Wednesday 30 April 2008

Coach Carter

Bouffleshoek- Call me Coach Carter...

If this is all supposed to have been a 'honeymoon' period; then I'm sure never to marry. This past 3 months (I cannot believe it is only 3 months) has been filled with more experiences, 'challenges,' and huge problems dressed up as 'challenges' than I care to recall. The Mid term which involved all volunteers and management within the organisation was certainly a lesson in conflict resolution and patience. Ah, patience. That wondrous virtue to which I have never been blessed... but I'm getting there. This is Africa; it really is not worth getting stressed.

I needed a good community, the come down from parents leaving and the thought of getting back into work after a break was not a good feeling, but there was a saviour to be found in Bouffleshoek- Community 3. The journey to the community was not as smooth as anticipated... here in South Africa we are affected badly by powercuts nearly everyday. This is not good when your colleague goes to withdraw a significant sum for petrol and payment of host families and as the machine whirls to dispense the cash; the power goes. With a combi full of volunteers and a 'visitor' from the Norwegian Olympic Committee the timing really could not have been more off. Which is why I found myself sitting in a deserted high street (think 1980's town centre) with two 'security' guards for 3.5 hours waiting for power to see if card/money would come out. Fear not, I was entertained with a minute by minute account of a film called Ospehia in London (Nigerian film; I won't ruin the plot... runs for about 2 hours judging by this man's account). As the power returned the card popped out but no money. Worth the wait?


Yes. I said the other day without thinking too much about what I was saying ' I love this community; I can run in the mornings, I can go to the toilet, they bring me hot water twice a day to wash and they feed me nice chicken.' Marte laughed and said isn't funny how you really appreciate the simple things. I love this community even more because there is a rugby team. Well, they are a team now. Half of them have never watched a game of rugby but they try. On the first day I was there at 4, by 4.45 I had 10 boys. 3 days later I had 30 boys at 4pm.... and had them taking their caps off. They are hilarious. Their English is appalling, most of them are 19 but still in Grade 9 or 10, one of them has failed Grade 9 a spectacular 4 times. We really have made progress and had their first game was today! They lost 20-0 not bad considering they can't scrum and one of them ran backwards a whole 50 metres, dropped the ball and the opposition scored. Who needs to win when you have my camera, a coach and music. 400 photos, some serious dancing, too many E numbers when we returned to the community; they were welcomed like heroes. Win or lose these boys had the privilege today to feel like a team, and I loved being part of it. We are training everyday next week before the next game; I asked if they wanted a break to rest and they said they did not believe in pain. Love it. They make me very happy; a welcome distraction from other stresses. What is also great is that no one can take it away from me; no one else knows rugby.

Yesterday I ran a workshop; so I asked my host brother to bring the bag of balls down.. I knew the boys would be there so I thought they could at least throw a ball around until I got there. I was an hour later and what I didn't expect to see was that they had set up a grid (like we practised the day before) and were running an attack/defence exercise. My chest nearly exploded with pride.

We are playing a huge team from the border (Zim) on Saturday. My boys will be dominated but I really don't think they care too much. I for one am just proud to be a part of it. My host brother who is still in Grade 9 at 19 years of age and I sat together to do his work. It dawned on me quite quickly that he can't read.. barely his own language and nothing in English. He is an amazing athlete and great with kids.. so I'm trying to find out what other opportunities he has. I gave him money for a dictionary (Sa Pedi to English) because he just needs to get to Grade 11 to get a job. Then I have to show him how to actually use a dictionary but I think it will help. But then I think maybe it won't. Maybe I bought him the dictionary to make me feel better, on his behalf. Which is a shame, because it didn't work- I don't feel better for him! I'm going to find it very hard to leave this community, the family and my friends here. Sometime you long for the safety of home, and being paid by the hour and the chance to switch off from it all. I'm such a long way from that it is quite a sobering thought...




They scored two tries... at the weekend.... WOOOOOOOPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE

Coach Carter

Bouffleshoek- Call me Coach Carter...

If this is all supposed to have been a 'honeymoon' period; then I'm sure never to marry. This past 3 months (I cannot believe it is only 3 months) has been filled with more experiences, 'challenges,' and huge problems dressed up as 'challenges' than I care to recall. The Mid term which involved all volunteers and management within the organisation was certainly a lesson in conflict resolution and patience. Ah, patience. That wondrous virtue to which I have never been blessed... but I'm getting there. This is Africa; it really is not worth getting stressed.

I needed a good community, the come down from parents leaving and the thought of getting back into work after a break was not a good feeling, but there was a saviour to be found in Bouffleshoek- Community 3. The journey to the community was not as smooth as anticipated... here in South Africa we are affected badly by powercuts nearly everyday. This is not good when your colleague goes to withdraw a significant sum for petrol and payment of host families and as the machine whirls to dispense the cash; the power goes. With a combi full of volunteers and a 'visitor' from the Norwegian Olympic Committee the timing really could not have been more off. Which is why I found myself sitting in a deserted high street (think 1980's town centre) with two 'security' guards for 3.5 hours waiting for power to see if card/money would come out. Fear not, I was entertained with a minute by minute account of a film called Ospehia in London (Nigerian film; I won't ruin the plot... runs for about 2 hours judging by this man's account). As the power returned the card popped out but no money. Worth the wait?


Yes. I said the other day without thinking too much about what I was saying ' I love this community; I can run in the mornings, I can go to the toilet, they bring me hot water twice a day to wash and they feed me nice chicken.' Marte laughed and said isn't funny how you really appreciate the simple things. I love this community even more because there is a rugby team. Well, they are a team now. Half of them have never watched a game of rugby but they try. On the first day I was there at 4, by 4.45 I had 10 boys. 3 days later I had 30 boys at 4pm.... and had them taking their caps off. They are hilarious. Their English is appalling, most of them are 19 but still in Grade 9 or 10, one of them has failed Grade 9 a spectacular 4 times. We really have made progress and had their first game was today! They lost 20-0 not bad considering they can't scrum and one of them ran backwards a whole 50 metres, dropped the ball and the opposition scored. Who needs to win when you have my camera, a coach and music. 400 photos, some serious dancing, too many E numbers when we returned to the community; they were welcomed like heroes. Win or lose these boys had the privilege today to feel like a team, and I loved being part of it. We are training everyday next week before the next game; I asked if they wanted a break to rest and they said they did not believe in pain. Love it. They make me very happy; a welcome distraction from other stresses. What is also great is that no one can take it away from me; no one else knows rugby.

Yesterday I ran a workshop; so I asked my host brother to bring the bag of balls down.. I knew the boys would be there so I thought they could at least throw a ball around until I got there. I was an hour later and what I didn't expect to see was that they had set up a grid (like we practised the day before) and were running an attack/defence exercise. My chest nearly exploded with pride.

We are playing a huge team from the border (Zim) on Saturday. My boys will be dominated but I really don't think they care too much. I for one am just proud to be a part of it. My host brother who is still in Grade 9 at 19 years of age and I sat together to do his work. It dawned on me quite quickly that he can't read.. barely his own language and nothing in English. He is an amazing athlete and great with kids.. so I'm trying to find out what other opportunities he has. I gave him money for a dictionary (Sa Pedi to English) because he just needs to get to Grade 11 to get a job. Then I have to show him how to actually use a dictionary but I think it will help. But then I think maybe it won't. Maybe I bought him the dictionary to make me feel better, on his behalf. Which is a shame, because it didn't work- I don't feel better for him! I'm going to find it very hard to leave this community, the family and my friends here. Sometime you long for the safety of home, and being paid by the hour and the chance to switch off from it all. I'm such a long way from that it is quite a sobering thought...




They scored two tries... at the weekend.... WOOOOOOOPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE

Thursday 24 April 2008

How the other half lives

Cape Town hit, and I hit Cape Town. Well assisted by my parents I managed to make up for a lack of alcohol and vegetables.. I'm not quite sure if they cancel each other out! Cape Town truly is beautiful and naturally very magnificent, but there is something far less 'real' about it. It's cosmopolitan and European; it's Melbourne, Australia. What makes Cape Town is it's own history; one no more or less palatable than heard all over South Africa, but here, the rate of development is wholly juxtaposed against the sprawling township the Cape Flats which you cannot avoid as you are whisked from the airport. It's pretty uncomfortable viewing. The Cape Flats are inhabited by people who during the Apartheid were forcibly removed from their homes and forced to set up home in the areas away from Table Mountain and the harbour. You cannot quite comprehend how far it goes on for... and when you go from a beautiful and highly enjoyable day of wine tasting in the magnificent Stellenbosch, the alcoholic haze makes you realise in some respects how far there is to go... BUT WAIT!!! As my Western eye full of Western standards glazed over this place I made a judgement, probably like everyone else on how horrendous it was. Some of it is horrendous; the sanitation, the rats.. and this is a bit out of context but after Mum and Dad left I spent 2 nights in Thembisa Township by Joburg. As I waved by to the parents, quite devastated at the thought of being alone for the next year I arranged to meet a friend in Joburg the next day. I spent my final evening in Cape Town at a party in Camps Day (St Tropez in South Africa) at a private party for Camel cigarettes. Thrust into the limelight of South Africa's white, young, rich and very beautiful I did what I always do; drink hideous amounts of gin, dance like I was mental and talk a lot of shit. I got invited back, so I guess I did something right! I had a great time, met some lovely people but part of me felt it was all a smokescreen from what else was going on. I think a lot of the culture of fear is born out of misunderstanding. There are some horrific stories on the news; rape, murder, theft and some of the white and black South Africans I have met seem equally shrouded in fear. I am privileged to access both sides and I think a lot of problems are borne from misunderstanding. So, one day I'm drinking free gin and talking about hedge fund management (like I said, talking a lot of shit.) The next? I'm sitting on a camping chair, eating a goat's leg (shared between 4 and actually pretty good), drinking cider in the middle of a township in one of the most dangerous cities in the world.


On arrival to Joburg, I spent the first 1 hour helping a Congolese man, with limited English and a broken leg to carry his hand luggage and collect his actual luggage and sit him to wait for his brother to collect him. I gave up trying to communicate in English and we just reverted to smiling and him pointing out his ENORMOUS bag on the luggage carousel. Only later is dawned on me that they speak French in the Congo, and I could have had a far more effective conversation that I actually did! Shame. When I was collected from the airport I had no real idea where I was going, other than to visit a friend from one of the communities. As we passed the airport, the office blocks and all signs that comfort me by screaming 'civilization' my heart began to beat faster. Entering a township is rather like arriving at Nottinghill Carnival. Music, laughter and people everywhere. It was pointed out to be that during the day you will not find people in their houses. The life of a township is on a street; whereas we go from house to coffee shop to gym; the streets offer everything. Being the only white face in the car, and probably in the whole area I felt more protected than if I was to be with 6 whites and a camera flashing. Still, I was petrified. You really do not hear nice things about these places. Despite frequent assurances from my friends when I arrived at the house of 'Bigboy' (yes, his actual name) my legs really did not want to move out the car. I'm glad they did. Like all communities there are sub communities and it is always the children who makes you feel most welcome. I decided I was with well known and liked locals and that as long as I was careful I would be unlikely to come into any harm. Giving my self this pep talked, and I began to relax. The atmosphere in that place was electric. Sitting drinking cider and discussing world politics with 5 locals, hearing the music and eating the goat leg will be an experience I shall never forget. No one really took any more or less notice of me; I was not a threat and I went about my business. The rats of course, are off putting, not to mention the toilet. Driving at night to a bar (in town, not the township- that was one step too far for all parties) I admit to pulling my cap town as we passed throngs of people; these places truly are 24 hours. The next day we were to attend a wedding in Soweto (South West Township) home to 6-8 million, yes million, people South West of Joburg. The biggest and most well known of all. Filling up at Thembisa gas station the car would not start. The option presented itself that I, the white, blonde, English girl would have to get out of the car and push the fucking thing. The gas station was full. As I stepped out the car there were, at least, 15 camera phones trained on me and the not so subtle sounds of belly laughs. Today, I was the entertainment and the story. Thankfully after my half arsed effort to push it, I was taken pity on and the bloody thing started. I laughed but I think inside I pretty much self combusted.

Do not underestimate it.

The advice I was given, go, enjoy, but do not underestimate the place. As I returned in the small hours, cap on, hood up, face down I saw too many people laying by the side of the road and fought against my natural compulsion to stop the car and race to assistance, to call an Ambulance. I didn't, I didn't speak, my companions didn't mention it – alcohol and drugs had come into play and no one likes a 'have a go' hero. So please, these are not romantic notions of a township, there are lots of wonderful elements but a dark side that runs deeper than anything I have ever known, and ever wish to know.

I'm most definitely going back.

The wedding in Soweto was another experience. After being ushered into the church by the old ladies I was also given the biggest plate of food and the whole ceremony stopped because the pastor had to have a good old stare at the intruder. I felt like a bloody idiot of course and it did not help that I once again became the focus of attention. I kept trying to leave but these people are persistent. You may think all of this is already one step too far; I will say that one step too far arose when I was to have a photo taken with the Bride and Groom who had never seen me in their whole lives. I was friends with their distant cousin; but I'm pretty sure my photo will be taking the pride position in the album. For years to come when asked who the lehora is; they will say 'your cousin!'
After the wedding I took a lift back to Polokwane in a car with no passenger window.

Living the dream.


Girls, I have identified a driver for us in Cape Town, some excellent hostels and checked out the majority of eating and drinking establishments. I'm pretty sure South Africa will shake on your arrival and I for one, cannot wait! There is so much to see, do, eat and drink and whilst we won't be going to a township for an overnight stay I'll give you a real experience too. Pap will be involved; ask Pinda she sampled it.

Ga – WHAT? Ga - Radingwana!

The last few days in the community were geared towards the tournament. Having already accepted that it would start at least 2 hours after the 'official' start time; a small inner victory was felt when it started merely an hour late. Unlike Apel the focus was sport; netball, soccer and basketball. I will admit too that the real focus was the soccer. From this small community we had 8 dedicated men's teams with huge crowds watching the games. I cannot quite express the elation of looking around the soccer field, surrounded by nothing but mountains and emptiness to see over 200 youngsters from the community getting behind their teams. It is safe to say this was the first soccer experience I have ever actually enjoyed. We had communicated with the local clinic and arranged for a nurse to come down to deal with any minor injuries. This was something new to the community and hopefully an example of best practice that they will continue with. For me the best part was the 20 minute walk with her finding out what she experienced as a nurse. Sexually active youngsters were coming in from age of 12; and pregnancy from 14. The most common STI she dealt with was gonnaherea. Just like in the UK the SA Government pays the mother of a baby each month. Parallel to what I have heard in the UK for her this money is an incentives to the young girls to have children in order to receive the stipend. She said the money was not being spent on the baby and the Government needed to stop it. As a 23 year old in that community; statistically I should already have two children! As a young girl who drops out of education she knows she cannot just walk into a job, because there are not any. Having a child provides a regular income and a purpose; I find it hard to criticise their motivation as when you stay there you realise that outside of the family home there is nothing else. Unfortunately when the child is born, the child herself is unable to cope. This is why so many households are headed by Grandmas (gogo's) who end up looking after the baby. Most children are delivered at home; by the Grandmas. Unaware of the transmission routes of HIV they do not wear gloves or protect themselves. The nurse has reported an increase of over 50's catching HIV through delivering their children's babies. With age against them the disease is far more virulent and can progress quickly to AIDS. Just makes you think. In return, I gave the nurse an up to date understanding of sex and relationships in our society; the hardest part for her to grasp was that parents allow partners to stay over in family houses before marriage! She thought that was actually a great idea because then she could check out her son's taste and make her mark. I thought I should introduce her to Pinda to give her some top tips!

It was a long day; the volunteers staying power waned and it was only I who remained till the very end for the prize giving. When you're in a community you forget how much you stand out as a lehora (white person) and you do not see yourself as different. However, as I stood on a table in front of over 200 10-25 year olds chanting, dancing and singing for the prizes (soccer balls, pumps and whistles- a pigs bladder would have been a better football substitute than what these teams had!) a wave of insecurity hit. I guess it's like stage fright but magnified and worsened because I cannot communicate effectively with my pigeon Pedi! I survived (just) and Gift my younger brother walked me home. At only 12 years old and 4 foot tall he was not my ideal bodyguard as I weaved through the throngs of euphoric people, shielding the child's ears from the variety of unsavoury propositions from the teenage boys!
Alas, we survived. It was my last night with the family and I am grateful my meal was extended from rice and cold baked beans, to be supplemented with an egg! In the morning of departure the community put on a thank you with representatives from the community. It involved singing, prayer, crisps, cold drink and a particularly powerful thank you from an elderly man who said we gave 'the children eyes so now they could see.' Religion is a huge part of the poor communities; church providing the base of the majority of social activity; in the absence of little else. I am not getting into theological debate but you can see when you have less, religion means more. When you cannot control your livelihood or live in abject poverty you relinquish your fate to God. This comment is underscored by an 18 year old community volunteer who said he did not use condoms because his fate was in God's hands. If God wanted him to catch a disease, it was his will. This is ignorance and an unwillingness to take control of your life. (Marx: Religion an opiate of the people??) Do not be fooled into thinking that everyone in the community is like this; it is not true. There are a lot of individuals who have gone out there and grasped opportunity for themselves. They will say a lot of apathy comes down to education.. or lack of it. Not for the first time you draw parallels between out society and theirs. Anyway, I was moved to tears particularly when we said goodbye to everyone; the emotional ties to these communities and these people in these short times are improbable and incomparable.

We left the community and bombed down to Johannesburg where I managed to take a flight to Cape Town; filled with excitement at the prospect of seeing my parents the next day...Shame my luggage never made it; but you do not need clothes to enjoy your first shower and vegetable in three weeks!