Life Skills, some learned the hard way!

THINGS WE REALLY LOOK FORWARD TO IN THE US

Holding, touching and hearing Baby Matthew

Varied food (I plan never again to eat rice and beans.)

Being able to pick up food from somewhere else (pizza, Mexican, Chinese . .. ) when we are tired or rushed, or just have a craving

A microwave.  (notice that food features prominently in this list?  Where would I be without Katherine's ability to make pretty much out of pitifully little?)

Hi speed internet, reliable communications

Current news (careful what you wish for; on reflection, blessed isolation from bickering partisan politicians should be added to the "things we will miss" list; is there another election cycle due soon?)

Taking a shower whenever we want.  For as long as we want. 

Running water.  Hot, whenever we want!

Some media in addition to what we brought with us in 2013, what we got from other volunteers (How can they watch Game of Thrones?), and some thoughtful downloads from our children and their spouses over our 2 visits home; it's time for something fresh!

IMISTETFO YMPHILA

("Life skills" - that's kind of what we teach (although we are blessedly free to teach whatever we want - what fun!  Mostly, it seems, we talk about sex.))  We've discovered some rules of general application, which may be useful to others:

1)      The rule of unpredictability:  Whatever you dread will surprise you with delight.  But beware the class or trip you assume will go smoothly, just as it did last time - it will blow up in your face.

2)      Children change:  the 17-year-old non-speaking 200 lb tsotsi (thug) in the back of the class in 2014 can become a humorous foil and kind of fun in 2015.  And the bright young girl in the front row who would run up to greet you in 2013 can become moody and demanding in 2015.  Doesn't that happen with grown-ups, too?

3)      When a Swazi tells you one morning what she plans to do that afternoon ("I will join you for your class."), you can be fairly certain that it will occur.  A statement in the afternoon of what will be done the next day may be indicative of some likelihood of accuracy.  Any statement of activity beyond 18 hours is based mostly on the speaker's perception of what you want to hear, and relying on that as a commitment is pure fantasy.[i]

4)      It is so hard to put oneself in another's shoes because you don't know what you don't know.  Swazis have no idea their 4+ syllable 1st and 2nd names with the triple-consonant diphthongs in nearly every syllable are hard to remember.  And when they ask "Is it hot in America?" or "Do you grow maize, or have chickens, at your homestead in America?" they are just extrapolating from their experience - how would they know?

5)      When a Swazi asks you why there is so much bad weather in America, they want you to admit that Americans have been bad and God is punishing them.   They don't want to hear about the drought in Lubombo.

6)      There are certain items of universal application and utility, no one could survive without them:

             a.            Duct tape is amazing.  As our service winds down and we try to make groaning, tattered, worn-out goods make it to The End, we find duct tape repairs:  solar shower bags; bicycles; shoes; clothes; coffee mugs; backpacks.

             b.            Montreal Steak Seasoning, and Sriracha Hot Chilli Sauce - there are few things that are not improved with these.  Even the 4th night of rice and beans (no, that was 2 nights of beans and rice, alternating with rice and beans the other nights).

             c.             Dry red Tassenberg  5 liter box wine.  The taste of Mpaka (our village).  The bar up at the crossroads pretty reliably keeps a supply for me.  I provide them with free condoms, they sell me boxed Tassies!  Deal!

             d.            Salt and vinegar flavored Simba brand potato chips.  Our guilty secret.

             e.            Cardboard packing boxes make good furniture.  When we moved in I was taken aback when the domestic worker on the homestead at the time asked for the box the small refrigerator had come in, and I said, sure.  Big mistake.  Could have been a table.  I was quicker on the electric oven box - good bedside table, although sagging a bit, now.  But then, so am I.

             f.             A high capacity flash drive (at least 8 gig) - never leave home without it.  You never know when you'll see another PCV who has the last season of Mad Men or The Newsroom.  But, as a courtesy to your compatriots: keep a clean stick.  Scan and reformat every time - as we say in the public health biz, multiple concurrent partners spreads disease.

7)      What seems at first like an advantage - hey, everyone here speaks pretty good English - can turn out to hold you back: no one wants to hear me butcher siSwati, it's easier just to say it in English.

8)      Plumbing causes longevity.  I know, I know, correlation ≠ causation.  But Katherine has determined that every one of the 5 volunteers from our group who is extending for a 3rd year had indoor plumbing at their 2-year site.  Nam sayin'?  (That's a Trevor Noah formulation: "Know what I'm saying?"  Those of us from this part of the world are very proud of Noah, a really funny South African comedian, making it in The Big Time as new host of the Daily Show.)

9)      Listen to Katherine.  I learned this within days of our arrival.  She is the best PCV there has ever been.  Cheerful.  Clever in seeing what is needed and what resources could be brought to bear.  Capacious memory for names and minutiae of people met once, a year ago:  "And how is your son doing at Nazarene High School?"  Hardy.  So when she says "A good lesson plan would be . . . " or "Let's stop and visit Thembe," just do it.

10)   Old PC wisdom, helpfully passed down from one Returned PCV to another:  Don't let the Peace Corps spoil your Peace Corps experience.

LANGUAGE STRUGGLES

                We were tested twice on our acquisition of siSwati during our initial 9-week training.  At the end of that training, in August, 2013,  we both were rated "Intermediate Low".  I then spent hundreds of hours trying to learn siSwati vocabulary, grammar and pronunciation.  We were then tested at the Close of Service conference this May because many volunteers apply for jobs in international work and it is relevant how adept they became at the language here - some became quite facile.  (Also, the Peace Corps statute requires volunteers to become fluent in the local language.)  Katherine found keeping up with SiSwati discouraging, after all she took Latin, a dead language, in college to pass the language requirement.  She found her time was better spent on lesson plans and helping Swazis learn English.  She was grateful to make the language cut off during training, but alas went down in our final test.[ii] 

                At the end of two years of study, I got . . . the very same grade I'd received at the end of training: Intermediate Low.  Here is the report in all its brutal detail:

-able to formulate sentences on day to day issues such as family, travel, work, education and hobbies

-uses a lot of SiSwati words.

-answers are filled with reformulations, vocabulary and pronunciation are strongly  influenced by his heavy English accent

- can be understood by a sympathetic listener accustomed to working with non-natives

-able to ask and answer appropriate questions

Ceiling: 

- Breakdown[iii] at advanced level when asked to describe his house in SD

- Breakdown at advanced level when asked to differentiate his house in SD from that in the US

- Breakdown when asked to narrate about his visit to Mbabane, however was able to construct sentence when talking about his visit to Hlane

I spent hundreds of hours, 1/2 hour to 1 hour per day on this.  I'm actually a whole lot more conversant in siSwati now than I was 2 years ago, but the description above is pretty accurate for my current ability.  And it's  very discouraging.   (Our instructor in 2013 was under strict scrutiny (justifiably) and I think he wanted to juice his results, so my score in 2013 overstated my abilities;  good thing for me!)

                 I think the problem may have been that they tested me on the wrong subject matter. I've made a point of learning words for private body parts and their respective fluids, activities involving them, and the like, because saying those words in siSwati helps me make sure I'm understood and focus attention ("Did he really say what I think he said?"); remember, a big part of our subject matter is transfer of HIV.  So on the Language Proficiency Interview, why couldn't they have asked me about sexual intercourse - I know at least 4 different ways to say that! 

                PS:    There are no classes this week because the students are in end-of-2nd-term exams, so we are doing some last-time things, and treating ourselves.  At Hlane, the game park near our site we enjoy so much, we saw bird #253 (spectacled weaver) and some old friends:

a crested barbet

and black-headed oriole on an aloe bush - aloe bloom in mid-winter!

plus hoopoe, marabou stork, scarlet-chested sunbirds, black-collared barbet, and others.

 

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[i]   Suppose I were to promise they could “borrow me your bicycle?”

[ii]   This is Mark:  I'd gladly trade whatever I can remember of the top 300 most frequently used expressions in siSwati for Katherine's instant recall of names, faces, interests, and family members of practically everyone she meets.

[iii]   I think "breakdown" here refers to vocabulary and grammar lapses.  Not emotional instability.  At least, I think not.

Last Classes

                Mindful of the time demands on our audience for this blog, and also because we are now doing things here we've been doing for about 2 years, I had resolved to post no more blogs addressing our current activities, as opposed to summations, but yesterday morning was too rich.  And I had my camera.

                This was our last week of teaching.  (All 3 of our schools have end-of-term exams next week,so all classes are cancelled,  and the following week is our last at site;  neither we nor our students will want classes then.)   We tried to make the last session for each grade kind of special, so after reviewing some imitsetfo ymphilo  (rules for living: eat healthy food; study hard; read books; avoid sex or use protection - the usual) we brought to this 6th grade class the "box library" of books Katherine had culled from the High School, for use at the nearby "poorer" primary school where these books might be more age-appropriate (although we get 20-year-olds in Grade 5 - sitting next to 9-year-olds 1/3rd their size!).  The kids had been begging for a chance at those books. 

                Distributing the books is always hard, because the students, in their eagerness, become very physical, but we've gotten better at managing that situation.  We were about 2 books short, but we'd brought some other books visitors had left, so we had enough, although some of the books were in a context these kids could hardly appreciate: a book of Texas history; about golden retriever dogs; or fluffy show cats.  But as they got back to their seats and got into the books, a most unusual silence fell (which does not happen much in our classes.)  They read on, and on (some working word for word through the copyright notices and acknowledgments!).  And at the end of class we had to pry them away.  To appreciate this, you have to know that these kids have an English vocabulary of may 500 words, few with more than 2 syllables.  But they really wanted to read these books.  And when the books were a little hard, or unfamiliar, they wanted to read them more.

Those of you who have helped us with Books For Africa should know that this addresses a strongly felt craving.  (You see one of our name tags: Gift, a common name - actually, my name - Sipho.  My Swazi name Sipho translates to Gift.  We teach 240 students a week, plus other classes we pick up nearly every week, and I still need the name tags we have the students put on their desks. Katherine can keep track of more of the students, at least the ones with personality;  personality can cut both ways.)

                Here is the morning assembly at that school.  I've been recording on my iPhone some of the singing I especially like, such as "church practice" at the Refugee Camp, but it's not the singing I wanted here.  At the end of assembly they recite the Lord's Prayer in English each morning, all beginning together as instructed by the teacher.  Invariably Grades 1, 2 and 3 race ahead and proudly finish at least a line or more before the Grade 7s.  Those are the younger kids to the left, up to Grade 4 on the right edge.

                Here's a little girl who lives near us, whom we teach in Grade 5, bringing wood home from the acacia forest 1/2 mile away.

                We are going miss those special moments: the voices at morning assembly and the morning sun catching the smiles; that moment in the classroom when we connect; greeting one of our special friends.

Valedictory: by the numbers

                We are approaching the end of our service, leaving in just 30 days. This and the next 2 posts are intended as a wrap-up.

                 First, thanks to the Home Team.

                 The support of friends and family back home has sustained our spirits, added taste to our dinners, our mid-day cold drink and our morning coffee, and provided us with essentials unavailable here. (Scott, we used up both solar showers!  Thank God for duct tape and bike tube patches.)  I hope we have sufficiently thanked, and we will again upon our return thank, those who have sent and brought us "Care Packages."    Our "Home Team" of Cathy Darnell handling business affairs, Barry Patton managing our house, my sister Martha attending to what needed attention, our children helping with finance, investments (with sage advice from Steve Marsters), signing up for Medicare (unbelievably difficult from here) and issues as they arose,  our neighbors and friends seeing what needs to be done - you've all made this adventure possible and allowed us to focus on southern Africa, knowing you had things well in hand.

                 Visits from my sister, the Franklins, Yus and Hollises, made us feel connected, and kept us going.   Donations from many of you for Books for Africa supported a project that has demonstrable impact on a critical skill - and, Oh! - those smiles from children as they hold and start reading a book!!! They will wrestle each other to get to a book, and will surrender it with extreme reluctance at the end of a class, even books that are about a world they could not know.  And your donations reminded us of our friends on the other side of the world and your generosity and support.

ESSENTIAL NUMBERS

      The PC belabors us regularly with the necessity of compiling detailed reports, such as listing the exact number of boys aged 14 to 22 whom we have benefitted by improving their employability or their use of condoms (yup!  How exactly are we supposed to know?) and the like.  We comply, carefully saving our backup data.   I think the intent is to justify the expenditures to keep us here.  (It costs $155 per day to keep a PCV in the field, but only about half that is spent in-country;  the rest must be spent in DC, or . . . God only knows.)

      So as we approach the end of our service, I thought I'd try to quantify our efforts here.  The categories are not in any particular order, except the first, which is of course of foremost importance.

Number of birds identified: 252 and counting  (So glad we got over that 250 hurdle.)

OUR LIFE:

Number of times we ate beans and rice for dinner: around 400

Estimate of the number of 5 liter boxes of cheap South African dry red wine we carried (usually on our bikes) from the bar at the crossroads 1 1/4 mile away and consumed at our homestead: 40

Number of times we walked the dusty 1 1/4 miles into or back from the crossroads with the main paved road, which passes for a town here:  100

                Number of times we got a ride (usually in the back of a pickup) for part of that journey:  30

Percentage of times, as we walk back from the store, someone has come to us rubbing his stomach and said "I'm hungry":   30%

                If we are visibly carrying a plastic grocery sack:  60%

Number of times a Swazi male, seeing Mark riding his bike, has said "Please may I borrow me your bike":    Every one of them, I'm pretty sure.  Every time they see me.  My bike is of more interest to a Swazi man than sex (and there's plentiful evidence that's a major preoccupation.)

Number of other white people living in our county: 0     

Number of times I used fairly expensive internet data to check the stock market in:

                2013: at least once a week

                2014:   several times a month

                2015:   checked it twice

Number of times we'd get a pretty good Voice of America or BBC signal and, just as it was saying "And now for international news . . . " a far stronger signal covering 1/3rd of our band would come on with a "praise service" or scripture reading, in siSwati:  most of the time, I think.

OUR WORK:

Number of careers launched, at least where we see fairly good likelihood of achieving exit velocity:  1 (our African son John, with the United World Colleges full scholarship to UWC’s new Frieburg, Germany campus)

Number of students provided the opportunity to practice putting a condom on anatomically-correct quite explicit plastic models of male and female genitalia: around 600

      estimate of the students who actually put condoms on the models in our practice sessions: around 300 (Some would not do it, some refraining certainly for religious reasons, but others  perhaps because of embarrassment?  I'm just not sure.)

Number of separate primary school classes we taught:  around 300

Number of primary school students we taught in formal classes each week when we had a full week of school:  around 240 students a week

Number of separate, informal tutoring sessions we pulled together to address particular needs of refugee students or the Swazi students facing national tests (Grade 7s; Forms 3 and 5 in the High School):  around 180

Number of times we have appeared at the High School 7:30 morning assembly to present a "Word of the Day" to try to improve their vocabulary, and maybe a comment on news of interest:  around 200

Number of students who merrily greet us on their way to school - nearly every one of them.  Enthusiastically.  Usually waving with their whole arm.

Number of times we have shown up at a school to find its schedule changed and our class canceled:  35[i]

Number of times a school administrator advised us in advance of a schedule change.  Or of any other change of any kind, affecting our work.   0  (But once a fellow teacher SMSd us.)

Number of mandatory forms, surveys, and questionnaires demanded by PC:  at least 120.

                Number of mandatory PC  forms,  surveys, and questionnaires for which there is the slightest evidence that it was even opened or looked at:  maybe 10.  But all demands come with short turnaround.  (The younger volunteers caught on first: just fill something in and send it back.  Spend no time on it.  It doesn't matter to them; why should it to us?)

                Number of mandatory forms, surveys, and questionnaires  in response to which PC ever taken even the smallest action: 0.  Nada.  None.  Not a single one.  In 2 years!  

SILLY QUESTIONS WE ASK EACH OTHER, TO WHICH THE ANSWER IS ALWAYS THE SAME

Is it time yet for a cup of wine?

Want some chips?

Are you hungry?

How long have you been awake?

Your tummy OK?

Think we can get another meal out of these beans, if I add more veggies and cook a lot of rice?

How does pasta sound tonight?

VALEDICTORY

      The PC has had around 250,000 volunteers serve, and has a feel for the fairly predictable rhythms of the typical service.  Curiously, they have found, and we too have heard from Returned PCVs, that the toughest period of PC service is typically after it ends, moving on to the next step.  Many of these PCVs have many obstacles and complications to face:  looking for jobs; starting graduate school; ill parents or issues with siblings for which they will have to take responsibility upon their return.  Some have found love here, either becoming engaged to someone[ii], or becoming like a parent to a particular child.[iii]  

        We don't have those issues, and we have much joy awaiting us.  But we still feel a little like Rip van Winkle stumbling back into Sleepy Hollow.  He too probably had to get a new phone plan; new car; download and figure out apps he'd never heard of when he started his nap that have now become essential to civilized life; endure undecipherable references in magazines (the ones we read here are 2 to 8 months old), mass media, and from friends, to events back in 2014 he'd never heard of; sign up for Medicare (they don't take email, only fax, and they think "Why don't you just come in to the office?" is an adequate response); renew prescriptions; tackle deferred maintenance on his house and yard; adjust to living in a 4G environment when catching some 2G here is considered a Big Deal.  For how long was Rip napping?

PASSING THE TORCH

                The 4th of July celebration at the Country Director's House is the only time when 3 volunteer groups get together in this country.  The new group has just arrived a week earlier and are brought in a bus, still jet-lagged, exhausted, with a deer-in-the-headlights look of "What have I got myself into?"  The oldest group is already starting to exit, and the middle group is stepping into the daddy shoes. 

                This 4th we met a similarly mature couple with much experience in health and education and great attitudes, who said they felt they knew us because they had been following this blog!  It felt as if I'd put a message in a bottle and thrown it into the ocean, and the bottle had then washed back up over here with an unexpected reply; except that Google's search algorithms are probably more precise than ocean tides.  We love the idea of "passing the torch" and reading Laurie and Dave's blog, when they shake off the PC shackles of 9 weeks of training and get some internet access.        

                Here's a recent picture from the "poorer" primary school, taken by some Americans from Virginia who are opening a facility beside that school, for abandoned infants.  We are really going to miss some of these kids.  I'm grieving a little already.  The girl facing us on my left is a refugee from Burundi, one of our special friends.

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[i]   The Ministry of Education advises schools in the afternoon that they will play in an athletic competition the next day, which invariably means no classes are held, when 11 boys in a school of 450 play football.  The government of this country actively discourages advance planning and education.

[ii]   Visa issues are complicated, and then employability is daunting.

[iii]    But adoption is wholly prohibited, even for a double orphan (so plentiful here) with no one to care for him, so she plans to come back to visit in a year.