People

A beautiful landscape is wonderful, but it is the people who populate it that make it come to life.  The richness of our experience with the people we have met is what is making these weeks more than just an amazing holiday in paradise.  There are so many people but here are a few “snapshots” of the rich tapestry of humanity around us.

The staff at the Bungalows are amazing. Michelle is the manager, and she has such a heart for the people of the area.  She co-ordinates the outreach programmes to the schools and has a deep understanding of what is needed – which is often NOT what is asked for.  She has shown such warmth and interest in what we are doing.  So has the rest of the management staff – Lettie always has a word for us and wants to make sure our students are well and happy; Callista and Gareth, who are leaving to start their own hotel next week, have wonderful stories to tell about their staff; Charmaine, Louise, Graham, Anthony and all the others are also full of stories and support.  Anthony cycles through the district often and his insights into village life have been very valuable as we learn not to dish out sweets indiscriminately – something I want to do every time I see the round faces and hear “sweeties” in imploring tones.

In the dining room, Sylvia, the maître d’, is always so friendly.  I know her isiXhosa name, but like to call her Sylvia because she makes me think of my Mom each time I greet her. Madelaine in the bar, whose real name is Nobantu, is a special favourite.  Her daughter, Bazelwa, works in the shop, and her grand-daughter, Naye, is at Vukandlule.  What a beautiful child!   Bazelwa tells me what a mission she is to dress each morning – she knows exactly what she wants, and it’s always got to be “just so.”  Seeing her, you know there is a fashionista in the making.

Nelson and Aubrey, who are involved in the kids entertainment programme, are just amazing.  Last night I watched Aubrey teaching a whole group of kids to dance.  They ranged from just bigger than toddlers to pre-teens, and he had everyone slapping their legs in a gumboot dance (albeit not always very rhythmically), and doing a conga of epic proportions to the beat of a djembe drum and the singing of the nannies.  The patience these two guys display - playing 4 ball, tennis, sandcastle building, and so much more - with kids who are often spoilt, indulged or just plain otherwise, is amazing to behold.  I wonder what their future holds? – they would be such a boon to education in this area.  Someone said to me last night that Aubrey’s greatest gift was making every child in a competition feel as though they were the winner, even when they weren’t.  What an amazing tribute.

Helen and Peter are a mother and son I met at Vukandlule.  Helen used to work at the Bungalows, but now lives in the community.  Before her husband died, he built them a home high up on the hill but sheltered from the worst of the wind.  Helen tells me that she lives off the land as far as possible – what she can’t grow, she trades for. She has taken Vukandlule under her wing, and is trying to help develop the school.  She has book-keeping skills and is trying to help Mr Nofonte develop a budget, stock register and accounting procedures.  She is helping with the development of the ECO Schools project and is learning about coastal forest as quickly as she can to take them on a tree hike; she has a plan to teach the teachers to use the computers – if they ever get the power back on!  She also edits Honours and Masters theses for students and is helping the HOD at Vukandlule with her thesis.  She is an amazing lady and I look forward to visiting her next week at home.  Peter is living with her at the moment as he is between attempts at a career – he has tried all sorts of things and is now trying to work on alternative technologies for rural living.  He has built a solar cooker using cardboard boxes and old CDs and a fridge using two clay pots with sand between them.  An interesting young man.

And then there are the students.  What richness they are bringing into my life.  I kind-of knew them when I lectured them once a fortnight or so, but now we have become family.  There’s Callie, who is such fun to be with – we go and look at the jewellery in the shop at reception and drink daiquiris together on the bar deck while we download books for our kindles and update our Facebook status.  It’s like having one of my daughters with me.  There’s Nobantu – the lady of the group.  She calls me her “homie” because she has grown up in Ndwedwe near Verulam, where I grew up.   What a gorgeous girl – so mature and also such fun.  There’s Thelma – a mature student who agonizes over her teaching and her classes but in many ways is our conscience.  There’s Kevin – restless and energetic – just like our Kev – and ready for fun at the drop of a hat! There’s Smangele – a born teacher with a real presence – I see her as a Director of Education one day.  She will make a difference in the world.  They are all special in their own way – and this month together has made them a part of my life forever.

This has been a rich month – and I look forward to meeting more amazing people.

Grandparents

What a bundle of jumbled feelings as we prepare to be grandparents again.
Right at the top is the excitement – joy for Nic and Ray as they face this new phase of their lives; anticipation of holding a precious baby that is flesh of our flesh; happiness as we all think about this new little life coming into the world – Graham and Rita becoming grandparents for the first time; Aunty Laura and Aunty Sarah and Uncle Sihle all preening and being proud; Cousin Kev thinking about how he’s going to cope with this new cousin; Nana and Granny Sheila looking forward to another great-grandchild.
Then there is the love and longing for this new little baby. I remember the wonderful feeling when the midwife gave me Kevin to hold after he had been born – a feeling of absolute completeness, of a full circle being completed. I remember how Pete couldn’t wait to hold Kev in his arms as we got into the car on the way home from the hospital. He had only seen him through the glass and said his arms felt empty till he had held him. And I already feel this as I think about “Ricky” – only 6 cm long, but growing his/her way towards the world. I can’t wait to hold her/him.
There’s the impatience – 28 more weeks is so long! I want to fast forward the time till we actually know this little person. Nic will know Ricky already, but for the rest of us, it’s a long waiting game. And I’m impatient to be there and feel Ricky kicking in Nic’s tum, and see the pushing of the little hands, feet and elbows against her skin. And I’m impatient to know if Ricky is a girl or a boy. It’s Nic and Ray’s choice to know or not before the birth, but I want the day that we know to be now!
Then there’s a sadness that Tauranga is so far away. Yes, we’ll be there when Ricky arrives, and they will be home for a bit in April – but how long will it be before we see them again? I know that I will be the “Granny who reads on Skype” and we’re determined to be the best possible long-distance grandparents, but our last experience of a baby grandchild was so close and intimate, with Kev in our home and in our bed, that I wonder how we will cope with being so far away.
And I think all moms worry about their daughters as they approach this big new step in their lives. I want it all to be so perfect for Nic – and I really pray it will be. But who knows – will Ricky be like Nic was?
So it’s not an uncomplicated time – but then we aren’t uncomplicated people. I feel so blessed that we have this chance to welcome and love a new member of the family. Thank you, Nic and Ray. We love all three of you.

Two walks

With a school holiday and a public holiday and a reprieve from my publisher (1st drafts delayed by 10 days), we decided to spend Monday and Tuesday walking some of the wonderful walks around Umngazi.
On Monday, we walked south, crossing the river and walking down towards Mgazana river. The climb is not too steep, and then there is an amazing walk along the cliffs with panoramic views across the coast and down to Brazen Head. It was a beautiful day and not too hot – we didn’t sunburnt at all. As we went, we saw the track that leads up towards Cwebeni and I was glad that we have the opportunity to drive there each time we need to go.

We walked over the top of the cliff which has Flat Rock at its base and then went down onto the beach. We’d have liked to walk to Mgazana and the mangroves, but needed to get back to fetch Lerato at 12, so have left that till another day. There was a road of sorts as we went down to the beach, and Pete has checked on Google maps, and seen that it is the road that goes beyond Cwebeni School – so next time I’m working there, he will go and fish from the beach. I’m going to let the pictures talk for themselves – the colours and views are just too amazing.

On Tuesday, we decided to walk north and walked towards Sugarloaf. This was a much steeper walk and I was really glad of the adjustable walking sticks we bought before we came. Pete lent me his on the steep parts and I was able to balance myself on the ups and down. One of the “ups” was so fierce, I decided that the first place I could find a cow-pat free place, I’d sit down and rest. On a flattish saddle we found a place with the most amazing view and sat and rested for about ½ hour. Then I was ready to come back but Pete persuaded me to go a little further – we walked round the back of Sugarloaf through the fringes of the forest until we were behind Sicambeni – could see the house we sat outside to Skype Nic on Sunday. It took about an hour to walk back – but a total of 3 ¼ hours from the time we set off to the time we got back.

The pictures again are amazing - difficult to choose just a few. We shared the space with animals of different sorts – cattle, goats, sheep – who wanted us off their territory, donkeys and even a horse. In the whole 3 hours we only saw 2 other people.

Back to work tomorrow – crit lessons, a Soccer match and discussions with the school about ECO Schools at Cwebeni. Pete plans to fish – hope it’s a good day for him.

Some time to chill

A long weekend straight after our first week at school is a bit disconcerting and makes us all feel a little unsettled, but it’s a good time to catch up with real life.

Friday at school is disrupted by “cleaning” – learners knock off at different times during the day – some as early as 10.00am and clean the school. Well actually, some clean and others just seem to mooch around and at Sicambeni, Kevin and Thabo (or T-bone as the teachers call him) start a game of soccer. It gives us a chance to talk to staff about what computer training they are looking for and to chat about ECO Schools with Catherine from the EL office and with the co-ordinating teachers. The weather turns cold and mizzy, and I spend Friday afternoon asleep on the couch in our room, trying to sleep off my cold, while Pete takes a walk in the wind. The wind is so strong that he finds his cheeks shuddering as he walks back into it. He says it reminds him of the wind on the ferry from Picton to Wellington in New Zealand.
We actually start the “chilled” part of the weekend with a dinner in Port St John’s on Thursday night with Neil and Jane and Catherine from Eco Schools. Callie and Kevin join us and we set off for a charming and totally hippy restaurant on second beach, called the Delicious Monster. It is more like a lean-to with benches and sleeper couches covered with Eastern throws and the awnings hand painted. The food is fantastic – I have a Mezze platter with the nicest dukkah I have ever tasted, and home made pita breads. We like it so much that we go back for lunch on Saturday with Callie, Kevin and Thelma.
Before that, the “girls” go and do some shopping in Port St John’s – the main shopping area on a Saturday morning rivals Joburg for bad traffic. They are digging up half the roads and taxis, buses, construction vehicles and a variety of other cars and bakkies all vie with pedestrians who just walk across the road without even looking. We look for a bottle store that sells wine, but there doesn’t seem to be one, and the Spar doesn’t have a “Tops” as it is owned by a Muslim family. We want to go to a flea market on Second Beach, but it rains and the stallholders just don’t arrive, so we have a walk on the beautiful beach and eat scones made by the daughters of the restaurant owners.
Meantime, Pete and Kevin go fishing in a canoe. They set off up the river and then drift down towards the estuary. At the mouth, they suddenly get caught in a current and capsize. Kevin loses his rod and Pete loses his sunglasses and cap but fortunately they are able to stop the canoe from getting captured by the tide. They manage to right the canoe and let a wave help them to empty it but have to sprint a bit to catch the paddle so they can get back. The wind is freezing and they limp back to the jetty and try and warm up by showering. Pete says he felt warm in the shower but as soon as he stepped out he was shaking with cold again. And all in vain - as Pete says, “All they caught was a cold.”
After lunch at the Delicious Monster, Kevin and Callie set off for Mbotyi. We have a lovely walk along the Umngazi side of the river – I find some sponges – one a perfect oval and just right to exfoliate and then we have the Saturday night Seafood Buffet – I again try to be self-disciplined and don’t have a crayfish! But the prawns just shout at me “Eat me! Eat me!” Next week I will have to walk 10 kms each day and go to the gym.
We have a strange Sunday morning as we try to find somewhere we have enough reception to Skype Nicky and Ray and have a view to show them. Eventually, we have a very disjointed conversation, between changing dongles from Vodacom to MTN, losing battery on my laptop and having to move a couple of times. We have an audience of small children who peer at us as they walk up and down the dusty road and eventually sit on the grass in front of the bakkie and stare at us.
In the afternoon, we walk to Flat Rock and Pete catches a bronze bream which is cooked for our dinner by the chef. Delicious! The beach is flat and firm and I love walking on it. A walk to Flat Rock each day must make my thighs less flabby!
We’ve met so many interesting people – but I think that must wait for another blog!

Just another day for you and me in paradise

At one level we are in paradise.

The Wild Coast has to be one of the most beautiful places in the world – the magnificent bluffs covered in coastal bush right on the edge of the sea, white sands stretching as far as the eye can see, glimpses of waves breaking on rocks, throwing their spray high into the air. Bird life like you can’t believe – a whole flock of trumpeter hornbills, flying from erythrina to erythrina, with their red beaks sharp against the orange flowers; a giant kingfisher diving into the estuary right in front of our room. At this time of the year, the erythrina is in full bloom without a leaf in sight – you can see why they are called coral trees as they punctuate the dark bush. Roads are “organic” - they meander over the tops of the hills, rutted and weathered. The views as you round each corner are breathtaking, and you think “It can’t get better,” and then you glimpse the blue, blue sea – and it is better. We share the road with animals – patient donkeys standing at the side of the road, waiting to be used to carry water if the piped water breaks down. Cows, and an enormous number of bulls, staring us down as we try to negotiate the sharp curves. A cheeky little pale cream bullock, prancing and curvetting as he dares us to drive on his part of the road, before he gives in to the inevitable, and leaps into the bush, kicking up his heels. Wise goats with knowing eyes, perched on the sharpest and steepest of banks, or standing up on hind legs, eating the sweet tips of the thorn trees. Baby kids, drinking from their mothers, with stumpy tails wagging madly. Huge dirty sheep, with their clean little lambs trotting along next to them. And the dogs – thin and rangy, with long tails and possessive eyes – challenging us to enter their territory. From safe in the car, they hold no fears for us.

Then there is Umngazi River Bungalows – luxury in the best possible taste; beautiful buildings with thatch roofs and rustic but comfortable furniture; a dining room with magnificent meals, which means we have to be ultra-disciplined so we don’t regain the weight we have just lost; staff who treat us with the utmost friendliness, from the managers to the ghillies. Their motto is “Arrive as a guest, leave as a friend” and we will want to return again and again. The atmosphere is of the family hotel of long ago – kids welcome but freedom for parents who need it, safety for the kids as they play, a programme of activities if you want it – and then a luxury spa on the hill and 5 star dining room and lounge.

As we drive around we see smiling faces – people with parcels on their heads wave. When we give someone a lift, she is so grateful and friendly. Children have fat cheeks and smiling faces. There are pawpaw and banana trees in gardens and a few patches of cabbages. Houses are brightly painted and the green JoJo tanks next to many houses tell of fresh water for houses. Amongst the simpler houses, there are newly built houses of more western design, nestling next to mud houses that seem to have just “grown” there. In many ways, it is the Western eye’s picture of idyllic countryside.

The UKZN students are wonderful – we feel invigorated and young as we spend time with them. They work hard but are not too earnest; they tell us bits about their lives and we feel as though we are being welcomed into their private space. I watch them teach and they are magnificent – bringing the children into the 21st century with their energy.

So – is it a month in paradise? My calvanistic roots probably won’t let me wallow in the luxury and feel-good feelings for a month – not even for a week. What are the flies in this sweet life?

Probably the poverty is one of the hallmarks of this community. They are fortunate that the tourist industry employs many of the adults, so there is food and assistance available. Social grants mean there is always some money for food and I have been told that in the last 5 years, it is the grants that have led to the demise of subsistence farming on a larger scale.

The schools are “no fee” schools and parents have little say – or even interest – in what happens at school. The feeding scheme means that parents are happy for children to go to school, as they will get a good meal there – otherwise they might have to stay home to go fishing to catch some food for supper. As it is, on Pension payout day, many children have to stay home and look after the little ones while the pensioners go to fetch their money. The schools all go to Gr 9 – and then most children leave school. I wonder how families decide who is going on to Gr 10 – they have to travel to Port St John’s or Thombo or further afield to get an FET Phase education. And what are the options if they don’t – apart from the hospitality trade and fishing, what else is there in the area for some kind of employment? Umngazi helps with staff children if they show potential, but what about all the others.

The schools – there is some real joy in going to the schools – the shy little waves from kids who recognise us from earlier visits or think that we look friendly. This morning when I went into Smangele’s class, I was greeted as “mother.” Pete had a group of little boys with whom he could barely exchange a word, but who had a “conversation” about his fishing rod and showed him how they fish – he caught it all on video. One has obviously had some experience with a big fish – the bent finger represented a bent rod. There are teachers who are delightful – passionate about their veggie garden, dying to plant some flowers to beautify their garden. A Gr 2 teacher at Vukandlule has taken her class outside under the tree so Smangele can teach the Gr 3s on her own in the classroom. Principals are wanting to improve the facilities and give the children a taste of what they could have in a 21st century classroom. All 3 schools have been given computers and Sicambeni even has an interactive white board and data projector installed. But they can’t be used this week as a grid is being installed in the ceiling to stop further burglaries.

But there are also some depressing things about schools – lack of storage space, fencing; classrooms that are almost bare; desks that are broken so learners have to stand or share a small writing place; absentee teachers – after one teacher died in February, he has not been replaced, and other teachers are away so classes are unattended. I’m struggling with some of the interactions -the inevitable “you are white and so you know more” attitude from some teachers; the hand out for some kind of help – even if it is a perception that I have influence to get funding. The saddest thing for me is how much time is spent out of the classroom – arriving late at school and leaving early; the feeding scheme taking much longer than the time allocated and lessons being missed; classes without teachers.

Still, even with all these things, this is “another day for me in paradise.” What an experience.

The work begins

Today the work starts in earnest. For some students it is a busy day with lots of different lessons. For others it seems quite dull, with only one lesson to teach. Sphelele is sick and needs to stay in bed – I wish I could, as I have a head cold that leaves me sneezing and streaming.
We visit Sicambeni School first. Mr Shumane comes running across the grass to meet us – he is so welcoming, friendly and enthusiastic. Several things strike me about this school – firstly, that space that children could use isn’t dedicated to staff. The Principal and his clerk work in the computer room, and staff share the staffroom space with a small library. The school seems orderly and organised. The feeding scheme seems to operate well and everyone is fed in a specific time. Teachers seem to be prepared to do things for the good of the school – after a teacher died, the Foundation Phase teachers have taught Social Studies and isiXhosa to Senior Phase kids once their learners have gone home. The computer centre is spanking new, with a data projector and IWB installed, but they are still not sure how to use it. There are other computers as well – older ones, I gather - but they are packed away because there is no room yet and the security needs to be upgraded. The spare computer desks are stacked in the back of the Grade 8 classroom.

Classrooms are spread out on the level parts of the grounds. The top blocks, which house the smaller children, were built with donated money, and the lower blocks were built by the department. There is a large veggie garden which is used for the feeding scheme. Mr Shumane is keen to get involved in Environmental Education and is debating planting bananas in one corner so the children can eat the fruit. We talk about investigating which fruit trees would be best suited to the environment and I think about talking to the Bungalows’ horticulturalist – the plantings at the lodge are so well designed and appropriate – there must be an expert behind them.
The student teachers there are engaged but would all like a bit more teaching time. Sphelele is ill one day but quickly catches up the next day. Kevin and Thabo are playing soccer with the kids in the afternoon, but would dearly like to teach a bit more each day.

We take our leave after arranging to meet on Friday to talk to the teachers about what computer training they would like and to have time to talk to the English teacher.

The drive to Vukandlule is not far, but it is much lower down the hill. We drive up a very steep road and find the school perched on top of a hill. The buildings are on the flattish crown and the grounds fall steeply away on both sides. Mr Nofonta is away and we meet the HOD. She gives us leave to walk around the school and interact with our student teachers and the learners.

It is break time, and everyone is waiting for the feeding scheme to kick in. The phutu is ready but they are waiting for the maas to arrive. Lerato, Callie, Mdu and Sphesihle are sitting in the sun in the playground, while the other teachers are inside the staffroom.

Many of the children, especially the Senior Phase kids are inside the classrooms, lolling on the desks. Most of the little ones are outside. They play on the road as it is flat. Someone has brought a vine to school, and they play the skipping games children the world over play – two in – one out- another in. The vine breaks, and a boy plays with the shorter end, skipping like a boxer. We look for Callie’s favourite children – Asiphe and her friend with the cockatoo hairstyle. She had come to school on Monday with a perfectly sculpted fringe over her forehead, but they may not have hair on their faces, so it was pushed back and now stands up wildly around her head. Asiphe looks like a perfect little waif from Annie – shirt hanging out, socks half down, a shy little smile. She eventually whispers her name to me and allows Pete to take a photo. And then the game is one – everyone wants to be in the picture. He is kept busy taking photos for the next 5 minutes – even the big kids barge in.
We leave and meet the bakkie bringing the food on the hill. 

In the afternoon, we go to Port St John’s to buy card for Sphesihle to make some charts as her classroom is bare – few desks and no pictures. Then Pete takes Kevin and Callie fishing – they don’t catch anything but have a good time. He says he’ll take the others if they are keen to learn.
Wednesday, everyone is settling down and most have a bit more teaching. Callie gives her Gr 8s and 9s some photocopied chapters from a text book and they are thrilled – they can’t believe they can keep them. Many teachers are still away on workshops and there is a local funeral, so our students are left to teach classes on their own. They are all coping magnificently and have amazing dignity and understanding for what is going on. I am so proud of all of them for their dedication and commitment. They are even learning to play tennis – some budding Roger Federers – I don’t think!
The adventure continues – first crit lessons coming up soon. Good luck, guys!

First Day of School

Everyone sets off bright and early – Callie tells me everyone starts to get ready at 5.00am so they have a good start to the day. At 7.15 sharp the Cwebeni crew board their boat and set off up the river for the first stage of their journey. The second stage is a climb up what looks like a sheer cliff to the school perched high on a bluff above the sea. When we go to visit the school later, we drive around – about 30 km by road – about a 45 min drive on narrow roads.

The next lot to leave are the 4 from Vukandlula school – fetched by the Principal of the school, Mr Nofonta. They take a sharp turn off the road from Umngazi and up a sheer precipice, and with 5 of them in a Chevvy Spark, the car makes grating noises as the undercarriage catches on the rocks and corrugations on the road. The Sicambeni crew wait for a taxi which screams up 15 mins late, and then takes off like a rocket to get them to school high on the hills.

It’s a day of surprises for everyone – for some, they are given a class to look after all on their own, while teachers catch up on Admin. For others, they are loaded with lessons as teachers see this as a chance for them to have a bit of a break. Others are integrated into classrooms as though they have always been there. Callie ends up fixing all the computers and typing a letter for the Principal. Kevin finds the kids very quiet and reserved till he asks if they have ever had a white teacher before, and they relax and laugh and start to interact with him. Zinhle gets given a lesson to teach tomorrow – The Calendar – and she is expected to make that her lesson for the whole day. Luckily, she has plenty of ideas of her own and will cope while the teacher sorts out the feeding scheme budgets tomorrow and leaves her with the class on her own.

Everyone talks about the feeding scheme – how it takes at least an hour to get the children fed, while teaching time is abandoned. The students all refuse the meals that are offered to them by the staff, feeling that it is the children who should be getting the food. They also discover that all food and drink is seen as communal, as personal water bottles are used by all the teachers and sandwiches are shared out.

We visit Cwebeni and are expected to perform instant miracles in a computer room that was originally donated by Telkom, but has not been maintained. Only 5 of 12 computers are functional and the 50 Gr 9s are the only ones who get to use the computers on a sporadic basis. I ponder on whether no technology is better than non-functioning technology, and what message is sent to learners and community by donations that come without support.

In one classroom, a tiny boy stands near the board holding a huge stick. He is standing in the same position, pointing to a flag drawn on the board every time we walk past. The children seem friendly and well disciplined, and we get shy smiles from bigger children and rapturous shouts from little ones when they see the camera.

On the way back, we let the Garmin take us past Sicambeni school. We see the sloping field where Kevin and Thabo play a game of soccer with the kids after school. But it is the view that blows us away – a wonderful vista of sea, sand and coastal bush – breathtaking! I don’t know how I would teach if I were there – too much distraction.

Tomorrow we visit Sicambeni and Vukandlula and everyone starts teaching in earnest. We are warned by one of the management staff here to just “go with the flow” and not try and change the world in this month – simply try and make the difference we can to one or two lives. A bit cynical, but probably realistic. Remember the Starfish parable – let’s make a difference to one or two starfish.