I woke up this morning to the sound of heavy rain falling on the roof, the windows, the ground outside. I went for the light switch but the power was out. I looked out the window, the pool was flooded, filled beyond capacity. The skies were dark, and rain blanketed what I could see in the darkness that was poor visibility. It wasn't until later in the morning that I realized I was lucky to live at the top of a hill.
My host sisters phone rang several times before 7:30 am. Each new phone call telling of how the caller's home was flooder, the office, or the highway. This part of the country has many valleys, and many rural areas, poor areas reside along the rivers that bottom the valleys. Now, flooded.
At work, the grounds are flooded, and rain is only increasing the damage as it randomly pours at intervals, so loud I cant hear the music on my laptop. The chicken coups, for our income generating projects were flooded. The bigger chickens survived, and were removed to a dry room, the chicks were not so fortunate. The back wall crumbled under the weakening support of wet, soft ground.
Tomorrow will be sunny. But the damage will not leave with the rains. It is striking that the power of nature seems to effect the impoverished most. I have not seen the valleys and townships today, but I know the infrastructure, the housing, what little does exist there, is lessened.
The pounding rain sounds like a semi-truck coming down the driveway.
Wednesday, June 18, 2008
Wednesday, June 11, 2008
standing between the first and thrid worlds
The following are taken from recent journal entries since the 1st of June:
This experience is far from anything anyone could possibly assume or predict when applying for or thinking about the Peace Corps. All prejudices, expectations and preconceptions are impossibly incorrect. Throw these out the window. This is Peace Corps South Africa, anything is possible: I am living a first world life with white Afrikaaner family. This is not the straw hut- bucket bath- pit toilet- boiling your water just so it is suitable to drink- being the only white person in your township- Peace Corps experience that I signed up for, and reality that most of my colleagues experience. This is the Peace Corps experience with a swimming pool- tennis court- domestic worker- family holidays to the Berg- experience that is so normal to my life back in the States, even more luxurious in many ways, that it is actually a challenge as it is so far from my expectations of what Peace Corps should be, what I wanted it to be, and what it is for so many other volunteers.
Last Friday I went with my host mom and sister to Gateway Mall. It is a monstrosity, the way we think of gods as huge. A marvel of size, materialism and conspicuous consumption. I am told by a colleague that it is the biggest mall in the southern hemisphere. 290 stores, movie theatres (yes, that is in plural), a mammoth rock wall, wave pool for surfing. On the drive to Gateway, you pass townsihps, tin shacks and barefoot children; this is the third world poverty that is the Africa many of us in the developed world think of when we hear about Africa, or sign up for Peace Corps in Africa. Not Gateway mall, a colossus that is far from the ‘Africa‘ we envision. The people living in these impoverished areas have, in their backyards, a mall of first world quality and excess. A strange and uncomfortable dynamic that is somehow ignored once you begin shopping.
Following our mall visit we met up with the rest of the family for a seafood dinner to celebrate my other host sister’s birthday. The portions were too big, even for my appetite. I had to leave some food on the plate. This in a country where people forego food because they are often too poor to buy food. This includes people I work with and those who receive services from my NGO.
The circus was in town this past week. My family bought tickets for their children, but it was a great excuse for us adults to be kids for a night too. All the usual wonder of a circus environment made for an enjoyable evening. Looking around the crowd, however, something struck me. In the audience, I could have counted all the black people on my two hands. This in a country that is 90% black. The audience was mostly white and Indian people. A disproportionate balance that reflects the larger poverty dynamic. The circus is an experience that all children would love, yet a majority of the population in South Africa are too poor to buy tickets, have no transportation, or do not have parents to take them to the circus.
I was told to expect such dynamic contrast between the first and third worlds that exists in South Africa. Until you see it, until you live in it, you have no idea of the unsettled feeling that it creates. It is so real, so tangible, yet so strange and foreign that it is hard to grasp; it is South Africa.
This experience is far from anything anyone could possibly assume or predict when applying for or thinking about the Peace Corps. All prejudices, expectations and preconceptions are impossibly incorrect. Throw these out the window. This is Peace Corps South Africa, anything is possible: I am living a first world life with white Afrikaaner family. This is not the straw hut- bucket bath- pit toilet- boiling your water just so it is suitable to drink- being the only white person in your township- Peace Corps experience that I signed up for, and reality that most of my colleagues experience. This is the Peace Corps experience with a swimming pool- tennis court- domestic worker- family holidays to the Berg- experience that is so normal to my life back in the States, even more luxurious in many ways, that it is actually a challenge as it is so far from my expectations of what Peace Corps should be, what I wanted it to be, and what it is for so many other volunteers.
Last Friday I went with my host mom and sister to Gateway Mall. It is a monstrosity, the way we think of gods as huge. A marvel of size, materialism and conspicuous consumption. I am told by a colleague that it is the biggest mall in the southern hemisphere. 290 stores, movie theatres (yes, that is in plural), a mammoth rock wall, wave pool for surfing. On the drive to Gateway, you pass townsihps, tin shacks and barefoot children; this is the third world poverty that is the Africa many of us in the developed world think of when we hear about Africa, or sign up for Peace Corps in Africa. Not Gateway mall, a colossus that is far from the ‘Africa‘ we envision. The people living in these impoverished areas have, in their backyards, a mall of first world quality and excess. A strange and uncomfortable dynamic that is somehow ignored once you begin shopping.
Following our mall visit we met up with the rest of the family for a seafood dinner to celebrate my other host sister’s birthday. The portions were too big, even for my appetite. I had to leave some food on the plate. This in a country where people forego food because they are often too poor to buy food. This includes people I work with and those who receive services from my NGO.
The circus was in town this past week. My family bought tickets for their children, but it was a great excuse for us adults to be kids for a night too. All the usual wonder of a circus environment made for an enjoyable evening. Looking around the crowd, however, something struck me. In the audience, I could have counted all the black people on my two hands. This in a country that is 90% black. The audience was mostly white and Indian people. A disproportionate balance that reflects the larger poverty dynamic. The circus is an experience that all children would love, yet a majority of the population in South Africa are too poor to buy tickets, have no transportation, or do not have parents to take them to the circus.
I was told to expect such dynamic contrast between the first and third worlds that exists in South Africa. Until you see it, until you live in it, you have no idea of the unsettled feeling that it creates. It is so real, so tangible, yet so strange and foreign that it is hard to grasp; it is South Africa.
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