What a Nutella Pizza Day Looks Like

We just got back from the second largest mall in the southern hemisphere. I was on the hunt for a sleeping bag for Kruger that would pack small. I found one that didn't break the bank, will keep me comfortable in the forecasted temps and fits into my daypack. Win. win. win. Speaking of winning, we had pizza for dinner. Nutella pizza for dessert. We may or may not have serenaded its awesomeness.

It's hilarious right now because it's not even 10p and the entire house is asleep. These kids really take it out of us!!

I had one of my favorite days today. First, one of my kid's parents saw the way he ran into the creche to hug me this morning. Then, it was Anda's bday so we made her stand on a chair and sang to her. She ate it up.

After lessons, I brought out the cd player. I explained musical chairs to Khutala and we got started. The kids picked it up quickly and it was awesome. My little Phumelele was one of the first out, so I let him be the DJ. We'd exchange a look when it was time for him to pause the music. The kids became wise to watching action near the boom box and started reacting accordingly. We played through two entire rounds (with other kids working as DJ the second time around). So many laughs. And the kids loved it. And thanked me for teaching them.

Then we switched to pop music and had a dance party. Some of these kids have moves! We had a couple of break dancers and provocative movers. Again more laughs.

This trip has obviously offered a lot of retrospect about career choice and such, and what I'm happy to report is that as much as I love kids, I could never be an educator. These kids obviously learn by memorization and I find it very discouraging that while they can count to 20 they can't recognize the numbers - even on their poster - when I point to them out of order. We did count down from 20 today, but I really feel like I don't have what it takes. I don't know HOW to teach them any different way. And don't get me started on reading/writing. I love the fun parts tho. I really hope my kids have great teachers. I mean, I'll read to them all the time and answer any questions I can (cows have udders not penises), but otherwise...that French private school will hopefully really come through. :)

So today I ventured to the "park/playground" down the street. On our way we encountered a group of white tourists. The kids went crazy. (White people don't hang out in Langa.) And that's when I - and the teachers - realized they don't see me as a white person anymore. They address me directly. They thank me using my name. I'm one of them. As much as I love being called "my white person," having reached this point this soon makes me feel like I'm doing something right.

Yesterday I was sitting with one of my girls and we were going over colors on our outfits and our arms were side by side and she said "brown-brown" for both of us. (Editor's note: I'm no tanner than when any of you saw me.) But I l told her she was right. That there was no difference. Even tho apartheid is over, she lives in a black township. Coloreds and whites live in other townships. Sure there are areas in town where they're mixed, but not in Langa. Racial issues are still definitely a reality. We met a bakery clerk the other day who, when she found out where we were working, said she would never set foot in a township.

Back to the playground...it consists of a rudimentary pipe with handles welded onto it (a see-saw), a 6 ft metal wheel with spokes (a merry go-round), and a metal/wood slide that leaves splinters if you slide down it the wrong way. The sand/concrete is littered with broken glass. Of course I wore flip-flops today. But the kids do most of the time. If they have shoes on at all. All I could think of was, I know my tetanus shot is still good. How many of them could say that? Seeing kids (not from our creche but from the neighborhood) walking around barefoot where I knew glass bits were had me a nervous wreck, but they're used to it.

The playground is next to a church, and the white tourists caught not only my kids at the park, but the church letting out. One of the teachers was like, I'm sure those people are wondering what you're doing with us. I felt lucky to be on the inside.

One of the ladies from the church must have heard me speaking to the kids because she came over and started talking to Qeks (whose name I can now say) and then told me that she thought it was good I speak Xhosa because now I give the kids exposure to English while showing them that I'm efforting their language at the same time. I know it has improved my relationships with the other teachers. The parents have also been really receptive to me and greet me in English.

I obviously haven't figured out everything yet. I know what I've always known, that I love traveling and interacting with other cultures. I like the volunteering because it allows for an immersion in new cultures that just being a tourist does not. Unfortunately you don't get paid to be a volunteer. And truth be told, I think if I was staying here longer I would have to switch placements after 3 weeks in order not to become more attached. I thank God every day I wasn't placed in the infant room of an orphanage as I had thought I wanted. As much I as I love me some baby cuddling, adoption to the states is currently not an option. It would have been torture. I'm right where I need to be. And having a great time.

The only other news from today is that we had a drum class. I can apparently now accompany Shakira's Waka Waka on the drum. Just call me Mary Anne McConaughey. (And replace bongo with the traditional drum of the Congo.)