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. :)
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. :)
1 comment:
that t-shirt sounds rad. I want one, :)
Post a Comment