My South African Family

Here is a little bit about my new family:

Gogo- Gogo is the South African name for grandma. You use it to refer to anyone of the grandmother age. In fact, I don't even know my Gogo's real name-she is just Gogo.  My Gogo is easily one of my favorite people I've met in South Africa. She is a retired teacher-meaning her english is great. We have had several good conversations about teaching, my family, America, aparteid, etc.  She looks after me and always makes sure that I am ok. She is constantly trying to get me hot water so I don't get sick and make sure I eat enough (I'm too skinny).  She runs the household and has a huge garden that provides us with a lot of fresh veggies and a ton of corn (they love corn here-they literally put "mealies" in everything. I even had a drink made out of mealies yesterday).

Mpume-Mpume is one of Gogos 6 children.  She is the principal at the primary school and always seems to be in control of everything. She is probably somewhere in her 50s and has a son in Pretoria that occasionally comes to visit. Word on the street is he likes to hike so I definitely need to get him to go with me on his next visit. 

Mayasi- Mayasi is also one of Gogo's daughters (also in her 50s).  She is a teacher at the primary school (a family full of educators!). She is quiet at first but also has the South African hospitality that I love so much.  She loves South African "soapies" (soap operas) and even though I swear they are lowering my IQ, I enjoy watching them with her.

Squ- Squ is one of Mayasi's sons (in his 30s). He is my next door neighbor in my house.  He is very quiet but helpful-always doing the "manly" things around the house.  In fact, he said he will be hooking up my electricity this week!

Those 4 people are the main residents in my home. However, the Gogo's house is the home base for the whole family.  During holidays, everyone migrates home at some point.  They are always welcome and there's always a bed waiting for them.  This weekend I got to go to a family members wedding in Pietermaritzburg where I met tons and tons of family.  I have to say, there isn't anyone in the Ndlovu family that I don't like. They all kept asking when I was coming back to visit next!  While I miss my family in America-you don't have to worry because my SA family is taking good care of me while I'm away.

A couple random tidbits

·         I love rusks. They are an Afrikaner (white South African) breakfast food that is similar to biscotti and is delicious dunked in coffee.

·         I’m currently living in the Injisuthi valley of the Drakensburg Mountains. I am itching to get a ride to the trail heads for a nice long hike. Google it-it’s beautiful.

·         Speaking of—take note of my new address! If you happen to feel like sending me a package here are a couple of tips: write bible verses, “God loves you”, or “educational materials” on the box so that people won’t open it.  On the duty slip, put the content’s value as small as possible or else I have to pay a big customs fee. Ngiyabonga kakhulu! (Thank you so much!)

·         I live in a room separate from my host family’s main house. I’m roughing it with no electricity or running water…and my internet capable blackberry (they do call Peace Corps South Africa the “posh corps” for a reason).

·         I spent Easter weekend on the beach in Durban with some good Peace Corps friends, delicious food (Indian bunny chow to die for), an awesome hot shower, and lots of exploring.

·         My “try anything once” motto hasn’t led me astray yet. The weirdest thing I have tried is sardines for breakfast. The sardines were good but I’m not sure I’ll ever eat fish at 6am again.

·         I love my host family.  They have adopted me as a new daughter.  I spend time getting to know them every evening around dinner time and just keep loving them more and more.  They speak English which is nice considering my Zulu conversations still can’t go much further than the weather and what I would like to buy in the market.

·         I just re-read the Hunger Games in honor of the movie opening. I am jealous of everyone who has seen it and am plotting how I can get to a big city to see it for myself.

·         I am buying a bike in the near future. For those of you who know my bike riding abilities, get ready for my many crash stories that are sure to come. Good thing Peace Corps requires a helmet.

·         I miss you all!

Funny Story of the Week

First, let me set the scene.  It’s a form submission day at the organization where I work so there are about 10 women (the caregivers) at the office.  The children (that come for food after school) and I are playing a game somewhere in between tag and dodge ball.  Enter our leading man-a ridiculously drunk South African man.  When I say ridiculously drunk, I’m talking glassy eyes-slurred speech-stumbling-if I touch him he might fall over-drunk.  He wanders onto our property and starts attempting to join in on our game.  We all ignore him and since he is having trouble walking straight, he gives up to go sit down near the caregivers who are relaxing outside.  At some point, the drunk man pushes his luck and the women decide it’s time for him to go.  The next thing I see are two women trying to pick up this man and clumsily try to carry him inside…I’m guessing to sleep?  The man decides he’s not going to cooperate with this time-out and comes running out of the building. A couple of seconds later the two women run out after him.  To get the hilarity of the moment, you really just need to pause and imagine a stumbling drunk man running around the yard with two big black women chasing him.  Every time the man thinks he’s gotten far enough ahead that he is safe, he stops to do a little victory dance before continuing to run his circles around the yard.  The women finally give up their chase and one goes to get a knife to threaten (90% a fun jest and 10% serious) the drunk man.  To be honest, I can’t really remember how the story ends—one can only assume the drunk man gets bored and leaves or passes out somewhere in the grass.