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Okay, I have a couple minutes to post an entry so I thought I'd try to get one up. I've got my journal with me so I'll just quote some entries to get you up to speed with current stuff inserted in brackets.

8/24
For five days, we stayed at the Mokopane training centerfor our orientation. We weren't allowed outside of this little compound, where we spent our days learning Pedi language and culture in preparation for the Pre-Service Training in Moletji. We also had some medical and safety debriefings. [To date, I have received the following vaccinations: measles, mumps, rubela, polio, yellow fever, rabies, Hep A and C, Typhoid, Meningitis, Tetnis... we've been warned to expect more on the way.]

It's is pretty impressive how many languages South Africans juggle in normal conversation. People seemlessly move from Zulu to Pedi to English. Langauges are concentrated in certain areas, but people transition between them. This makes it really important for me to have a basic understanding of my own language, as well as some elementary vocabulary for the others. Incidentally, these languages are difficult - spelling gives no indication of pronunciation.

There's also a lot of nonverbal communication to be learned. People from each region greet each other differently. There are curtsies, claps, sidewats bends and different handshakes and gestures. Women touch each other's breasts in greeting and there's a lot of same sex hand holding.

South Africa is huge on dancing and singing. There’s really no way to explain it except that it’s kind of like living in a musical. At least once a day, people burst into well harmonized song and well choreographed dance. The only explanation we’ve received is that everyone has been dancing and singing the same dances and songs since childhood.

Today we received our language assignments. I will be learning Venda, which happens to be the most obscure language spoken in South Africa. Sweet. Japanese, Croatian and Venda. I’ve heard that volunteers in Venda tend to learn their language really well. It is spoken in Northern Limpopo – which means that’s where my assignment will be. Venda people are also known for their traditional culture. As for the Venda region, it is one of the most lush areas in South Africa with misty hills and lots of mango trees. In the summer (which starts around when I arrive there permanently), it is oppressively hot… and when I say oppressive I mean 115 degrees F and humid. Venda is also a relatively short drive from Kruger National Park and the uber dope beaches of Mozambique.

I just arrived in Moletji and am staying in my homestay. Meals are pap (thick cornmeal mush) with a vegetable side. We dispatch of this with our right hands without formality on the floor of my mother’s (Mawae) bedroom while watching a Venda soap opera or WWF. Rendani, my homestay sister, gave me my Venda name, Azwifarwi… which means “Don’t Touch”.

My house has electricity, which is hot, cause I can charge stuff. No running water or indoor plumbing though. During the day, I use the outhouse and at nights, I rock a chamber pot. I, for one, would like to institutionalize chamber pot use back home. It’s awesome just rolling out of bed to do your business. I keep myself clean with cold bucket baths. To celebrate the end of the week, I throw some boiled water into my bucket on Sundays. Washing cloths is difficulty and the neighbor kids laugh at me cause I’m doing it wrong. I’ve been scrubbing the fabric against itself, but I’ve recently learned that a wooden plank is involved. I will inquire about this with Mawae the next time I set to cleaning my clothes.

I’ve been putting an effort into learning Venda. The language has very difficult sounds and the spelling is useless where pronunciation is concerned. For the linguists out there, Venda is NOT a Bantu language, like Zulu or Xhosa, so no clicks. I believe Venda actually came to Limpopo from Zimbabwe.

Briefly, I will say, I feel this intense tide of loneliness and despair welling up in me. It’s not a feeling I can indulge. I really can’t afford to be homesick; I fear it won’t stop. So I’ve been avoiding my photo album, most of the music on my iPod, and the goodbye notes that I received and brought with me. My time is dedicated to socializing with other trainees.

8/29
Today was a low day for NGO Team Venda. I think there’s some frustration with the pace of language acquisition. It’s also possible that on this, the first day of my period*, I was emitting some bad pheromonal mojo. The weather was also pretty bad; it was cloudy and cold and I’m betting we were harboring some resentment at the morning’s cold bucket bath. But we’ve found a bottle of coke (with real sugar – none of that farm lobby corn syrup stuff) and dirty dirty peanut brittle is an amazing palliative.

In other news, my birthday was pleasant. Some friends and I climbed up a mountain and played scrabble at the top. We also rode to Polokwane, the nearest town, on a taxi. Taxis are minivans that sort of serve like buses do. As it passes by, you point your finger up to indicate you’re riding to the nearest town or point your finger down (with optional twirling action) to indicate you’d like to be let off somewhere locally. It’s a wonderfully informal affair with house music blaring from the van’s speakers and passengers passing up fares and calculating and returning change. I’ve been told exhausted mothers are liable to hand over their babies to you, if they are so inclined.

In town, I treated myself to some toilet paper and soap. A friend got me a slice of cake and I brought it back to Moletji to enjoy with my homestay family. When I returned to the homestead, there was a bag of ginger beer waiting for me. Some friends had found my homestay and dropped it off. I shared the cake and soda with my family outside. It was quiet and nice.

This weekend there was also a vigilante killing in Moletji. A 17 year old thief was found, strung up, and beaten to death with a hammer, an ax or a stick (depending on who you ask), at the local bar/restaurant. Several trainees saw it happen and are freaked.

9/5
I’ve been sleeping badly. The malaria medicine gives me really trippy dreams. Vivid. Nightmares too. And everyone I’ve ever known guest spots in these weird dreams. Yes, yes, yes there have been zombies.

9/10
I have received my assignment at last and will be spending a week there for a brief site orientation! I will be working with the Thohoyandou Victim Empowerment Programme. Their mission is to create an atmosphere of zero tolerance for domestic violence and rape in the Thulamela municipality of Limpopo. Starting in the middle of October, I will be living and working in Thohoyandou, the capital of Venda. I’ll spend my first three months getting to know the organization and getting a sense of where I might best contribute my energies. My supervisor has suggested legal advocacy – which sounds great to me.

For posterity, and because the internet is a miserable medium for emoting, please understand: this is glee… glee. When I got this assignment, I had this thrilling sensation of being on course… of having purpose. My life is taking direction in an area for which I have passion. I feel blessed that I can concentrate all my energy on this cause I feel so strongly about.

My coworkers are cool too. Later today, I’m going to a soccer game with some of them and then to a braae (South African bbq).

My living situation is awesome as well. After the training in Moletji, I will be living with a homestay, but I have quite a bit of autonomy. I have my own room, bathroom, and there’s a fridge dedicated to my use in the family kitchen. We’ve got electricity and indoor plumbing and there’s talk of hot water in the near future! Fortunately (and I say this now not having experienced the summer), it’s so hot in the summer, all I’ll want is cold water.

I’ve already begun to develop a mental map of the area. I’ve located a place where I can buy chickpeas, so once those care packages with tahini start rolling in I can start waging war on the hummus front. There’s also a stand in the local strip mall where a purveyor of Indian food serves up good vegetable samosa and curry… when he’s not judging my Bangladeshi friend for not praying to Allah five times a day. I suffer to confess that I have found a place where I may delight in mocha café and cappuccinos, but it is a fast food chain… the South African version of McDonalds, in fact. I know. I know. I have turned my back on all that is good and holy. May Eric Schlosseur have mercy on my soul. And incidentally, if you’ve ever wondered where exactly do people eat chard – cause I have – I’ll have you know South Africa eats chard. Though I haven’t seen the rainbow variety yet.

Vegetarianism has saved me from encounters with chicken feet and mopane worms. Still, I can’t help but feel like I’m missing out.

On a darker note, I am the object of a great deal of unwanted attention – which, to be fair, I knew about when I signed on. In public, I can’t walk anywhere without being asked whom I am, where I’m going, where I’m from, where I’m staying etc. I receive marriage proposals and declarations of love. I’m asked for money a lot and sometimes by people who I’m guessing have more than I do. People shout the equivalent of ‘whitey’ to us wherever we go. It’s not malicious, I don’t think; they’re just curious. Still it’s tedious and as walking has always been a sort of therapy for me, it’s hard to see it become a source of anxiety.

9/11
Day 24 and I’m proud to report I’ve already made my first television appearance. Yesterday a coworker and I went to a soccer game to watch our home team, Venda’s Black Leopards. A newscaster wanted us to comment on South Africa’s 2010 bid for the World Cup. I was reticent; we had been warned just three days earlier to avoid giving interviews in support of political causes. The Peace Corps is a neutral presence in the nations gracious enough to host us. But I negotiated with the TV guy for 2 Black Leopard t-shirts in exchange for our interviews. I’m wearing the shirt now. When asked for my thoughts on the bid, I said: “well I only just heard about it, but I fully support this campaign, in an apolitical way.” And then, in Venda, “hi, mom.” After the game, we went to a party another coworker was throwing and some people had already seen the interview. Apparently, it will be playing again tomorrow during primetime. As there are only three channels, I feel pretty sure the PC will get wind of it. I hope I’m not courting administrative separation. I hope my Venda homestay mom sees it.

And for the curious, in a beautiful victory, the Black Leopards won three to one… and my undying loyalty. I hope to catch all the games when I move here permanently after training.