Zanzibar Part 1

I really don't know where to begin in telling you about our trip to Zanzibar. I want to begin at the end, because I am here at the end. I want to begin at the beginning so that it is as comprehensive as possible. I want to tell you everything, but know I cannot and if I try I will lose you.

I will try to begin at the beginning, and tell you the most important things.

The Zanzibar International Airport is tiny and run down. It consists of a few rooms. As soon as I stepped off the plane I was hit by the hot, humid air of some place tropical. We walked through the tiny airport and were immediately swarmed by men who wanted to carry our bags. It was clear they needed money. It was a hectic scene. I tell you about how instantly overstimulating and hectic my experience was because my entire week was like that. Even when I was sitting on the beach, watching the stars with Sam and some of our new friends, my mind was spinning and my heart was overflowing. My week in Zanzibar was definitely one of the richest weeks I've spent in my life thus far.

The ride from the airport to our hotel was a perfect, jolting introduction to Zanzibar. We sped along the bumpy dirt road and I watched intently out my window as an entire new world of sights met my eyes. We passed tiny shops and restaurants with hand painted signs. We passed huts with men women and children lazing on the front porches. There were bicycles and and scooters cramming up the narrow road. We sped by them so close that I had to catch my breath again and again. There was green everywhere. And other colors. Everyone wore bright ones against their dark skin. The women had their heads covered with bright cloths. Many of the men wore little caps in many colors. The children stared, grinned and waved.

One of the images that will forever be left on my brain, is of a little boy. He saw the van coming down the road and raced out from behind his hut. He had the hugest grin on his face and raised his arm high, high over his head, waving at us. His exuberance was entirely unbridled. In the instant I was able to glance him I saw everything that is good about children, everything that is good really, about people even. It was a pure moment, of pure emotion. It's hard to really explain to you how it made me feel, but I will always remember it, and it is part of the reason I will return to Zanzibar. In my week there, I learned a lot about Zanzibar's people, and was impressed and humbled by them, and overwhelmed with love for them.

Our hotel was right on the ocean. Sam and I could sit on the porch of our little cottage and stare at the sea. Everything about the place was lovely, from the warm staff who helped us learn as many Swahili words as possible, to the fabulous food, and the Swahili furniture and mosquito nets in our rooms (sleeping under a mosquito net is awesome...you have this little private bubble...makes me want to get a canopy bed :)).

Our first morning we got massages in a two story hut on the sand. The women who gave us our massages were kind and sweet and spoke softly in Swahili to one another while they worked. It was so relaxing. After that, we needed to venture into Stone Town or Zanzibar Town (it's called both), to use an ATM. Zanzibar is a small island, but the roads are busy and bumpy, with police check points, so getting to Stone Town is a bit of a production. We had arranged to take a taxi with the hotel, but then we met Khalidi. Khalidi is one of the 'beach boys' that works the beach by the Safari Club, where we were staying. The beach boys hang out all day and wait for the tourists to come down to the water. They are not allowed up on the beach by the hotel or on the hotel premises. They are they to sell tours. The hotel has excursions you can arrange like a dolpin tour, a spice tour, etc. etc. The beach boys will offer the same tours but at a better price. It's how they make a living.

Most of the beach boys were so pushy and agressive about selling to us the first time that we walked down to the ocean, that Sam and I sort of shrugged them all off. It was overwhelming and we didn't really know what to think. Khalidi was different. I mean, he really wanted to sell us the trip to Stone Town, but he wasn't trying to be slick or fake or anything. We decided to go with him and his driver. He soon became one of a few very good friends we made in Zanzibar.

Our first trip to Stone Town was hectic, exciting and stimulating. The town is bustling. We walked through a fruit market with more fruit than you can imagine, and people everywhere, on bikes and walking and shouting. There's a fish market you can smell from nearly a mile away. The people are ecclectic. Zanzibar is such an interesting mix of Indian, Arabic and African cultures. The main religion is Islam. Most of the women cover their heads and some even cover their faces. Everyone speaks Swahili, which is one of most lilting, lyrical languages I've ever heard. It's truly beautiful. And everyone is friends with one another. I've never been somewhere were people all interact together they way they do in Zanzibar. We walked through the markets with Khalidi and his friend. As we looked through the shops at all the paintings and textiles, Khalidi seemed to know everyone. "We have to go in this shop," he would say "this guy is my best friend." "I thought the last guy was your best friend," we'd tease him. He'd laugh and push us inside. The only really difficult thing about Stone Town is that people are so desperate to sell you things. And they aren't afraid to be pushy. It gets exhausting to haggle, to say no, etc. And there is such poverty.

After Sam and I shopped, we stopped in at a tiny hole in the wall bar for a beer. The place was entirely dark (even though the sun was blazing outside), and an American movie played on the TV suspended from the wall. It was really only local people, and some of them eyed us suspiciously. We were ok though, as we were there with locals. They insisted on ordering our beers, as tourists get charged like three times the price. I went to use the restroom and had to squat over it. It reeked. I soon learned that most of the toilets in Stone Town are like this. I got used to it.

We stopped at the ocean to watch the sun set before heading back to Uroa (the east beach where our hotel was located).

On the way back to the hotel Khalidi insisted we stop in and meet his family. They were such lovely people. We sat in the narrow hallway of their hut and talked to the children. There were so many of them! It was hard to figure out exactly who was who and how they were related. Khalidi's uncle was warm and welcoming. The girls stared and smiled shyly. 'Jambo, jambo,' we said. Hello. How old are you? A group of the kids were sitting directly across from me on a little bed. I asked Khalidi's uncle if I could take their photo; if he would ask them if it was ok. When he did they grinned. Two of the girls jumped up and ran away. "Do they not want their photo taken?" I asked him, "are they shy?" "No," he said, smiling, "they went to change their clothes." I was so touched. The girls came back in lovely dresses, so I could take their photos. I don't know how to explain how that made me feel. It was just so innocent and touching. I didn't want to leave.

That night back on the beach, Khalidi and two of his friends, Ibraham and another who's name I can't recall, built us a beach fire. We sat around it and drank beer and listened to the drumming in the distance. The drumming came from the hotel's discoteque, suspending on a jetty over the ocean. Ibraham went and fetched and old bucket and began drumming along with his hands. The other guy began dancing around the fire. We clapped and sang and laughed. It was such a nice time. The stars were brilliant and more than I've ever seen. I found Orion in the sky and pointed him out.

This was only the first full day, and you see how much I have written?? :) I will post a few photos to go along with this portion of the story, and then tell you more in another post. There is much more to tell. We met so many wonderful people and learned so much. We had beautiful experiences, like chasing dolphins, and being caught it a storm out at sea in a rickety wooden boat. It was amazing.

I would post more, but the uploader is slow, and I am late for a Babies' Home Shift. More to come I promise. The top: Fatima and (forget her name). The masseuses at the hotel, Next: the beach at sunset with Khalidi, Next: Sam, Nino (one of the beach boys we became friends with, and me. Next: Stone Town. Bottom: Some of Khalidi's family, including the girls in their pretty dresses.

Lindokuhle

Lindo. This girl is incredibly bright and creative. She has more attitude than any adult I've ever met, but the good kind of attitude. Lindo knows who she is. She can dance like no one you've ever seen. She loves to play hand games with me. She can do them so much faster than anyone else. She struts on the playground. She's five years old. She taught me a new hand game that she made up as she taught it to me. It was complicated and awesome. She also made a song to go along with it, which incorporated many of the songs we sing in the creche, but in a seamless, lovely way. She wears her hair free and big and fluffy. This photo was taken in a crowded classroom. I was across the room. She is beautiful. You can see the hand of one of the other kiddies who was trying to interrupt the photo. Lindo wasn't having it, and kept her face straight. I love it and I love her.

Only One Photo...Bad Computer

I just wanted to take a minute to share some more photos from my time in the creche. We had a party on Friday, for our last day. We brought snacks, baloons and a boom box. Everyone had a wonderful time. We danced and danced and danced. A couple of the older kids cried. I cried. Bongie and Marta, who run the creche, hugged us hard and told us how much they will miss us. It was hard to leave, but I am so glad we could leave on a bright note of celebration. I will write more soon. Always lots to share, never enough internet time. Bottom photo: last 'circle time' with the kids. Here Mrabo is working on her numbers. I have a few more photos I really want to share, but the computer is not cooperating. I will try again on Wednesday, which is my next day off. All of my love, S.

PS. Sam and I leave December 10 for a holiday trip up to Zanzibar! We will be staying on the beautiful beach for seven days. I am so excited to travel and relax on the beach. :) Zanzibar is supposedly an interesting mix of African, Indian, and Arabic culture. The food is said to be delish, and spicy. Whooohooooo Zanzibar!

Last Day at My Creche...

We found out yesterday that tomorrow (Friday) will be our last day in the creche. We expected (and so did the creche teachers) that we would be there through the end of next week. We also have been told that we may not be able to continue our work in the township next year. This is all pretty unexpected, and heartbreaking. I thought I had another week with my kids, but now have to say my final goodbyes tomorrow. I am already mourning my loss, but I of course knew that I couldn't keep them forever. They go on a holiday break for the month of December. I was expecting to begin work in a new creche come January, but it looks like we may be needed in the babies' home and that the work in the township will be very limited, if at all existent. I love the children who live on the property in the babies' home, and look forward to forming relationships with them. I am just not ready to leave the township. I really believe that the work we have been doing in the creches is effective. I have learned so much and was very much looking forward to the next challenge; implementing a routine into a new creche on my own. I feel very invested in the project and had seen my part as just beginning. To be pulled out of it is heartwrenching and every part inside of me is fighting it. Please send me good thoughts over the next few days. I am struggling.

Disengaging emotionally from the kids is extremely hard. I sat today and watched them practice their Christmas drama, which is a nativity scene acted out in Zulu. My eyes got wet watching them. Mfundo (pictured above) noticed me and my teary eyes from across the room and watched me with concern in his eyes (a four year old boy worried about me!). Sihle noticed too, and the next thing I knew I had two little boys sitting quietly on either side of me. What beautiful, perceptive and loving children. They are truly my friends. It amazes me.

Anyway, I just wanted to write quickly to ask for thoughts and prayers. And please think of and pray for the kids in my creche too-- they are each truly incredible and deserving of all the good things life has to offer.

A Few More Photos

At top is a photo showing the area where we live. Sam has the last door on the left and mine is the one right next to hers. Next is a photo of Patrick's Tuck Shop and Hair Salon, directly across from my creche in the township. A tuck shop is like a convenience shop, selling snacks and beverages. I like this one because it's called Patrick's (and I have a good friend name Patrick-- makes me think of him). Also because below the name it says 'All we need is love.' Next is a little series of Terrance, one of the babies in my creche. He frowns at me like 'what are you doing' when I first take his photo, then when I ask him to smile he lights up and waves! Finally a series showing Sihle (pronounced Sea-clay). He has a big crush on me. He's a sweet, outgoing boy who is very smart-- he shouts the answers out the loudest of all the kids. When he saw me get my camera out to capture the kids playing in the garden he came running at me (first photo) with a grin on his face. Then he demanded a potrait be taken of him (last photo). P&L-- S.

Thunder, Lightning and Mosima

It is so hot and dry here. I like the dry heat, even though my skin is sometimes uncomfortable. Dry heat is more bearable than humidity. I like the static feeling in the air-- like something is going to happen. I like the the the dry heat in my lungs. I had a lot of dreams of being here before I left Seattle. In them, South Africa looked different every time. Sometimes it was gold and green, sometimes it was brown and red. But it was always dry and hot. I like that I got something right.

Often in the afternoons, the static electricity I've been noting in the air all day escalates and something does happen. The clouds roll fast and thick over the hot, hard sun. It is suddenly dark. Then the sky illuminates with quick bright flashes. The sky crashes and rolls and grumbles. And the rain pours down. Sheets of rain. It's like someone is just pouring a huge bucket of water out over the parched land. It crashes on the tin rooftops that cover our bedroom stoops. Sam and I sit in our bright blue chairs in front of our bedroom doors and watch it all happen. The last two Friday nights this was the headliner of our evening.

We joke about our social lives here. So far we are not very connected, and we spend a lot of our free time reading, listening to our headphones and talking together. Because it is suggested we not walk outside of the electric-fenced property after dark, it sometimes feels a bit restrictive. Friday night Sam was lying in her bed and I was lying in mine. We have an adjoining door, which is usually open. She yelled through the door, 'Hey Slyv, come watch this bug dying on my floor!' She was serious. We got a good kick out of that. There are a lot of bugs here. :)

It's good to adjust to a different pace of life I think. I have more time with my thoughts. I have been running a lot, and even cooking dinner. The lack of a fast paced social life like I am used to in Seattle allows me to really focus on the work in the creche, which is good.

I became pretty ill last weekend and had to miss both Monday and Tuesday at the creche. Monday Amy came back from the creche with a stack of birthday cards the kids had made me (my birthday was last Saturday). The cards were full of crayoned hearts and good wishes. A lot of I love yous and names with backward letters. They were awesome. When I showed up Wednesday to the creche the kids saw me coming in the door and started chanting 'Soool-VIE, Sool-VIE!' That's how they say my name. Then Xolelo and Sizwe started singing me Happy Birthday and everyone joined in. It's amazing to have so many little people smiling at you and wishing you well. I felt so thoroughly loved. I thought about how little I've done to earn such popularity with these kids. Like I've said before, they are so eager and ready to love. All you really have to do is let them.

I was disappointed on Wednesday that one of my favorite little girls was absent. I'd been thinking about her while I was home sick; looking forward to seeing her again. She is a very small (but probably nearly six years old), quiet, sweet girl named Mosima (in both photos, above). She is always paying close attention to the lessons, the creative activities, the songs, but is quiet in her participation. She usually has a very serious look on her tiny face. We try to pull the older kids out for participation as much as possible, as they are the ones who will be attending school in January, and we want to make sure they are as prepared as possible. Amy had assumed that Mosima was younger than she is because she is so small and quiet, so Mosima had not been drawn out for answers and such. Bongie told us the other day that Mosima is going to school in January. Amy was shocked. She began drawing Mosima out more in the lessons. She also communicated to me her concern, 'I just think she's a bit slow.' I found myself immediately irritated. I'd been paying close attention to Mosima from the beginning, as I could sense what a sweet-hearted little person she is. I was drawn to her because she didn't seek attention, but seemed so focused and interested in whatever activity was taking place. We quickly formed a friendship. My point is; I knew at the time that Amy made her comment that Mosima is a bright girl who picks up on things quickly. She just doesn't shout the answers out with the agression and enthusiasm of many of the older children. It has become very important to me to see Mosima flourish.

On Thursday she was back in class. Unlike the other kids who had rushed me (as I had been gone two whoooole days :)), Mosima sat quietly in her chair, but caught my eye and gave me a broad, but shy smile. I was so happy to see her. At 'garden time' she came right up to me to play the hand game we've taught the kids. She did it slowly, carefully, and perfectly. At the end when we high-fived she was smiling brightly.

I just wanted to tell you a little bit about Mosima. I want to paint a portrait of each one of the kids I work with. I want them to be real and individual to you. I want each one of their lives to hold all of the significance that each and every life should.

Anyway. Today is Sunday. The ground is already dry after last night's downpour. The earth just sucks all of the water up so fast. It is dry, and breezy and not too hot. The sun has been coming and going all morning. I am lonely often here-- I miss my friends. But today I find myself to be rather content, and looking forward to the small, simple pleasures of my life. Samantha and I rented a good movie to watch later. We found some chicken breast (can't always find it) and plan to make chicken pasta tonight. And I am feeling inspired to write. These are good, clean things.

Peace and love to all my lovely family and friends.
S.
PS. I bought a T-shirt dress the other day that says in huge pink print "Hip Hip Hooray, We all Love SA!" Awesome? Totally. :)

Fun Names Rule and Love is A Beginning

Written Tuesday, November 13.

I love the names of the kids in my creche. Half of them are nearly impossible for me to pronounce, but the kids help me try. There is a girl who's name begins with a clicking sound. The name is spelled 'Xolelo.' (She is the one wearing her mask-- one of our crafts this week). I tried it twelve times today. After each she would laugh at me and cover her face and shake her head, then pronounce it beautifully again. The sounds are so nice and so difficult for my thick American tongue. One of my favorite little boys (he has such personality!) is named Gift-- it's pronounced 'Gift-ee.' (He is the boy in the photo on the bottom). When the names are English they are often words we wouldn't use for names in America. There is a beautiful girl named Memory (she is in the middle of the three girls with their dolls). Surprise is another favorite choice. Anyway, I'm coming up with loads of new ideas for when I have children. For years I've wanted to name a boy River and give a girl the middle name of Darling. Now my poor future husband will be stuck with a child named Surprise Darling or some such absurdity. I love it. :)

Today was a good day at the creche, and a long one. It was so hot and I came back covered in dirt and snot and sweat and food, but you don't really mind when you are surrouned by such lively, bright children. I am becoming very attached to them already. I've only spent a few days with them, but they are so open with their personalities and feelings that you really begin to know them so quickly. I already fear the last day I will see them-- In early December. Because it really will be the last day ever. And then I will only be able to hope and pray for them-- that their futures are a bright enough match for the shining spirits they so trustingly and lovingly put into the world today.

You know how most adults lose the shine that most children have? I really believe we can keep some of it-- even as we experience the difficulties life always has to offer. These kids are up against a real challenge, but what I want for them is a chance to keep some of that shinyness-- some of the hope and excitement for life that spills out of them today so freely. I think encouraging it in them is a start.

I try not to focus too much on all the disadvantages most of these kids are up against. I mean I know and acknowledge the truth-- they live in poor conditions, many are HIV positive but receive little medical attention, the education offered to them is limited. I acknowledge these things because I (we) must to do anything productive. I acknowledge them because empathy is important and often the first step toward productivity. But I cannot dwell. There is much life and hope in the township, as well as poverty and struggle. These kids are resilient and I really must believe that they are able to overcome their circumstances. They may not overcome them. But they may.

Hope is important. For me doing what I can, even though at the moment it is quite limited, is important. Even simply opening our hearts is important. These kids have open hearts. The love that exchanges spaces between us all in the dusty hot fly-ridden rooms of the little creche, on just a typical Tuesday morning in Olievhoutbousch is something. Love is always a beginning. And a good one.

A Few Days at Botshabelo

I really want to be good about updating this blog. I hate the word blog. Just want to get that out there. :) Let's call it an on-line journal. Many more syllables but much less offensive on my tongue and ears. But seriously, I had such wonderful, generous support from my friends, family and community (which stretches even further than I'd ever realized), as I prepared to come to South Africa, that I really want people to see where their donations and good will are going. I want you all to experience as much of this with me as you have interest in experiencing. My point: I will try to write fairly often. It's a bit difficult as the office has limited hours and some of those are during my work day. But here goes my first shot at sharing what it's been like thus far.

The flight was long. That's all I really need to say about that. :) It was more bearable than I'd imagined it would be, and I was grateful to be able to sleep quite a bit. Samantha and I estimate that we each traveled about 30 hours in all to reach the property where we are now living, just outside of Johannesburg. Jo'burg as it's called here. I was told I will mark myself as an obvious 'tourist' by callng it Johannesburg. As if my American accent, etc. doesn't do that enough. :)

We had a day to settle in. The people who live on the property (other volunteers, staff members, etc) were immediately warm and welcoming. It's truly amazing how nice people are here. I keep turning to Samantha after each lovely person departs from our presences and say 'She was nice.' Today she asked me if it was like a tick I have. Like I can't stop saying how nice people are here. It's just that it is out of the ordinary. I like it. I could smile and hug all day, as most of you know.

Thursday we were briefed on the work we will be doing over the next few months. Bothshabelo is a multi-faceted organization, consisting of a babies' home on the property where we live, and then outreach work in a township a few miles away. The township is an area of poverty and is not developed in the same way as much of the Jo'burg area. There is no running water.The shacks are small and roofed with tin (very hot in the summer months). The area is very brown...the yards are just dust, and trees are very scarce. This community is about 40,000 people. The estimated rate of HIV/AIDS is over 30% of the population.

Samantha and I will be working in the township for the next month. Our work will be in the creches, or preschools. These creches are businesses owned by women who live in the community. In the past they have basically been daycares, but are the closest thing to 'school' the children in the community will see in their early developmental years. The age range in the creches (each one or two rooms) is from newborn babies to about 6 years old. They range from 40 to as many as 60 children.

The major problem that Botshabelo has recognized in these creches is that there is no routine, no program for stimulation and learning. When volunteers first started to work in the creches they found children who were complacent enough to sit for hours quietly. They were not accustomed to stimulation or any sort of new information. They basically went to the creches every day to sit. There were no resources for lessons or play. The aim of Botshabelo is to go into the creches and introduce the concept of constructive play, games, songs and lessons both to the children and the women who own the creches. This is accomplished by sending in a couple of volunteers to work with the women at creating fun, interactive ways of learning for the children. After spending about six weeks in a creche (five days a week), the hope is that the women will have gained the skills to continue the lessons and games....that we will be implementing something into the community that is sustainable.

That's a bit of background. So far I have spent one day in a creche-- the creche I will be working in for the next month. Tomorrow I begin my first full week in the township. It's hard for me to describe my first day there. I will give it a shot anyway.

We drove along the bumpy, dusty road to the township, called Olivenhoutbousch. It's something you will not see in the United States. Tons of crammed little shacks, planted in the dust, as far as your eyes can see. It's a sight. When we pulled up to the creche where I will be working with a more seasoned volunteer named Amy, I approached the back door of the first room, and nothing could have prepared me for all the little dark faces that turned to stare at me. "White person, white person," the kids all said in Tswana or Zulu (translated to me by Amy), pointing their fingers and grinning. "Hello," I said and waved. "Hellooooooo," they chorused, grinning and waving their tiny hands. A few came up and grabbed my legs to hug me. This was the 'babies'' room, where twenty or so children between the ages of just born and 4 years old spend their days. Next I went into the 'school room,' where another twenty little faces turned up to stare at the big, tall, verrrrry white girl who entered the room with their 'teacher' (Amy). First they said 'Good morning teachah!' to Amy, then she introduced me to the group. They smiled shyly and waved. As Amy launched into the good morning song, a few of them stole little glances my way to see what I was doing. I couldn't stop smiling at all of them. My face hurt and I fought back tears. It wasn't the time to cry, and it wasn't that I was sad. They were just so gentle and lovely.

As the day progressed I was impressed by many things. First of all, Amy's ability to engage all of the kids with her songs, games and lessons. Secondly the responsiveness of the kids. They were all so eager to learn. They shouted out answers and seeked approval in a different, more exuberant way than I am accustomed to seeing. Another exciting and inspiring thing was to see how proactive Bongi (one of the women who owns the creche) was. Amy has been working in this creche for a few weeks now and Bongi is picking up on the lessons brilliantly. She moved about the room helping the children with the sounds of the alphabet, encouraging them as they painted, singing the songs with a wide smile on her face. I was struck so immediately that this can really work.

When we went out in the 'garden' (dusty backyard with a slide and a couple swings), the kids swarmed me. They hugged me and grinned at me, speaking to me in their languages. I smiled and nodded and shrugged my shoulders and hugged them back. They stroked my white skin and pulled at it, questions in their eyes. They each wanted a turn of gently inspecting my St. Christopher pendant. "Silver," one of them said softly. One of the boys kissed it, and this started a round of kisses to the St. Christopher.

It's hard to tell you what these kids are like. They are like nothing you have ever seen. You should all meet them. They are so free with love and affection. They want it and they want to give it. They are so alive. So eager and excited to learn, to play, to dance. They are so obedient. I could not believe how well behaved they were. They are good.

I am so excited to get involved with these kids, to have a chance to be a part of something that will give them more of a chance for education and growth. I know I have much to learn from them, from this program, from the life I will live the next few months. All of it thrills me. There is definitely sadness here...there is some ugliness for sure. But I am so encouraged by the light and the good that overwhelms those shadows. It really reinforces my faith in the potential of our humanity as a group, of who we are and what we can do for one another.

There is more of course. So much more. I could tell you about all the wonderful people I've met, about the property and the surrounding area, about the things that are not perfect about this life I am beginning here. But, I am tired of typing and it is a gorgeous summer day outside (noon on a Sunday!) I think I will take my book and maybe my journal to the pool. I hope I haven't bored you....I suppose you wouldn't be reading if I have.

All my love. I miss all my wonderful friends and family at home.
S.