gate is made secure. Then all the boys tramp over to the big garden they're working in to check and see if any new veggies have made an appearance. The kids are doing most of the work to raise and grow their own food.... they acquire skills for food production AND they take home food they've grown for their families to eat. Once the goats are old enough, they'll be distributed to some of the families and child headed households Kodumela helps out... goat's milk and meat will be very much welcomed. Not only is the whole project off setting the need for large food parcels for each family every month, but it's also teaching the kids to be self reliant.

Man, they have some great smiles.

Tonight, after work, I drove to Letsitele Valley with MmaDiapo and Charlie to pick up MmaDiapo's brother, Daniel. Daniel comes home on the weekends when MmaDiapo has enough money for petrol... and his weekends aren't full of a lot of downtime. This weekend he's going to a funeral on Saturday morning and one on Sunday as well. All that time in between funerals? He's still working on the house he's building in MmaDiapo's yard.. brick by brick. We were quite the roadtrip crew I tell ya. We drove to one petrol station near Metz to have someone check out the right front tire that has a slow puncture. They sent us on to a tyre place just down the road. Those guys filled the tire with air and said to come back when it got low again. We stopped at the next petrol station for petrol and while sitting at the pump SMOKE started curling all around the interior of the car. "Uh MmaDiapo, I think the car is smoking." "No no... that must be the dust reflecting in the light." "Uh, no no, I really think it's smoke, it's not going away." There was no smell and after some investigating by the station workers under the hood, it was summed up that the smoke was coming from somewhere around the tire. Yeaaaaahhhhhhhh. They said it would be fine, so we drove. I silently prayed for us to make it back to Metz in one piece. Prayed for the car to stay on the road and for us to NOT have some sort of blow out. After all the pit stops, we were running late to pick up Daniel. When we turned at the cross near Nkowankowa the sun was starting to set. Letsitele Valley is gorgeous. Orange groves on either side of the road. Papaya orchards full of row after row after row of sweet fruit. The sides of mountains have been cleared for banana plantations. This is the area of Limpopo where the Letsoalo and Phokungwane families of Metz used to live. They lived there right before the government forced them to move to the Metz area and, basically, start their lives over. It was 1958 and MmaDiapo was a young girl. She remembers the move and how long they had to live in tents while they built new homes in the area.

We drove to the end of the tar road and kept going straight on a gravel road full of potholes (please, please no blow outs!!!). We found Daniel at the farm he works on... full of orange trees and packing warehouses and headed back home a little after 6. On the way home I noticed how many funeral processions we were passing... a total of 6 when driving TO Metz... I can't report how many we saw when we were heading in the opposite direction. It's clearly Friday. It's that day of the week where you're done with the everyday work and you're ready for a rest, except a rest won't come because you have two funerals to attend over the course of the weekend.

Tomorrow a cousin in the Phokungwane family is being buried. She was 28 when she died just last week. She was HIV positive. She had gone to a sangoma (traditional healer) when she started feeling sick and he had told her that she was too sick for his help. She went to the hospital, they told her she should start on some medication, she never took the meds, and they're burying her tomorrow. Some people in Metz believe she was bewitched by her in-laws... some believe that she died because she didn't get on medication.

We discuss everything as we're heading home... the headlights just don't seem to be bright enough for how dark the night is....how many funerals are going on, Eish! Too many people dying, it's going to be a packed weekend, and Hey! We should find bananas to make bread tomorrow! Such is life in the village.

The biggest sweet potato I've ever seen. I think June's expression about covers it. Thanks Phokungwane Farms!

The bucket bath. Yep. I've taken my fair share over the last two years. I get pretty clean and I've learned the art so well that my skills have come in handy whenever I'm in the city and the hot water goes out in the shower... I wash parts of my body one at a time.

I usually heat up a kettle full of water and put it in my wash bucket... but when summer rolls around, straight cold is the way to go, gotta have some way to lower the ol' body temperature.

I first wash my face by wetting it with water from my pitcher... apply soap and lather... then rinse with my pitcher. I then hang over the side and wash my arms and chest before hanging my head over the side to wash my hair

Here's Keri showing us how it's done. You lather up your hair, use a cup to use water in the bucket to rinse,

then lather up again, and use clean water for the final rinse. It does the trick.

After washing my hair, I step in my bucket and wash the lower half of my body, ending with my feet. When all is said and done... I dump my wash water outside under the tree and use my mop to soak up all the sloshed out water.

If you have a guest, after the washing of bodies and feet, before bedtime, you have an excuse to drink wine out of a plastic cup with flamingos all over it.

When I look at this picture, I once again realize how lucky I am. Not only am I part of the badass Phokungwane family of Metz Village, but I also got to share my big day with June, Virginia, Keri, Nick, John, Mary, Christy, Christy, and Zana... my cousin and some of the volunteers who make up my South African family. This picture shows love.

Keri and June dancing with the band!

Part two was the cake cutting, dancing, and a toasting time with some champagne that was presented to me when I was being escorted out of the yard for my costume change.

After a huge meal of traditional food, everyone at the VIP table was led out of the yard and over to the house across the street so we could change. My second outfit was actually the "uniform" of the party. MmaDiapo had made a skirt for me and I matched about 30 other women who had the same skirt made for them (by MmaDiapo... WHAT?!!!!?). We all changed and then danced while being escorted by the band back to MmaDiapo's yard and the big tent.

All those Phokungwanes! Here I am with all the Phokungwane family members who showed up for the day! Some came from far to celebrate.

Mmapula and the MC for the day, Collins. He was quite entertaining... give the guy a mike and he can talk. Since he double booked himself for the day (there was a mayoral celebration happening just down the road), he wasn't able to fully be MC at my party until it was time for cake cutting, dancing and choosing my Mr. Party.

At one point, Collins, wanted the Americans to show everyone how they danced... I felt this was a good time to bust out some old favorites, The Running Man and The Cabbage Patch. When I was really gettin' down, MmaDiapo ran up and threw 10 rand at my feet. Yeah!

If you have to have a Mr. Party... and I didn't think I had to have one... you're lucky if you get Mogale. When it looked like I couldn't go on as a single Mrs. Party, he volunteered himself and went through the whole process of cake cutting and all with me. Yes... it really was like a wedding.

June, Rejoice, and Mmapula. 'Nuf said.

Here are the cousins! (Motswala/Mokogotse)MmaDiapo treated us both to traditional skirts.

Last Winter (a year ago), MmaDiapo hosted 3 Eskom (the national electricity company) workers for a week while they were trying to "electrify" a few homes in this area. Every night, I sat around the fire in the yard with Sheriff, Alphius, and Ellen. They're all pretty awesome people, hard workers, and good conversationalists. When they heard about the party from MmaDiapo, they drove down from Nkowankowa, the township where the live that's 40 minutes away, to celebrate with us! MmaDiapo and I posed with them for a photo and some other guests wanted to get in on the fun... check out the guy in front... quite a poser!

Here are the ladies who were responsible for the traditional beer. They worked for days to make a big enough batch for the party... and I'm here to tell you they were quite successful. According to tradition, only the older people and men are allowed to drink traditional beer. After most guests had left June and I snuck in the shed to try some... I only got to take a sip before people came in to see what we were up to. It tasted like beer with an old shoe thrown in. I'm pretty sure it wouldn't take too much to get you drunk.

After a really packed day of celebrating and hanging out with good people, we all fell asleep to a steady rain against the tin roof. A day for Mmapula, Mother of the Rain, and the rain comes? That's pretty special.

A day full of dancing, the brass band, speeches, present giving, hugs, and a lot of fun...

Part one involved us being escorted into the yard by the band and everyone sitting at the head tables being led under the tent, one by one. I sat at the head table, surrounded by all my guests, listening to speeches by neighbors, friends, family members, colleagues, pastors, and The Word of God.

Here's my first traditional outfit. Beautiful, eh? MmaDiapo and I matched and it was pretty great. I gave a speech that was pretty off the cuff.. but didn't forget key people I wanted to remember because I had written all their names on post its- The Phokungwane Family and MmaDiapo, The United Presbyterian Church of Metz, The Rapola Family, The Ladies Literacy Group of Metz, Maruleng Community Home Based Care, Kodumela ADP, The Post Office, Lafata Project and all the drop in centers in the area, and the community at large.

This was the present line. It got pretty long with some people bringing actual gifts and some people giving money. I received all kinds of traditional bowls, baskets, mats, spoons, pottery, sheets, towels, and even got a new teapot! As for the money, 2,100 rand was collected which is, well, a lot. Each person who gave something had their name written in a book and the list of names covered 4 pages front and back. As Mrs. Party, I had the responsibility of deciding what to do with the money. The only request I had was that MmaDiapo buy Emma, a woman who's been working for her, and her family mealie meal and some other foods.. the rest was to go towards party costs. MmaDiapo ended up buying mealie meal for several families, paying Emma and another woman who helped her bonuses, and gave many other people extra money to treat themselves to cold drink for a job well done. That was above and beyond what I expected.. but I am not at all surprised.

MmaDiapo, Rejoice, Mmapula, and Maite representin' all that's traditional. Word! We've got some Sotho, some Venda, and, of course, some Bafana Bafana, the South African Football team.

The party was out of control. The party was huge. The party was a success. The party made a lot of people happy. The party was awesome. I've thought about how I would write about it, but once again, words don't seem to cover everything... so I've opted to tell the story of the party through photos and little blurbs. It was quite the day... starting at 4am for all the ladies cooking and getting things ready and 7 for Keri, June, and I... and going until close to 9, when the last of the serious party people wobbled and swayed out of the yard with the band leading them home.

This is the woman who organized EVERYTHING and has taken such good care of me while I've been living in Metz. My African Mama.

Yes, a cow was slaughtered in my honor. While we were off running errands and buying a ton of food in town, the men of the family came to MmaDiapo's on Friday and chose a cow from her kraal for the celebration. While it was hanging in the garage waiting to be cut up on Saturday morning, I thanked it for its life.

This is the cake Keri, June, and I all picked up on Saturday morning before all the action started. They weren't quite ready for us to take it home when we arrived, so Keri and I took June on her first South African taxi ride, while we waited for it to be ready.

This is where I tried really hard to help out.. and found out that I need some serious upper arm strengthening. African women are STRONG.

And this is what it really looks like. They take the big spoon (oar. ha!) and turn and turn and turn the pap so that it gets fully cooked and doesn't burn in the bottom of the pot.

And after working up a sweat with the whole trying-to-stir-pap-adventure it was the BEST time! TEA TIME! So Keri, June and I all grabbed water from a kettle over the fire, grabbed some biscuits that were made the night before, and settled down in front of my room with our pal The Sponge.

What's a party without some snacks being sold out front? Yes. A popcorn machine was set up on a table across the road. I think those guys made some money!

To the good people putting their hearts, love, and energy into the Kodumela area through Choko...this is for you. Over the past few months I've gone to visit the students, teachers, and community members who will benefit from the disability center that it is being built in Sofaya. I just wanted you to know, from the very bottom of my heart, that we, the whole Kodumela staff, sincerely appreciate all your hard work when it comes to raising funds and supporting this area.... soon, when this building is complete, the activities and classes that are now being run out of a local church will move to the new building. The students are excited! The teacher is excited! And you are helping, more than you know, to help people, who might otherwise be overlooked, receive services and resources they very much deserve. Ke a leboga, kudu, kudu.

I spent a good part of my afternoon hanging out in MmaDiapo's sewing room. I was lying on the bed asking her all kinds of questions about her childhood, what it was like when her family was forced to move to the area that is now Metz, how she put herself through school by being a cook, how she's always wanted to be a farmer, but going to school for agriculture was too expensive so she became a teacher instead... the pay helped build up her life in Metz and support her 5 children, and how she became so talented on the sewing machine... she was designing and sewing the skirt she is making MmaMmapula back over there in Austin. The more I learn about this woman, the more blown away I am by her resiliency, courage, determination, and good heart.

Here she is sportin' the tekkies (tennis shoes) June left behind AND drinking some of the tea June brought her.... she wanted to make sure June knew how much she was enjoying everything.

Happy Women's Day 2009! I am so lucky to know so many strong, loving and amazing women.

I've been busy... yeah, yeah there are some reports, essays, and write ups I keep complaining about that have to get done before I leave the village (and, really, even before that), but they haven't kept me busy... I've been focusing on fun. FUN. Fun, I tell you. And it's been so much fun.

As you know, my dear cousin June came to visit me for the whole of last week, and we toured the whole Metz area like there was no tomorrow. We did everything and more... and June was a trooper... always interested, always asking questions, hangin' with my coworkers, kids, and family members, eating traditional food with her hands, wearing a traditional skirt, dancing with a band, learning people's names and how to greet in Sotho, eating at some fine South African restaurants (that's sarcastic and not at the same time), listening to me chatter away about every possible thought that crossed my mind (hey! I know I'm a talker, but it isn't everyday that I have someone with me in my room and around for me to bounce ideas and thoughts off of), and she even brought two huge bags filled with clothes that she and Rishi (the other Gupta. Hi Rishi!) wanted to donate. We've covered this before, but for clarity I will say it again... June and I are cousins AND friends.

Because we did SO much, in such a short amount of time... I'm just going to post some photos from a few of the highlights of her visit.

The Sponge. This is where June slept every night. It takes up every inch of open floor space in my room and has a couple of fans... people seem to love it. Every morning it would be moved out to the garage for safe keeping and so we could move around. MmaDiapo gave it to her with the warning that she shouldn't sleep on one side of it because a chicken had ripped a hole in it, wanting to lay her eggs and nest. So June, every night, slept on the non holey side.

Here's June and Charlie posing with an 80 kg bag of mealie meal we picked up from the grinding mill in Lorraine Village just down the road. It seemed to weigh the car down a bit... it is quite large, the size of Charlie as you can see. The meal was used for bogobe/pap at the party and for the oh so important traditional beer making.

We visited every drop in center to hang up World and Africa Maps and to deliver new reporting tools to the cookers. We sang with kids, kids sang to us, we prayed, we watched Rejoice get down in some jump rope, and we got to eat two meals, including samp and beans.

We met Rejoice's whole family. In this picture we're posing with her nephew and her son (far right), Sean. So awesome! I was really excited!

We went to Kruger and spent a lovely day talking to a founder of an income generating project, touring around the park seeing animals with Rejoice (it was her first time to visit since she was very young), and finished the afternoon off with a nice lunch and coffee time at Satara Camp where Surprise and WonderBoy made us some pretty good coffee and Rejoice put her usual 3 packets of sugar in her tea.

And while the party prep was underway.... Keri and I took June to the bakery to pick up the cake and while we were waiting for them to put the finishing touches on, June took her first South African koombi ride! We took it to Lorraine and then hopped off to catch another one back to Metz. I think the drivers were a little confused.

Mokgotse waka. My friend. AKA Renilwe. This is Emma's son and he's totally cute... also totally scared of me. June got to see the tears firsthand.

Another fine South African dining establishment... Spur. I think the one in the airport is called "Soaring Eagle" or something like that. They're all decorated with a sort of Native American theme... tomahawks, feathers, pictures of chiefs in headdresses, and with names such as Cherokee, Arkansas, etc. June had her last food in SA at a Spur... Keri and I thought it was only fitting to help her ease back into America.... and she hadn't had Malva pudding yet, and the only other place that offered it was Wimpy. 'Nuf said.

Word.

So the night that June flew in her plane was delayed 2 hours. No biggie, I went to the food court in the airport and got a chai, a paper, and then spent the next hour talking to Katey, a RPCV I met there who was on her way home after finishing 3 years of service in Zambia. Yay Katey! Katey was flying standby back to the states, she was trying to get on the plane June was arriving on. At about 7 I headed to the terminal doors to wait for June's pretty face coming through the doors. When Bron, Mary, and Ed arrived, I was in the wrong place and only met up with them after they were all situated and ready to go... I was determined not to let that happen again. June's flight landed at 7:15 and I kept repositioning myself on different sides of the terminal... which way would she head after she came out? Around 8, Rishi called to see if she made it OK and I had to tell him I hadn't seen her yet. I still wasn't worried. Then at 8:30 or so her plane disappeared from the arrival screen and I felt it was time to do some investigating. Maybe I was in the wrong place. Where do you go when you need information? The information desk.

Mmapula: Hello. How are you?

Info Guy: I'm fine.

M: Um, my cousin was on the flight from Atlanta that landed at 7:15 and I haven't seen her. The plane number was just erased off the screen, do you know how I can find out any information?

I: No.

M: Well, can I page her? I'm afraid she's in the wrong place.

I: We don't page.

M: You don't page?

I: For security reasons we don't page.

M: Ok... well do you have any suggestions of where I could look for her? How I can locate her? A desk or person I can talk to?

I: Nope.

M: I see.

I hadn't given up hope at this point... even if this guy, the INFORMATION BOOTH GUY, couldn't help me.. someone had to be able to. I bumped into some people waiting for a passenger on another flight and they were very sympathetic... patted me on the back.. told me it would be OK. I went up to passport control, the guard there was very nice, but really couldn't do much and suggested information guy. I went back to the big desk with the i.

M:Hi, it's me again! I still can't seem to find her and I was wondering if you could maybe call someone who could help me. She has no way to get ahold of me and I'm the only person she's planning on meeting tonight.

I:There is nothing I can do.

M: Is this the first person who has ever been missing in this airport? What do you do in such situations.

I: There is nothing I can do.

And then... I sort of lost my cool. I held up my hand and I said..

Well that is JUST GREAT. I am SO glad that the INFORMATION GUY IN THE BOX AT THE AIRPORT cannot do anything to help me locate my cousin. THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR YOUR HELP.

And then I saw a little police booth and thought they could help me.

Five men in uniform leaning on a table with a SAPS flag...

M:Hi! I'm missing a passenger from a plane that landed about an hour and a half ago. She has no way of contacting me, can we page her or can you contact your buddies all around the airport to see if someone is looking for me? I'm not even sure if she made it in on this plane.

Them: No, we cannot page, for security reasons. She should have your phone number, she should just call you. She should have a cell phone.

M: (frustration rising) Yes, she has the number... but what if her phone doesn't work in South Africa?! or she doesn't have money to spend in SA yet?

Them: Well, then I think you should just stand right there and she will stand somewhere else and you will find each other.

M: WHAT?! How will that work... I think we're already doing that.

Them: We are sorry... we will pray for you.

And then I had to walk away. I walked away backwards... saying things in a loud voice like, GREAT! I Feel SO REASSURED NOW! AWESOME! I THINK THAT'S SO MUCH BETTER THAN GETTING ON YOUR WALKIE TALKIE!

And then I called Jess and I vented and I cried out of frustration and then June's beautiful face came through the doors... and I ran up to her and hugged her and welcomed her to South Africa with a tear stained face... and she told me all about being searched by police in customs and how long the flight took.

Sooooo... Keri and I got back from visiting her host family in Ga-Matamanyane Village on Thursday and within minutes of getting home, I was feeling sick. I guess running around for the party, all the excitement with June's visit, trying to finish up some last minute things, a visit to Pretoria for medical appointments, and then good ol' Ga-Matamanyane did me in. For the last two days I've been locked away in my room, on my bed, breaking a fever, watching movies, drinking fluids, and eating very little 'cause I couldn't keep much down. BUT I am happy to say that on this fine Saturday night I am feeling MUCH better and am happy to start reporting on all the exciting things that have happened since I last wrote. Yeah!

June is here! Yay! We got into the village last night and have had a good time watching my family prepare for the party, make traditional beer, laugh at me when I accidentally wore the "uniform" skirt that MmaDiapo made me for Saturday because I didn't understand it was for Saturday, hung world maps at drop-ins, met and hung out with Rejoice's family, went to the post office, ate peanut butter sandwiches, made a visit to the hospital to visit MmaKori, saw the dentist office where my African aunt, Linda, works as a dental assistant, visited Lafata and picked out beaded awesomeness, AND ate my favorite drop in center meal, samp and sugar beans. June is great.. so interested in everything and really grasping the language.

My pen pal and friend, Matt, just sent me this essay he wrote for one of his writing classes at school and I thought I would share. It seems I'm on trip down memory lane... July's in the past have held some pretty big events in my life... camps, finishing up AmeriCorps NCCC in Denver, flying to South Africa for Peace Corps... In 2005, it was the month when I met some of my pen pals.. people that have since become good friends of mine. Some people may think the whole situation as crazy, but when you put yourself out there, sometimes you get the sweetest of rewards. The short story? Dominique and I were unemployed and passing our days at a local coffeeshop, playing Yahtzee, making friends, and having fun. I posted postings on the Craigslist sites for Seattle, Vancouver, Portland, Madison, Chicago, Boston, Philly, Minneapolis,accidentally Austin, and Columbus. I had something like 80 email responses, I ended up getting letters (at a PO Box) from 30 different people, and now I keep in touch with a handful of people. I got letters from Michael who went on a little touring of the west and he used writing to me as a kind of journal. I went on a 6 week long roadtrip with Jeremy from Austin to Portland, where he now lives (he was originally from Philly). Dave from Vancouver has a typie and a love of trains so I know we're friends forever. Becky and I have written of the ups and downs and exchanged all kinds of good music. I met Dave from Austin for Korean food and coffee and vinyl record browsing and he was a serious calm for me right before I left. I met Michael of Austin right before I left and gave him my favorite Springsteen album (Nebraska) to help with the building of his vinyl collection. And Matt... good ol Matt. He moved across the country from Philly when I moved to South Africa. We started our adventures around the same time. He sends me pictures he's taken and writes me from the tops of hills overlooking the waters of the west coast. This all proves that it is truly possible to have friends you've never met. And they're good friends. Happy 4 years of pen paling you guys!

And here is Matt's essay....

Saying It Slowly

by Matthew

For the most part, getting in touch with close friends, to say how I am, to report my life, voice anxieties, seek advice, all of those things which one seeks friends for; I can, like most people, usually rely on a text message, an email, Facebook, or a cell phone call that more often then not will find the person that I am looking for no matter where they are. This process is so fast that it becomes impulsive. I feel a rush of loneliness and a few alphanumerical clicks reaches out with “what u up 2?” Whether I get a reply or not (and more often then not I do) I can relax and be at ease, confident that my presence in the world is known and appreciated. What I have to say is irrelevant, as long as I am heard. It seems that with the speed of instant communication, that which needs to be to be communicated speeds up as well. My worries and anxieties, rather than needing to be processed, are cast into the world for someone else’s ingestion and interpretation. I need feedback before I can process. Momentary things become news. Or rather, my life becomes momentary. What’s happening in this moment is all that there is. Even though I will forget tomorrow what is happening right now, now is when I need support.

It is because of this dynamic that makes pen-pal-ship a beautiful thing. With a pen pal, life is not so immediate. While techno-enthusiasts might scoff at the idea of correspondence through “snail mail” as old fashioned as platform shoes, there is something about the slowness of this process that can’t be found in an email or instant message. When I write my pen pal (Megan, of Austin TX, now serving in Peace Corps, South Africa) I know that the immediate, day-to-day things that are on my mind will be simply a memory by the time my letter reaches to her, and more than likely will be totally forgotten by the time I receive a response. What happens here is that the slowness adds depth. I have to step out of my life in order to report a bigger picture, because I need to sum up my life, not in the moment, but in the week, the month, the season. Slowness commands attention. The feeling of a pen in the hand, and the way that it applies ink to the page engages in the process of communicating in a way that an instant message can’t compete with. For a different tactile experience, I can get out my manual Smith-Corona, and my thoughts roll out with a gentle ‘’pat-pat-pat-pat’’. Thoughts take different form when they reach the page through the smell of keys pressing ink and the ding of the bell.

Although I’m usually not so creative, Megan often chooses interesting stationary, colored envelopes, and various flat things to fill envelopes, photographs, feathers from the hens that live in the yard of her South African home. The experience is tactile. There is an envelope to tear open and contents to explore. The time and space given to this process is removed from the clutter of a PC desktop and a bursting email in box. There is simply ink and paper. It is this slowness and lack of distraction that allows for the collection of myself, which finds its way onto paper and is shipped half way around the globe.

Letter writing is not the only method of communication which once required more removal from life in years past than in present day. In days long past, telephones were often located in front hallways of homes, creating the sense that to answer it is to invite someone into your home just the same as you would the door. One steps out of his routine to do this. We have come a long way to our current situation, where to be cut off mid-sentence for someone to answer a cell phone is so common that it is barely considered rude. Is it not a shocking adjustment that phones are now a thing of a person, and not a thing of a household? A number belongs to a person and not a place. What of the anonymity that caller ID has done away with? If you don’t answer, am I to understand that you don’t wish to talk to me? On the other side, am I entitled to be unavailable to be reached? Perhaps returning home to find mail in the mailbox and messages on the machine is a better time to process correspondence than to be in a constant state of knowing who is getting in touch.

Today, making plans with friends involves phrases like “I’ll call you when I’m on my way” or “call me and let me know where you are and we can meet up.” How much more confident were friendships of days past, when time and place had to be predetermined, with no opportunity for adjustment along the way? What of meeting a new romantic interest, and committing their digits to memory? Now the numbers associated with those who are most important are entrusted into an electronic catalogue in a device manufactured to be given away free with a contract.

In a world where the speed of communication is constantly being applauded for making life easier, we must remember that with a change in technology comes a change in the communication itself. Content and vehicle are forever intertwined. While the speed of interconnectedness of our time can be a wonderful thing, remembering the richness of slow and inconvenient communication reveals a depth unable to be imitated.

I'm in SA-16... and SA-20 is arriving on a plane in a couple of hours... so that makes me... OLD. Thinking back to almost 30 hours of traveling 2 years ago and it's hard to tell you how I was feeling. I remember the bus to JFK from Philly... and 4 1/2 hours in line to check my bags... and sitting next to Justin and Nathan, watching them act out the safety videos on our way to Frankfort.. and I ate a lot of chocolate... and I went to the casino with Claire in the Frankfurt airport and won 60USD... and I slept like a rock in the dayroom at the Frankfort Airport Hotel... and I thoroughly embarrassed myself by playing the age game with 3 sisters on my flight to Jo'Burg (and that happened within the first 10 minutes... we still had 9 hours and 50 minutes together)... and buying the last Harry Potter book in the airport)it had just come out and it was my first purchase in country!)... and the bus ride to Mankwe Teacher's College where I ate ostrich jerky and slept, slept, slept. I wasn't particualrly nervous or sad or scared, it was surreal and I was so out of it thanks to exhaustion. Under the exhaustion, though, I was pretty excited. South Africa, huh? And I'm going to live here for a little over two years?

Yep. I lived here for two years.

MmaDiapo is pretty set up when it comes to access to water around here. She is lucky. I am lucky. This is not the case for everyone. She has the big rain water tank that fills during rainy season (and the water tastes so good) and she has a tap in her yard that works on occasion. There is never any warning about when the tap may be working and there certainly isn't a schedule we can rely on, but when that water is acomin' the hosepipe is hooked up and all the barrels in the yard are filled. And then family members come over and fill up their buckets, too.

The tap hasn't been turned on in awhile so we've been relying on rainwater for the past month or so. Maite and Margaret headed to the communal tap the other morning to get some water for a couple of days. This is how they do it... wheelbarrows and big jugs filled to capacity. After this load they took a rest and had a teatime. Good thing I made scones the night before! I gave them a treat to have with their Five Roses.

Flashback: February 2008. I'm standing in the paint aisle at CashBuild in Tzaneen... trying to decide if I should get the blue paint in a can or buy the white paint and get some blue color to add to it. It all came down to what was cheaper. My walls were leaking in my room and I needed something to seal the concrete... thought I might have it be a pretty color as well. A man and his wife were all the sudden next to me, speaking in Sotho, asking if I needed help. We ran through all the language I knew and then they switched to English. They said I still needed some practice, but I had done pretty well. They asked how I was getting all the paint home and I shrugged and told them all about the taxi to Metz. It soon came out that they lived in Metz... in the big house, right across the ravine, with the two water tanks, on the way to the post office. The husband said he knew where I lived before I could even tell them.... they were friends with MmaDiapo. He would come see me some time to prove that he was telling the truth. Then we parted ways... and it was one of those days where that whole conversation and their help with the paint made the day just a little bit easier. I hauled three huge paint cans through town and then onto the taxi. I was ready to get my room in some sort of homely shape. I got home that afternoon and started the prep work. Right before the sun went down, MmaDiapo was at the door saying that we had a visitor. Selahle (say-la-clay) was standing in the yard laughing. He really did know where I stayed. We all had a good laugh and I walked back into my room happy to have some new friends. From that day on, I would wave at them when I saw them in their yard on my way to the post office. I'd talk (only in Sotho, they wanted me to practice) to his wife when she was catering a lunch for a meeting at Kodumela. We saw each other off and on.... and pretty soon a year and some months goes by.

This morning I greeted MmaDiapo, shook hands with all the kids in the yard, and turned to head to work. Before I was at the gate, MmaDiapo yelled after me that she had some news. "Your friend Selahle has passed." "What? When?" "Last night, late. He had taken a rope to his farm, right next to mine, and hanged himself. It is sad, clearly I had no knowledge of what he must have been feeling or thinking." And that is it, he has passed. I hope he knew how much I appreciated him talking to me, feeling at ease with me. I hope he knew how much I liked his family. I think he did.

You think these dudes only crow at the first sign of light? Not so much. I am here to tell you that my experience with the roosters in Metz Village has taught me that some roosters, I won't go so far as to say all, will crow any time. 4pm? Yep. 2am? You betcha. 3am? Uh huh. They sure do have some pretty feathers though, huh? I'll have to remember that the next time one is RIGHT OUTSIDE MY WINDOW CROWING HIS HEAD OFF.

Oh, the party. OUT OF CONTROL. For the last week, every morning when I have emerged from my room to head to work, I've been greeted with all the women in my family and Emma, a woman MmaDiapo has hired to help her, working on the yard, preparing for the party. They've got all the kernels off the mealies that have been drying filling big buckets and awaiting departure to the grinding machine... they'll all become meal for the porridge that's going to be cooked.

And they've been working on putting down traditional cement.

Here's Margaret finishing up the final touches on the first layer, which is made of dirt and water.... mixed in a wheelbarrow and then applied by hand.

In this picture you can see the first layer (closest to you) and the final layer(farther away). For the final layer, cow manure and water are mixed together and applied to the mud and water layer. Usually some sort of pattern is made with the application. For MmaDiapo's yard, they've been making the "com-com" pattern... the way they move their hands, in a fan like fashion, looks like they're saying "come, come."

Pretty cool, huh?

This week, Rejoice and I spent a good chunk of time in the work bakkie driving back and forth between Kodumela, the drop in centers, and Ofcolaco (a small area with a dairy, butchery, store, post office, hardware store, petrol station and fruit and vegetable sellers who sell bags of big avos for 7 rand! There's also the Ofcolaco Club just down the road that serves drinks and burgers... all these things are left over from back in the day when there was an officers club for military in the area). Turns out the guy who's been providing us with wood for the drop in centers' cooking fires has been arrested.

All the drop in centers have cooking shelters where they use the traditional three legged pots (huge) to cook the porridge and beans/chicken/vegetables for the kids. The wood he was selling us at around 340 rand (about 50 US bucks with the current exchange rate) a month was from the bush and it's illegal to cut wood from the bush.

So we used a little bit of money Rejoice had left over from some funding to purchase gas cooking stoves for all the centers.... and went around picking up the gas from Ofcolaco, dropping it at the centers, and Cedric gave demonstrations on how to properly connect the gas line to the canister. Turns out the gas canister only costs a few rand more a month to buy.

And... while we were at the drop in center in Makgaung Village I made a cultural faux pas. I was so fascinated by the fact that the ZCC (Zion Christian Church) has its own coffee (although not really surprised) that I picked up this box and started reading the side. Ledile mentioned something to me about holding the box, I didn't understand, and before I could clarify, she was already out of the room. Seconds later Rejoice, giggling, told me that the church didn't allow women to handle the coffee... it may have been blessed and me holding it was canceling out any powers it may have. I quickly put it down and looked up to say "sorry, sorry, sorry" to the cookers... all of them had looks of horror on their faces. Oops. When will I learn? At least I know not to do that again!

Today is the official two year mark since I was in Austin, TX. Hard to believe, eh?

I think other PCV's will agree with me when I say that the loneliness they've felt here, in this experience, is nothing like loneliness they've ever felt before.

Yesterday, early in the morning, my coworker Esther, from my first office in Metz, passed away.

As I was heating up water for tea last night at a little after 6, I got an SMS from Rejoice letting me know the news. Rejoice said she wanted to write me earlier, but she wasn't sure how to do it, didn't know how to break it to me gently. So last night, I spent a couple of hours numb. I had no reaction. I was shocked, but as far as tears or sadness, it hadn't hit me. Around 8 or so I lost it. I felt really alone and I cried for only a few minutes, and every time I closed my eyes all I could see was her. I had no interest in doing much of anything, so I spent hours lying on my bed. Fast forward through a phone call home, some more crying, and a few hours of staring at my roof, and you'll get to 2:30 am when I finally fell asleep. You see, I spent a long time thinking about my past with Esther, how things were left when I walked out of that office in March, and things are just really complicated.

I walked into Kodumela this morning and walked into hugs. Maite and Rejoice hugged me repeatedly, told me they loved me, and asked if I was OK. All day long people asked how I was doing, if I was OK. I talked to Ledile for a long time in her office... told her I was trying not to cry, and she responded with, "Oh Mmapula, we are all trying not to cry"....and then we cried.

I think now I'm going to go work on my color (Maite said it was a little off)... I'm going to get in bed, eat some supper, and call it a day. Before I close my eyes, I'm sending good thoughts to Esther's children (an 18 yr. old, 14 yr. old, 9 yr. old, and 2 yr. old) and her husband... and will remember that day when we had so much fun at her house, where we watched The Young and The Restless and drank cold drink from the tuck shop.

I was in the taxi yesterday morning... one of those rides where I was okay sitting still and watching the mountains roll past for the 45 minute trip to town. The driver had put on an IPCC CD and Rejoice was translating the Sotho for me. After a while, everyone settled into their seats, and there was silence, only the music was playing, at a normal volume, through the speakers. I got lost in thought. There are times like this where I love to follow where my mind takes me.... I jump around... I have revelations... I can pass the taxi ride coming up with new ideas. It was on this taxi ride that it hit me so clearly how important the SA-16 CHOP group is. We are tight and very, very close. A couple of weekends ago we had our last get together before everyone starts going their separate ways... and it was great. A full 36 hours of hanging out, talking, staying up late, drinking coffee, hugs, laughing, good food, story telling, and a general feeling of comfort. As I was thinking back on all the conversations we had that weekend, some things became even more crystal clear. We are strong. We all came to South Africa with our own insecurities, confidences, and baggage. We all were knocked down on more than one occasion. Most everyone has a story of hitting bottom and getting back on their feet. At the end of two years, many of us can't really put this whole experience into words. "What a wild ride!" covers it.. but not really. It's a pretty amazing feeling to be part of a group of amazingly strong individuals.. people who I know have my back...that will always get my experience here. I may not have words, I may not know how to explain it all, but they'll always be around to say, "I totally get it, I understand....remember that time when..." Thank you SA-16 CHOP for walking with me on this journey. You know I have your back. I wish I could say more, describe it all so eloquently, but, hey, you guys totally get it...

The boys are always followed by a couple of guys who are around to lead and protect them... I'm still unsure if these are the guys with them in the mountains.

Last Monday when I left home to walk to work, I had to make my way through, easily, a couple hundred people. I have to say, I always get a little nervous when I have to walk through a crowd in the village... one person notices I'm walking through and inevitably attention from everyone near me turns ONTO me. Some days I can handle it, Mondays not so much. Last Monday was different though... no one seemed to care if I was there or not. Yay! I made it to the little stand Salome (MmaDiapo's younger sister) sits at everyday and asked her what was going on. She pointed across the tar road and it was then that I caught sight of all the boys, in their traditional grass skirts and masks, who had come down from the initiation school they are attending in the mountains. So for the last week, while on my way to town with the office or standing on the side of the road waiting for a taxi or walking home or sitting at Ledile's desk...when I've seen a ton of people all walking in the same direction, I know one of the boys isn't too far away. Initiation schools and what goes on in them remains a mystery to me... I've asked a lot of questions to a lot of different people and have come up with very little... it's pretty secretive. This is what I've come up with:

*The schools last 30 days and are the time when a boy becomes a man... when he finds his place in tribal society.

*Families pay the chief of the village to have their son attend the school.

*Boys are to stay in the bush on their own with no contact with family or friends. They can be brought food by family members, but only men are allowed.

*Some believe that the boys should attend two years in a row... the first year to become

circumcised, the second year to learn more about being a man.

*The school starts with the circumcision that is done by a traditional healer or a sangoma.

*In my area, initiation school is very expensive and some families feel it is more important to

pay to have their son attend initiation school, than to pay school fees for him to attend public

school.

*Some families believe that in order for their son to learn to be a man, he must attend an

initiation school, some believe that if their son attends such a school he will return an evil

person. If a boy does attend an initiation school and comes back to the village returning to his

old ways, hanging out with the same crowd, participating in mischief, he is deemed a failure and

sometimes is shunned.

*The boys aren't allowed to speak to anyone, they communicate with each other by whistling.

People follow after the boys and it becomes, more or less, a game. They chase the boys, the boys protect themselves by whipping a stick in their direction. On Monday, our taxi was slowed down because there were so many people on one of the dirt roads in Metz.

The boys have come down from the mountains to have people in the village see them and also to ask for offerings. Money, bread, cold drink... you name it. I offered these two boys some coins and in return they let me take photos. (I'm such a tourist and a blogger!)They phaphata-ed (kneeled and clapped, a sign of respect at the offering) and picked up the money. Check out all the bird feathers on their headdresses! Some of them get even more elaborate.

They then danced for me, moving their grass skirts wildly and to the delight of all the people who had gathered around us. Some girls in their audience sang and clapped while they swished.

At the end of the 30 days, the boys are returned to their families and there is a celebration. Some families slaughter a goat or cow and homemade beer is made. In some cases, a boy is presented with a girl to prove he is a man... and to make sure everything still "works". In recent years, a myth began circulating that in order to prove their manhood, boys recently released from the school must have sex with a female who is not their partner.... sometimes new partners who are considered of "lesser value" in the community. Initiation schools have become another controversial point in the whole traditional vs modern situation many South Africans find themselves in. Some believe that initiation schools, dating back thousands of years, are essential, and others believe that they are helping with the spread of HIV and sex with multiple partners, some partners who are very much unwilling. Sex with multiple partners and the use of a condom strongly discouraged, with these new beliefs emerging, the numbers of rapes and HIV infection are rising. The Department of Health has come up with some new guidelines and trainings for traditional healers, sangomas, and other leaders for the schools. The guidelines hope to reduce the numbers of rapes and rate of HIV infection by helping encourage the teachings of not only lifeskills, leadership skills and the responsibilities of being a man, but also human rights and information on HIV and other Sexually Transmitted Infections.

I've known this little girl her whole life. Sunday morning, at church, Lethabo took her first steps and then the whole afternoon, with all of us watching, she took more and more steps. It's like she's hitting major milestones all at once. She just turned 1 a couple of weeks ago, she's talking in a language that hopefully one day we'll all be able to understand, she calls me Mma (we're working on the Pula part), and she's walking. I took this photo just as she was starting to cry... along with growing up and doing all of these grown up things, she's also now afraid of the camera. Eish! Since I was in Pretoria on her first birthday I bought Maite a disposable camera to take photos with. She said she was curious as to how the pictures were going to turn out considering Lethabo cried every time the camera was brought out.

I am so lucky. I know I say that and think it multiple times a day... but yesterday when I was sitting at Ledile's big fancy desk at Kodumela and Maite was asking me questions about my family and home in the States... I had to say it again. Over and over. I showed her some pictures from when my parents came to visit. And then some of when Bronnie, Mary, and Ed came for a couple of weeks. And then we discussed plans for my cousin June's visit (!!!!!!!!!!) to Metz in just a couple of weeks. I can't even begin to put into words how great it's been to have people visit me here. It's been HUGE. Not only have I gotten an opportunity to show them where I've been living and what my life is like here, but they get it all just a little bit more. When I talk to my parents on the phone they always ask about the family. How is MmaDiapo? What has she brought home from the farm? Wow, Karabo, Charlie, and Lethabo have all gotten so big! Has Daniel finished the new house? Tell Maite, Mabu, Daniel, MmaDiapo and all the family hello for us. We're all family and it's really nice.

When Bron, Ed, and my cousin Mary all came to visit it was a nice break. January and February of this year were especially tough months and it was nice to see familiar faces, have people to talk to about some of my struggles.

We spent two weeks tooling around South Africa and Swaziland in a VW Polo. Yes. I met everyone at the airport the day before New Year's Eve and we managed to pack 5 people (Keri was on the same flight back from a visit to the States...she spent the first few days with us!) and all kinds of luggage from America into a VW Polo. I say impressive. Thank you to Ed for his fine navigation skills. Thank you Mary and Bron for being cheerful and flexible travelers while riding in the backseat completely surrounded by STUFF.

While in Jo'Burg we all took Mncedisi out for his birthday. He was Chris and Keri's Zulu teacher in training.

Their first morning we were all awake at 5. We showered, dressed, and went to the only place open early for breakfast... McDonald's. Yes. Then we (I mean Ed and his map skills) made our way through Jo'Burg and spent a lovely afternoon, the last in 2008, at Gold Reef City the big amusement park that helps fund the Apartheid Museum. Keri and I screamed like little girls on all the kid roller coasters and I made sure everyone knew that I was a little more than not happy about being on one of those flying swings.

For New Year's Eve, we spent the evening ringing in the New Year eating cornflakes and drinking champagne and dancing around with Afrikaners to music in Afrikaans. How African, right?

We went everywhere in a short amount of time... St. Lucia to see the hippos and crocodiles in the wild. While on a hippo tour Bron and Ed were fascinated by the hippos coming up to the side of the boat. Mary and I were fascinated by all of our fellow boat passengers. It was only fitting. We tried to go on a turtle tour one night to catch a glimpse of endangered Leatherbacks laying their eggs on the beaches of the Indian Ocean... but had to turn back when a huge electrical storm dumped tons of rain on our group. We were all in awe of Gary our guide, who totally needs his own show on Animal Planet, and the way the lightning was striking out over the ocean while we attempted to make it down the beach a little ways. Dark, dark night lit up by strikes of lightning across the sky. Incredible. We huddled under the roof of a souvenir shop, drank tea, ate muffins, and watched Gary tell us stories of his travels and touring past. One day Bron and Ed went snorkeling off the coast and Mary and I found a rooftop deck and drank Pina Coladas. Ah, vacation.

Then we spent a couple of days in Swaziland. Actually drove through the whole country from South to North. We stayed in a pretty cool backpackers (where we met a research team from Texas A&M) in the valley very close to where the King and the Royal Family live. One day we tried driving to their compound, but quickly turned around when we saw the big gate and guards with guns.

We drove through a wildlife reserve and checked out all the animals... even watched a crocodile dine on a zebra floating in a pond. We dropped Ed off for a hike through the reserve, went to scope out some traditional arts and crafts, and then picked him up so we could head to dinner at a restaurant that served traditional Swazi food. (the owner and chef bought all of the food from local women, kept everything organic, and was really, really cool).

And I dragged the girls to a traditional Swazi village where they danced (the Swazis AND Bronnie and Mary!) and we were taught the intricacies of traditional Swazi Village life.

We, of course, went to Kruger and scoped out all the animals there. We didn't catch sight of all the Big 5, but saw two male elephants battling it out.

And we went to Metz. Right smack in the heat of the summer. Troopers my visitors were... troopers I say. Every night we would go to bed covered in sweat and in the morning we would wake up covered in even more.

Everyone brought gifts for MmaDiapo so they all posed with her in her flowers in the front yard.

We even spent a day at the Lafata bead project... buying souvenirs for people at home. My favorite purchase is the one Ed made. A cone shape, covered in black cloth with some beads sewn, and black yarn spilling out the top. He eyed it and asked what it was. "It's decoration." And so he bought it.. and man, I couldn't get over such a find.

We escaped the village a day early because it was just too hot and made it to cooler climates... tried to catch sight of Blyde River Canyon, saw the potholes, haggled for souvenirs, saw a movie, ate Roman's pizza, and then spent some quality time drinking tea and eating muffins before everyone got on their flight home. It was sad to see them go, but it was also reassuring to know I would see them later on in the year! We wouldn't have to wait so long between visits this time.

To Bron, Ed, and Mary... I love that you're my family AND my friends. You rock.

This week Ledile (Program Manager for Kodumela ADP) got an email from the WorldVision National Office requesting that Rejoice do some interviews with people from a drop in center (for orphans) and a creche (a daycare) supported by Kodumela, so information about their services could be gathered. It was decided that the managers, staff members, and a couple of the children on each center's register would be interviewed and we would take some photos to document everything. It was pretty impressive to see. After working so long with an organization that wasn't really in a place to monitor and evaluate any of their programs due to lack of funds and lack of programs... it's interesting to see the opposite end of the spectrum. Kodumela is, in my opinion, a very high functioning NGO. They receive funding from a variety of different sources... the NDA (National Development Agency), WorldVision, PEPFAR (The United States Presidents' Emergency Plan for AIDS Relief), and The Department of Health and Social Development (Limpopo Province). Sally's Place in Makgaung Village and The Lafata Project in Madeira are two huge successes (and two of many successes for the program)....the idea is for Kodumela to continue to help with capacity building, to help them become more sustainable... and then, eventually, they will be able to stand on their own and Kodumela can focus on other drop in centers and schools in the area.

Rejoice interviewing a young mother who brings her little girl to the creche everyday.

Some of the kids who come to Sally's Place standing with their teachers. Sally's Place is a beautiful building that was built with funds from a family in the UK, the parents wanted to build something in memory of their daughter, Sally. Their generosity has, clearly, helped and affected many children and the community as a whole.

And here is the Lafata Project. One of my favorite places in all the local villages. Home to the famous bead project, a greenery, a chicken and egg farm, and a drop in center... all in one.

Rejoice interviewed Radikgong (Johannes) and Linah, the Project Manager (and amazing woman all around).

September 2007. Lerato Onkwe (Keri Dodge), Kealeboga Pule (Chris), and Reamogetse Sebogo (Me) at the Wimpy in Zeerust, NorthWest Province. Lerato got coffee, coffee, coffee. Chris got a burger and iced tea (neither of which tasted like stuff in the States), and I had a cheese, tomato, and egg toasted sandwich.

Wimpy is a fast food chain in South Africa that is EVERYWHERE. The coffee isn't bad, they have pretty okay milkshakes, they offer waffles with different flavored syrups (toffee and chocolate) and ice cream for breakfast, I've heard their burgers are pretty awful, and, for some reason, I've been there a bagillion times. There was the Wimpy in Zeerust, our shopping town while we were living in Gopane, our training village. We went there a few times for breakfast when we were trying to readjust to some modern conveniences we could find here after being in the village for a little while. There's the Wimpy in Tzaneen that I went to with Wanda right after we moved to our villages. We wanted a place to sit and calm our nerves after trying to buy things for our new living spaces and struggling with being on our own at our sites after 2 months of constantly being around other volunteers. We ended up next to the ball pen and jungle gym area for the kids in the non-smoking section. It was not calming. There's the time I was in the Riverside Mall in Nelspruit with Keri and because every restaurant was packed, we settled on Wimpy even though we knew we just might regret it. And every time someone has come to visit, I take them to Wimpy because it is a place a lot of South Africans seem to love. When my parents were here we went back to the one in Zeerust after we spent the day in Gopane. It still wasn't very good. I took my sister, my future brother-in-law, and my cousin, to the one in St. Lucia. When I'm in Pretoria and on my way to the Peace Corps' office, I get a takeaway cup of coffee for the walk or taxi ride. When Abby and I were on holiday, staying in a hut without amenities, we welcomed ourselves back into South Africa with a trip to Wimpy for breakfast. I seem to find myself in a Wimpy quite a lot more than I ever thought I would.

A couple of weeks ago, Jenny and I sat in a back booth in the Tzaneen Wimpy and drank coffee. A Wimpy Mega Coffee for me and a Cafe Mocha for her. I've been on the hunt for a Mega Coffee cup for a while now... and finally was able to purchase one. As the manager who sold it to me said, "You just want to remember all those times you had a good cup of the best coffee in South Africa. You want to take this back so you can remember all your fun times at Wimpy restaurants." Um, yes, yes... you are right. I think that just about covers it.

I feel relief after typing out all those last asterisks. Relief and then in some ways, a little guilt. I want people to know the realities of here...but at the same time, I don't want people to focus on only the bad. There is good battling evil, trying to outweigh evil... there is... and some days I really have to remind myself of that. I need to look at a little kid who doesn't seem scared of me. I need to hug Charlie and Karabo, give them kisses on the cheek. I need to look up at the stars and the mountains when the sun has finally set. I need to read letters and emails from people I love and who love me. I need to have a group hug with the ladies at the bead project. I need to sit with MmaDiapo and have her tell me about the farm and how hard she worked that day. I need to have tea and Milo with Rejoice and Maite in the morning. I need to talk to Ledile, someone who totally gets it, and know that we're in this together. I need to send SMSes and buy airtime to talk to my fellow PCV's who also totally get it.

I was once numb. I once thought I was desensitized to certain things I see in Metz, in South Africa. Now, I'm thinking I had to let those coping mechanisms kick in so I could protect myself when faced with all the little things that seem to present themselves in my everyday life.

Things I will never forget, that have affected me, but I didn't have quite the emotional reaction to them as I would have expected:

*Car accident on the way to Tzaneen. There's a body on the road, the face and torso are covered, the feet are sticking out from under a wrap of traditional fabric. Our taxi stopped and waited for traffic to clear. My eyes were fixed on the feet.

*Visiting a home based care patient. He's sleeping in the living room of his mother's house. He has a sponge (big piece of foam) as his mattress and a couple of thin blankets to cover his thin body. He is HIV positive, he has TB. I hold his hand.

*Another car accident. I'm in a taxi, as we pass the scene is a blur, I see feet sticking out from beneath a teal cloth.

*Kids at a church daycare. 20 of them, in the middle of winter, running around in a small, bare room, waiting for teatime. The daycare is waiting for funding for food... then maybe they can think about getting some toys.

*gates, gates, gates. locks, locks, locks. bars, bars, bars.

*The post office robbery. The next day a man tried breaking into a general dealer (store) and was shot and killed by the overnight security guard. This week a taxi driver carrying women to deposit money from their society in the bank, is shot and wounded... the cash is taken.

*Serious assaults, violations, thefts, beatings, rapes all experienced by other volunteers, my friends, in the group I came in.

*Homes made of tin, board, cardboard, and tarps.

*Sitting in a dark movie theater when all the sudden the exit door is opened and some jokesters yell something in Afrikaans and run off. My heart is beating 10 million times a minute, I was sure they were coming to rob us, and the rest of the movie is shot because I can't concentrate.

*Working with and for so many good people. People I've come to rely on and who have come to rely on me. Seeing their faces and their hearts affected by all that I've seen as well....and more.

*Another accident, 3 bodies this time. Our car has to pass into the other lane to get around. Feet are sticking out, feet just feet from my window. We all comment on how horrible it is, how horrific, but after that I am silent. I am ready to talk about something else.

*Walking to the backpackers in Pretoria after seeing a late movie. Nathan urges us as a group to move to the other side of the road because he has just noticed a guy that looks suspicious. I had no clue.

*Wheelbarrows used to carry water back to the house from the community tap.

*People standing up in the back of a bakkie, so many wedged in they don't move much when it hits bumps. Wind is in their hair.

*Woman standing outside of Pick 'n Pay in Tzaneen. I'm eating an ice cream cone and the cream starts to melt and run down my hand as I watch her, unable to tear my eyes away, beat her son in front of at least 30 people. Punching him in the head. Shaking him. He cries, but silently, and every time a tear starts to roll down his cheek, he wipes it away quickly.

*Walking to work I come across several policeman. They're standing around with BIG guns. We greet each other and talk about the morning. They tell me they are patrolling the area more. They want to catch a so called gang that has taken to robbing people at random. Guns make me uncomfortable. Those big guns don't have me batting an eye.

We're going to play the two years ago game.

Two years ago my little sister, Bronwyn aka Katlego (her African name meaning "prosperity and success"), posed with me in the "photo booth" at my going away party at my parents' house. Bron was channeling a lion. I knew very little of Africa when this picture was taken... and now I know a little more than very little.

Oh yeah that's a chicken foot. A "walkie".

Flashback: A little over a year ago Tanya and I went to town to celebrate getting paid and buy some groceries (I'm pretty sure there was a trip to the Woolworth's coffee shop, too). In the taxi heading home we sat in the front two seats by the driver, me in the middle and Tanya by the window. After our taxi filled and was on its way out of town we made a detour to the petrol station to fill up for the ride. The driver had gotten enough cash from all our fares. We were sitting at the pump, talking about what a nice morning it was when all the sudden we made eye contact with a woman running out of the station's office. A white woman running out of the office. At first I wasn't sure where she was headed, but as she got closer it was pretty clear she was coming to talk to us. The conversation went something along the lines of.....

Woman: Oh, hello! I wasn't sure if I could believe my eyes when your taxi pulled up. I saw you two in the front, but that doesn't happen very often, you know people like you sitting in the front of a taxi. Where are you from?

Us: We're from town right now, heading back to where we're staying.

Woman: Are you traveling?

Us: No we live here. Heading home now.

Woman: Well, just so you know, you're safe. They won't hurt you. They are gentle people. They will help you get where you need to go. Do you feel safe? Do you feel okay? There's nothing to worry about, they really are gentle people.

Us: We're fine. This is how we travel. We've done this before. Thanks for your concern.

Woman: Well, of course! You really should stop by for coffee some time. Please come back soon.

And then she walked away....and Tanya and I sat there stunned. How could we recover? We were certain that most people in the taxi could understand all that was being said. And REALLY?! I've never seen that woman again.

The longer I've been here the more strange things don't stick out much anymore. Funny, huh? Now I shrug more and move on with my day... I'm moved or a little disturbed, but I have to keep going, gotta keep truckin'. If something comes up that seems to be conflicting in some way, I have the choice to go ahead and address it, feel confident in addressing it, or just walk away. At one point I was afriad I was becoming desensitized to pretty disturbing things, but now I'm going with the idea that it's my coping mechanisms kicking in. When I'm faced with some chaos, some racism, a wounded country, stressful situations, poverty, loss, frustrations and challenges, loneliness...I tend to just focus on what's in front of me... some times that's just making it to the next activity, the next hour.

A couple of days ago when MmaDiapo was putting the sheep back in their pen the rope that ties them up outside wrapped around her leg and stripped it of a good chunk of flesh. I saw it pretty soon after it happened and it looked pretty raw, red, but like it could heal nicely. This afternoon she spent hours sleeping and when she woke up her face clearly showed pain. When I asked how she was doing, she limped down the steps and said her foot was bothering her, her leg was swelling. I looked at it and noticed the wounded area was black. I asked what she had been using to help it heal and she replied with "brake fluid". Um. I told her to be careful... that sometimes cuts can get infected and that if her's does it could affect more than just her foot and that area of her leg... it could affect her whole leg, her body. I didn't tell her that I think what she's doing might not be the best thing for her, I didn't tell her that I disagreed... I just wanted to help her with other options.... and asked her if she was interested in going to the clinic. She said she was going to wash it and then rest for the night. I told her to call me if she needed anything, if she started to feel worse.

2 big points to make.... 1: Brake fluid isn't exactly good for an open wound is it? I mean if you can't drink the stuff and your body looks at it as poison, putting it on an open area of your body might not be the best thing, right?

2: Situations like this always make me think. As a PCV I'm always walking a line, I have a unique place in South Africa. I'm American, I'm able to mix and mingle with people of all colors and backgrounds, I have enough money to travel, to go to town, to get a break from the village, to make a choice about where I live and what I do, I have medical care, I have access to resources, I have a freakin' blog... the list goes on. I stand true to my belief that I want to work to help people live the lives they want to lead... so the modern beliefs running parallel to the traditional, the white middle class American female in her 30's who would buy some sort of anti bacterial cream for a cut being a daughter to a Black South African retired teacher in her 50's who uses brake fluid on a cut is yet another thing I have to handle with care, another thing I have to sort out.

Last year when my parents came to visit they brought along 17 Texas Longhorns' t-shirts (compliments of Walgreen's) for all the Phokungwanes. Aw yeah. I gave MmaDiapo one that matched the one I kept for myself and she sewed us matching traditional skirts. This is how we go to church.

Yet another adventure in South Africa... After 18 years of having my braces off... am I really that old?.... I got half a mouth of metal back in May. Yep. Three months ago the wire that was holding my teeth in place, for those glorious 18 years, broke while I was in Metz. Around the COS conference I had an orthodontist appointment. After taking off the broken wire and seeing that my bite just needed a little tweaking, there was a consultation with Melissa (the PCMO, Peace Corps Medical Officer) and Dr. Heloise, and I got braces put on. It was actually a pretty nice day.. Melissa sat in a chair next to where I was and watched as they glued all the little brackets in place. She kept saying funny things. I kept trying not to laugh. Then we went to lunch and stuffed ourselves full of nachos that taste like ones in America and Chai Tea.

My two favorite responses to my braces by people in Metz? "Man, you white people do some crazy things" and "Oh Mmapula, they are beautiful! Do you get to keep them forever?"

I'm happy to report that thanks to a mouth full of copper and steel my teeth are almost back to normal and I'll have a brand new permanent retainer in place when I head to COS in September.

The other night MmaDiapo came to my window and asked me to come in her house and greet a visitor. I greeted and we all sat around her sewing room talking. The lady asked me how long I had lived here and was shocked when MmaDiapo responded with one year and 6 months. She asked when I was leaving and I said I didn't have too much longer, it was a month and some days after THE farewell party. And the conversation went along... we talked of the weather and THE farewell party and how beautiful all the skirts MmaDiapo made me were. All the while MmaDiapo sewed, passing pieces of material under the needle of her sewing machine. Just as I was gathering my things to head back to my room she stopped and said, "Mmapula, you know, I hope you do not forget me, forget us. Please try your level best, try 100% to remember us when you go." I admit, I stumbled over my words. I told her I wouldn't, told her there was no possible way, and when I felt like I had reassured her, I walked back to my room. That night was the first night I cried in a long time. It's starting to hit me that I'm really leaving. It's a big topic of conversation with people in the village, at Kodumela, with other volunteers, and with people at home. Time is flying and I'm trying to enjoy my last months and days here, trying to focus on one day at a time, while balancing thoughts of a big change.

How do I even begin to describe how grateful I am to MmaDiapo for taking me into her life, heart, and home? How do I put into words to the whole Phokungwane family that I think they're pretty incredible, some of the strongest people I've ever met? How do I tell Rejoice that her true friendship is something I'll carry forever? And what about the kids that always yell "Hiiiiiiiii Mmapula!" when I'm on my way to work? Or John at the post office? Or Ledile, Mpho, Maite, Collins, Enos, MmaTapa, MmaMichael, Mosie, Letebele, Danny, Cedric, Millicent, Maria, Mosoma and everyone else at Kodumela? The ladies on the corner selling vegetables? Phenyo and Tshepiso? I don't think I could ever find words that would carry all my feelings, I really don't think it's possible. "I love you, guys" doesn't seem to cut it and "thanks" seems too simple.

Vilanculos, Mozambique, December 2008. In the morning the water would recede and anchored boats would be stranded on the sand. In the evening the water came right up to the walls lining the ocean edge of town and your footprints from earlier would be washed away.

When you're far from your home and family and friends in the States over the holidays... you spend time with your Peace Corps family and travel. Yep... since it's June and "winter" here (although it's still pretty hot), I thought I should post photos of my trip to Mozambique... that memorable trip to the country just to the East of South Africa.

We took a taxi from Nelspruit, South Africa to Maputo, Mozambique one afternoon and the very next morning we were taking a taxi at 4:30 to catch the bus that would take us to Vilanculos. A bus ride that included: a chicken, a man practically sitting in our laps,

stops where people tried to sell us cashews, bread, bottled water, cold drink, thermoses, suitcases, shoes, and so much else, heat, humidity, dust (I still have dirt in the clothes I wore), dozing, a point where every hour or two we would all just look at each other, say "uh, is this really happening?", and then laugh hysterically,

and a view of the man we so affectionally named "barrel" who was sitting on a barrel in the aisle, surrounded by fermenting tomatoes, luggage, and bags of mealie meal.

On the potholed road that resembled Swiss Cheese, we would drive for a long while without seeing a town or even people, and then suddenly there would be a little pocket of houses made of thatch.

The heat and humidity were pretty incredible... not to mention the South Africans who were also taking their holiday at the backpackers. By the first day I had a routine down... After a night of trying to sleep, sweating, praying that music at the bar would be turned down just a little bit, and swatting mosquitoes (even under the net!), I would wake up early and head out to the lapa (thatched roof over an outdoor sitting area) to drink tea with anyone else up. A little while later I would go get ready to venture into Vilanculos, the village we were staying in, for some exploring.

Nathan and I would walk about 15 minutes to the coffee shop and on the way we would always run into Jeremy. He was selling these woven wallets. A nice kid who became part of our routine.

Cafe Mozambique is where Nathan would get an espresso and I would order a cappuccino. Sergio always made them well and helped us choose the local pastries we should try.

We would sit at a little table and plan out our day... where we would walk and what we would check out. One day we walked the whole length of town and visited the school where there was a UNICEF tent (donated when there was a typhoon that hit in 2007), the local CARE (international relief and development organization)office, stood in the office of a fancy hotel and soaked up the air con, visited a restaurant where Richard Gere once ate, saw the more touristy and "white" part of town, and then caught a ride with some locals to a nearby port.

Yes, I gave that woman next to me my bottle of water so she would pose with me.

After a walk through town, we would go back to the backpackers we were staying in. It was right on the beach and had a nice view of the Indian Ocean. The walk always took a lot out of me... it was just so hot. I would then spend a couple hours in a hammock reading my book (Nathan was usually in the other one reading his) and would sometimes be lulled to sleep by the whir of a sewing machine. A local woman would come each day and make all the tourists skirts, shirts, pants, and bags out of traditional material.

One of my favorite places was the market....

With its material...

fish...

food and people. The market was full of all kinds of little walkways, stalls selling everything you can imagine were everywhere.

Mpho and Mmapula. A few of us spent a nice morning haggling and buying material. See the bags we got made? The fabric mine is made of has tea kettles all over it. This photo is compliments of Paul and Jess Vig.

When you have a rat that crawls through holes between the top of your wall and your tin roof and scurries across the middle log of wood that runs right over your bed... you do what you can to stop it.. you get creative. I now have many plastic bags plugging up all the holes, taking away any entrance it may have... and I think they help with the drafts, too.