Hi everyone, and sorry it’s taken so long to update this thing. I just got back from a two-week vacation with Angela (my step-mom, for those of you not in the know) and in the midst of elephant herds, beautiful deserted beaches and long bus rides, my cell phone got stolen, which means no internet, no email, no blog updates. For those of you keeping track, I AM having lots of pickpocketing “incidents.” Frustrating, yes, but as long as I stay intact, I’m a happy camper. Well, maybe not happy… I mean, it is my cell phone and connection to the outside world after all.
So, I’m back at the Peace Corps office for an exciting meeting (all Peace Corps meetings are exciting!), and first on the list is a cell phone, and warm pants are a close second. It’s fall here, and the evenings are starting to get nippy, and the office and my house are no longer saunas. The sun is still warm; it just means that I have to get outdoors to warm up.
So, my vacation was fabulous. Angela played the adventurer role extremely well as we experienced almost all Southern Africa has to offer (i.e. elephants, giraffes, pick-pocketing, crowded backpackers, mosquitoes, palm trees, turquoise oceans, noisy buses, poverty, luxury, and the occasional cockroach). It also gave me a chance to think about my time here as well, to process why I’m here, and why I choose to stay on a daily basis. It’s such a mixed bag since I have such a wonderful community in the States, and I’m the permanent outsider here. South Africa is no piece of cake, but I love the work I’m doing here. But life is also extremely tough. There is no escaping the crime, the racism, the corruption, and all the legacies of apartheid. The loneliness is like carrying a heavy blanket all the time, and it clouds the beauty that’s all around me.
One thing Angela said to me has given me lots to think about. She called me fearless, and I laughed out loud when she told me that; I’m scared or anxious or neurotic every single day here, but I realized that being fearless doesn’t have to mean I don’t feel fear. It just means that I keep going, keep making tough choices regardless of the fear. That’s the way you learn who you are, what you can and can’t do. I feel stretched to my limits almost every day, and facing my limitations isn’t my cup of tea. I’d much rather feel competent. Here that means looking at the little things: I’m competent at not getting head-butted when I walk through a herd of cows on my way to work, at fixing the printer at my office, at writing grant proposals, drinking tea with my co-workers, and knowing when I need a long nap. There are so many things that can't be changed here, at least right now, and at least not by me, so I look for the things I can do. If all goes well, Makotse Women's Club will be funded to start a job training and business skills program for the orphans they care for. We'll start a organic food garden to bring fresh veggies right to the village, and strengthen the community in a lot of little ways. And that's what I'm helping with; sometimes it doesn't feel enough, but it is.
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This is a difficult entry to absorb. I've often wondered why you're there too, but your path is difficult because you want so much for the world and easy because you have no choice but to keep walking. The half-marathon was kind of a microcosm: you were tired and bruised, but you walked to the end, full of love and pride. I wish I could take some of the loneliness from you, but it is just another stone on the path, and you will soon pass it. I will hug Cheza and Aluna for you tonight and pray for you. Love, Mom
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