While travelling around with my folks we drove the Garden Route from Port Elizabeth all the way to Cape Town. We started in Jeffrey's Bay where we had a fabulous view of the ocean, palm trees and had buffet breakfast every morning with all kinds of cheese enough to make you drool. I was told that there are dolphins that frequent the bay which got me all sorts of excited. They are my favorite animal on earth and one I've never had the pleasure of seeing in the wild. Every morning I would wake up and run outside to the dock to watch for them. The second afternoon we were lounging after a terribly hard day of eating, swimming, walking and more swimming. I went outside to dry my towel out and happened to glance at the waves. Out of nowhere, I saw a silver bullet shoot from the water. I watched again to make sure and sure enough, Dolphins were everywhere. I shouted to have my parents come see as I was glued to my binoculars.

As I watched, I realized that I was seeing literally over a hundred dolphins so close that I could see their eyes. When it became clear there were dozens of pods out there, I ran down to the shoreline. From the bench there, without help from binoculars, I was able to watch them feeding, riding the surf and playfully soaring through the air. For the next three days we had the joy of watching hundreds of dolphins play right before our eyes at several different beaches. When we reached the next beach town, Knysna, we had a private balcony overlooking a small and secluded beach. The first morning there, for hours, dolphins came and plopped themselves directly in front of our view while they ate, swam, splashed and performed our own special show. Dozens at a time simultaneously jumped through the sky, sped through the water and the water was so clear you could see them ride in the waves before they crashed over. It was amazing.

At each place we stopped, the views were mesmerizing and the food was fabulous. However, it's not all glitz and glamour. There was no place we visited where you were able to completly remove yourself from this country. It's easy to think you've walked into the Italian Riviera or the beaches of Greece as the appearance of incredible oppulence takes over. The castles we saw along beaches are for vacationing soles around the world. Hotels and B&B's are of such class you may not even find it most places in the States. But when you look closer and drive along the roads, not one kilometer away are townships and informal settlements housing only the black population with broken windows, holes in the rooftops and incredible amounts of garbage. There often seemed to be little or no electricity and portable toilets often lined the perimeter of the township. We noticed in most places, with the exception of Cape Town that the only available employment for most blacks working was cleaning or serving. The level of poverty compared to the wealth next door often left a pit in my stomach, as well as my parents.

I suppose I've become accustomed to this way of life here as I work in these townships daily, while going home to my apartment. I asked some of the B&B owners how they feel about having to drive past the poverty daily. Most responded by saying they don't like it so they don't drive there. In other words, people are turning their heads. It still strikes me just how much poverty exists in this country. Elections are coming up in SA soon and a new president will take place. I can only hope after years of broken promises and failure to meet the needs of the people, this new man will make a change. As incredibly beautiful as this country is, I feel that unfortunately most are not aware of what is happening here. While I watch Dolphins swim and eat way too much French cheese, others are unable to eat anything other than bread. I turn this thought over many times a day and hope that one day the wealth will become a bit more equal.

When finally arriving in Cape Town, I was so happy to see that the city has done well in providing equal job opportunity and there are numerous reminders throughout the city of Apartheid. Means to prevent that level of oppression are in place and people speak of everyone as equals. It was peace of mind to finally speak with multiple ethnic groups and background where you didn't have to hold your tongue in fear of sounding racist, discriminatory or degrading. It is my hope that one day anyone here will have the means to sit on their own private balcony while watching dolphins swim free in the ocean, drink their coffee and take in the clean ocean air the way I was able to with my family.

My parents came to visit me for a month between February and March. While they were here I had the absolute honor and blessing to take them to the village I spent my first several months in, Makgato. I knew that sharing that piece of my life here in Africa would help to bind my life here with my parents back home. From the moment I arrived in Makgato, nearly a year ago now, I have wanted my parents to see where and how I'm living. The day finally arrived and after being removed from that village for 5 months now, I couldn't help but tearing up when I saw such friendly and familiar faces.

The welcome I received from them was overwhelming and genuine. Beth came along for the day as well and between the extreme heat, dust and constant explaination of why things are how they look was exhausting. We left early in the morning and drove off into the northern part of Limpopo, aka, the middle of nowhere. It was incredible how normal it felt to me. We stopped at the high school where 80% of my time had been spent. The moment I laid eyes on Balton, my dear friend, I bolted. After missing him and so many others for so long now, I couldn't help but jump at the chance to hug him. The entire day brought on a lot of emotional upheaval, but to see my friends and my family again was amazing. To have the pleasur of introducing him to my mother and father was like a dream come true. They had been waiting for this moment as long as I had.

The school has changed. They built a huge security office, there are different teachers and new kids now. My favorite students all went off to study, or work on farms, or anything else they may be up to. The computer lab is finally up and running, with internet. We were able to visit several classrooms which consisted of a huge welcome, an insane amount of noise and dozens of photos taken by my dad. Everyone wondered where I'd been as most had never been informed of why I left. It gave me a chance to talk with some. I was surprised to hear that they felt I'd abandoned them. The fact that everyone was so happy to see me made this place even more special in my mind.

After spending plenty of time with the teachers and those who had made my life understandable while there, we went to the creche and the kids there sang songs and danced to welcome my family. We gave gifts and my parents got to cuddle up with all the little ones. I showed them the drop in center where the orphans go and went to the clinic. When I saw Joyce, my second hand, it was as if no time had passed. She was still as cheerful and positive as ever and did not leave my side for the rest of the day there. Once we got to the clinic, I got a call from my cousin Maggie. She said, "We're coming to fetch you!"

A donkey cart arrived and Maggie cried when she saw me. She couldn't even greet my parents until she had calmed down. I watched her face as my parents gave her a hug and I'll never forget that moment. Her shock and gratitude at their embrace, especially from my father was immeasurable. Having not had male role models around, and certainly not one to show affection, she was not quite sure how to respond. Afterwards, she whispered to me, "Is he always so nice?" I just laughed. She put us in the donkey cart and off we went into a world that is one I had not even experienced while living there.

I cannot accurately or appropriately describe the activites of the day other than to say it was amazing. What my cousins and my aunt did to honor me and my family is nothing anyone will ever live up to in my eyes again. All the smells, the dust, the bugs, pit latrines and noise seemed to fade when we pulled up and I saw my families. All the people I have had the pleasure of knowing came together in traditional outfits and gave my parents an anniversary celebration of their life. Tears made my mom a whole outfit, they were dressed in beads and taught dances. My father become one of them and starting singing and shouting with them. They learned how to drum, my father cooked porridge in a caldron over a fire and my mom even used the pit latrine with Beth.

Maggie and Tears constantly referred to my parents as their mom and dad and they decorated a part of their home as if my parents were of Sotho tradition and were coming home after being married. They were presented with food, cake, drink etc etc. All the gogo's of the village were there to sing and chant with them. They all got sloshed on traditional beer and who knows what else.

As the day went on, more people gathered, I saw some students after school there and my friends from the school also came to spend time with us. I saw less and less of my parents as they become totally absorbed in their celebration and became comfortable to communicate with them on their own. My father told me afterwards how several women came to him asking where I was, why I wasn't there and why I couldn't come back. Knowing that they were able to feel, even for one day, how I felt constantly in that place is enough to put my mind at ease.

It is not easy to describe Africa to people back home. In fact, I think it is nearly impossible. I can't describe what it feels like to live in a world that has stopped, been looked over and is so impoverished. My father said throughout the entire vacation we had across the country, the school in my village was by far the poorest he saw. None of that mattered because these people were my rock. The entire day was bittersweet. It reminded me of why I loved it there, it reminded me of my anger in being pulled from there. It made me sad to know they want me there and it reassured me that I should still be there. Peace corps felt I was endangered without ever consulting me and what I thought. I had to spend a fair amount of time reassuring my friends there that I did not intend on abandoning them.

It felt right to be cooking and sweeping and using the pit latrines. The cockroached didn't seem to bother me and even the heat felt right. Most other volunteers I've gotten close with who are also quite rural struggle in bonding with others. I feel so lucky to have experienced what I did. The day went too fast but at the end of my, my parents were awe struck, amazed and proud that I had impacted a community so much that those living there, five months later, planned such a day for us. I agree and I finally found closure and value in what I managed to do there in a rather short period of time.

It's great to know that my parents will take home a piece of Africa that most don't see in their lifetime. This is the Africa I will remember and this place will influence my way of living for the rest of my life.

Last week my counterpart and I visited a farm school north of where I stay on the outskirts of Graskop. We've been making the rounds to schools in order to assess the needs of schools and any topics of interest we may assist with. The principal met with us who is loud, jovial and a bubble of life. He has been offering me a teaching position for several weeks now and is struggling in finding teachers for his school. A farm school is placed on a farming property, built by the farmer/owner himself in order to educate the children of those whose parents work on the farm. Often, there are no resources on the farms and children will walk for sometimes up to an hour in order to arrive at school. The biggest struggle I see on the farms is finding adequate teachers to commit to teaching in such an environment. Currently, this school I'm referring to called Driekop has zero teachers for the 60 kids there. The principal is currently the only one there to teach.

While there conversing with him, he begins to ask me at what age in America do people graduate from secondary school. I told him 18. He laughed and scoffed at me. "Really!" He said. I laughed and asked why that surprised him, seeing as how that is the standard age of graduation here in South Africa as well, regardless of it happening infrequently. He then proceeded to explain to me that it's too young to finish school. He believes the normal age to complete school is 21. I don't blame him considering that is often true here, especially in more rural areas. I was explaining how most students progress back stateside, meaning we complete school at 18 typically and proceed to college the following year to receive a degree between 4 and 5 years. He continued to laugh at me, stating that I was incorrect. When I asked him why, he said, "Men can't be men." I looked at him blankly and wondered what his mind was getting at. He went on to ask me if I am married. "No," I replied, "but I have a boyfriend." "Where is he!" Well, I explain that he is currently serving as a PC volunteer in Uganda and I have just returned from visiting him. He asked if we have children. "No." He is stunned and his loud persona suddenly became very quiet.

After several seconds of silence, he looks at me and tells me like it is. "You are not a man unless you move around with the women. Your boyfriend will need many girlfriends in America and Uganda and South Africa. Look at myself. I have 12 children. I can wipe my hands and say, I am a Man!" I explained that is not what I was taught growing up and that my boyfriend as well was not raised to believe in that. He interrupted me to again tell me that he does not even know where all his children are or who the women are. I asked what he does to provide for the kids. "What you mean! Isn't it that there is a mother there to take care of them." I asked him why he does not feel he needs to help his 12 children. He then explained that is nothis role. He wants to die with everyone around him saying that he made a legacy, that he fathered strong people and that he knew what it was to "Be a Man!" He said he does not feel complete. He wants to father three more before he feels that he can allow himself to move into another life.

This man is not old. He appears educated and attached to the school and the childrens' education. I said that I would love to show him where I come from so he can understand that. He could not understand why I am nearly 28 and do not WANT kids. He feels that I am letting down my species and went on to explain to me that my life holds no value at this time. He said that until I allow myself to experience many men and fill my life with multipl children, I am unable to say that I have been successful. I looked at him for a while before saying anything. I asked him why he feels I am not successful. He said, "Look at you!" and then the conversation was over. He switched to Swati and he and my counterpart were jovial as if nothing happened. I sat in awe as they conversed, thinking to myself how after a year of hearing such things, it still makes my stomach turn to know that most men I've interacted with tend to feel similarly. As we stood to leave, he said, "Now, you come back to me when you decide that you want to make your life real. Allow me to provide you with a child, and then I will be able to stand tall." He patted me on the back, laughed and disappeared into a classroom.

While driving back with my counterpart, I asked him his thoughts on it all. He laughed and insisted he was joking. I explained how I have heard this in multiple provinces from multiple age groups of men. He shrugged and said, "Look, Rebecca, we live in a factory. It's like puppy mills, but for children. No matter if you are sick or healthy, people manufacture kids. They know how to make them, but don't know anything after that! It's just how we black people are!"

No matter what they believe it takes to be a man, I think it takes more for me to look these fellows in the eye and say, I like my way of life. Knowing they will never comprehend it doesn't seem to matter. If being a man means manufacturing children as if they are a piece of furniture, then I am all the more thankful of knowing where I come from. I will never become used to this concept and will never accept being told my life is less valuable than theirs because I am unwilling to produce children at any time. This conversation has sat with me for the past week or two now, turning my stomach each time I reflect upon it. I am happy to be here simply in that I can show someone that there are other ways to live your life. I want to show them my father or my parent's friends. I'd like to introduce them to the dozens of men in my life, my boyfriend included, who value their life as much as the next persons. I would love to show these people here that at the end of the day, nobody really cares what happened except that you work hard to respect others, respect yourself and find purpose in your day. To those in my life, that is what someone would want to be remembered for; man, woman or child.

So the other day I was at the gym off in my own world listening to music. All of a sudden the loudest noise I've ever heard in my life made my heart stutter for a moment as I watched grown men jump off the treadmill and duck out of fear. There was sparks, a flash of light and then the entire place went black! Turns out the storm outside, which I'd just walked through myself, was roaring to life and the thunder was so close it created such a monstrous noise. I never did see the lightning flash but I"m assuming it was there because that evening the entire street lights were out as well. I waited a moment for them to say sorry, we're closing due to no power. However, once people realized it was simply thunder and not someone shooting like a crazed person, they hopped back on the machines that were running off a separate generator and continued. There I was, on the machine in the dark.

Since cultural integration is so crucial while I'm in Peace Corps here, I figure, do what they do. So, I as well stayed and continued my workout. I have to say there was something hysterical about working out in the dark. Never experienced that before. Upstairs where there are windows, it was fine for a bit since daylight was still poking through. However, downstairs, there are no windows and it was quite dark. As I sat there lifting weights, I found myself biting my tongue to keep from laughing at how ridiculous we all must look, sitting there in the dark, determined to be fit at whatever cost. It was a moment in time where I took a deep breath and thought, "Shit, this is worth staying for. I'm sure this will never happen again."

That night I got home to electricity and a nice warm bath. As I was going to bed, I figured, why not leave the window open. Mosquitos are gone because it's pouring outside and it's so cool here. As I was thinking this, an enormous cockroach type beetle larger than my entire hand flew threw my window, landed on my pillow adn crawled under the cover. I sat there watching, thinking, no way am I touching that thing. So, for the next twenty minutes I gathered up my neighbors and tore my bed apart searching for the disappeared giant animal in my bed. Certain I would not sleep there until I found this thing, we threw everything we could out of my room. After several minutes of standing around amused that such a large thing could literally disappear, there he came, crawling out of the closet and ran into the hallway. I slammed my door shut, closed the window and proceeded to take another bath simply because I couldn't get the chills out of my arms. Never seen whatever it was before and I feel I'll be okay if I never do again. You know, being a person who hated bugs and dirt as a young child, I'm beginning to wonder if I didn't think thruogh this whole idea of coming to Africa. If I survive this place, I'm certain there will be nothing I can't do!

My frist Christmas away from home was spent in Kisoro Town, Uganda with Ryan and his peace corps friends by headlamp lighting only, half cooked food and a raging storm pounding the rooftop of Ryan's cozy living space. It's not quite big enough to call an apartment but it's bigger than a room. Ryan turns out to be quite the amazing cook and appears to love cooking nearly as much as he loves to eat! Funny what you learn about someone when you surpass the friendship stage! Because it was all of our first time away from home for the holidays, we decided to go as tacky as possible, the weather, by chance, encouraging our decision entirely. When I first arrived in Kampala, we went shopping for Christmas decorations which I adamently refused to enjoy doing. We managed to pick out the most tacky, ugly, ridiculous ornaments you could ever imagine. A bright red plastic star that fell to it's side on the small plastic tree Ryan had found. We got some lights, a merry christmas sign meant to hang on a door and a framed ornament with some girl's picture, which we decidely left in the frame and told people she was our new friend! We even wrapped presents and put them under the tree! Honestly, this was all Ryan's idea as I was repulsed at the simple reminder of the holiday.

We decided since nothing else made sense (hot, palm trees, wearing tank tops, weird languages and new people), we'd make Mexican for dinner. Enchilades, with sauce sent in a care package, chips and salsa (made from scratch) and some other stuff that I don't remember. They make flatbread in Uganda called Chippati. Ryan figured for desert he'd make some with cinnamon and sugar mixed in. All seemed to be going fine until about 30 minutes before the meal was fully cooked. The storm progressed resulting in the power going off for the rest of the evening, well into the following day. So, rather than eating our fabulous Mexican meal, we ended up with half cooked luke warm beans wrapped in cold tortillas with chips and salsa and uncooked flatbread that Mark tried to cook with a lighter! It actually was really funny becuase there is no time in my prior life that I'd have said, "Yeah, I think it's totally possible that I'll be living in South Africa, travelling to Uganda for the holidays and eating Mexican "slop" with no electricity for Christmas with Ryan-as my boyfriend. Totally realistic..." Definitely memorable and one Christmas I'm sure I'll never forget.

Outside of Christmas, I experienced so many things in Uganda that I never dreamed of doing! In the first few days of being there, I ate Indian food for the first time and am clearly now obsessed with it! My goal is to see how hot I can handle it! I climbed to the top of a volcano near Ryan's town that was one of the most exhilarating and terrifying thing I've ever done. For one thing, you must go with a guide, accompanied by another guide who speaks nothing carrying around a rifle becuase of the monkeys, buffalo, elephants, hyenas??? as well as other large cats like the golden cat (which apparently makes it's way to the top of the volcano as well as we saw fresh dung on the peak) etc...you know...all the typical things you'd think WOULD be wandering around in the jungle. Apparently, they wander over from DRC and eventually make their way back home. How an elephant makes it through that thick forest is beyond my comprehension. But they are there as we saw the tracks in the mud, as well as hyena prints. Within the first five minutes of hiking we had to run from a buffalo hanging out on the trail that was coming straight at us. It was pretty awsome! So, dude with machine gun-apparently important!

As we hiked through the jungle, there was bamboo forest everywhere with thick vines. Our shoes were soaked within the first five minutes bc of all the marshland and as you begin uphill, there are steep ladders made of wood that act as steps. There were these large worms the length of my arm all over the place and wild bird calls piercing the forest. In many places, if you look up, you could not see anything but dark green forest surrounding you. It was so awesome to know that I was literally hiking through the jungle. I also knew at the top, we'd be in Congo, Rwanda and Uganda all at the same time! It was pretty thrilling. It was really bizaare to be hiking through such new territory, hearing such new noises and smelling this jungle musty smell, when all of a sudden a cell phone would go off! Kind of ruined the moment. Strange to think you're on top of a volcano in the middle of Africa where there is no running water or electricity in many places, yet a cell phone is able to ring in the middle of the jungle.....sure.

As we reached the top of the volcano, the third hump, the only way up was to climb vertical wooden ladders nailed into the rock wall of the mountain. I looked at it and said, Uh uh, I'm fine. But you'll be in Congo, said Ryan. Lunch in congo??? Yes, Please! So, I grit my teeth with my hands and legs shaking and climbed the trecherous ladders to get to the top of the damn thing. I have to admit now that I'm safe on the ground that it was pretty cool. One wrong move, though, and you'd fall either into Rwanda or DRC. We sat in the clouds and all I could think of was, wow, there's Congo and we're in Congo but shit, get me down. The entire idea of going down made it extremely difficult to swallow my pb&j sandwich. But we made it and it was really outrageous and I couldn't move for three days but it was worth it. Plus, I did eat lunch on top of a volcano in the middle of the DRC. Awesome.

In Kisoro town, Ryan and I hiked to lake Mutunda, drank a lot of beer and ate matoke and beans, their staple food. Pretty much tastes like nothing and is made of bananas. The country is beautiful and has nothing but banana trees and terrace farming. The locals definitely stare you down and when riding on a bus, rather than stopping at a petrol station, they stop for one minute, locals crowd the bus screaming things in their language while holding up bananas, onions and other random things like a weird type of pancake, samosas and all kinds of cold drink and juice. The idea is that you throw the money out the window, reach out and grab your goods. Makes for interesting journeys on top of the fact that there are no paved roads, nor do they stop for bathroom breaks!

We went to Jinja where the mouth of the Nile begins and spent three days there. We hiked through villages and had drinks staring at the raging river so peacefully passing by. We walked along a small road where there were hundreds of bats hanging from trees, making noise you wouldn't believe. I was fascinated by them and had to literally drag myself away. Reminded me of my pet bat, Leroy, I had while living in Backenberg last year. We stayed in town one night and after dark, the locals would pile into the alleyways cooking by small wood stoves in the quiet of night. Most of the children would lay down on mats on the road and I'm not sure if they were selling food or simply cooking for themselves. It was all very safe but something I was not sure what to make of. We ate Indian food, of course, and stayed at a very cute bed and breakfast type hotel. The following day, we went to Bugagali Falls where the real Nile begins. We stayed at a crazy awesome hostel on the river and saw amazing sunsets, showered in the fresh air while watching monkeys play in the trees and all kinds of storks and herons flying around. We saw strange eels in the water, ate AMAZING American-style nachos-3 times- and slept in crazy bangas (bungalow style huts). There were dozens of Australians running around doing crazy adventure tours like rafting down the falls or bungee jumping. It was pretty amazing to see such a dominant water source of the continent, something I clearly did not expect to see in my lifetime. We spent lazy days lounging on the river, eating awesome food and listened to Ryan plan each meal exquisitly while he ate the current food put in front of him. Honestly.... over all, if I have the chance to go back there.... "Yes, Please" as the locals say.

I have never been called a white person more in my life than I was in the three weeks I was there. Everywhere you go, they call out, "Mzungu, Mzungu." In the city of Kampala, small toddlers, age one to four or five sit on the streets after dark, half asleep, at risk of being run over by botas (motorcycles) with their small hands out. They are too young sometimes to speak but they look at you so small and frail. The older school aged kids run after you asking and begging, literally begging, for food. It's really heartbreaking. I thought I'd seen the worst poverty here in South Africa. As i learned, there are much worse situations to be in so nearby. These kids really are dying on the street and literally go days without food, I'm sure. In Uganda, there is not the have, have not as there is here in South Africa so all they know is what they see. In towns and villages, there is no concept of the wealthy and the poor. They are a country surviving on their own land and the concept of marketing and sales seem to be lacking. There is plenty of food, with terrace farming covering the country side, but a huge lack of material necessities, such as clothing, shoes, money for school fees and malaria being a huge factor in death. Seeing as how everyone is poor, they see no different and thus, carry on in their lives happy and peaceful. Uganda displayed the true side of Africa which I have not seen during my time here in South Africa. They have silly phrases. If I ask, do you have cold drink, they say Yes Please. If you ask, are you open, Yes please. Could I ask you a question, yes please. It's quite cute. They say SORRRRRYYYYY to everything and the towns are filled with men carrying half a forest on their head! It was truly worth the experience. Absolutely loved my time there and Ryan seems to be having a very true African Peace Corps Experience. I feel lucky to have shared it with him.

A few weeks ago I went with my friend Leslie to a concert in Nelspruit. It's the first time I have gone out and done anything social in that way since moving to White River. It was a Christian Rock Band called Tree63 and they were absolutely amazing. You wouldn't necessarily know that they were faith based at all and it was just incredible to hear live music again. It was in a large auditorium/stage arena and they had just returned from Nashville two days prior. They were touring around in order to give all proceeds to local charities in differing areas of South Africa.

Typically, since I've been here the times that I remember as being really fun and memorable are the times when I can say throughout the evening, "It's like being in Europe" or "Where am I? I don't live in Africa!" However, I am so happy to say that at that concert watching everyone together, singing and jumping around, just being in the moment, I was very aware that I am in South Africa. The entire evening was filled with South African jokes and lingo. Everyone around me was speaking Afrikans. It was pretty cool to just be a part of their world. I appreciated it and had a lot of fun. While I was swaying to the music and lost in the sound, I realized that I was so happy to be standing in a concert hall in South Africa. It was just what I needed to get myself into a positive mindset and remember that there still are good things here in this country.

Shortly after the concert was Thanksgiving which felt so strange considering I was in a tanktop and shorts eating ice cream and sweating profusely while cooking an attempted typical Turkey day meal. Some other volunteers came by and we cooked and ate and were able to spend it with my two roomies from Zimbabwe, who have never before experienced Thanksgiving. For a culture whose cooking is off the charts amazing, we actually managed to blow their minds that we Americans actually do know how to cook. They ate food that they have never had before and we went around the table giving blessings, prayer and a vote of thanks, more so for them to experience it. For the most part it felt much more like any other day than Thanksgiving. It just feels wrong to spend it in this climate.

I had a training for Peace Corps in Durban as well which meant a week at the Indian Ocean. It was great to see other friends who I haven't seen in some months, especially after all my moving around. It was one of those crazy weeks where I'm sure I'll not forget every moment of it. For one thing, our taxi driver was a maniac on the roads. The ride ended up being about 12 hours long with a driver who felt a need to stop three times to pick up pineapples on the side of the road. He also preferred to stop in the road and smoke here and there. I think he finally got tired of stopping so he graduated to simply sticking his head out the window while smoking as we drove about 300km's an hour. It was out of control. At one point he was going so fast that he wasn't even able to stop at a stop sign. So, he just drove right through it at breaking speed. For the most part, all of us together just ignored it and talked amongst each other. However, when it started raining and the roads were wet, it became a different story. For one thing, we were not on a highway. We took mountain roads all the way there that were set up on high cliffsides with steep drop offs for most of the ride. I actually became convinced that I would not live to see the Ocean at the rate we were going.

When we arrived in Durban late in the evening, PC had one of their glorious moments once again. The driver, come to find out, was in a rush bc he was hoping to see his children. Six hours prior to arriving in Durban, we had contacted PC to arrange for them to pick us up from the taxi rank considering it would be after dark. They said, well, have the driver drop you at the hotel and call us back if that won't work. So, we asked the driver who claimed to have no idea where the beach front was in order to drop us there. He adamently refused. We contacted PC again who said okay, we'll find out where you will be. At 7:30 pm the driver drops us somewhere in Durban on the side of a street by KFC, refusing to take us any further. He got into a fight with a young women who was trying to get him to take us to a safer area and then he disappeared. We called PC to find out where they were, if they were coming. Their response: sorry, we don't know where you are so we can't come get you." Fabulous! After all their preaching of not being out after dark, especially in the city; that our safety and security comes first-honestly, it wasn't surprising to me after all I've experienced with them at this point that they just refused to come get us. If it were not for that young lady, I'm sure how we would have known to get to the hotel. At any rate, I made it there and was able to go immediately to the bar with Heather and catch up on old times!

The week was great. We went swimming, ate good food, got to catch up before we all disperse for holiday travels and get away from our sites. It was a good perspective for me to be with others that have come to be my good friends. The downer is that most everyone talked about their projects taking off in January, and how excited they are that they finally got this or that going...I'm starting over. It's a hard fact to reconcile but it is how it goes sometimes. I'm disappointed that I could not join in the excitement over that but also understand that I did plenty of work in my first placement. My time to say I accomplished something will come later! None the less, it was hard to listen to all that. On top of that, I learned that I have a large resentment towards pc staff, some more than others after all that I went through. Sitting in a room with them so soon after all that has happened was challenging for me and I hope that I can come to terms with what happened to my faith in PC program here now that I'm aware of what I feel. Overall, Durban was a good eye opener in a lot of ways and I left there feeling that things were going to get better.

While in Durban, almost half of our group came down with some sort of food poisoning, myself included. I became convinced (not really but I was being dramatic....) that we all had Cholera seeing as how there has been a massive outbreak in Zim, trickling down to SA. Imagine that story... "TEN PC VOLUNTEERS DEAD FROM CHOLERA IN SA!" At any rate, seems it wasn't cholera and we've all survived just fine. On the long, insane bus ride back, we were sitting next to some people that I'm sure have TB and coughed the entire ride to Joberg, increasing my anxiety that now I'll have TB in addition to Cholera!!! When you're sleep deprived, thoughts tend to invade all sense of reality....Four of us took a night bus back to Nelspruit, meaning it took two days to get home. It was nightmarish in the sense that the bus arrived late, then we pulled over on the side of the road to wait for another bus to meet us. A driver was ill and we had three drivers on board apparently. After a while of waiting, they decided that it was too far and so we left. An hour later we stopped at some roadside truck stop for a while at 2:30 in the morning. At this point, any sort of sleep had been tossed out the window. Between the stopping and the coughing, it was near impossible. We arrived in Joberg at 5:30 in the morning with nothing to do but wait for 3 hours to load onto another bus to take us to Nelspruit. As soon as we loaded into that one, I passed out for a few hours and waited to get to the taxi rank to jump onto another taxi to take me to White River. I've never been happier to see a bed and a bathtub in my life! Honestly....

So, turns out that I have neither TB or Cholera, good news, but did get bit by a mango fly which laid some sort of egg in me that turns into a worm on my foot when I was hanging my laundry. So, that means that I had to get this worm thing pulled out of my leg which hurt like a mother and will leave a fantastic scar, but again, not going to kill me!

And when I came back from Durban, Beth came to my site to visit and help out with a Victim Empowerment workshop that was put on in Sabie for the 16 Days of Activism. Child Welfare put on several events throughout these days, most of which I was gone for, but helped plenty in the planning of them. It began Nov. 25 and ended Dec. 10 which celebrates speaking out against women and child abuse. Beth was able to give a presentation to some of the kids and it was nice to hang out again and see each other. Since I moved, I haven't seen her when before, I was used to seeing her nearly every week. And after she left I have been out to Graskop several times to help another pcv Brenda with her events out there. It feels good to interact with the Black communities again and be able to really interact with the kids. It feels familiar and nice bc I really did come here to do something and sink my teeth into it.

Earlier this week I was told that I would be moving again bc Child Welfare needed me to for several different reasons. I had breakdown in the office, explaining that it is unfair to me as a volunteer to be moved around and passed around like some sort of toy. I explained that I've had not an ounce of control in my life since August and that moving again provides more instability and disruption in routine that I've just started to get used to. Though it's not CW's fault adn I understand her reasoning, I was told that I would not know where I'd move to until I returned from Uganda. I straight up told her, "If you are unable to tell me where I'm living before I go on vacation, I will most likely be leaving SA in April bc I have to feel that I have a sense of security and stability here. I cannot continue to function in the upheaval of my life if it continues this way." She understands fully and after a very long discussion and great talk about the events that have taken place in my life recently, on Thursday, I was told that I will be living on a horse ranch with a board member I've come to know quite well. He lives a ten minute walk outside town with dogs, horses and a water damn on his property. I will have cottage to myself with a kitchen, shower and bedroom. I haven't seen it yet but the more time that passes, the more positive I feel. At least I'll stay in White River and continue living here where I'm slowly becoming used to things. So, another change will occur in january once I return from Uganda, but I'm not going to worry about it until the time comes. At this point, it's all relatively funny I suppose in a way. When I am done here, I think I'll look back on all this with a huge sigh and feel proud that I managed it for however long I manage to!

And now the newest adventure will be going off to Uganda. I'll be gone a few weeks and plan on doing nothing but relaxing my brain, thinking about nothing to do with SA and coming up with some sort of plan for myself in how I'm going to make this work, or not. Whatever the outcome, I'm hoping to find peace with it all in Uganda.

I hope all out there have a safe holiday season and enjoy wherever it is that you will be. Be thankful for the lives you lead. Until you step out of it, it is impossible to really know what nothing is and what people live like in other areas of the world. If nothing else, I will forever be grateful and appreciative of the fact that I simply got the opportunity to even come here! Though it's tough, I could have been born here, in the poverty that I work with, having no options at all. I may have no money to my name, but I still feel rich after seeing what could have been. I hope you all are able to reflect on that and feel blessed in where you come from.

I've updated my photos on picasa web as well.

Happy Holidays!

Peace.

I was woken this morning at 5:10am to roaring thunder and lightning. When I first opened my eyes I was confused as to what jolted me awake. The noise was constant and reminded me of several fighter jets flying directly above my head. The lightning lit up my room as if it were the middle of day and a torrential downpour hit the windows like golf balls hitting a metal roof. Unrelenting and unforgiving, the storm lasted hours and needless to say, I'm exhausted. In Limpopo I had not seen rain since last March. Here in Mpumalanga, it rains nonstop and the storms are mesmerizing in their own state of chaos. I was lying there thinking about the people living in informal settlements, wondering how their small homes stay upright. I wonder if I can work on getting these informal settlements changed into RDP housing, (similar to low income housing in the States) and how long something like that takes. Unfortunately, many who live in these settlements are non SA citizens and are here illegally. Not a hurdle easily overcome

It's amazing to feel such a difference here compared to my village. The mountains encompass the towns here (see photos above of White River and Sabie) and driving around during the day is so relaxing, despite the poverty hidden among the forests. I have to think of things I haven't had to in the past 10 months. For instance, last weekend, I went for a walk along a main road towards the mountains. That Monday I was with my coworker who then told me not to walk there. "Why not?" I ask. "Because all the prostitutes walk this road. You'll get picked up. It doesn't matter that you're white." Well! And as we drove along to some farming schools, he proceeded to point out several women along the road who are waiting for "business." The last thing I need is to be in the paper labeled as the newest item on the block!

Everyone talks about Obama here. They love him, and being a huge supporter, I'm happy to talk about it with folks. It's on every channel, every news station and in all the local papers here. People get down on their knees and praise him. It's really worth seeing. I believe he is more loved here than in America, if that is possible. I find it to be a blessing as I've missed so much of the elections: seeing it here from their standpoint allows me to participate in the election from a unique standpoint: I am able to be both there and here at the same time.

When I was thirteen I remember going backpacking somewhere in the Cascades in Washington with my aunt Bobbie and uncle Wayne and my family. It was always such an ordeal for me, starting before I could remember. When I was three, I was afraid of the deer. At six or seven, I was terrified of the dirt roads. As a pre-teen I cringed in fear of the mosquitoes and I always had to know just how long it would take to get to site. It was guaranteed to pour five out of the six days, our tents leaked and my dad burned a hole through my shoe every year. Arguments about crackers with peanut butter or salami were a given. Ridiculous camp songs were sung, Wayne had to go skinny dipping, letting the entire Cascade Mountain Range know as he yelped from the cold and often the Blue Herons stole our fish. My dad would curse the lake as his fishing line was caught in a log pretty much daily and my brother Daniel created Cowboy and Indian wars with sticks and "little people" toys, ignoring the intolerable amount of estrogen flowing around the campfire. Nicknames I won't repeat were created and some of the most embarrassing moments of my life, which I'm sure will be relived on my wedding day, were created in the depths of the Northwest. Daniel and I would inevitably fight on the drive out to the trailhead and my cousins Jodi and Rachel would also have at least one screaming match each trip. Bobbie would itch her mosquito bites until they bled and it always amazed me that no bones were ever broken. Near death experiences, sure, but no broken legs. Once, Wayne caught mild hypothermia and nearly drowned my father in a river as we all stood on the shore watching and running from the fresh Bear tracks lining the riverbank. The upside, however, was always the bag of candy we'd get for the trip. None the less, it's family tradition and summer break would not have been the same without famous backpacking trip.

This particular trip has always stood out in my mind, as a thirteen year old. A few days into the trip after much of what's been stated above had taken place, I felt the need to try and feed the camp robbers (birds) from my hand. I found some boulders to stand on, took some bread and remember standing for hours lost in thoughts, droning out the constant bickering around the corner. I stood there with my hand stretched out above my head waiting, knowing. My cousins were busy chisling away at a stick, carving out figures and using symbols to represent men and women. "It'll never work" they all said. But I stood there. I knew. As quiet surrounded me and I stood above the ground, there was nothing but my own reflection in the lake and I knew. If I waited long enough, the birds would surely come.

And they did.

I stood in awe as they landed, on after another, on my hand eating out of my hand. They would land cautiously and continue to eat. As bravery builty, they pick fights with each other fighting over who landed first. In that moment I felt lost in the pure beauty of nature at it's finest. Nobody was around as my cousins had long since lost interest. It was myself and those birds and my own personal accomplishment. I remember wanting to jump around and laugh and scream to show the others. Instead, I stood still, barely breathing and taking in the tranquility and serenity that I felt as the birds came again and again to eat out of my hand. Every day I would saunter off to feed the birds.

Weeks after the trip, my father handed me a picture he'd taken of me standing on a rock with my arm outstretched; bird in hand. I remember wondering how he'd seen it, why I didn't know he'd taken it and realizing perhaps I really wasn't alone with those birds out there. I often reflect back to that photo as the years have passed, remembering how I knew that if I waited long enough, they would come. And I am thankful that my father knew in that moment that it was mine and mine alone.

Here I am, once again with my arms stretched out waiting. This time I'm reaching for something but sometimes I'm not sure for what. It seems to change with each month that passes. But I know that if I reach out long enough, it will fall into place. That same serenity and silent understanding seems to reach around and touch me. For all the shit that happens in this country, all the fear people live with and the lack of trust, this place is truly surrounded with miracles. If I keep waiting, I just know that change will come and the right thing will happen. Sometimes when I really feel like giving up, I go back to that moment where I felt their wings flutter as they curled their small talons around my finger. I remember that I felt alone out there, but really wasn't. Sometimes it feels like I'm fighting an uphill battle and nobody else is fighting with me. But I know they are, even if I can't see them yet.

The traditional backpack trip continues still, just in an altered form. There are no longer little children running around and I hope they've finally come to the conclusion that peanut butter really is better than salami. I'm sure Wayne still screams to the mountains as he jumps in the lakes and I'm certain the songs have continued, as well as my father cursing the line. Though it's changed, it's still there, still moving forward and creating memories. The birds are still flying free above the peaks and if I keep holding out my hand, they will land, sooner or later.

I just know...

CHILD WELFARE IS IN NEED OF DONATIONS FOR THE CHILDREN IN FOSTER CARE. CURRENTLY THERE ARE 60 CHILDREN IN CARE AND THE DEPARTMENT WOULD LIKE TO HAVE A CHRISTMAS PARTY FOR THE CHILDREN. SOME OF THESE CHILDREN HAVE NEVER SEEN A BOOK, CRAYONS, TOYS ETC. TO HELP PROVIDE SOME OF THESE ITEMS AS WELL AS FOOD, I AM ASKING FOR HELP. IF YOU OR ANYONE YOU KNOW COULD POTENTIALLY ASSIST BY DONATING AS LITTLE AS $10.00 US DOLLARS, I WILL BE SURE TO UTILIZE THE MONEY IN PURCHASING A GIFT FOR EACH CHILD IN CARE. YOUR HELP AND GENEROSITY HAS THE POTENTIAL TO CHANGE A CHILD'S LIFE MORE THAN YOU TRULY CAN IMAGINE.

THANK YOU FOR YOUR SUPPORT.

EVENT: CHRISTMAS PARTY

DATE: NOVEMBER 15

DONATION: $10.00

ADDRESS: 18015 SE PORTLAND AVE., MILWAUKIE OR 97267

After all the moving around and changes in my life the last several weeks, I can't help but reflect on some things. I've just learned today that I'll be living in White River permanently rather than moving to the smaller village of Sabie. I'll be living in a flat with running water, a bathtub, large bedroom, carpet, closets, kitchen etc. It could not be more different than the situation I was just removed from. My safety will be much higher and life itself I suppose will be so much "easier."

As I'm driving around seeing things here, I realize that some things really aren't that different from home. Movie theaters, shops, music, restaurants. Last weekend I had a burger with a friend here while they played Avril Lavigne and displayed rugby on a wide screen tv. Looking around, there was not a single thing that said, Hey, you're in Africa! Today, I drove to Nelspruit for work something or other and they have car dealership after dealership, just like McLoughlin back home. Mazda, Chevrolet, Nissan, Buick, BMW, Toyota on and on...

There are parks, clean roads, smaller kiosks, and MALLS! The malls here drive me absolutely mad. In Nelspruit, 10 minutes from my flat, there is Riverside Mall. A giant Casino where people gamble their money away. They have every store you can think of, including Toys R Us. It's the typical stucco type building material and shaped exactly like any mall in America. In Pretoria, I went with Greg to Menlin Mall which is out of control. Ice cream shops, three floors adn reminds me of huge malls I saw in Chicago. They have a drive in theater on the roof, an ice rink, skate park and playground deal all outside on the roof of the mall. Mug and Bean which is like a fancy version of Starbucks and Prada! Yes, Prada. There is a music hall, a bird sanctuary and gilatto palaces all inside. More shoes and bags than I could fathom and all the while, I just forgot I live in South Africa. Escalators, elevators and even McDonalds! Truly America.

The children in my village all laugh when they burp, fart or see any naked body! The boys stick their hands in their armpits and make farting noises and the girls gossip and keep secrets just like any child in America would. Stepping out of village life into this new one I'm living now, I realize it's not so new! Many things seem the same. Road rage, people in a hurry, people struggling to live and survive. Even the marked difference in poverty here is similar to that which you can see in America. It's certainly different in many ways, but sometimes I realize that we really are not that different. People cover poverty, they hide it and brush it aside. There is never enough money for schools, people need pay raises and the government tends to sit back and do not much. Money comes in and money goes out, nobody really can say where it went. There is red tape and beurocratic bullshit along the way, all similar to America. I find it hard sometimes to articulate the differences in poverty between here and home. They are there. I just can't think of how to describe it all sometimes.

Clearly, all I felt in the rural village was how different things were. Here, in mini America, White River, things are easier and my attention seems to be more on my surroundings rather than on living. That may be case in point! Though there are westernized areas with wealth and resources, most of this country is living without it, without their basic needs being met, but can see it around the corner. Merging these worlds, these resources seem to be the key factor missing in the strength this country could display. If I could pick up my village and move it to America with me, show them my life and how I live, I wonder how the impact would show? Perhaps one day...they will see for themselves.

I moved to White River yesterday after three weeks in Pretoria. It's absolutely beautiful here but I'm torn over leaving my village. Saying goodbye to my family and friends and support system there was like a Hallmark movie (aka: heartbreaking end while waving from a car window, driving off into the sunset). Nobody understood why I could not return to the village and are angry and upset at what has happened there. However, the relationships there are monumental and have changed my heart, my soul and my perspecitve on life which I will carry close with me as I proceed through life. What I learned and experienced there is a once in a lifetime experience that most people will never come close to. I feel honored and blessed at having met these people. They are young and courageous and more honorable than I ever could be in my life. I will be back to visit as often as I am able in the next year and a half here.

White River could not be more different. It's clean and beautiful, surrounded by mountains and very green trees. The roads are paved with shopping malls and restaurants making up the main square. It's quaint and reminds me a lot of Montana. Similar to Kalispell or Whitefish, just with an African nature about it. I've joined a gym, there are movie theaters, white people all over, English speaking children with functioning schools and the town is swarming with NGO's and financial aid. The flat I'm living in for the next few months has carpet, a balcony, running water and a large bathtub. There is a stove to cook on with a large fridge in the kitchen. I can sit outside and read and actually feel safe, whatever that means to me anymore.

I'll be in White River until sometime in December, perhaps until I leave to visit Uganda and Rwanda. I'm learing policies and shadowing the projects that Megan, the other pcv, is involved in. I'll be visiting Sabie, where I'll eventually end up, and Graskop as well as surrounding townships. As gorgeous and "easy" as it seems to be, I think it will be significantly difficult to adjust to this "normal" way of life. Things amaze me and I can't help but eavesdrop on conversations since they tend to be in English here.

The amazing gift of all this is I will have experienced both extremes which make up South Africa as a counry. I cannot discount one end of the spectrum without having experienced the other. There is no one way or another here and the distinct line between poverty and not is crucial in understanding how South Africa functions. I feel my time here has been productive and meaningful, as I expect the next year to be as well. New adventures and New beginnings...

I've been in Pretoria for nearly three weeks. The Jacaranda Trees are in full bloom painting the streets purple. There hasn't been a cloud in the sky and I keep hoping for a gigantic thunder storm. Laying out on the grass of the hostel looking up feels like I'm floating in a sea of blue! The palm trees and purple flowers surround my thoughts and seem to fill the air with a new freshness that only South Africa seems to provide. In my time here I've made a new friend Gregg. Gregg is an American traveling throughout different countries in Africa, doing research on environmental affairs. He and I have bonded in the strangest ways and I believe he's now officially been inducted into Peace Corps by default, unofficially!

In our weeks here together we have built our resume on hostel cooking and cleaning, dishwashing and speed reading. A group of 11 year old students from Kwa Zulu Nat'l visited Pretoria for a week creating a noise I feel certain only 11 year olds are capable of. Without shedding blood, they managed to break the filter in the pool, entice ants to crawl over everything in their trail of crumbs and lost a room key because they tied it around the cats neck in hoping that would ensure it's safety! For four nights in a row, myself Greg and the hostel staff served and dished up food for 80 eleven year olds. I was asked repeatedly how many famous people I know and am friends with and how big my car was! After awhile it became more interesting to just make something up. Of course, I now have met and spent a significant amount of time with the infamous Jennifer Aniston! (I will hear no laughing from you out there, Melissa!)

Yesterday, Greg had to meet with some environmental hotshots at the Botanical Gardens. I decided a change of scenery would be great and decidided to join him in his trek. The gardens are a fair distance but seriously walkable! And after all the cheese I've consumed, walking is a good thing! We asked Monique, my new friend who runs the hostel, if it is a safe walk. She looked at us sideways and said, "let me put it this way. One wouldn't ordinarily walk there, but you CAN do it!" and then she sauntered off. In hindsight, I'm thinking she must have been cursing the American mindset in ever thinking this was a good idea!

Greg and I set off and stopped at McDonalds for a fabulous mcflurry! While crossing the highway, yes the highway, by foot, I looked to my right and there standing alongside the highway were two enormous elephants eating the reeds and grass! In the middle of Pretoria!? Yes, seems to be the circus has come to town and clearly they were allowing the elephants to stretch their legs a bit. After a moment of watching awestruck, and confused, we moved on. Time and time again, I asked Greg if he was sure this was the right road. He assured me over and over that it was. So, after crossing a highway, dodging busses and trucks, walking alongside the freeway on broken glass, waste covering the ground and pokey trees catching my hair, we finally made it to the gardens, which were fabulous. We saw muir cats and walked along some great trails. Had a beautiful view of a new side of Pretoria I'd not seen yet. Walking back, we again took on the highway and crossed through some wetlands to avoid some of the freeway walking! The elephants were there waiting for us again as well as lion cubs, tigers, horses and ligers (lion crossed with tiger). It was odd. At the end of the day the cold beer and cheesy calzone were the perfect remedy for sore feet covered in mud!

Greg is leaving for Madagascar on Sunday and I will be leaving Monday for my new site. I'll be moving to Sabi, down near the gate of Kruger Park in the middle of canyons, high mountains and rivers. Sounds beautiful. I hear I may have a shower, running water, grocery store delux and be surrounded by other volunteers nearby. Though it sounds "easy" it will be a huge adjustment all over again and I am quietly thankful to have beautiful scenery which I can escape into when I'm feeling overwhelmed!

The beauty of Peace Corps is that you never know what is coming. The nature of our villages and site placement is filled with ambiguity and is unnatural in that we are thrown into a mix which we are not programmed for. The challenges and life changes that one goes through is forever life changing and creates resilience and growth in areas which I've never known possible.

I have never felt so unsafe, insecure and frustrated in my whole life. I've been made to create a home out of nothing, did it above and beyond and have been told I will not return. I have been betrayed by my co workers in ways that they must speak out in so that they can continue living there long after I've left. My instincts have left me empty and created fear in unreasonable places that I knew not to exist. I trust no one and fear everything. This in time will fade and I know that the nature of South Africa will again become welcoming and pleasant. Within my fear, it is a great feeling to know that I can continue to feel blessed and honored at serving in Peace Corps. It's relieving to realize that my instincts are not to go home, but rather to face this head on and begin looking forward.

This journey of mine has been extraordinary and one that has caused mor joy as well as tears than I ever anticipated. Saying goodbye and finding closure in the village that became my home and my refuge will be devestating but I am pleased that all I invested in will be there when I take my parents to go back for a visit. I'm thankful for the exposure and know that how I lived, survived and understand now is something that will be carried with me into Sabie, South Africa and all the places I have yet to see. At the end of this adventure, I am sure that my world will be opened in ways I never thought possible and my soul will, in the end, always look back to Makgato where I lived, laughed and survived! That will always be my home here in South Africa!

September was the most challenging month of my life! Two phones stolen, caught in the line of fire in the mall, the Home Base Care sabotaged all the work I've done with them and my housing fell apart in the village leaving me homeless and living in Pretoria! Who knew Humanitarian Aid could be so tough.

....SO HOT in fact that my legs drip sweat all the live long day, my heart stops for a beat or two when I walk into the sun and dirt films around my lips and slowly seeps into my mouth, leaving this nasty gritty taste in my mouth, also, all the LIVE LONG DAY! This change came about overnight and I fear will not change until April. In fact, it's only September, meaning in two or three months it will be ten times worse. Clearly it's time to buy a fan! And to think so many of my fellow friends and colleages here say, "But Lethabo, this is the best country. Here, it gets cold!" Cold? Cold? I"m still waiting for WINTER! It does not exist here. Sure, down by Lesotho there is such a thing as Winter. However, I don't live there. I live here, in Limpopo, less than 100K from the northern borders. I'm near Musina, which means nothing to me, or you, but apparently is lamen terms for CENTER OF SUN! Musina is a village or town or something on the border of SA and Zimbabwe. Apparently, I"m told it's the hottest place in SA. Lovely.

I can tolerate heat. My dad calls me the sun goddess for a reason. How many hours each summer to I rush home, grab a towel, undress and bask in the sun. Melissa, you can attest to this!!! Days on end, hours upon hours, I can tolerate the heat and sweat it out. And I have to admit, I love the fact that I turn golden brown and smooth! It was like, MY THING! I forget that with that I had fans, cool evenings, air conditioning, running water, ice, oh and such a thing called Seasons! I knew that the hottest summer days were only a few weeks, if that out in good ol Oregon. I had the ocean, rivers, swimming, ice cream...all the necessities of summer days. And there was always an end in sight.

My end is in 8 months. I suppose I'll acclimate or whatever. But I tell you this! When I have a chance to stay near a swimming pool, I"m afraid I will never get out! It seems so unfair that there is this gorgeous Ocean out there with dolphins and penguins and turtles, and I can't even get to it! Today, I"m wondering how in the hell I am meant to survive this heat for the next several months, and it's only day 2. Any suggestions????

So much has been going on in the past two months. I feel like I don't even know where to start. When I returned to site after Kruger, all kinds of things had changed. There is a taxi rank in my village now. Not sure why since there are not really any people going anywhere, but whatever works. We had a huge hiv drama event in the village where several schools came to Makgato and performed poems and drama, all in English, about safety and hiv and condomizing etc. It was so fun. There were hundreds of students there and they performed so well. I am happy to say that my high school took first place in the drama. The kids write their own dramas and create their own storyline. They did great.I was so impressed. It was nice to sit in the crowd watching these 9 year olds and 15 year olds speaking out against the spread of hiv/aids. It was one of those days where I was reminded of why we are all here.

I attended a wedding in Kibi, a village north of here where it was so much fun. We danced until 9 at night adn they had a live band. It was fantastic. The cake was massive, and they had leopard print table cloths. Pretty classy. It was really fun. We drank champagne and danced wedding dances literally until I could not move anymore. Weddings are always fun because everyone gets all dressed up and there is so much culture and tradition just swirling through the air.

I went to Venda with a teacher I work with for the weekend to visit his home and his family. Venda is full of mountains and waterfalls and known for the best production of fruits and vegetables. I've never seen mountains so high and so green. We stopped at fruit/veggie stands along the way and it was full of color and sounds. Dozens of women were sitting in Venda wear yelling and haggling and selling their goods. It was so amazing and so GOOD! We attended a funeral one morning as well as church. I learned to bake a special bisquit for weddings and traipsed around with a towel for extra warmth tied around my waist all weekend. I forget I live in the center of the sun and most other places experience "winter." Church was four hours and after hour 3 I snuck out and went for a lovely walk. I found a great lookout point staring at mountains and rolling hillsides. It made me miss Montana. There are some similarities, minus the tin shacks, burning garbage, multiple marriages and languages and litter filling the roads. Other than that, it's practically the same!!! (That's a joke!)

We also visited my pcv friend Christy who was living in the area. We saw Thoyhondho and she and I were able to spend the day together which was really nice. Where Bolton lives (my friend) is near Louis Trichard, just East of me and it was shockingly similar to Missoula. Small streets, mountainous with a mix of a beach town/mountain village. It was strange to drive into town and feel I could have been driving into my college past. It was a fantastic weekend. I even got to make a special American meal (Mac and Cheese spiced up with meats) for the family which went over well. It's a shame Cheese is not more of a priority in diet here. Maybe that can be my secondary project hey!

Recently I went to PST to help with language and some cultural adjustment for the new group of trainees. It was really fun although we had no running water for a week. Bathing was interesting, and scarce. We survived on 12 boxes of cornflakes and 9 cartons of milk, which we learned later was expired, explaining my severe stomach cramps. We played Idiot and drank lots of wine each night, reminiscing over our days at pst. It was nice to hang out with friends and great to realize not so long ago I was the PCT, anxious and curious. Now I'm giving advice and calming those around me. How did that happen? How have I been here so long???

After PST I spent the weekend in Pretoria which was fantastic, until it wasn't. Steph and Nathan and some others all hung out, went dancing and I ate loads of cheese! Cheese sandwhiches, cheese pizza, cheese bagels ( I found bagels!!!) and cheese sticks. It was wonderful. Nathan and I got pierced together (he his ears, me my eyebrow-Sorry DAD!!!) and we saw great movies. And the last night there, as most of you already know, I was awakened at 4 am to screaming and yelling and somethign about a knife and "my bags!" Turns out two men broke into the hostel and took bags. One girl was stabbed. They were in my room and took my phone, I"m just thankful nobody was hurt and who really cares about a phone. Although I was never happier to get out of Pretoria and back to my bubble of a life in my village. It sucks knowing you are never really safe. It was a shock and I'm sure I'll be nervous for a while!

And now, today, I've been playing soccer with dozens of children with balls that were donated from a friend I've made in the area. I've never seen my feet the color that they are! It's kind of sad how gross I can tolerate myself being when I'm at my site! Oh well, not like anyone cares anyway. So, that's pretty much the update. I'm sorry it's been so long, but I was away from computers for some time. However, some miracle came upon me and my high school somehow acquired 15 computers with internet out of nowhere. I feel it's best not to push how they managed that! Don't ask, Don't tell seems to work wonders here.

Things are happening. Just when I think they aren't, I look around and see both small and large changes that are happening in this world here. Someday sometime I'll upload tons of pictures of Venda, weddings, PST etc. I have a million to put up, but will have to wait for another time.

Peace to all!

In July Ryan and I went to Sabie, Graskop and Kruger National Park. I have to say it was much better than anything I could have expected. Sabie and Graskop are just north of Nelspruit in Mmpumalanga province. It's absolutely gorgeous there with surrounding mountains and it's so green, I nearly forgot how green trees can be. Ryan adjusting to driving on the other side of the road was a bit terrifying at moments but I held my breath and just looked on at the scenery. Our first night we stayed in Sabie at this adorable bed and breakfast. It was like heaven. This amazing shower, swimming pools and a great breakfast. We spent the evening eating amazing lasagna and had drinks at this cute little mountain pub. As the evening went on, there were some very drunk afrikaners who made friends with us. They were ridiculous and amusing at the same time. But it made for fun jokes for us.

Our second day we toured through Graskop and ran into Kaitlin near Hazyview area before entering the park. It was really fun to see her, realizing peace corp is small. Never know when you'll run into anyone!!! And then, we entered my heaven and it was like being on excstacy for me, or so I would imagine at least.

Not five minutes into the park we saw the first of literally thousands of impala. And literally another five minutes in we saw a heard of elephants, thus the beginning of my infatuation with their big ears, strange trunks and ability to destroy a tree in a matter of minutes. Throughout the next four days, we saw Elephant in herds, one by one, with babies and in different geographic settings. We saw them marching through rivers, disappearing into thick trees and wandering through the savannah.

That evening as we arrived at the first bungalo resort, we decided to go for a drive. Ignoring the rather large signs and all instructions, we clearly missed the part that says NO DRIVING AFTER DARK! LARGE FINE! So, while trying to maneuver through the signs and having Giraffe nearly stick their head into our car, we followed the safari trucks as dusk was falling to find two female lions on the side of the road. It was amazing...before the drivers yelled at us that it was illegal and we had to go back. he said it was a 2000R fine if we did not return to camp. Scared and annoyed we went back to camp. Where as, we had to then wait to recieve our ticket for ignoring the signs and driving after dark. So, we then purchased a lot of alcohol, returned to our lovely bungalo, listened to the monkeys in the trees and drank away the worry of having to go to court tomorrow and pay 2000R. Our fine ended up costing nearly nothing but we did spend our first morning in the district court at Kruger National Park. But, we saw a large family of warthog on our way out and the rest of the day was unreal.

We vistited watering holes and saw crocodiles, hippo, cheetah, hyena, elephant, zibra and giraffe, as well as many other fabulous things. The landscape changed often and it was really fun to drive around. At any rest stop to eat, there were monkeys waiting to grab anythign they can. The baboons are the park clowns for sure, as Ryan said. He fell in love with them. And on our third day, we were robbed by monkeys.

Waiting at a beautiful lookout point above the Olephants River, we got out to take a picture, one of few places you are allowed to "alight from your vehicle at own risk." As we were, some young vervot monkeys charged us and before knowing what happened, they were attached to the car and when we looked around, there was one inside the car, taking our apples and our bread. They are smart. He pulled the bag and wrapping off the bread, threw it aside and jumped out of the window into the trees. THey looked on smug and successful. It was too funny to be angry.

After seeing lions at night and cheetah during the day, we left Kruger and visited my site for a few days. The entire week and a half was fantastic and Kruger went far beyond my expectations. I am excited to go back again and spend more time in Sabie. After years of loving animals, watching safaris on tv and drooling over leopard print and cheetahs, seeing them in the wild in real life was like a dream. And doing it with Ryan made it that much more perfect.

I thought that going back to site after nearly three weeks of being gone would be really difficult and challenging. After eating five times a day, taking three showers a day and socializing constantly, the quiet tranquility of my village was welcoming. I found that the things I thought would be hard to adjust back to (bucket bathing, dust, bugs, heat, cold, language etc) were actually normal and nice to get back into. I was excited to see my colleagues and go back to school. I was welcomed back by many visitors and was so happy to see my family again. I don't know if it's truly that I've adjusted or that I've been here nearly six months or just that I have finally been given back some freedom and control in my life. Whatever the reason, I feel that I have jumped the hoop. I felt that I came home and enjoyed the comforts of my house in the evenings. I think I can say now that I feel truly happy in my village. I realized one night this week, reading people magazine and enjoying licorice sent from home (thanks Laurel) that I love what I'm doing here.

Every day I learn something new and find that I am stunned by this world here. My friend and co worker Joyce came running to me one morning, screeching Lethabo Lethabo! I thought someone had died. I jumped up asking what was wrong. Her eyes were filled with tears as she said, out of breath, "They called. They told her I got it. I got the job!" I covered my mouth and jumped around hugging her. Joyce, who has lost every family member, including her husband and is raising her sisters two kids in addition to her own. Joyce who has been penniless for five months. Joyce, who works every day to treat her TB patients. Who asks me for money so she can go to town and attend HIV workshops for the Home based Care. Joyce, who has been praying to god every morning, afternoon and night for money and for food to feed her children, was offered a job at the Clinic as an HIV/AIDS counselor and will be making a gigantic salary. She and I would walk through the village day in and day out for weeks visiting patients and reciting answers in preparation for her interview. We would go over and over why she should go for it. Why she would be perfect for the job. Over and over, I had to reassure her she is capable of such a job. She would write down every tip she knew, ask questions and practice her answers over and over to ensure perfection. She hitchiked her way to Polokwane to attend an interview, competing against 15 other candidates. And on that sunny bright morning, her calls to god and her prayers were answered. I found myself tearing up at pure happiness for her. Finally, after struggling, she can close her eyes at night knowing she can find comfort in the security this job will provide for her! She said, "My children will go to school Lethabo!"

Poverty here is striking. Unfortunately, Joyce's story is not unusual. Nor is it the worst I've seen or heard. I try to imagine what it would be like... to literally have nothing. No penny in my pocket. For nearly five months, she has not had a cent to her name. The stipen she is meant to receive of R500 from the government for working as a Carer has been stopped, as they are doing throughout the country. The only food in her home has been Pap. If it had run out, there would have been nothing for her. I asked her what she would have done. She said she would have given her children sugar water. I have lived with not much money myself. I've worked jobs where I scrape by, literally week to week, sometimes down to five dollars left. It's the unfortunate consequence of having a passion for people. In the field of social work, I will never be rich. But I can acquire comfort and safety. I have the freedom to go back to school, and can change career paths if I choose. I remember being 14 and my dad said to me, "Just know Rebecca. There is no money in social work. You should think about that." But just like love, you can't choose where your heart takes you. God knows I've tried to escape the world of social services and homeless population. But here I am, serving in South Africa as a volunteer, making nothing at 27 years of age. And yet, I look at Joyce and the countless other names I could write down, knowing I have never come close to living the impoverished life they lead. Despite my own financial struggle, I have a family that would feed me and I have the skills to find jobs. I have worked two before just to pay my bills. But in my struggles, I never feared my paycheck would not come to me. I never feared I would not be able to buy food, or find it elsewhere. My struggle week to week was simply making choices. Such as, Do I buy the expensive cheese or not? Should I go to the Buffalo Gap tonight with friends or not? If I drive to Vancouver tonight, I guess I'll have to fill my car up only half way the rest of this week. Do I buy a new pair of shoes today, or wait until next week when I'm paid. These are my struggles.

Sometimes it makes my stomach turn. My friends here really struggle. I left America not understanding the true freedom I had. It's not just running water, it's warm running water. It's not just a bathroom, it's having toilet paper as well. It's not just buying food, it's the ability to drive to the store any day of the week and choose what food I want. In the midst of the coldest month of the year, I wash my dishes at night feeling my hands go numb. I wear my hat and scarf and jacket at 8pm just as part of my night wear. I see my breath in my house every morning. And then, as if a miracle hit me upside the head, I realized as I was struggling to wash my clothes when I couldn't feel my hands, "why not boil water to wash dishes in?" I was so proud of myself realizing this. I mean, honestly, I boil water to drink, why not do it to wash. So, as I'm fetching water to boil, I see my 18 year old sister, struggling to pass the 9th grade and who doesn't know where Europe is, and tell her, "Hey Luc, if you boil water, it's much easier to wash your clothes that way." She nearly fell to the ground laughing. She said, "You didn't know that!" and walked away. It was not a question. It was a pure statement. And once again, I was brought to my knees, humbled by my stupidity. Something that never would occur to me is just life here. And why would it occur to me that I would need to heat water to simply clean my socks? It's not a part of my thinking. So, I still am learning. And I suppose the easiest thing to do is just laugh at myself.

These are the freedoms that I would never have categorized as such 6 months ago. But they are also luxuries that I don't need. I really love that I am living this way and surviving. And happy. it is opening my eyes in such ways that I never dreamed of. I can't help but think, who am I to complain of bucket baths. Or having a lack of transport. Who am I to feel sorry for myself when I feel lonely or isolated. Get over yourself. Does it really matter in the sceme of things. Who cares that my skin is terrible or that my hair falls out in clumps. This is a life I have CHOSEN for a mere 2 years time. I don't even have that anymore. Next week I'll have been here for 6 months! I have 18 months left. And at the end, I can travel and go home to all the comforts that I once lived. That is my destiny. That is my life. It's a fact. And I wake up in the morning seeing the changes I'm making. I know I am making a difference. It hit me hard when I came back from being gone for so long. I want to throw my entire purpose into creating something here. I didn't come across the world to do nothing. It's my chance to do something! It's a blessing I have been given to do so. So, in watching Joyce dance around, I felt a change in myself. A moment captured in time where her eyes will forever be ingrained in my memory. While I have the satisfaction in knowing this is merely a time frame in my life, this is Joyce's whole life. She will never leave the village. So I had best give it 150% while I am here. If I am to go back to the luxury of washing machines and indoor plumbing, I had better dedicate my heart and soul to this village. I don't mind working 7 days a week, walking hours on end to have a meeting. I don't mind at all wearing a coat at night or running through mass cows. This is life. This is how most people in the world survive. I think that landing here in this country is what I am meant to be doing. It's unique and if I do nothing more with my life, at least I am doing something now.

After a long two weeks at IST training, we are officially off lockdown, allowed to travel and off I went to Pretoria. It was the 4th of July weekend and the US Ambassador invited Peace Corps Volunteers to his celebration at his fortress. Arriving in Pretoria felt like landing in Brussels. It's very European and feels nothing like what I've come to know in South Africa. Busy roads and fancy buildings. Business attire and McDonalds. Irish Pubs, music, malls and movie theater's are in the palm of your hands.

A group of us went to the celebration and it was truly mixing both worlds. Black and White. His home is a fortress and he had guards, more food than you can imagine, face painting, a band playing etc etc. It was held next to his home at the American Community Center. There were many people there and after being around South Africans, it felt strange again to interact with Americans, who don't tend to mill around and socialize with those you don't know. Most stayed in their cocoon, speaking only with those they deem familiar and sipping wine and gin and tonic. I definitely enjoyed myself, reverting back to a ten year old. I had my face painted, ate hotdogs and hamburgers, swung on swings and jumped around in one of those bouncing castle things (see uploaded photo's). Seems that peace corp tends to do that. But it makes things fun.

While I"m standing around, mingling, I just couldn't help but notice the distinct line that's become my life. While I am eating a feast, someone else is fetching water. While I am surrounded by million dollar homes in the hills, laying on manicured lawn, someone else is walking 5 miles with firewood on their head. While I chat with women and comment on how adorable their purse is, or how cool their gucci sunglasses are, I realize someone else not more than 10 k away is starving in an impoverished village. I'm dripping ketchup down my face, meanwhile, others are fighting for space on a packed kumbi to get home before dark. And how do you fit into a life like that. I suppose I can choose, or I can mix between. It's a difficult place to stand.

The evening before the 4th, some friends and I went out into Hatfield Square. It was a blast. It was markets and a big square with pubs, music, dancing...what once seemed to be my normal Friday night scene. As the night wore on, I noticed the entire bar is Afrikaner. All the bartenders are white, while cleaning staff are black. All the restaurant servers are white, while those cleaning up garbage and cigarette butts are black. And on the dance floor, while dancing with black South Africans, the white S Africans who'd been dancing silently next to me all night long, proceeded to give glares towards me and my friends. What felt like a normal night no longer felt "normal." These white guys start grabbing at me, trying to pull me away, as though some black guy got in their way. All I could think was South Africa has such a long way to go. I realize jobs and wealth distribution is slowly changing, but it's a slow change. And when these Afrikaners were grabbing, glaring and trying to take us from the black S'A's, I realized that it's a challenge to curb my resentment towards the White South Africans. Why should I be served first, when a black person was in line before me? Why should I be greeted with a smile, and a black person is ignored? Why are only black people in the streets picking up trash? Where does one world start and the other end? And why is it that being white somehow grants power, control and ultimately freedom? Is it fair to mistreat others because they are white. I think it's fair to say most would not stand for it. Yet in a country where the majority continues to suffer and fight poverty and illiteracy, the minority continues to oppress those around them. The difference is that now instead of being direct, it comes out on a dance floor or while standing in line at the grocery store. And for the first time in my life, I notice these things. I notice being white, even in a white city, in a white bar and in a white lifestyle, while living in a black dominated country. And I feel more out of place among those of my own color, than others here. And while I can't change my color or how I was raised, I think this is a world where I will always struggle to fit into both. In my mind, being white makes me no better no worse. It just makes me work harder to find the mold which I can use to hold a very thin line together.

I just have to start by saying that on my way into town this monring I saw 10-15 giraffe grazing the trees by the road with the lovely mountains in the background. And then as we turned onto the dirt road, the door of the car actually flew open becuase of the intense potholes and what not! Amazing really. Sometimes, I feel like I live in a warped world. But I laugh because it really is hysterical. The baboons have babies all over the place now so they are really cute too! It's so nice, and makes coming to town adventuresome.

Last night I was staring at my cubboard of food, still having not been able to go grocery shopping (I will today) and ate rice krispies dipped in peanut butter. It was actually quite good. A neighbor down the street has an adorable little puppy named Molly that is my new friend. She comes over adn hangs out in my home all the time. And she's so stinkin cute. It's helped my festering desire to find a pet. i'm just terrified of how they are treated, both in my presence and away. So, i think Molly will suffice for now. She really is cute. I've taken some picts so when I can upload them in Polokwane, you'll see her. She kind of looks like a tiny Harley! She chases the chickens and goats.

Last weekend was full of festive culture. I went to my first traditional South African Wedding! It was just really amazing. The woman is Venda and the man is Sepedi, so all the old gogo's were dressed in their traditional outfits and sang and danced. They taught me four dances. It was strange though because there was a problem with the dress itself. So the wedding which was meant to begin at 10am actually didn't start until 4:30pm. It was fun all the same because they had music and dancing. I love it becuase weddings are all about coming together and having fun. For a culture without much "fun" they definitely know how to throw a traditional party. It was hours of dancing and music. I went with my cousins who were so gorgeous all dressed up. When the wedding actually started, we had to get into the kumbi's (taxi's) which the drivers and most men were just smashed wasted. They caravaned everyone to the church in the village and were honking, blasted music and purpously swerved all over the road. I actually felt afraid because they wanted to do donuts in the road as well. It was out of control. I sat up front with three girls piled on my lap. Taxi's are meant to hold 12-15 people. I'm quite sure we had at least 30 piled into the mini bus. The driver turns to me and says, "Don't worry Lethabo, I don't drink beer. I do this!" as he holds up his bottle of vodka. I'm just thinking, shit, shit shit!!! So, after a harrowing drive we arrived at the church which because it was so late in the day, the ceremony itself was very short. It was nice. Nobody here smiles for pictures though, so it's strange. But I think it's cultural because in all photos I've ever seen, nobody smiles for it. But afterwards, when they were doing traditional dances and songs, they were laughing and happy. During the ceremony, a very drunk dude continued to yell and push his way thorugh the crowd to the front while they were saying their vows. I thought for sure the bride would collapse.. first her dress is wrong, then the wedding is delayed five hours, now this drunk asshole is interrupting her cherished service. But nobody paid any mind and my cousing Maggie said that it's normal. People think nothing of it! Alright.

Afterwards, we went back to the home where everyone was singing and dancing and just really letting loose. But as the sun goes down, it's time for me to go home. So, we left shortly after, but I had to get back into that damn taxi with that drunk driver again. However, it was the only option because I was in another village and would have had to walk through forest to get home. NO thanks!

So, then the following Sunday, my host father invited me to his church. They are Dutch Reform and it was up north near the border in a village called Pax which I'd not been to. They had a really lovely service and a huge father's day celebration with cake and custard and a really awesome meal. I met some interesting women who talked a lot about how they believe the condoms here distributed for free from the clinics have worms in them and that's why nobody uses them. Insane, right. Then, as the men were in a meeting, I spoke with a bunch of 13 year olds from that village. As soon as I told them my name, they gasped and said they knew of me. They'd heard about me through their friends in Lovelife. I was shocked. Over an hour away from my village, some kids knew me! A perfect example of how everyone knows your business and there is no privacy. But it was cute. Then, they all wanted to show me what they know of HIV. So, even a fun day at church still involves elements of work. There is no such thing as a day off when you live in a village. But it was nice to do something with my dad here. He's so quiet and likes to keep to himself but with me, he is becoming quite the chatter bug. It's nice.

As my three months of orientation come to an end, I reflect back on all I've done so far, and all I feel I've not done. It is challenging to come from a world that is fast, advanced and resourceful. Being a busy body, working jobs that rush you, push you and, sometimes break you, it's difficult to suddenly adjust to a world that moves slowly, worrying about nothing and valuing the person more than the time. Accomplishment comes in small doses and sometimes when I move too quickly here (or too slowly) I forget to think that accomplishment here encompasses small matters, sometimes leaving no tangible mark. I've started an HIV support group, after school programs, had soccer balls donated, a grant of $10,000.00 approved and am in the beginnings of creating a community garden for the orphans and HIV patients. Though it sounds like a lot, they are in itself, long projects and requires dedicated hard work. Making the meetings happen takes time and having to hand write proposals or ideas is a struggle when I am used to computers. I struggle in feeling that I have the ideas and support, but become inpatient in waiting for that key person to call back, or attend the meeting or simply show up to work.

On the other hand, I've attended weddings, community events, slaughtered a chicken, been dressed in Venda tradition, learned songs and dance and how to cook South African food. I've accomplished doing laundry in two hours rather than four and can run through a large group of cows without hesitating. I have learned to shut my door at all times to avoid dust covering my room and I even have figured out the best time to go to the pit toilet. And I survived being bit by a spider four times right on my ass!

So, as I reflect over three months, I realize a lot is happening and a lot is changing. Though the efforts that once took a very short time to accomplish, now take weeks, or months, to do, I am learning the value in slowing down, greeting others and realizing, if it doesn't get done today, there's always next month!!! Or next year. And that is the brilliant nature of South Africa in it's greatest moments.

On 5/30/08 the SA Police Department in collaboration with the schools threw a very successful braii in celebration of Child Protection Awareness Week. After a month of planning and talking with several different villages and organizations, the event took off and was an amazing thing to participate in. I arrived at 7:30 in the morning in Rasibilu Primary School in my Village. When I arrived, there were lines of women preparing the cook. They had over ten caldroun kettles lined up over fire to cook porridge. In one corner, women were cleaning, another area women were cutting and preparing cabbage and onions and in a large open area, there were dozens of men standing around with large machette's, knives and other gigantic tools used to cut open "the beast." When I walked over to see what happened, I nearly gagged. What I originally thought was a mat they laid the meat on (remember all this is done outside in the dirt with no kitchen, no stoves or ovens and no real form of utensils) I quickly realized the "mat" was actually pounds and pounds of cow shit that had been released from all the intestines. The smell was overpowering and the amount of blood mixed with fluids and parts of a slaughtered cow was really unforgettable.

As much as I struggle with the slaughtering of animals here, it's become a regular occurance for me and I no longer cringe each time. I understand how desparate people are for meat and I appreciate that every single body part of the animals are used for food. However, seeing such a large animal laying in it's own filth with it's head and four legs sitting in a separate location made me turn my face. Despite the filth, it was almost mesmerizing as well to watch a group of young men so quickly cut up the meat and cook it. The intestines are cooked on the ground over ash and the many chunks of different types of meat were cooked in large pots. The smoke from the fire swirled from the air and everyone was singing and dancing. This is the essence of a true Braii in South Africa.

I watched as children spilled in from every direction. Myself covered in red dirt, food and sweat from setting up large event tents and cooking looked completely unpresentable for such an occaision. The kids, however, praise me as unfaliable no matter what. As they came for the event at 10am when it was meant to begin, the officers approached me and said, "Lethabo, you're on the program! What will you say?" I looked at him, laughed and said, "Nobody told me I had to speak. I'm here to watch what you've created." "No," he says, "You must entertain the kids. You see, they are all coming now but we are not yet ready. Can you do this." I looked at him, gave him a thumbs up and said of course. He eyed my jeans and stained shirt, shrugged, and said, okay, you must speak. So, again, without thinking or any preparation, I once again was off and running with ways in which I can potentially influence that one person!

We had enormous tents, chairs from all the schools and a large sound system put in place. All the children were lined in a half circle playing in the dirt and waiting, for what they don't know. Events here function differently. There is always dead time and a lot of waiting. However, here it is a time of peace. As so much revolves around work and labor, when there are times to relax and "wait" it is taken as a precious moment. As I walked up to the site with my bag in tow, having a loss of words in my mind, they kids all yell, "Lethabo!!" over and over. The music was playing loud and I threw my bag down and had them all clap and stand up. Music here is a large part of life and they really love American R&B or rap music. Sounding in the air was mixed American music with African dance music. The kids here all have rythem and can all dance and it's a great way to pass time.

In ways in which I still don't understand, I managed to have a few thousand children ranging in ages up, dancing and performing in front of their local peers for one hour, while they were clapping and dancing. As I moved to the background, it was enchanting to see the children take on leadership roles on their own, dancing for their friends and finding some organized strategy in the mix of chaos. I've never seen so many children smiling and laughing at one time.

The event began, the children were taught to say "Stop Abusing Us!" in English and throughout the event, chanted in unison to the adults all there watching. The teenagers in Love Life performed poems and drama about child abuse and HIV/AIDS. On this day, the children shines as hero's in each other's eyes. My village Makgato is said to have the second highest child abuse rate in the entire district. Seeing these children, many of whom are potentially living in unsafe situations, stand up for themselves and hear their rights as Free Children of South Africa is something that I will not forget. The SA Police did an amazing job of catering to the needs of the children, keeping them entertained and empowering them, even if it's for one day only.

Afterwards, an amazing amount of food was served and herds of children swarmed throughout the streets. Being a hot Friday afternoon, of course the odds of the children finding their way back to school was impossible and watching them shove pap and meat into their small bodies was worth it. Once again, I felt mesmerized by how quickly South Africans come together, enjoy each other and truly celebrate their gift of life. An event such as this one does not happen often and for the children to both attend as well as participate is something that I hope they will experience more of. I'm thankful that I was able to participate in such a gift that these young kids received. And perhaps one of those children heard our words and will find strength to speak out and protect his/herself as they all have the right to do so as the children, the educated and the future of South Africa.

I've updated photo's through picassa web album. Check them out.

Last Monday I attended a meeting with the SA Police Department at their Headquarters in ElDorado. They requested my help in planning an event to celebrate child protection awareness week. They have been planning a large Braii for the community at large to attend. The past few Mondays I have spent in participating in their meetings and planting suggestions to the Inspectors. The experience alone has brought so much insight to the work I'm doing here. Typically I am transported with no problems becuase my aunt is the leading chairperson for the police department. Meetings are not held without her presence, and she now insists I must also be there. Typically, we ride in a very nice SUV that hides the ruts in the road well. Most of the hour long drive is on unpaved, gravel road with nothing but bushland and birds along the way. Nonetheless, I keep my eyes peeled for giraffe or baboons along the way.

This past Monday, however, was quite a different experience. We rode in an actual police vehicle with bright green stripes and an on duty officer at the wheel. My entire village stopped to stare as I was transported by police out of Makgato so early on a Monday. I smiled and waved, hoping they understood I was not under arrest, but the look on their faces makes it hard to know for sure. When attending the meeting, almost nobody came and they had a massive amount of food for us all. When leaving, however, many asked to hitch a ride back to the village in the police vehicle. As transportation is limited, it was of course no problem. However, this meant not much space for us all. I watched as the beautiful, cushioned suv drove off and and large, mini bus type vehicle showed up with barred windows, propane tanks in the back and nothing but tin rippled flooring in the back. I looked at my Aunt Jane, adn she said, "A Re Ya, Lethabo! Let's go." I laughed, and said, "In the back!" She said, yes, it's fine. She took my white sweater, used it to wipe off a very dirty dusty bench, and said, "There, it's okay!" I laughed adn said okay. I had them help me into the back of the police truck where it was dark, uncomfortable adn I had to lean over to sit without bumping my head. The windows are barred with netting, making your visibility pretty hazy. I scooted over waiting for her to join me, but instead, the large metal door was slammed shut and there I was, locked in the back of a South African Police Vehicle in the middle of nowhere. My aunt, it seems found room inside the passenger cab and squeezed herself right in there! Two other women joined me back there, whom I don't know and as they laughed adn rambled on in Sepedi, too fast for me to hear, I braced myself against large tires and gas tanks as we pulled away. The hour long ride I've come to look forward to became a nightmare in a matter of seconds. My head hit against the window more times than I can count, I couldn't hear over the rattling of the windows and gravel and all i could do was lean forward, with my fingers hanging through the barred window. As I tried to see the world passing by outside, I realized this is how they transport prisoners. There is nothing but shaking, bumping and gas tanks that shift from one side to the other of the back of the truck. Not knowing where I was or how far we were from home, I realized that I have never behind barred windows like this before.

Protecting my head from the shaking of the vehicle, I closed my eyes and laughed, waiting until I was able to get out and see the light of day again.

As I walked home that early evening, I boiled water to take a bath and thought again about how my vision was so blurred in that vehicle. Stretching my back and laughing at the irony that the first time I've been thrown in the back of a police car is in South Africa, I went to open my windows for some fresh air. I realized, with a shock, that my windows in my home are also barred, my door is barred and virtually every home and yard I've seen in all of South Africa is also barred. It struck me as odd that I'm living behind barred windows every day, yet I don't see them anymore. It took a rattling bench and unpaved road for it to sink in that my life now is behind barred windows. Here in South Africa, it's apparent every day how their freedom is so different from my own. I've never looked out from the inside of a barred room. I've never gone a day where I'm unable to see daylight by choice. And I've never known what it's like to feel so afraid that a culture has adapted fencing and security as part of their lifestyle.

Before Apartheid ended, black South Africans had to have a pass to walk through certain streets. Without one, they were often arrested and held without reason, or killed in the streets. Dogs were taught to attack anyone who was black and they walked with their head down, belittled and abused every day of their life for decades on end. It's no wonder their is such fear instilled here. I only hope one day South Africa will be able to open their window and see clearly all that is in front of them, with no bars on their windows, nothing blocking their footsteps and nobody but their own shadow following them in the streets.

So, it's a typical Sunday in Makgato, bloody hot as ever and not a sound in the air. It's either go to church and get all dressed up, or clean and do laundry. This time I opted for laundry. After four hours of scrubbing, washing and rinsing, I finally feel that my clothes are clean. My cousin called me and said, "Lethabo, you must come help cook dinner!!" I of course jumped at the chance. African food here is amazing, but I have to be careful. It's all grease, carbs and a LOT of salt. But, I never turn it down all the same!! So, I walk over to their one room home, pass the cows and chicken, still admiring the mountains that have come to be my refuge in need of comfort. As I approach, dozens of children call out, "Lethabo, Lethabo, O ya Kae!!" I respond, "Ke ya motswala wakhe hhaiye". I am going to my cousin's home.

When I arrive, I learn that cooking dinner actually meant fetching a live chicken and THAT was to be our dinner!! So, as my aunt Jane, Ironic I have an aunt jane here in africa as well as America, holds the chicken by the feet upside down, I assisted in helping my cousin slice it's neck quickly and painlessly. However, I still cringed and had to turn my head. After that, we poured boiling water over the chicken, plucked all the feathers and cut out all the insides. We cut out the heart, liver, kidneys, intestines (totally discusting cleaning them. Do you know what comes out of that!!!) We cut up the meat into pieces and boiled it all for dinner. The process took over an hour. Then we made porridge over fire in a cauldron and also had to herd the cows home. When Maggie called and invited me to help with dinner, I imagined peeling potatoes or, as I usually do, sit and watch as they prepare meals I could never dream of making. Little did I know what they had in mind!!!

After dinner, I walked home and thought again, how is it that I really live in Africa. Everywhere I look, there are new things to see, people to greet and emotions that tend to catch me off guard. However, slowly, the small things are becoming normal. The sun sets every night and our papaya trees and Orange trees are starting to turn ripe!! The orange sky and bright moon that stands out really are breathtaking. I washed my hands of blood and guts at home and sat with my sister as we watched some African dancing on TV. I had to kill a few cockroaches before going to bed, but all the same, I felt full, content and ready to start my new week!!! These are the days of South Africa.

Two days later, my co worker and friend Joyce came over and we spent the afternoon cooking rice, some sort of cow's meat that I didn't ask where it came from and butternut. Butternut is a form of squash and has become my favorite food here!! It was delicious. As we sat to eat and said a prayer for us, I looked at the meal I had prepared and cooked all from scratch!! There is something fulfilling in sharing this meal with Joyce and knowing that my mother would be so proud of me. Using onions, spices and vegetables all grown in our own village!!! These things never happened back home. Watching her eat meat that she may not have at home, made me realize maybe I can't convince youth to wear condoms, or that a root from the forest won't actually save them from HIV/AIDS, but perhaps seeing her laugh and smile is some small change that I created.

After dinner I walked to the shop to buy bread. A young man of 33 asked me about HIV. He said he's never used a condom and will not be tested because he knows he is okay. I asked him why. He said because he drinks tea from his church and mixes a root from the deep bush. He said his grandfather told him that this will keep him protected. I asked him if he's so sure, to come with me to the clinic to be tested. He bowed his head, laughed, and said, "Oh Lethabo, I can't do that!! You know, eish, I can't do that." I asked why. He shook his head, smiled and said, "I want to have your baby!!" My jaw dropped as I said, "You're out of your mind. You just got done telling me you don't know if you have hiv/aids and you actually asked me to have sex with you???" I laughed and said, "You know better!" He laughed, said he will come over on Monday and we'll get tested. He will not come. He will not get tested. But my hope is the next time he is in a relationship, my voice will pop into his head and maybe that will happen enough, in enough young minds here that one person will change their behavior.

These are things that I struggle with and watch as I can't do anything to stop it. But all I can do is provide them with hope and truth, which will stand out in their minds. It's important to keep trying and one day, it's going to change. I have faith that the youth here believe what's happening. They know it's one day at a time. And they are a constant reminder of why I am here.

I uploaded photo's in picasso gallery. Go to http://picasaweb.google.com/cheapup. Please let me know if you cannot access them, as I've never uploaded picts before.

Stay well.

Hello all. As I spend my days in rural South Africa, living in the Northern part of Limpopo province, I often feel that the modern world has passed right over Africa. With no running water and limited electricity, I find myself working hard to do things that at one point were so simple. What used to be a simple chore of throwing clothes in the wash, now takes four hours to fetch the water, lift the water, soak the clothes, scrub them on your hands until your raw and bleeding, then rinse them, wring them and hang them while they bleach in the blazing sun. It takes roughly four hours. Much like life now, things are slow, quiet and peaceful, all taking hours to complete a task simply becuase it's so bloody hot here, you can't do much but sit under a large tree and have "cold drink" aka soda.

Last weekend I spent my sunday with my cousins learning to cook Morogo, a type of spinach and porridge. I picked it from the garden, cooked over a fire pit that was so hot and dusty, my eyes were tearing the whole time, and milked cows to use the milk for our porridge. Everything I ate was something I picked myself and made from scratch. I went to church where a prophet called me from a crowd, pulled me aside and rambled for ten minutes in Sepedi, all of which I could not understand. It was translated that if I drink tea for two weeks, my family and friends in America will be well taken care of. I figure, why not. And after church, and being rained on in a typical afternoon shower, two full rainbows appeared in the dark stormy sky overhead. My cousin grabbed my hand and said, "Lethabo, do you know what that is?" as she points to the sky. I say, yes they are rainbows. She said, "You know what, Lethabo. It rains today on us and shines with rainbows because people, you know, they pray. They pray for their pain to go away. Today is a good day. God shed tears for all our pain, and now we can eat and be happy." And she grabbed my hand as we stood in line for porridge, cabbage, chicken feet and morogo, as people danced and sang, feeling free of their sadness for one more day.

I have been in S. Africa for not even one month and it feels like forever. It’s exhausting being here, taking it all in. So many aspects of my life have changed. It’s easy to take it all in, see where I am and feel peaceful. But as I sit under the Milky Way, I can only reflect on my life.

S. Africa is special. I now know how to greet someone in 6 languages. I can sing the SA National anthem and have learned some African songs. I can play with kids and speak a little of their language. And I’m slowly making friends with the millions of spiders. (Not the mosquitoes! They all should DIE!)

I came home from school today hot and exhausted. I greeted a dozen children in my 7 minute walk and had to stop before crossing the road so the local cows could be moved home. Chickens dodge my steps, as I dodge the locust! Sweaty and over stimulated, I enter my home to my Gogo (grandmother) washing dishes fetching water from across the way and preparing a meal for me and her grandchildren. Somehow I no longer feel tired. Tonight I learned how to make more dishes for one meal than I know total in my cooking knowledge. In many ways, my life here is healthier than back home. I purify my water, cook all my meals, walk everywhere, brush my teeth all the time and wash my hands, floss more than you’d care to know (mangos are a disaster to eat without faucets!)

Everyday I wake up to chickens making more noise than I knew possible and fall asleep to crickets chirping away. The sky is so blue and the clouds seem painted in. There are fewer trees so the grasslands sprawl. The mountains encircle my village and each day we all pray for rain. It never happens.

I can’t forget why I came here. It’s in your face daily. In class, we are all learning just how difficult our work will be. But as I’m introduced to the municipality, other local Peace Corps volunteers and community members, the passion to be here fills my heart. Everyday I am pointed out by my race and am expected to partake in specific roles based on gender. I laugh a lot at my millions of mistakes and frustrations that come about.

Despite the change I am making in my life and the obvious (and not so obvious) difficulty that presents, I close my eyes content each night. I embrace my family and new friends and think about what it means to be American. I’m here studying culture, and yet find I struggle to define my own. How do I explain my name means nothing? Or that I never lived with my grandparents. That I don’t want to be married now! So, as my evening comes to a close I can smile at all I’m taking in. This place has so much to offer and I can walk into the challenge comfortably. I see a sense of pride and honor here that I hope I carry with me. So, I wave goodnight to the kids, watch the sunset and feel honored that I am here. I realize that it’s not as much me teaching South Africans, but rather South Africans teaching me. Shalang habutsi, hambani Kakhle.

Love,

Rebecca

Hey all!!! Tobella from the depths of South Africa. It is March first and I've been in Africa one month now!!! I am living with a host family in Limpopo province whom I love. It is my Gogo(grandmother), my host sister and her two kids. My gogo and sister speak English well and have amazing stories of Apartheid. We use a pit toilet on the property and have no running water. To take a shower, I have a bucket that I have to boil water, carry the water to the buckets, then move the buckets to the "bathing room" at which point I then have somehow figured out how to take a bath. Showers are nonexistent here. It's quite a task, much like everything. My first day at my home, I did not even know how to wash my hands because there are no sinks or faucets. Don't get me started on my spider friends. One night a cochroach was crawling on my arm. Gross. I don't use the bathroom after dark anymore either because one night I went out wiht a flashlight and a giant spider the size of my hand and a cochroach, also similar in size, were fighting each other on the toilet seat!!! Yeah, I even plan my evening tea around when the sun sets to aviod using the pit toilet. My life........ :)

I've eaten mopane worms, chicken feet, cow hoof and some sort of intestine since being here. Lots of rice and pap, which I love. It's like a porrige mix of rice and corn. I can't descirbe it. I eat more meat here than I have in my entire life. I stop asking what I'm eating.I've learned it's best just to close my eyes and eat. I laugh a lot. We don't use utensils, it's all my hands. Makes for messy meals given no running water!!! So far, only one day of Diareaha, however, other fellow trainees are not as lucky. I really had to adjust to the food. I never feel full because it's a lot of empty calories. And, they eat at different times. I try to run, but it's not safe after dark so there goes my evening. I've gotten somewhat used to being called Lahoa-white person and have learned to avoid the shabines, w hich are the local bars!!! Not fun to walk by them.

It;s hotter than hell here with the most awesome thunder storms EVER. The lightening shoots out of the sky four at a time, lighting up the mountains. The sky turns black and it rains harder than I can even descibe. It comes on out of nowhere and 15 minutes later, its dry and hot again. I feel bad for the goats. They get pelted. The thunder is crazy. We all jump because of the noise!!!

I spend my days learning isizZulu and I can now say hello and greet people in about six languages. I've learned some Afrikaans, Sepedi and my language I'll be speaking is zulu. Clicks and all!! I love it. We have class everyday and saturdays. Sundays are supposed to be restful, but are not. I have gone to church, which is four hours long and amazing, I've gone to a wedding celebration which was so much song and dance and even went on a game drive ON MY BIRTHDAY. I saw monkeys, cheetah, zebra, giraffe, ostrich, wild dogs, hippo and millions of birds. We had a huge braii(bbq) and just spent all day eating with monkeys. There are babies everywhere so it's really awesome. ON my first day here, I saw a warthog and some gazelle's as well.

My town is in the mountains and the sky looks painted. It's so green here with red rocks and all the roads are red. As I mentioned via email, I don't see cars much and donkey carts are common. Coming to the city today is overwhelming because life has slowed down. There is not one thing that is the same here. But the kids and locals have taken us into their hearts and take care of us here.

These people are amazing. They survive with nothing and every morning I wake up to so many new things. SOme days you want to pull your hair out because I don't understand how things work. But everyday I laugh with my new friends, my family and kids. The kids here make my life amazing. THey are beautiful and want to know you so much. They are always around and meet me after school everyday. They love to sing songs. I have taught them jumprope and lots and lots of games. We play forever. They come up to you and greet you with thier big smiles. They clap their hands together and extend their arms. That's their greeting. I just kneel down, kiss their hands and cuddle up with them. Despite the fact that they may not have ever seen a white person before, that they have lived with the most hatred I've ever ever come across and may not eat much, they are so happy to see you. It is heartbreaking and heartwarming all in one. I feel so blessed and honored to be here and am so excited that for I get two more years here. The South Africans are by far the most warm, genuine and hospitable group of people I've ever met. Each day is challenging but I love it. My friends and I just laugh so hard because there is nothing else to do. What do you do when you need to get to town and the Kumbi (taxi) just doesn't show up. Or how do you respond when someone says to you "So, AIDS is a black person's disease, isn't it?" Or when a group of fifteen children run to you and say "Lebo, Lebo," and just want to be touched. They don't see the broken glass or the litter, or the lack of amenities that six weeks ago in my world I thought nothing of. They don't care that they eat on the floor or don't have book bags. They don't care that their toilet is outside, or that you have to take care of your whole village to be sure everyone is safe. They see tires to play with, and use mango pits to grow treas. They see their families that love them and have more hope for their future than I ever could imagine. Somehow, in one short month, this country has changed my sense of hope and has allowed me to begin to understand just what it means to be American I see these people, my family, and am beginning to understand how poverty and true beauty unite as one. There is more warmth here than I can describe and I don't want to be anywhere other than where I am...

Much love,

Rebecca

Hey All!!! One more thought before we all fly away. Staging has been so interesting. I've made great friends already, LOVE my new Roommate Beth, who I swear, may be my lost twin, and have met so many interesting people. We have been introduced to safety issues in South Africa and all the talk of being there, and work and adapting just makes it exciting to go!!! There is an overwhelming amount of information to take in, but we're all in this together. I already see how it's true when they say, "You'll make friends for life here!!!" I believe it and think it's something to look forward to.

I have officially gotten my shots, started taking malaria medication and once again, packed up and am ready to fly. We get on the bus in a few hours to fly tonight!!! It's amazing that in 2 days or so, I'll be in South Africa!!! Just everyone hope that I get to see at least an Ostrich (Yes, apparently they live there, AND, you can ride them...OH MYYYY!) I didn't know that. A baboon will do as well.

FYI: As of today I will not be in contact until sometime in April!!! I won't have email or contact with a phone!!! Please write if you feel an itch and I'll be in touch as soon as I can.

Love to all, wish good thoughts (zebras and cheetah's and things) and keep in touch!!!

And off I go!!!

Love,

Rebecca

It's four days before I leave for my adventure in South Africa. Packing is a bitch but it's exciting to know that I'm so close to being my journey. There are a million thoughts that scurry through my head as I say goodbye to so many people, and of course my dog. The lust for adventure seems to take precedence over the fear, but there is still so much unknown. In a week from today, I'll be walking on the soil of South Africa and life there will begin. But tonight, I'm sitting home packing it all in, trying to figure out how to use a blog and preparing for life with no vehicle, no cell phone and no expectations of what will come before me.