tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-67348289002955556242024-03-13T11:32:11.357-07:00My Adventures in AfricaIn July 2011, I was invited to train as a Peace Corps Volunteer in South Africa, focusing on HIV/AIDS Outreach. This is what will hopefully become my valiant attempt at documenting my experiences in the days leading up to, including, and following my service.Alyssa Boninihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10346702845400546815noreply@blogger.comBlogger35125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6734828900295555624.post-8031032465322954002014-03-09T00:54:00.002-08:002015-02-02T20:02:22.697-08:00Farewell, Sweet Africa<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHhU0NUmIer9s62pekU5BybPpxOodXcVopa9TmVcUerHF-Dd7IDsnhTvKhDeRTg7nQkaeEGBxHV6bHlMB45H7eT9VBVsXfg0takXqtBtfE68sk-CcDnPaWZ_gGtTT0veUu-wJZGBJ6HGE/s1600/IMG_4951.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHhU0NUmIer9s62pekU5BybPpxOodXcVopa9TmVcUerHF-Dd7IDsnhTvKhDeRTg7nQkaeEGBxHV6bHlMB45H7eT9VBVsXfg0takXqtBtfE68sk-CcDnPaWZ_gGtTT0veUu-wJZGBJ6HGE/s1600/IMG_4951.JPG" height="150" width="200" /></a></div>
Well, the time has finally come for me to leave this beautiful continent. This afternoon I fly with my Mom across The Strait of Gibralter from Morocco to Paris.<br />
<br />
I'm nervous.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEih7XWK0G-VXtoLwfnVA9p4zKXF8sqc12O0tmp2w6Vz8e_stkkGVEnF0CzpZVzDF7B7LQvxX5NAgvSdz2Rq4aSJ7N8ahIABYcCCYLj1e35f5HIx84VAgn14Ycu6DE7qQq9B454CcecTvEU/s1600/IMG_9292.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEih7XWK0G-VXtoLwfnVA9p4zKXF8sqc12O0tmp2w6Vz8e_stkkGVEnF0CzpZVzDF7B7LQvxX5NAgvSdz2Rq4aSJ7N8ahIABYcCCYLj1e35f5HIx84VAgn14Ycu6DE7qQq9B454CcecTvEU/s1600/IMG_9292.JPG" height="150" width="200" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLNLweNmX60TMoouEmTB1cgmZ_vWXgzd-9jbfGi6r29HqlnB7r_iQH9RFU0l7ZOPQ4vz-4U9nuX0MlrzAK05LkBU_2cOlajFWYOTPWI92En1j5GsTr7Nv5VO40XXSo0EwELK-RQpZSjaw/s1600/IMG_6223.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLNLweNmX60TMoouEmTB1cgmZ_vWXgzd-9jbfGi6r29HqlnB7r_iQH9RFU0l7ZOPQ4vz-4U9nuX0MlrzAK05LkBU_2cOlajFWYOTPWI92En1j5GsTr7Nv5VO40XXSo0EwELK-RQpZSjaw/s1600/IMG_6223.jpg" height="200" width="150" /></a>What will I do without the passion and vibrance cultured by an intensity only offered by the African sun? This is the only place where I've seen that such passion can be a negative and turn people against each other with a conviction I'd never before experienced. But such a raw and eclectic existence is such a source of beauty as well, and allows me to appreciate the intoxicating radiance in imperfection and the ability it has to illuminate unseen beauty in darkness.<br />
But the time has come to return home, and although I do not know if my feet will ever again touch the red soil of the land I've grown to love so well, Africa will remain a part of me as I leave an aged piece of my heart behind in the place that taught me more about humanity in two years than I'd learned in a lifetime.<br />
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<br />
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Here is my completed list of Absolute Truths, though this may change once I arrive home and things I've been taking for granted are brought to light:<br />
*Always carry a litter bag and tissue paper.<br />
*Clothes and baby life forms are much stronger, and much more resilient than given credit for.<br />
* Keep your word, always.<br />
*Be on time, always.<br />
*Your community is a living organism. Pay attention to it.<br />
*No matter how much of something there is, it's always enough to share.<br />
*My heart is also your heart.<br />
*Life is finite. Be kind. Be patient.<br />
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As I end this blog and begin a new chapter of my journey, I'd like to thank all of the friends, family and neighbors who shaped and changed my life over the past two years. You taught me life, you taught me death, you taught me patience, kindness, forgiveness, and
hope. The list is too long and my nerves too shattered to name everyone
in one fell swoop. I will be seeing some of you within the coming
weeks, and have left too many of you for the foreseeable future, but
know that I love and cherish you all more than I have the words to express.<br />
<br />
<br />
Stay well until we meet again.<br />
Love Always,<br />
<br />
Goitsimang/Pebetse/Alyssa.<br />
<br />
<br />
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<br />Alyssa Boninihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10346702845400546815noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6734828900295555624.post-24697668460932627802014-02-17T23:31:00.000-08:002014-02-18T00:08:55.214-08:00Out Of The Village<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-wagIctfNuDdEsfIkZBCzRbTGai-ts0PqDPLQ-OXypPylGEB1LbILEyJ_G7xusuJ2g-ssUiUAVJr1Hwpds0HT2_j-Wk6CihyphenhyphenSVDtmDcdIb2Erf7oGVP9zbxVa7DWLVGa-9izfsHNveKM/s1600/IMG-20140213-01503.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-wagIctfNuDdEsfIkZBCzRbTGai-ts0PqDPLQ-OXypPylGEB1LbILEyJ_G7xusuJ2g-ssUiUAVJr1Hwpds0HT2_j-Wk6CihyphenhyphenSVDtmDcdIb2Erf7oGVP9zbxVa7DWLVGa-9izfsHNveKM/s1600/IMG-20140213-01503.jpg" height="150" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Farewell Cards From Learners At Mmeshi</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
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Well, I've officially moved away from Mohlarekoma. On Saturday I said my final goodbyes and took my last taxi ride to Groblersdal to meet up with my friend Pieter who was kind enough to offer me a ride down from site to Pretoria with all of my stuff. We drove back up to the village, loaded up my two bags and bucket water filter, and said goodbye to the best host family a girl could ask for.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQqAtTzXqYY40m-hQLZMgTv4BDwJa6wQPQkT9XQtXXh91VdCD9D8RfaGJ5dZrXxwhEUelsPggEvT_JwUmK5HeIXkgbv_mmvSWrDT5pwH7Iv8NPLzhbI4AekQQVOoOE0VDxOYuYL3DO6oc/s1600/IMG-20140212-01485.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQqAtTzXqYY40m-hQLZMgTv4BDwJa6wQPQkT9XQtXXh91VdCD9D8RfaGJ5dZrXxwhEUelsPggEvT_JwUmK5HeIXkgbv_mmvSWrDT5pwH7Iv8NPLzhbI4AekQQVOoOE0VDxOYuYL3DO6oc/s1600/IMG-20140212-01485.jpg" height="240" width="320" /> </a></td><td style="text-align: center;">This past week was full of goodbyes, all of which went really well. On Friday as I was coming home from town where I was saying goodbye to my friend Yolande, I encountered a group of ladies running up the road in Mohlarekoma, lead by none other than Debrah Makola, my counterpart from the Community Garden and the Women's Health Retreat. It was AMAZING to see! Some were in "gymming" clothes, some were in their traditional village attire, but all were trotting along up this hill, carrying towels and water bottles. If that's not a perfect note on which to end my service, then I don't know what is!</td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mohlarekoma's New Jogging Group Lead By Debrah! Go Limpopo Women's Health Retreat!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzmxpsbvawjwjb4bso7uII0dG4ENI0XQikJ8kdhtEb6GJz7inbNJZRe_3kN3soqfgnerHTz8D45X_3q4NQtCd7r4OasRqqSq6OrM86NTICqn4F6XwCv8PsHWbLmhxr17UcxTMGd_vGZMU/s1600/IMG-20131204-00766.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzmxpsbvawjwjb4bso7uII0dG4ENI0XQikJ8kdhtEb6GJz7inbNJZRe_3kN3soqfgnerHTz8D45X_3q4NQtCd7r4OasRqqSq6OrM86NTICqn4F6XwCv8PsHWbLmhxr17UcxTMGd_vGZMU/s1600/IMG-20131204-00766.jpg" height="150" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">RIP Mugabe</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
In sadder news, Mugabe, my family's rambunctious puppy dog unfortunately passed away during the first week of January. However, my farewell was lined with silver once again thanks to Pieter, when he agreed to sell one of his Jack Russel puppies to my family. It was the biggest dog of the litter, and I think that he'll make it well up there!<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4WXxb629LxifV9WNlTdZCGm-rKicXaNssRyDe1ZtHtByJu8WD7AZUny8rCHFtA67DMvr_yyRZWfjjXx0XAennD_24fRNQJMQDd8meQcAw_fJ5nqPalRR2eXXz1zRC3F7jzsCzPe5Toew/s1600/IMG-20140125-00504.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4WXxb629LxifV9WNlTdZCGm-rKicXaNssRyDe1ZtHtByJu8WD7AZUny8rCHFtA67DMvr_yyRZWfjjXx0XAennD_24fRNQJMQDd8meQcAw_fJ5nqPalRR2eXXz1zRC3F7jzsCzPe5Toew/s1600/IMG-20140125-00504.jpg" height="150" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">New Puppy</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Goodbyes happened in a bit of a blur, but the hardest one was at the very end when we stopped by Mashuana pre-school one last time to say one final farewell to Lesego and all the tiny tots.<br />
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxGZ0YJ7cBwm-MA7_lhM3u0aS71ZzvA0uR_hIgC-pRfwjbrRbMNRJhRIw8y1ghicXAbmT-weaM2pznDTiuq48xk6VcnxipIEEH9zSYjHABtr1DJSoDZqSTN1aLDcsJvZvATucJ0oPwT0g/s1600/IMG-20130805-01846.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxGZ0YJ7cBwm-MA7_lhM3u0aS71ZzvA0uR_hIgC-pRfwjbrRbMNRJhRIw8y1ghicXAbmT-weaM2pznDTiuq48xk6VcnxipIEEH9zSYjHABtr1DJSoDZqSTN1aLDcsJvZvATucJ0oPwT0g/s1600/IMG-20130805-01846.jpg" height="150" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My Favorite Little Nugget</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
While Pieter waited in the car, I went in and picked up Lesego who had been sleeping before, and was now smiling groggily up at me with his arms outstretched. He snuggled into my shoulder as I said a 'sharp!' goodbye to the rest of the kids who came running and shouting "PebetsePebetsePebetse!!!" from their play room. After about five-minutes I kissed Lesego goodbye one final time and handed him back off to one of the women who was working there. I said thank you and goodbye, got back into the car with Pieter, and off we drove.<br />
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsnCMUz7dR-EDgbfPe-veTY24nLIKNgn6B5FXIgIPc-dLbLM6cvJccDhZG_BLNjV58K7HVW2XpOhFU4eMGGF4Copx86IQpv31Yd-zn3JPj7mOAZQZ9gM2pCGrExOFnXqe8MyA8kjErGrQ/s1600/Photo+on+2014-02-18+at+09.29+%233.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsnCMUz7dR-EDgbfPe-veTY24nLIKNgn6B5FXIgIPc-dLbLM6cvJccDhZG_BLNjV58K7HVW2XpOhFU4eMGGF4Copx86IQpv31Yd-zn3JPj7mOAZQZ9gM2pCGrExOFnXqe8MyA8kjErGrQ/s1600/Photo+on+2014-02-18+at+09.29+%233.jpg" height="150" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Is this real life???</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
I've been in Pretoria ever since, and yesterday Doreh, Kristen and I kicked off the official COS process by going to FNB and closing out our bank accounts. It's real now! Today we go to the office to close out our respective VAST grants, and tomorrow the medical portion of this endeavor begins. All will be finished by Friday morning.<br />
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The weather is beautiful here, if a little bit on the warm side. Needless to say I'd much rather the weather be warm and sunny than cloudy during this transition period. I can't believe next week is Morocco with my Mama!<br />
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<br />Alyssa Boninihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10346702845400546815noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6734828900295555624.post-61973659431498533702014-02-11T01:57:00.001-08:002014-02-11T01:57:28.694-08:004
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Today began with a trek to Mmeshi Primary to say goodbye to
the kids at their early morning assembly.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>They sang, danced, and said thank you when I told them that the time has
come for me to go home and that I will never be coming back.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Naturally, I hope this is false as I
would LOVE to come back some day, but it seems cruel to jump the gun on that
announcement at this point.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was
grateful that I was presented with the opportunity to say goodbye to all of the
learners at once instead of having to repeat it over and over again to each
individual class room.. I don’t know if I’d have been able to hold it together.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWi3BEJ0ETNZMp7_SDf7rf170s1u4vTghXJZwwsuJzqE9TJuK2bpIwE2a0aQj3mLY_9DIXbPkrIrr2whBwgWTR7R-TeFhigxpF0R-ROxXETyzZw3kMzrXkv3-aKFmdJyym6jB_9xustds/s1600/IMG-20130914-00058.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWi3BEJ0ETNZMp7_SDf7rf170s1u4vTghXJZwwsuJzqE9TJuK2bpIwE2a0aQj3mLY_9DIXbPkrIrr2whBwgWTR7R-TeFhigxpF0R-ROxXETyzZw3kMzrXkv3-aKFmdJyym6jB_9xustds/s1600/IMG-20130914-00058.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a>After assembly I met with the principal and the teacher with
whom I ran the BIGs and littles program.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I brought the bin of books over from my place, and we spoke about the
continuation of the program as I gave them the certificate template and
vision/mission statements with directions on the project implementation
process, should things need a jumpstart. I anticipate this will be the
case.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There is a new teacher, Mr.
Tau, this year, and he seems wonderful. Very enthusiastic and driven to improve
the state of things at Mmeshi, which both I and Principal Macaba are overjoyed
to see.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I spoke with both of them
about the possibility for Mmeshi to receive more books, and gave them a list of
domestic and international donation resources.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’m actually very optimistic that the resources will, in
fact, get utilized.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Mr. Macaba is
genuinely a great Principal who cares deeply for his student’s wellbeing and
success and is immensely supportive of them.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I don’t assume to know everything about the education system
in South Africa but to my experience, Principals like this are very few and far
between. Mohlarekoma is lucky.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
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After Mmeshi I walked to visit with another phenomenal
Principal at Makwe Secondary where I taught Life Orientation and held my Girls
Club last year, to schedule my farewell.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I’ll go back on Friday before I leave to talk to them at their morning
assembly.</div>
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The rest of the day was spent cleaning my room,
drawing/designing craft paper handbags with kids, and accepting a steady stream
of learners coming from Mmeshi with farewell cards that they had made at school
that day.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Jessica came to say
goodbye too.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“You mean you’re
never coming back?” she asked.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I
told her no, that it is time for me to go home, and she nodded as tears flowed
silently down her cheeks. I gave her a hug and wished I could take her with me.
She has grown so much in the past two years I’ve known her, transforming at
least superficially from that scared, abused child knocking on my door at 11pm,
into this tall, confident, ever kind young lady.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Her written and spoken English has improved immensely, and
I’m very hopeful for her future.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>My hope is that her community gives her the support she’ll need as she
leaves Primary School in the next couple of years and heads to the minefield
that is Secondary.</div>
Alyssa Boninihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10346702845400546815noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6734828900295555624.post-85546292146851722282014-02-11T01:50:00.001-08:002014-02-11T01:51:55.776-08:008/7/6/5<style>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3MkBQ-Y7pZFe1pzctZ-XSKbf_O-3BRYssxzIodRE1pYpoxopbXCFsbKNRviSP9u5BbneK9Wwuc1LfxuEqbMfrK6FA2PGJXDPE_3wQG7HaylAkxoqnPgyNoi-iUU3dd-siZZAhq_OwKG8/s1600/IMG_9100.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3MkBQ-Y7pZFe1pzctZ-XSKbf_O-3BRYssxzIodRE1pYpoxopbXCFsbKNRviSP9u5BbneK9Wwuc1LfxuEqbMfrK6FA2PGJXDPE_3wQG7HaylAkxoqnPgyNoi-iUU3dd-siZZAhq_OwKG8/s1600/IMG_9100.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a>On Friday, I got up, went for a jog, then trekked to the
office around 9:30.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When I got
there, we had tea, then I accompanied Fency down the road to the salon so that
she could get her hair touched up.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>While she was in the chair, I got speaking with Rachel, one of the
Ghanean women who works there and we decided that, while waiting for Fency, I’d
get a manicure.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Long story and R80
(abt $7.50) later, I had neon pink and purple, metallic talons extending a good
centimeter and a half off of my fingertips.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was fabulous, and Fency almost died laughing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span> </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNg101L0V_ufdVWdOwKjTLMUgZsoLDQ_OGnAEGtD5y71gK5bBDhXU9fQpaKgogN7CPz-3TN-8Tv8SXLMy0PkQoxF3cQWwb6sXSytbSRjLsTISU4vyokj480gch-kmAzCxngrw18YUtol4/s1600/IMG_9116.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNg101L0V_ufdVWdOwKjTLMUgZsoLDQ_OGnAEGtD5y71gK5bBDhXU9fQpaKgogN7CPz-3TN-8Tv8SXLMy0PkQoxF3cQWwb6sXSytbSRjLsTISU4vyokj480gch-kmAzCxngrw18YUtol4/s1600/IMG_9116.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
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We booked it back to the office, and I
found that the whole trip to the salon had been a clever diversion to get me
out so that Lucy and the Caregivers could prepare a little farewell ceremony
for me! We entered into the office and were greeted with song and dance, and I
was promptly shoved into a chair of honor next to the snack table.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There were crisps, Simba, marshmallows,
cold drink, and a chocolate cake that was coated with chopped peanuts.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“We know you love peanuts TOO MUCH,
Pebetse!”, they said laughing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It
seems after two-years here, they really do know me!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Delicious.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We
sang and danced all afternoon, and they gave me a Mandela <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">tuku</i>, a plastic rosary, and traditional shoes made out of recycled
plastic bags by a women’s co-op <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Mano a
Basadi</i> down the road.</div>
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On Saturday, I woke up early and went with Kwapeng to Jane
Furse to buy meat for the farewell braai that we were having with the family
that day.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Pebetse, Manku, and her
mother Renet were driving up from Bronkhorstspruit, and I decided to make
Bolognese sauce for everyone to go with the braai meat and pap.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Yummm.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The night was wonderful.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’m going to miss everyo</div>
ne more than I can express.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9a6jeOYktNWEKj0W9xw72GfxB42iAeGZlQBVOtsGOgW0JspiDM9gr1xRzN9nq3uI3Z50wLyEnbkhh6MgA6rzf4U9lmNzNnoQJAhz4IG08NNlefqd2DVVTS2wibwwwuX3Hlc7zmI4ejE0/s1600/IMG_9164.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9a6jeOYktNWEKj0W9xw72GfxB42iAeGZlQBVOtsGOgW0JspiDM9gr1xRzN9nq3uI3Z50wLyEnbkhh6MgA6rzf4U9lmNzNnoQJAhz4IG08NNlefqd2DVVTS2wibwwwuX3Hlc7zmI4ejE0/s1600/IMG_9164.JPG" height="320" width="240" /></a> </div>
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I spent early Sunday morning with my family, then said
goodbye and went to Jane Furse to meet up with Ariana for lunch at
Galito’s.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>After lunch we walked up
to the new Crossing Complex and met Colin at Mr. Price, where he was buying the
first non-color blocking item of clothing I think I’ve ever seen him with.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Kudos to you, Nare!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>After that, he took us to see the Leap
School where he is now working and then over to his new house, whose
architecture is so 50’s angular it reminds me of something out of an M.C.
Etcher painting.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Awesome.</div>
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Today is Monday, and marks Day 5 until I leave Mohlarekoma.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In a moment here, I’m going to assembly
at Mmeshi to tell the kids in one fell swoop that I’m going to be leaving, and
never coming back.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Then I’ll go to
Makwe and do the same.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
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*sigh* </div>
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Alyssa Boninihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10346702845400546815noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6734828900295555624.post-60975650454921726112014-02-06T20:39:00.002-08:002014-02-06T20:39:38.361-08:009Today I stayed in Mohlarekoma to attend a meeting I had scheduled with Mmeshi Primary to hand over the books we've been using for our B&L Program. Upon arrival though, I found that there was only one teacher present in the entire school, and that everyone else had "emergency" situations that had arisen, were "not feeling well", or "attending a memorial service". Naturally. For those of you who do not live in SA, know that this is not an uncommon scenario. Children are often left unattended in their classrooms when their teachers fail to show up for "very valid and excusable reasons". This happens often. In Machipe, my host brother has no Social Sciences teacher at his Primary School, so the children sit unsupervised in their classrooms and read their SS books. When they can find a copy. It's a damn shame.<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_-tSxr21fDeEzyga77D1OgtGXplKnKudI2dw30vbrMPwDHY9avhOndi0wpJDHPTwwQUtGm2OTjCzA4Hbb_Z6C6C5JBci6AJLIU_1VUpZoXSt1ZdXbZSIjfxywyHjfF-qX_YuH-3W0Hl4/s1600/IMG-20140204-01312.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_-tSxr21fDeEzyga77D1OgtGXplKnKudI2dw30vbrMPwDHY9avhOndi0wpJDHPTwwQUtGm2OTjCzA4Hbb_Z6C6C5JBci6AJLIU_1VUpZoXSt1ZdXbZSIjfxywyHjfF-qX_YuH-3W0Hl4/s1600/IMG-20140204-01312.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Passing on some clothing to the family!</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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Needless to say, the meeting was postponed.<br />
<br />
I spent my unanticipated day off doing laundry and purging my room, dislodging cockroaches and brown recluse spiders from the nooks and crannies so that they do not make a surprise appearance when I unpack my life back home. Fingers crossed!<br />
<br />Alyssa Boninihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10346702845400546815noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6734828900295555624.post-89540776307577192212014-02-05T16:36:00.000-08:002014-02-05T16:36:18.571-08:0010
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Wrapped up a very rough website for MHBC today with Fency.
It looks pretty good for all it’s simplicity, and will be easy enough to update
on the virus-riddled laptops that occupy the office.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>One more thing to check off the list!</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZ5KjhM9JD_FbAWubN0ItdOq0rqqmQNOx2-JkaVcEmqLRj3y_w-FB_KQkRDXpOtoN-Jaq3ctlsDL2-9-3vg05MC7Sfvr4RAm1DMklhyphenhyphenKmotMe2lG-Xm1C_On-a8PAzEztYZW7y_XkIKnA/s1600/IMG-20140204-01307.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZ5KjhM9JD_FbAWubN0ItdOq0rqqmQNOx2-JkaVcEmqLRj3y_w-FB_KQkRDXpOtoN-Jaq3ctlsDL2-9-3vg05MC7Sfvr4RAm1DMklhyphenhyphenKmotMe2lG-Xm1C_On-a8PAzEztYZW7y_XkIKnA/s1600/IMG-20140204-01307.jpg" height="150" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Tastes like lawnmower. Looove these!</td></tr>
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Walked into the kitchen and found a severed cow head in a
bag laying in a bowl on the floor again.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Mopane worm snacks today.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’m
not being sarcastic in the least when I say that I will miss this A LOT.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4JvcjNQuVTbjONjqcsJFyd_tacwOzZ_rwMblB3zzdsR3-O9TTioSs3bSYVFIlo9_hga_PAJczn3GtIDn6B7aSkbalwMfxlpxEUxBFWm4BvW_okOqwcCP5dYcCi9MWO4v1RDgqDa1ze6Y/s1600/IMG-20140204-01313.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4JvcjNQuVTbjONjqcsJFyd_tacwOzZ_rwMblB3zzdsR3-O9TTioSs3bSYVFIlo9_hga_PAJczn3GtIDn6B7aSkbalwMfxlpxEUxBFWm4BvW_okOqwcCP5dYcCi9MWO4v1RDgqDa1ze6Y/s1600/IMG-20140204-01313.jpg" height="150" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Oh hey cow..</td></tr>
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Alyssa Boninihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10346702845400546815noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6734828900295555624.post-57334932088016681852014-02-04T20:36:00.001-08:002014-02-04T20:37:43.486-08:0011Today, as I was preparing my phone to give to my supervisor next week, I stumbled across a little blurb that I was inspired to write as was on the bus from Mossel Bay to Cape Town at the end of December. It's still a pretty accurate description of how I'm feeling these days, so I thought I'd share it to mark 11 days until departure:<br />
<i><br /></i>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXQj8G8vlv9JOhD8O12N7wfvLDUz5QLTYik68n-dZDI36SSPpZSd0ZzjwCK2SP2ZSrM6J1qon7uFOApxUuiMf9uC8p4NGO1UUJrdZ57CrcfwNJCgiEhzEs-Txr23e6XMiT0-zL5wmSTBI/s1600/IMG-20130930-00279.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXQj8G8vlv9JOhD8O12N7wfvLDUz5QLTYik68n-dZDI36SSPpZSd0ZzjwCK2SP2ZSrM6J1qon7uFOApxUuiMf9uC8p4NGO1UUJrdZ57CrcfwNJCgiEhzEs-Txr23e6XMiT0-zL5wmSTBI/s1600/IMG-20130930-00279.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a><i>"I'm riding a bus now across Western Cape from Mossel Bay to Cape Town. This truly is a beautiful country. Maybe I'm feeling sentimental as I listen to my iPod and look out the window at towering, ancient mountains and the rolling hills that surround them. Maybe the light is too perfect on this blue sky day. Maybe I'm beginning to realize that my time here is coming to an end. But I think that for all it's troubles, South Africa may be the most beautiful country I've ever seen. I think I may, in fact, love it here, and I know that this 'goodbye for now' will be heart wrenching."</i><br />
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<br />Alyssa Boninihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10346702845400546815noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6734828900295555624.post-50962682724203272902014-02-03T07:42:00.000-08:002014-02-03T07:42:10.282-08:0016/15/14/13/12
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Apologies for the radio silence these past few days! On
Friday I traveled down to Machipe to spend one final visit with my host family
from PST.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was glorious.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Everyone is doing well, and I’m amazed
every time at how fast the kids are growing up! I’ve decided it is not allowed,
but alas, my divine powers are not yet honed enough to keep them small forever. </div>
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Sello assisted me in killing my first chicken, and giggled along with my
squeals as I timidly slashed the poor bird’s head off.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’d have made a horrid executioner.</div>
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Monday morning rolled around and I was forced to leave the
humid heat of my favorite village (sorry Mohlarekoma!) and come home where,
thankfully, it was cool and breezy, which was a welcome relief.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
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I’d talk about the goodbyes, but I’m not sure I can handle
thinking about it yet. Not about the fact that I hope that everyone stays well,
or about the fact that I’ll never see Gogo again. Nor about how much I hope
that all of my little loves grow up big and strong and grounded enough to
realize what’s important and make it out of the village and into adult lives
that truly make them happy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Nor
about the fact that our communication will inevitably slow to a trickle as our
worlds separate and the memories of the time we spent together become more and
more distant.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I do hope I see them
again: Ashma, Sello, Tebogo, Nthathile, Angie, and Jami, but I know it won’t be
for a long, long time.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhL8fnacpdgxb7B9w4pOebSq1MvlVTp5oHIoW4k4TAVp_iBnPDuZ59g18jV6quc0mDYF72bKF-Vl4OQG9dUqjU7wIRi2h_BQoSYeRld759ky8w83TXZqw4Ce5H2KEtZE0dockJ-i1Z2FQw/s1600/IMG_9069.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhL8fnacpdgxb7B9w4pOebSq1MvlVTp5oHIoW4k4TAVp_iBnPDuZ59g18jV6quc0mDYF72bKF-Vl4OQG9dUqjU7wIRi2h_BQoSYeRld759ky8w83TXZqw4Ce5H2KEtZE0dockJ-i1Z2FQw/s1600/IMG_9069.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
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Alyssa Boninihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10346702845400546815noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6734828900295555624.post-79997525880086145942014-01-29T09:39:00.000-08:002014-01-29T09:39:28.394-08:0017<div class="MsoNormal">
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{page:Section1;}</style>On my walk to work today, I got caught in a sudden downpour
and was forced to sprint down the road to a vacant tin shack to take refuge
until the storm subsided. This shack in particular is where one of my favorite
vendors does business, and is almost a daily pit stop for me to pick up a
banana and baggie of roasted peanuts that is my usual breakfast.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
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<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">After the rain stopped, I spent a soggy afternoon at the office and then walked back to Mohlarekoma (abt 4k) where I was met by the usual gaggle of kids waiting to draw. All in all, a pretty great day! </span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiL1H7WCk2Wg9Cy8L5wJJjp9qB5_u0mrlVy4kPFL50OnNSDbK0JM9MkzvXuXaO8YUys5ztv0tI67gT3CBncZcP11KBVmkb-C40mAZyh5D-1zQdWvcidZsA6p1RbF-coeZLraWRLIkB8Aos/s1600/IMG-20140129-01208.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiL1H7WCk2Wg9Cy8L5wJJjp9qB5_u0mrlVy4kPFL50OnNSDbK0JM9MkzvXuXaO8YUys5ztv0tI67gT3CBncZcP11KBVmkb-C40mAZyh5D-1zQdWvcidZsA6p1RbF-coeZLraWRLIkB8Aos/s1600/IMG-20140129-01208.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />Alyssa Boninihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10346702845400546815noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6734828900295555624.post-11686468514895577952014-01-28T21:03:00.001-08:002014-01-28T21:03:48.431-08:0018
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Some of you are privy to the fact that today began for me at
roughly 02h45 this morning when I woke up for no particular reason and found
myself unable to go back to sleep. Again. Given that the Land of Nod was
nowhere on the horizon, I used the early morning hours to catch up on some
emails and have a very exclusive dance party in my hut. So exclusive, in fact,
that even writing about said dance party is a severe breach of my
self-implemented confidentiality policy here in the village. Although I could
probably walk around in a neon green spandex unitard here and nobody would think
me any more out of the ordinary than usual. </div>
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Given my 4hrs of sleep between 2 days, I drifted through my
day in a bit of a daze, which is a shame seeing as my days are numbered.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’m feeling a little frantic and split
these days. Like a dog who is having a hundred tennis balls chucked in every
direction and is so excited by this rarity that he doesn’t know which one to go
after.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>With the end drawing near,
I don’t want to waste one moment. I want to be everywhere at once and spend
each second soaking up every aspect of life here, from the people, to the
places, to the heat, to the stray dogs, and yes, even to the chickens I’ve been
cursing for their cock-fighting antics since day one.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Needless to say I’m finding sleep difficult these days.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Sleep depravity is a currency I’m
willing to deal in though, if it buys me more time to be conscious of where I
am, and where I will be leaving indefinitely in the coming days.</div>
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Speaking of payoff, or something of the sort, I drifted home
from the office today and found that a certain someone has recently revealed
that he knows my name!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As I was in
my room preparing drawing material for the kids who come by after school, I
hear his usual rapping on the door, this time accompanied by something new:
“Pebeh!” he calls. “Pebeh!”. Oh my god, I almost died. Little nugget is
adorable, and far too smart for his own good. Look out world, boy genius is on
his way!</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuTLrXqN55883oR92L06-vcCENSV-wdiZaa205duE3pznTZs479d5Kxf838WDkiwthpohkMPwFK-liOyw0xsAGVlFIRMVWsp_gl5fP228TfHj0dEoD68pWkz4jqmSgduGygZJWi2nGQu8/s1600/IMG-20140122-WA001.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuTLrXqN55883oR92L06-vcCENSV-wdiZaa205duE3pznTZs479d5Kxf838WDkiwthpohkMPwFK-liOyw0xsAGVlFIRMVWsp_gl5fP228TfHj0dEoD68pWkz4jqmSgduGygZJWi2nGQu8/s1600/IMG-20140122-WA001.jpg" height="320" width="240" /></a></div>
Alyssa Boninihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10346702845400546815noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6734828900295555624.post-36114487951387234662014-01-27T09:29:00.000-08:002014-01-27T09:29:33.038-08:0019So it turns out I've been a little overconfident in my steady
counting abilities. BUT, problem rectified and today is truly day number
19 until I leave the village. It's official: the teens have begun!
Hopefully I'll be able to handle the stress better than teen king Justin
Bieber, who, I've been told, has recently taken a nosedive into the
choppy waters of mug-shots, drugs, and DUIs. Because we're shocked
every time this happens to a prodigal child who grows up being told they
can wipe their ass with blank checks. Thankfully I've left my Lamborghini in Portland, but who knows! Perhaps I'll have
one too many cups of sorghum beer at my farewell braai and drag-race a donkey cart down the
road.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQlOe_UWMRObWZx3UnKU4geJb2cYT_Be5tQNtitTDvomotIFKDLIF2sewPhZ9VMiBrdvAOxIhLTOaBmS5RoYD5m6yt3s4yqRXiuluglU8SXVo44K1BBDwvSEkxmjsCxpubX19m1CZDCwA/s1600/8461843-las-vegas-mar-4-vegas-strip-at-night-on-march-4-2010-in-las-vegas-nevada-the-las-vegas-strip-is-3-8-300x201.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQlOe_UWMRObWZx3UnKU4geJb2cYT_Be5tQNtitTDvomotIFKDLIF2sewPhZ9VMiBrdvAOxIhLTOaBmS5RoYD5m6yt3s4yqRXiuluglU8SXVo44K1BBDwvSEkxmjsCxpubX19m1CZDCwA/s1600/8461843-las-vegas-mar-4-vegas-strip-at-night-on-march-4-2010-in-las-vegas-nevada-the-las-vegas-strip-is-3-8-300x201.jpg" height="134" width="200" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTa-l2IvvFQlpVI-Gew7C7uZzQIZeJTCEE7AZN1eVvHH_2B09_3Y4qqaclkfDkSC_palZUL84wHfP21B5O7tUM6FcSPnbbud-1X-3nN0ORWL-qwCW1cAipNZmT_H2azQCOK4RrUdLVlco/s1600/IMG_7874.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTa-l2IvvFQlpVI-Gew7C7uZzQIZeJTCEE7AZN1eVvHH_2B09_3Y4qqaclkfDkSC_palZUL84wHfP21B5O7tUM6FcSPnbbud-1X-3nN0ORWL-qwCW1cAipNZmT_H2azQCOK4RrUdLVlco/s1600/IMG_7874.jpg" height="200" width="150" /></a></div>
(Miami vs. Mohlarekoma: Start your engines!)<br />
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In other news...<br />
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This weekend
was hot and sunny, and I took advantage of the break in what has
otherwise been a rainy few days to do my laundry. On Saturday I went
into town to meet up with a friend for coffee and girl time in the
comfort of her lavishly air conditioned flat. Even two years later and
first world comforts are just as sweet every time. Ahhhh. All of the
kids were back in the village as well for some family time (namely Ali,
Tshitsadi, and Pebetse). It was great as always to see them and we
were able to touch base a little bit about my farewell shindig coming up
next weekend. <br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeaeqothKH8Z6ptHny_0w48Aavv0v1nSeIi9kFH7ePtP4H7Xtsm15SvEMPG6ycN5PofmpP7ua4JE2bj_v217Uu-R-kq8jqrJgldArjSHK567Uq9ZXXCdQP2K_Xi03E56bpgDM3PenY4iA/s1600/IMG-20140125-01167(1).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeaeqothKH8Z6ptHny_0w48Aavv0v1nSeIi9kFH7ePtP4H7Xtsm15SvEMPG6ycN5PofmpP7ua4JE2bj_v217Uu-R-kq8jqrJgldArjSHK567Uq9ZXXCdQP2K_Xi03E56bpgDM3PenY4iA/s1600/IMG-20140125-01167(1).jpg" height="320" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lesego was having NONE of Ali's tomfoolery that day.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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That's all for now, I'm off to the main house for Generations and tea!
<!-- Blogger automated replacement: "https://images-blogger-opensocial.googleusercontent.com/gadgets/proxy?url=http%3A%2F%2F3.bp.blogspot.com%2F-vV14QujOw7I%2FUuaWCM0_KSI%2FAAAAAAAAAfQ%2Ftc7GZigL08Q%2Fs1600%2FIMG_7874.jpg&container=blogger&gadget=a&rewriteMime=image%2F*" with "https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTa-l2IvvFQlpVI-Gew7C7uZzQIZeJTCEE7AZN1eVvHH_2B09_3Y4qqaclkfDkSC_palZUL84wHfP21B5O7tUM6FcSPnbbud-1X-3nN0ORWL-qwCW1cAipNZmT_H2azQCOK4RrUdLVlco/s1600/IMG_7874.jpg" -->Alyssa Boninihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10346702845400546815noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6734828900295555624.post-20217505820452304752014-01-24T20:46:00.002-08:002014-01-24T20:46:37.930-08:0020
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Today I caught a lift to Phokwane with my host Uncle,
Kwapeng and, after finishing up reporting the M&E data from our Retreat,
went and bought a big bin for the children’s books I will be leaving with
Mmeshi Primary School so that they can continue the ‘BIGs and littles’ Peer
Mentorship Program in my absence. Either that or use them as the teachers see
fit. Which, preferably will include them being read by learners. Here’s to
hoping!</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhM4tsicK9I1_WUNfHQFljxZf2UUD_IMyf6ARMmKN2nAt1j-Lo8GvnIX2ngP6uNYzvRDFARAaB-hhvhxBGHPIHYdJXhn8F-4dvcvV6IgRU4oAGonndlN7qHHHNyjNY5A5gED1cJ4oEuU9Q/s1600/IMG-20140123-01146%25281%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhM4tsicK9I1_WUNfHQFljxZf2UUD_IMyf6ARMmKN2nAt1j-Lo8GvnIX2ngP6uNYzvRDFARAaB-hhvhxBGHPIHYdJXhn8F-4dvcvV6IgRU4oAGonndlN7qHHHNyjNY5A5gED1cJ4oEuU9Q/s1600/IMG-20140123-01146%25281%2529.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a>Good news as well: It’s looking like Mohlarekoma Home Based
Care will be getting another PCV in March! This is very exciting, and I hope
that whichever lucky SA29 who is placed here will do the best they can to help
make the organization stronger, and will love and cherish their site as much as
I’ve grown to.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Though I have no
idea who this replacement will be, I hope to get in touch with them when I am
smartphone-enabled back in the States so that I can help them out however I can
and keep up with happenings in my host family. I also hope that they enjoy the
copious glow in the dark stars that adorn the walls of their new home :) </div>
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Life keeps on moving forward!</div>
Alyssa Boninihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10346702845400546815noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6734828900295555624.post-79551844152726286302014-01-24T20:44:00.001-08:002014-01-24T20:44:45.674-08:0021
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Another boiling day on the ranch! I went out for a jog this
morning, and was pleasantly surprised to see groups of small kids from Mmeshi
Primary out there running my loop before school as well.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I think the principal is trying again
to implement a phys ed. program this school year, and I hope that the kids keep
it up as there was just an article published recently on how South African
teens are becoming more and more sedentary.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
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<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>One of the many things this experience has allowed me to
think on and realize, is how grateful I am for the adults in my life who taught
me how to take care of myself through physical activity. From my parents who
supported me, signed me up for sports, paid for equipment, drove me to
practices, tournaments, and games, and tolerated the sweaty, usually mud-covered,
creature that would fling itself into the vehicles that they tried to keep
clean.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Also for my teachers and
coaches, who tolerated too much of my energy and taught me to direct it with a
regimented skill set of drills and stretches that have aided me every day
since.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Having always been active,
I’ve taken my knowledge of physical health for granted, I am so happy to have
been able to impart some of what was taught to me on to members of my community
so that they can at least continue to keep themselves healthy, if they so
choose.</div>
Alyssa Boninihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10346702845400546815noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6734828900295555624.post-72143631381991567172014-01-24T20:38:00.000-08:002014-01-24T20:49:58.916-08:0023/22<style>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4L-QuQlIY4FSJ8i2FrUTRVzSy_74WvWbODlG21SQwDLJ44r6qx6O4Wz_QGgEI8Z9Gjxe_YRvUPvzaAF3QFOGTXH5pi8XSBy9tRMNS43Ecq3tcpCt8BCGVAAjRKhW8MuYXr7HyeUDa2jE/s1600/IMG-20140122-WA002.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4L-QuQlIY4FSJ8i2FrUTRVzSy_74WvWbODlG21SQwDLJ44r6qx6O4Wz_QGgEI8Z9Gjxe_YRvUPvzaAF3QFOGTXH5pi8XSBy9tRMNS43Ecq3tcpCt8BCGVAAjRKhW8MuYXr7HyeUDa2jE/s1600/IMG-20140122-WA002.jpg" height="320" width="240" /></a></div>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVZLyNT0CnH4pYOToSHWi16S0fTL9r0oETcwS4P6OiNji_vEPueP5mjk_5DCIOADpb0ULhto4YKkzIna0hBPh0-w7mYt9eT_GE63M9s9u1NKoq7P1JIBpP2kJruDaQiPZ-5ctOQkIhxWU/s1600/IMG-20140122-WA003.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVZLyNT0CnH4pYOToSHWi16S0fTL9r0oETcwS4P6OiNji_vEPueP5mjk_5DCIOADpb0ULhto4YKkzIna0hBPh0-w7mYt9eT_GE63M9s9u1NKoq7P1JIBpP2kJruDaQiPZ-5ctOQkIhxWU/s1600/IMG-20140122-WA003.jpg" height="320" width="180" /></a>Lesego started school this week! He looks so smart in his
backpack, and has already gotten into the habit of putting it on and heading
for the door as soon as he wakes up.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Let’s slow down, take a bath, and eat breakfast first little buddy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s been so much fun watching him grow
into a little person these past two years, when I look at pictures of him now
he looks more and more like a boy and less like the baby I’m sure I’ll always
see him as.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Leaving him is going to
be terrible.</div>
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In other news, I stopped by the Garden Project on Wednesday,
and harvesting is in full swing. There were bags of tomatoes, kale, and swiss
chard for sale, and for the first time ever, I saw that there was uneaten
beetroot, cabbage, butternut, rice, and soup leftover from our OVC. Not only
are we able to adhere to our feeding scheme, but there actually appears to be
too much! We’ll have to figure out how to deal with waste management, but it
made me so happy to see that our IGP is paying off.</div>
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Success!</div>
Alyssa Boninihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10346702845400546815noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6734828900295555624.post-41138982572933012692014-01-19T23:28:00.000-08:002014-01-19T23:28:31.666-08:0024Happy MLK Day everyone! As the Peace Corps office is closed in observation of this American Holiday, I am going to keep plugging away on finalizing my VAST grant, work on my Description Of Service, and get some things printed out in town. The sun is back out and shining away today, and a morning jog has helped kick things off to a good start. I must remember to keep doing this!<br />
<br />
Sifting through items on my laptop yesterday, I came upon this jewel that was snapped in Machipe last March when Mom and Gil came to visit: <br />
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I am grateful everyday for the love and endless support of these two, and how without them I would surely not be where I am today. My host families (in Mohlarekoma and Machipe) still ask about them and wonder when they are coming back to visit and will they be bringing sweets/Pendleton Whiskey with them? Shame. So precious!<br />
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<br />Alyssa Boninihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10346702845400546815noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6734828900295555624.post-38679052681171993722014-01-19T23:17:00.000-08:002014-01-19T23:17:15.708-08:0025Day 25 was a lovely, rainy relief from the hellish heat that has been baking us mercilessly for the past week or so. After a refreshingly soggy run, I did some shopping for clothes to replace those that have recently expired when I boiled them to rid myself and my hut of a mysterious biting thing that traveled back with me from our Retreat. Limited water and capacity to boil it resulted in most of everything I own turning all sorts of strange colors as items of clothing I've had here for years now jumped at the opportunity to bleed all over the place. Thank you bugs! Other than that development, life is going on as usual, the days are passing by, and I'm doing better at taking things slowly. Ommmmmm...<br />
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<br />Alyssa Boninihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10346702845400546815noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6734828900295555624.post-2578678856027143672014-01-18T06:23:00.002-08:002014-01-18T06:23:22.484-08:002626 days left and I've decided to take the weekend and get things done online like closing out my VAST grant, writing some very late emails, and catching up on YouTube videos and movie trailers in anticipation of my impending reintegration into American pop culture. Yeehaw! We're in the midst of a heat wave here at the moment, which to be honest, isn't too incredibly bad, if only there was some air conditioning sanctuary to escape to! #firstworldproblems much? I think so. <br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgF8EyaTamBg5H3IJ2-Jfjkx8XjBmZAySJ_bvyXxldMlbGOT0odkY25iyr3h6IGbv6nMeZaLbVT0ips4YXftwzzVWqmUWAg9PwU2oPDP89Qk3jF_3J60xOMLOZw6pJqPUl7vmB8ck7dNBg/s1600/IMG-20140102-00960.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgF8EyaTamBg5H3IJ2-Jfjkx8XjBmZAySJ_bvyXxldMlbGOT0odkY25iyr3h6IGbv6nMeZaLbVT0ips4YXftwzzVWqmUWAg9PwU2oPDP89Qk3jF_3J60xOMLOZw6pJqPUl7vmB8ck7dNBg/s1600/IMG-20140102-00960.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">He has taken to emptying out his toy basket and using it as a fort. We may be more related than I'd </td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">thought.</td></tr>
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<br />
Baby Lesego begins pre-school on Monday and has been parading around the house strapped securely into his new backpack. What he thinks he will be putting in there is beyond me, perhaps a pack of his new "big kid" pull-up nappies? A teddy bear? Someone's cell phone? My money is on the latter as he has become recently aware that chucking the most valuable object across the room is apparently the most fun. And so begin the Terrible Two's!<br />
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<br />Alyssa Boninihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10346702845400546815noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6734828900295555624.post-26891564182177514842014-01-18T06:05:00.002-08:002014-01-18T06:05:26.157-08:0027My 27th day left of life in Mohlarekoma began with a sleepless night. Again. Trying hard to take things one day at a time, but those who know me well have seen how excited I get for the days and weeks and months, hell, the future to come, so this is proving rather difficult. But try, try I must!<br />
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Seeing as sleep and I aren't getting along well, I trekked to the office particularly early and worked with our Social Media/OVC Coordinator on building a website for MHBC that she will be able to update and manage upon my departure. Or at least that's the idea. There was also the last monthly staff meeting that I will be around for, and I took the opportunity to bid farewell to all of our caregivers who I do not see very often. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJLAxFDqU7B1KCshZG27Pf3ENrcqhw85igX0JvXnxsuZafPEmDuO9Le_RUfntHng9_JdkUkPQlupYJFehZoqKiyETfRl-QfbUy3PRv-SzfKMSOqQ-43R1zpetpw6hw20lH-oxBYsVtvqg/s1600/IMG_8808.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJLAxFDqU7B1KCshZG27Pf3ENrcqhw85igX0JvXnxsuZafPEmDuO9Le_RUfntHng9_JdkUkPQlupYJFehZoqKiyETfRl-QfbUy3PRv-SzfKMSOqQ-43R1zpetpw6hw20lH-oxBYsVtvqg/s1600/IMG_8808.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Debrah and I doing our Female Condom Demo</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
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I walked home that afternoon in the beating sun with Debrah, the woman who has been my counterpart and right-hand lady for the past two years on a multitude of projects. She saved the day at our Retreat last week by helping to translate my atrocious Sepedi into something that was actually comprehensible, and has done a phenomenal job of taking over our Community Garden Project. On our walk home, she told me that a couple of the women who attended the retreat have started their own exercise club that meets daily at 5am to work out. She said that they are all feeling so good now, and that they are going to remember to take care of themselves now, in addition to every other responsibility they have as heads of households and caregivers to at least 2 generations of children and family members. The news made me so happy, I could hardly contain myself! When you do outreach work in a community for two years, ANY kind of confirmation that your work means something to somebody else is a blessing that will make your day for weeks and weeks afterward. Knowing that at least for now, women who attended our retreat enjoyed themselves and have since brought healthy life skills back to the village, was a HUGE validation for us that all of the hard work we put in to coordinating and facilitating those four days was worthwhile. Huzzah!Alyssa Boninihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10346702845400546815noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6734828900295555624.post-37603089658437349652014-01-15T21:37:00.002-08:002014-01-15T21:37:40.657-08:0028
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Well, I officially have 28 days left in Mohlarekoma.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I topped up my internet data today and
will do my best to make a short post every day until I leave the village on 14
Feb to supplement my dropping of the proverbial ball on the blog front these
past two years. At least, that is my hope!</div>
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I returned home from the Limpopo Women’s Health Retreat that
I co-ran with my friend and fellow PCV Doreh, and can say that the endeavor was
a complete success.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Thank you once
again to all of you who took the time to inquire and for the donations that
made everything possible for the women who attended.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They were blown away by their accommodation, complete with a
swimming pool and trampoline (!!!) and after the four days had passed, were
begging us to extend the retreat.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvnSxfeEdm4Kow4D3XJK_CDC73vPFp-VsKvUUL-6fibIeks5fYJfOuuHnV4CsxboYkWlD70Nc19CSItdnmmTswIPu5mVqZY1iQuqHlvdGlwCgQHGDqbVXARsCK6Qk-ZdonWstxLOl4pWo/s1600/IMG_8862.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvnSxfeEdm4Kow4D3XJK_CDC73vPFp-VsKvUUL-6fibIeks5fYJfOuuHnV4CsxboYkWlD70Nc19CSItdnmmTswIPu5mVqZY1iQuqHlvdGlwCgQHGDqbVXARsCK6Qk-ZdonWstxLOl4pWo/s1600/IMG_8862.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Some of our lovely ladies from Sekhukhune and Venda, with myself, Doreh, and Sheila from CANSA</td></tr>
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The next couple of weeks will undoubtedly fly by, and in
anticipation of this phenomenon I am all but literally attached to the crisp,
new, 2014 pocket agenda that Mom sent to me in what I can only assume was the
last parcel I’ll be receiving here at the trusty Nebo Post Office.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My current goals include working with
our new Social Media/Online Manager to build a simple website for Mohlarekoma
Home-Based Care, and closing up projects like the “BIG’s & little’s” Peer
Mentorship Program at Mmeshi Primary (Thank you to Grandma and Lisa Ellenberg
once again for your generous shipments of books!) and teaching the grade 6-7
Social Sciences teacher, Mr. Mahlanya how to incorporate Mmeshi’s new World Map
into his curriculum.</div>
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Until tomorrow,</div>
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Pebetse/Goitsimang/Alyssa</div>
Alyssa Boninihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10346702845400546815noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6734828900295555624.post-57363214546883873662013-10-10T21:54:00.002-07:002013-10-10T21:54:39.984-07:00Goie More from Graskop!Good Morning from Graskop, Mpumalanga everyone!<br />
<br />
Just dropping in briefly to say a hearty hello! I'm here at Valley View Backpackers in the beautiful town of Graskop, which is right nearby Kruger National Park. Yesterday, I was delighted to meet up with John and Patty Mills in my secondary shopping town, Groblersdal, and after lunch at Nando's we piled into their trusty vehicle and set out to brave a thunderstorm and conquer Longtom Pass before finally arriving at our final destination. Must check car roof today for hail dents!<br />
<br />
Today after breakfast (and hopefully some pancakes!) we will drive up to God's Window, and the Potholes that are relatively popular in the tourist sphere, maybe see a waterfall or two along the way, picnic lunch, and then head up to Tzaneen where I will be dropped off to join my fellow Limpopo PCVs for a provincial conference, and J&P will continue on with their wild African adventures!<br />
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Life at site has been going along smoothly: I'm working towards the completion of my first World Map Project at the primary school, and am looking forward to next Thursday when I will meet with selected faculty to implement the Mmeshi Primary Peer Mentorship Program, which will utilize all of the wonderful donations of English children's books that I have received from Grandma at La Posada, and from Lisa Ellenberg at the Catlin Gabel Lower School Library. More info to come!<br />
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Until next time,<br />
A<br />
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<br />Alyssa Boninihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10346702845400546815noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6734828900295555624.post-33474077656883602802013-07-07T04:12:00.001-07:002013-07-07T04:12:23.807-07:00Christmas Holiday Part 2: Christmas in Machipe
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before IST in June, I was looking forward to spending a full four days there
enjoying the holiday season in the village.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I arrived after about 2 hours on a taxi and found my 12-year-old
host brother, Sello, waiting for me on the side of the tar road off of which
their house is situated.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I jumped
out of the taxi as quickly as my huge backpack would allow me and went to greet
him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He welcomed me with a
controlled nonchalance.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Hi
Goitsi!” he said, giving me a one-armed hug as I had to harness all of my
willpower to match his coolness and keep from smothering him in a bear
hug.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Neighbors began to laugh at
the exchange. “Eish Sello say hello to her! You’ve missed her!” they urged
then, turning to me added “Goitsi, he’s been sitting there ALL DAY LONG waiting
for you!”.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Sello looked mortified
as his friends began to tease him so naturally, I used his embarrassment to
give him the twirling hug that I had been planning for days.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So much for staying cool!</div>
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cozy, warm, fire-lit, tree-side, eggnog saturated affair that I had grown up
experiencing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My entire stay in
Machipe was embellished markedly by visiting neighbors, cooking parties, and
daily trips to community centers nearby where the children, who were out of
school at this time, could frolic around in the open spaces and go swimming
while the adults proceeded to get absolutely annihilated with ‘holiday
spirit’.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
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<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was a blast.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We spent hours braaing, drinking,
socializing and dancing, Ashma and Tebogo ever watchful of me and the
invariable line of inebriated suitors who would follow the “white girl” around
with coolers of hard cider and beer balanced somehow on their lurching
shoulders. As much fun as I had there, and as joyous a reunion as Christmas
inevitably was for me, after three days of straight village partying I found
myself in desperate need of a break from the 3-day hysteria of celebrity, and
decided to depart a day early and allow myself to unwind with a “buffer” 48
hours in Pretoria preceding my flight to Cape Town.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
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Next Time: Bringing in 2013 Cape Town style!</div>
Alyssa Boninihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10346702845400546815noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6734828900295555624.post-69273069322942618492013-07-07T04:05:00.000-07:002013-07-07T04:05:11.243-07:00Christmas Holiday Part 1: The Drakensburgs / Ballito KZN<style>
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</style>On the lucky day of 12/12/12, Susan, Doreh, and I hopped on
aboard a bus and began what I would remember as the adventure of a lifetime.<br />
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After roughly 6 hours of evangelical Christian propaganda
film exposure courtesy of Intercape, we disembarked in Harrismith, Kwa Zulu
Natal (KZN) and picked up our little white car that we would refer fondly to
only as “The Intergalactic Obamatron”.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>(Unfortunately the origins of the esteemed title have faded into legend
and there is nobody alive today who could say for sure from whence the name
originated.)</div>
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From Harrismith, we began leg one of our journey by driving
across the breathtaking landscape of KZN to Bergville where we were to spend
two nights at Amphitheatre Backpackers.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>After a night of much needed sleep, we awoke eager to explore our new
surroundings.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As three PCVs
stationed in the pretty, yet comparatively barren and definitely landlocked
Highveld and Venda areas of Limpopo, the lush, mountainous region in which we
found ourselves was simply awe inspiring.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
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Our first hike was a relatively simple venture past
Cannibals and up into this beautiful gorge that was hidden within the
jungle-like mountains of the Northern Drakensburgs.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It felt so great to be free of the endless dust of my site
and to bask instead in the cool thinness of the air, feeling the moisture on my
face and hearing nothing but the wind cooing through the trees and the soft
chuckle of the small river that flowed crystal clear out of the mountains.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Ahhh it was just heaven.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><br />
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This hike actually proved to be a perfect starter hike as
the three of us were able to get a feel for eachothers’ hiking styles and other
“outdoor mannerisms”.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It became
apparent that Doreh and I, when confronted with the boundlessness of nature and
the allure of the unknown, revert almost instantaneously to a state of
child-like glee by running, leaping, climbing, exploring and letting our
imaginations run as wild as our surroundings.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Susan on the other hand, was more of a reflective type, who
enjoyed the beauty with an admirable and cautious reverence.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In the end we figured out a system
wherein we would all take the trail at our own pace, so long as we never
ventured too far away from each other.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>No man left behind as it were.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>We became champions of this method as our hikes grew in length and in
difficulty.</div>
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The next day we ventured out from Amphitheatre and followed
the mountains South for a few hours around the edge Royal Natal National Park with
our sights set on hiking to Tugela Falls and conquering the famed ladders that
dangle in pairs from the opposing cliffs.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Lets just say that TIO had yet another chance to prove her worth on this
particular occasion as we took a road clearly intended for 4x4 drive up to an
altitude of really who knows how high.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>My guess was over 1 mile high, as the air felt similar to that in the
Colorado Rockies.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><br />
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The hike was wonderful.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A few of the parts required a bit of an admittedly dangerous
scramble over wet rock that went sloping downward to destinations unknown, but
true to the team we were we helped each other along with the gracefulness of
seasoned pros. Yes, that is what it looked like. No arguing with my fantasy
here :).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When, after a
couple of hours, we finally reached the chain ladders, Doreh and I took turns
accompanying Susan (who is afraid of heights) on one of the two parallel
ladders, with one person bringing up the rear.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It worked marvelously and Susan was able to conquer them on
both journeys up and down in the wind and the rain without shedding a single
tear.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>OooRAH!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>By the time we arrived back at the car,
our feet were thoroughly drenched from walking through streams that were
cascading down our trail, resulting in our wishing that we’d chosen to voortrek
in aquasocks instead of sneakers, and we were tired, hungry, and happy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’m sure you can imagine the state of
our car at the moment: NASTY, muddy sneakers, peanuts and raisins EVERYWHERE
(nobody knows how), dirt, mud, sticks, bags of wine, and a Santa hat.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was glorious. We had officially
moved into the car.</div>
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From Tugela Falls, we zipped back down the mountain and made
our way to Inkosana Backpackers in Winterton, Champagne Valley National Park.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Naturally, as we had chosen to embark
on this adventure during the peak of rainy season, it was wet and muddy when we
arrived at our campsite and we were forced to employ our ingenuity by using a
mash of tent, twine, and tarp to keep ourselves and our now worse-for-wear
backpacks/sleeping bags from being completely and irreversibly soaked.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The atmosphere of the backpackers was
great though; you could feel the excitement vibrating amongst the guests as
they reflected the outdoor activities they’d undertaken that day and planned
new ventures for the next days.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Given the weather and our leaky tent situation, we spoke to management
and decided to only spend one night there with the hope of driving off to a
relatively drier location for our planned overnight hike.<br />
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On our way to our destination at the Monk’s Cowel trailhead,
we decided to make up for our missed second night at Inkosana and stop for one
night of first world luxury in the quaint, if touristy, town of Clarens.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We set up our tent at Clarens
Backpackers, which, in contrast to the others we had been to, was one of those accommodations
that appears to be the womb of hippiedom and is in a constant state of party,
busker-inspired street art-type activities, and hangs somewhere in limbo
between unadulterated partying and the coma of recovery.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In short, it was the ideal location for
three young PCVs on vacation.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Aside from the live music and laid back revelry of the backpacker, the
quality of Clarens was revealed to us as we took a stroll through town, lapping
up comforts of restaurants, coffee bars, and…..breweries??? That’s right my
friends: THERE WAS A BREWERY IN CLARENS.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Let me reiterate: THE FIRST BREWERY THAT WE HAD SEEN IN A YEAR.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Disclaimer about SA
beer: If you are a fan of Coors, Bud, Natty, or Keystone LIGHT beers, or happen
to enjoy drinking cold, carbonated piss-water, then the beer in this country is
for you. </i></div>
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With that disclaimer in mind, we were all practically
overcome with emotion when we stumbled upon a local brewery hidden in this
little town on the edge of the Drakensburgs in KZN.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We ordered a tasting of everything they had and I settled
eagerly with their Red Ale.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Though
admittedly not as stellar as the Reds we’re spoiled with in the PacNW, I
couldn’t have cared less.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was
the most delicious thing I’d ever had in my life and I savored every last sip
of it until the brewery closed and we were on our way. But not without buying a
case to take with us on the road.</div>
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The next morning we awoke bright and early, packed up the
car and continued on our journey to Monk’s Cowl for our overnight trek into the
wild.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Really I’m making this sound
much more badass than I’m sure it actually was, but hey, the wild is the wild,
no matter how long three city girls spend in it right? Right :)<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Locking all of our non-essentials in
the car, we took off<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>on our ascent
up into the mist in a scene that would not have been out of place in a Jurassic
Park movie.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As we had been warned,
weather in the Drakensburgs can change in the blink of an eye, and true to
form, we were allowed occasional glimpses of our surroundings through breaks in
the rolling mist and clouds that raced with an unearthly competitiveness up and
over the ancient green peaks of the mountains.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiudcJJiy8aKpSuLU-QEI6RMajKyExi8DupEyBnWQFidr6CHPiUAFahmS1bIvPSpPKZts1eOl8dzn9gVavKcy-Ek6z99PfS7OGkAnrCn3aNtty2rk2xN68xwUUM3gu2J0sh1SC3N6Q44F8/s1600/IMG_7164.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiudcJJiy8aKpSuLU-QEI6RMajKyExi8DupEyBnWQFidr6CHPiUAFahmS1bIvPSpPKZts1eOl8dzn9gVavKcy-Ek6z99PfS7OGkAnrCn3aNtty2rk2xN68xwUUM3gu2J0sh1SC3N6Q44F8/s320/IMG_7164.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZ4iDHouta-9VVJ4FjKoI2CzCNkk98laVbRsYKkOJDVr_RVqDokkml8qjZMAaTP1Gj2xXGTDr2Tzw0kwI9T6FMHFYKhnskHYcU39oFqRPIP1nT2REnsfk-LgpBnwJBPvvjK-kMVX4ziSg/s1600/IMG_7118.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZ4iDHouta-9VVJ4FjKoI2CzCNkk98laVbRsYKkOJDVr_RVqDokkml8qjZMAaTP1Gj2xXGTDr2Tzw0kwI9T6FMHFYKhnskHYcU39oFqRPIP1nT2REnsfk-LgpBnwJBPvvjK-kMVX4ziSg/s320/IMG_7118.JPG" width="320" /></a>After about 4 hours of soggy, upward trekking through the
mist, we arrived tired and happy at a little thicket next to a bubbling stream
of cold mountain water where we would set up camp for the night.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Our hike had taken us a ways above the
line of cloud cover, and our view of the landscape below was utterly
prehistoric in its beauty.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Although we passed a few more ambitious hikers than ourselves on the way
up, the area we now found ourselves in was completely devoid of human life
other than our own.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In quiet
reflection you could feel the antiquity of the mountains in the very air you
breathed, feel the millennia of monumental upheaval and slow and steady erosion
that the earth had endured there.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Never in my life have I heard such silence, nor have I ever felt so
reverent, utterly small, yet simultaneously in cadence with nature as I did
perched in those ancient peaks looking out over the world as it unfurled below
us.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The experience was wholly
transcendental for me and is not one I shall easily forget.</div>
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As soon as the sun peaked on the horizon and we tasted the
crisp dewiness of morning air, we filled our water bottles from the stream and
began our descent forward in time and down the mountain back to the car.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The view was considerably clearer this
time around, and we were surprised to observe the slippery cliff faces we’d
been able to navigate with relative ease the day before.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Regardless of our newfound knowledge
that a false step could send us cart-wheeling over the edge and leave the
remaining members with the awkward task of deciding how on earth to explain the
event to Gert (our safety and security guru with Peace Corps) we made it down
the mountain in about half the time it had taken us to ascend the day before.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhva-OBZVpOTxVlCJXjI4PM5hfJCIKkFB48PNzwZhND9QKRBUWm89HgH8998Qy451P11F_POIfo4o4SwFtcelNAMyuPXe_XXJ1jw21jnYguxJpFLFmOElFvpMRDpxkIwPBRRHoySdu_fks/s1600/IMG_7192.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhva-OBZVpOTxVlCJXjI4PM5hfJCIKkFB48PNzwZhND9QKRBUWm89HgH8998Qy451P11F_POIfo4o4SwFtcelNAMyuPXe_XXJ1jw21jnYguxJpFLFmOElFvpMRDpxkIwPBRRHoySdu_fks/s320/IMG_7192.JPG" width="320" /></a>As soon as we’d reorganized our filth in the car and had
taken one of the top-five most delicious showers of all time, we piled back
into the Obamatron and took off South toward the town of Underberg on the
border of South Africa and Lesotho.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Underberg was a nice little place, and serves a couple of PCVs as a
primary or secondary shopping town.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>There is a decently sized white South African population who lives there
(of either Afrikaner or British descent) and held a few little shops that sold
things like banana chips and espresso over ice. Delish.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Sani Pass Backpackers was where we
stayed for the night, and in the morning we arose early to take advantage of
the beautiful DRY landscape by going on a hike before making the hike up Sani
Pass and into Lesotho.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaooSJytV4G7F8_xWFmj7RsIAya_1rAjEENWE8h0ZhILbYoGIW0iDYwhbC7qiiHdAG5jWC3jpFkRLQ2VfYqJauNj-HLPjxda-EMtbrrcVATNt0-mghVs4wir8piejAo-ya0UtbmdNK6OA/s1600/IMG_7366.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaooSJytV4G7F8_xWFmj7RsIAya_1rAjEENWE8h0ZhILbYoGIW0iDYwhbC7qiiHdAG5jWC3jpFkRLQ2VfYqJauNj-HLPjxda-EMtbrrcVATNt0-mghVs4wir8piejAo-ya0UtbmdNK6OA/s320/IMG_7366.jpg" width="240" /></a>Doreh wasn’t feeling well, so Susan and I met up with an
Afrikaner we’d met the night before to go on a hike through a game reserve to
this swimming hole.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Given our
vastly differing pace preferences, Susan decided to start her morning with a
smaller route as Pieter and I voortrekked our way up into the foothills, scrambling
over boulders, behind waterfalls, and down ravines until we reached the
swimming hole.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Aside from the
breathtaking beauty of the location, the experience was made even more
spectacular by the fact that you could not only jump off of cliffs into the
crisp, cold water, but were also able to drink to your heart’s content while
fully submerged.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Ahhhh. If only
every river was so pure!</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwvgntQesdsVyKsfGLdXDJhZDmyYM-kBl9aLdDilebcy-PawS3VJg13enAZS1G6X9GkQBt_R3dEy5XV28WDBCxYYm4fi9222JWiUfEAHavkO-LDhI0YP41ePZA27ZKgZ7hifg1Tt3hfg8/s1600/IMG_7448.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwvgntQesdsVyKsfGLdXDJhZDmyYM-kBl9aLdDilebcy-PawS3VJg13enAZS1G6X9GkQBt_R3dEy5XV28WDBCxYYm4fi9222JWiUfEAHavkO-LDhI0YP41ePZA27ZKgZ7hifg1Tt3hfg8/s320/IMG_7448.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjo_2Z-k7SWACsVewVQ7r9vIDZudvTcdRdqnmlPxmgIE4Z0TexruZSyxGktSsMW0HsYpG24EvTEz4dk4RiFi9Lw8LEvctXCGki8ZlgAqF9PTjIsObbacBtMlJiYCqN4ElpayRwi6ApMdA8/s1600/IMG_7432.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjo_2Z-k7SWACsVewVQ7r9vIDZudvTcdRdqnmlPxmgIE4Z0TexruZSyxGktSsMW0HsYpG24EvTEz4dk4RiFi9Lw8LEvctXCGki8ZlgAqF9PTjIsObbacBtMlJiYCqN4ElpayRwi6ApMdA8/s320/IMG_7432.JPG" width="320" /></a>After a bit of an adventure bushwacking our way back to the
backpackers in a loop that was approximately 15 kilometers long, I reconvened
with Susan and Doreh, said goodbye to Pieter and began the journey up and into
Lesotho via Sani Pass.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We’d spoken
to fellow PCVs who had recommended we “hitch” up the pass with one of the
4-wheel-drive vehicles that would inevitably be passing by on their climb up
the pass.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Best we’d not heeded
that advice.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Long story short the
three of us ended up making the hike by foot, all the way up the pass from the
boarder crossing in a torrential and violent thunderstorm.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Given the fact that there was nothing
to be done about our situation, and that I was still amped from my morning
adventure, I admittedly had a blast in our situation.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Fortunately though, I was wearing tennis shoes and a
raincoat. My partners in crime however, were not so lucky.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In the end we made it to the top
unscathed and shivering, and were welcomed into the “Highest Pub in Africa”
with applause by the lucky, paying customers who had past us hours before in their
cars and minibuses.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I don’t think
a round of glüvine has ever been so well-earned by a group of silly American
girls in the history of our generation.</div>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWwGwq_NDfW7HDRupLKuf4uDbtip1a3_783CtmysyEgvvn9JDcxs8lK8qCnuM5TzvTp70H3Hsy0P87b4z-wAnGMIe5o3Z3BRrrmNoyaNKqoFYzyhUPcnkl3bFXWP2tO-5cvpZbohp1fVk/s1600/IMG_7457.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWwGwq_NDfW7HDRupLKuf4uDbtip1a3_783CtmysyEgvvn9JDcxs8lK8qCnuM5TzvTp70H3Hsy0P87b4z-wAnGMIe5o3Z3BRrrmNoyaNKqoFYzyhUPcnkl3bFXWP2tO-5cvpZbohp1fVk/s320/IMG_7457.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg18Epc55XGbcifiMkaa2wYLxdQpikUUGJCCP8os5Dy_og5bBd5Nm9HfaH5f9Hm5sKRwYU5NTbN4H_PDkvAwk8oEiPtoWjPmfEmdImSlgjXf5of8RVp-igThuR9pQxldneWk2bXhjL8CkM/s1600/IMG_7468.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg18Epc55XGbcifiMkaa2wYLxdQpikUUGJCCP8os5Dy_og5bBd5Nm9HfaH5f9Hm5sKRwYU5NTbN4H_PDkvAwk8oEiPtoWjPmfEmdImSlgjXf5of8RVp-igThuR9pQxldneWk2bXhjL8CkM/s320/IMG_7468.JPG" width="320" /></a><br /></div>
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After a lovely 24-hours basking in the altitude of Lesotho,
we had a final celebratory drink or two and caught a ride back down the pass to
the backpackers where we’d left our trusty car and all baggage deemed “non
essential” for our ascent up the pass. Thankfully it wasn’t raining as we
rolled and wobbled down the pass in the back of a pick up truck belonging to a
man from Lesotho who, as we learned, owned a Tuck Shop located in Underberg. We
arrived at our backpackers, paid our new friend R50 each (about $4 at that
point in time), then prepared ourselves and the car for the next leg of our
journey. For Susan, that meant taking a taxi to Durban where she would meet up
with another group of PCV’s to travel around the “Wild Coast” of KZN/Eastern
Cape, following a route similar to the one we took almost one year ago, after
IST.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
For Doreh and I, it meant dropping Susan off at the rank
outside Underberg, and switching digs to stay at a new backpackers nearby,
sandwiched between Underberg and the evergreen peaks of Lesotho.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We camped at Khotso Backpackers for two
nights; the longest we’d spent in one fixed location since we’d left
Pretoria.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was a welcome treat
for us, and we ended up bringing in the Maya end-of-the-world event cliff
jumping and braaing with an eclectic mix of new friends from South Africa,<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>the U.S., and Germany.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The weather was beautiful, and we were
able to enjoy quite a few strolls through the surrounding hills and see the
ponies employed by the backpackers to trek into Lesotho via trails hidden in
the folds and rifts of the mountains.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhy1OZ6WlH0OyEDgDoSkJw_BE-oDnQ8Pjmk4NZTmDBFGD8oIqh6xFTNTcRPkCwvrychHyfbm3kXU1sa1fQFgwvvYo96DIN6g5uWKvzjtRRI55M1_xuTqUmhohzbCUDGamkfq_WFCInZXmQ/s1600/IMG_7500.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhy1OZ6WlH0OyEDgDoSkJw_BE-oDnQ8Pjmk4NZTmDBFGD8oIqh6xFTNTcRPkCwvrychHyfbm3kXU1sa1fQFgwvvYo96DIN6g5uWKvzjtRRI55M1_xuTqUmhohzbCUDGamkfq_WFCInZXmQ/s320/IMG_7500.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
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After two lovely and incredibly fun days at Khotso, Doreh
and I were once again seized by our insatiable wanderlust and, after calling
Avis for the umpteenth time to extend our rental agreement, piled back into the
car and sped off toward the beach town of Ballito which is located about an
hour north of Durban.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The decision
was actually very spur of the moment. We’d decided to await the results of the
Mayan Prophecy far away from any major body of water and heed the advice of
John Cusak in his smash-flop movie <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">2012</i>
by waiting out whatever apocalypse loomed ahead in the safety of the
Drakensburg Mountains.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>After we
could safely conclude that the world wasn’t crashing down around us, we decided
to use the remaining 48 hours before our bus ride indulging in some time
lounging by the Indian Ocean.</div>
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<span style="font-family: Cambria; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Cambria; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">After braving a hellish
mall to find a new Blackberry that would replace the one I’d set free somewhere
in the mountains of KZN, we made it to Monkey Bay Backpackers, which was
located 3 or 4 blocks from the beach. Our stay there was out of this world,
however brief.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>For the next 48
hours we swam in the ocean, over-enjoyed fresh seafood and caipirhiñas,
participated in watermelon fights, and took strolls on the beach while munching
on chili-coated strips of pineapple impaled on a stick.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>For two water babies from Oregon and
Maine landlocked in rural Limpopo, it was sheer bliss.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So blissful, in fact, that we managed
to miss our night bus back to Pretoria by approximately 60 seconds. Thankfully
there was a second bus leaving shortly thereafter and we managed to secure
seats for a minimal charge after pulling the tearful “broke PCV” card. We
arrived in Pretoria the next morning and took the Gautrain to Bosman station
where Doreh barely made her bus back to site and I tried to recover from our
bus ride over a double shot of espresso before heading out to the taxi rank to
make the journey up to Machipe. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Cambria; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Cambria; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">Next Time: Christmas in Machipe!</span>
Alyssa Boninihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10346702845400546815noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6734828900295555624.post-18863737100099504892013-03-15T12:51:00.000-07:002013-03-15T12:51:07.484-07:00Blessings Are In The Rain
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Here is a blog entry that I wrote a few weeks ago after a particularly unique experience at site :) </div>
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Writing now to document a fantastic ‘Peace Corps experience’
that happened to me today.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>More
Drakensburgs/Cape Town to come I promise! The prospect of documenting a
month-long, incredible vacation at this point seems beyond daunting though,
which may be contributing to my reluctance to actually sit down and write it
all out.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Dread.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>BUT, I do acknowledge that the trip
would have been very much impossible for me if I was without many loving and
generous friends and family members so I have good news for you: I have started
the entry.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Yes, it’s true! And I
promise to have it uploaded by the end of next week along with the necessary
and appropriate photographic accompaniments.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
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Right now though, it’s time to put the past behind me and
get back to today!</div>
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The day began much as any other would have; I got up at
around 7:00am, did some yoga, and read the news on my blackberry over a mug of
instant coffee.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Today we had our
second permagarden training workshop for interested village stakeholders where
we present information regarding the sustainable usage of soil (so as not to
“mine” it of nutrients as happens so often), how to rotate crops, and how to
successfully create, manage, and use compost and manure-based fertilizers.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span> </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-oFnwPmdxGhxZQ80JRyoKjONbKs0Sl8kCDOQkbDDzXZV7DVs932FhvJqicVNKnP6yOMbObk2KVSh3wyec9z_fWcQBn_rVnudDeSVx8DB7-LPh9rJHTHlITFbPMvOLA8rGSyvpHZZYS0Y/s1600/IMG-20130219-00865.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-oFnwPmdxGhxZQ80JRyoKjONbKs0Sl8kCDOQkbDDzXZV7DVs932FhvJqicVNKnP6yOMbObk2KVSh3wyec9z_fWcQBn_rVnudDeSVx8DB7-LPh9rJHTHlITFbPMvOLA8rGSyvpHZZYS0Y/s320/IMG-20130219-00865.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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Today focused exclusively on fertilizers
and the process of mulching (which will be invaluable here at my site as we are
approx 1600m high in elevation with high winds and an absolutely brutal sun)
and once again, my counterpart Debrah worked miracles with the attendees and
spoke with gusto all about the things we had been taught together at the Peace
Corps’ permagarden workshop back in September.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She even spoke to the women about the importance of
nutrition and having a balanced diet wherein the nutrients in your veggies
aren’t completely annihilated by salt.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>She spoke about how deeper color generally indicates a higher
nutritional value in your produce (no beige right parentals?). </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisjeBVR8z4pTUo3Kd7-hqSRQUppq-itED1It04hYnz3ph7A8g1fhMeu2J3FhQ6UrDI-r4-xj8e7QQh_xf0p53QtsNG7-tj1AhbVn205uNk944El9pB3Cz8NDUUH5pE1Kd6syQRJ3ZpEr4/s1600/IMG_7790.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisjeBVR8z4pTUo3Kd7-hqSRQUppq-itED1It04hYnz3ph7A8g1fhMeu2J3FhQ6UrDI-r4-xj8e7QQh_xf0p53QtsNG7-tj1AhbVn205uNk944El9pB3Cz8NDUUH5pE1Kd6syQRJ3ZpEr4/s320/IMG_7790.jpg" width="240" /></a> </div>
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For those of you who have spent time in rural South Africa,
you’ll realize what a phenomenal feat this is, and understand that I was
soaring with pride as I listened to her deliver this message to a populous that
is ravaged by high blood pressure and diabetes.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I feel like if I do nothing else during my service, at
least this message (however small it is) has been delivered and absorbed by
such a loving, charismatic leader within the community.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Rock on ladies.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-Q2ngYsUA7zCFgp59EP019H7a6K5pyj7jiQB-QTgKmjLX3RPMEpQXKvqXbuCvC1V4eDwgbk2Tfe5sO7MlcjWWeEnpHgZ2d0P0N6lcFcwRO4W4BQ5xuyqdjNnQiUDGSSOmLdnHqAQmYsw/s1600/IMG_7842.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-Q2ngYsUA7zCFgp59EP019H7a6K5pyj7jiQB-QTgKmjLX3RPMEpQXKvqXbuCvC1V4eDwgbk2Tfe5sO7MlcjWWeEnpHgZ2d0P0N6lcFcwRO4W4BQ5xuyqdjNnQiUDGSSOmLdnHqAQmYsw/s320/IMG_7842.jpg" width="240" /></a> </div>
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After the workshop, I returned home and collected some more
bears to distribute to the children of Mashuana Preschool who had begun to
attend school late.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span> </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjICcT2gbby5f-CEGDvKWIpr5ZzP4GbIRIMizVfuaiVqXIFtR9G1p3VO40IM_4nWNTPYWspzW5iY9w9FUlPe_NpIBspFfBB0mDoM2jioHX2gIIfCZywB8BbgOR2iCY7OnBuCaDfYcd5DaA/s1600/IMG_7822.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjICcT2gbby5f-CEGDvKWIpr5ZzP4GbIRIMizVfuaiVqXIFtR9G1p3VO40IM_4nWNTPYWspzW5iY9w9FUlPe_NpIBspFfBB0mDoM2jioHX2gIIfCZywB8BbgOR2iCY7OnBuCaDfYcd5DaA/s320/IMG_7822.jpg" width="240" /></a>For those of
you who are unaware, I received approximately 150 hand-knit teddy bears from
this wonderful USA-based organization called <a href="http://www.motherbearproject.org/" target="_blank">The Mother Bear Project</a>.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It truly is a wonderful organization
and I encourage all you knitters out there to look into participating in such a
great cause.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The kids were so
happy when they received them, and in the days that followed I received
countless requests from surrounding crèches for bears of their own. </div>
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By the time I finished distributing the bears, it was around
two o’clock in the afternoon and the sky was beginning to darken with the
promise of rain.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Eager to blow off
some steam on a run and cocky about my resilience to hydroexposure (“I’m from
OREGON! I can handle ANYTHING!”) I strapped on my Vibrams (adding to the
stereotype, I know) and stepped outside to go for a quick run around the
village.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I should have taken many
things into account before I embarked on this venture. Like the fact that the
power had gone out 30 minutes beforehand. And the fact that on my run I kept
seeing people running for what I now know was cover.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But, my tenacious ego and me didn’t heed these warning signs
and we pranced away down the road on our run anyway.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
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The first drops fell as I was making my way back up the
final 1k of hill that leads toward my house.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I kept running. A few more drops fell. I looked ahead.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What I saw was nothing. A sheet of
white that faded upward into rainclouds so dark that I swore they must have
been solid.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Growing nervous with
anticipation I picked up the pace and closed my eyes as the storm slammed into
me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
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Struggling against the walls of water that had materialized
all around me, I squinted around for any sign of shelter.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As the sky lit up suddenly with a flash
of lightning, I noticed a shrubby patch of trees barely taller than me that
were nestled at the side of the road by a vacant field of long grasses.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My only chance for salvation I ran to
it, jumped down into the thicket and, curling up into a ball at the base of the
little tree, I waited.</div>
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Now, I acknowledge that some Portlandians out there might be
rolling their eyes and wondering how intense this rainstorm actually was, given
the fact that our precious little biome tends more often than not to resemble
an omnipresent puddle. But let me explain:<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The rain in Portland, though seemingly endless, is generally
a gentle occurrence that evokes the mood so conducive to creative writers,
indi/alternative music groups, junkies, and graphic designers.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s the kind of rain that allows us to
brag about not needing umbrellas because “only tourists use those” and to look
forward to playing outside because nothing makes an activity more fun than mud.
</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh20bQiDUHuAdbWpKH9MoHPwZ9CSPltfY8TJp0k8vyLQYOR1jZQzOizbYy-r35gNEVxC9GjtLAqJXvwbD-EobfhD5zLRv1akL2EDQ23dfyJ1vefr8RrY-E5YbUwYgCH2HEpcTwIKixmEDU/s1600/IMG-20130213-00767.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh20bQiDUHuAdbWpKH9MoHPwZ9CSPltfY8TJp0k8vyLQYOR1jZQzOizbYy-r35gNEVxC9GjtLAqJXvwbD-EobfhD5zLRv1akL2EDQ23dfyJ1vefr8RrY-E5YbUwYgCH2HEpcTwIKixmEDU/s400/IMG-20130213-00767.jpg" width="400" /></a> </div>
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African rain, on the other hand, is a different breed
entirely.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Rain on the South
African Highveld is a violent, warlike occurrence that assaults the land and
any poor creature unfortunate or dumb enough to find itself exposed when it hits.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Streets turn to torrential rivers in
minutes, skin is bruised and eyes are blinded by the ferocious lashing of the
wind and rain that is unleashed while lightning and thunder crack and explode
into the sky like electrical bombs.</div>
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I sat huddled in my thicket for what felt like an hour.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Concerned for the wellbeing of my iPod,
I’d managed to pry away some bark from the tree and form a little pocket in
which it would be sheltered from the onslaught of water that was cascading over
my body in a solid stream.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I truly
believe I might have been dryer had I been dunked in a lake.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The thrill of the sudden violence of
the storm had begun to wear off at this point, as had the heat I’d created for
myself from my run and I was beginning to get cold and a little miserable.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
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During these uncertain times in the Peace Corps, a PCV may
find themselves exhibiting certain odd behaviors to try and make it through.
This was one of those moments.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As
the wind and rain howled around me I <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>looked about and observed all of the insects that had become
my roommates in the tree.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As I
peered through wet eyelashes at the poor winged creatures that had taken refuge
on my shoes and arms, I noticed that they looked as soaking and as miserable as
I felt.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Willing the storm to pass,
I tried to keep my spirits high by commenting on the atrocity of the weather to
a spider that was clinging to what was left of its web located in the tree
about 4 inches away from my face.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Seriously. And you know what? It helped. A ton actually.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I imagine it’s similar to being lost in
the forest and easing your urge to panic by hugging a tree until you feel
safe.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Maybe those OMSI camp
counselors were on to something after all!</div>
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In any case, after chatting with my eight-legged friend for
another 10 minutes or so, the storm had subsided enough to where I could see
the road and what looked like a break in the clouds.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Seizing my chance, I grabbed my iPod from its bark shelter,
washed my muddy butt off in a puddle, and dashed off as quickly as I could
through the ankle-deep water rushing towards me down the road.</div>
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As I ran, I was met with shouts and hollers from people
standing in their houses and passing me in cars. “It’s raining Pebetse! Are you
crazy! You’re soaking!”.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I laughed
and kept running, endorphins pumping through me as I felt alive with the camaraderie
that only those who do crazy things together in the rain can fully appreciate. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It goes a bit like: “Yes! We’re crazy!
This is ridiculous! But look at how much FUN we’re having! Aaahh!!”</div>
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After stopping to laugh at my ridiculous American behavior with
a friend and her family on the side of the road, I finally made it back home to
my hut.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I stripped down, dried off
and slipped into my sweats and furry alpaca sweater.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Finally dry, I reflected on my afternoon and sat down to add
the day’s lessons to my list of absolute truths I’ve come to realize in South
Africa:</div>
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<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Cambria; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">1)<span style="font: 7.0pt "Times New Roman";">
</span></span></span>Always carry a litterbag. (Uncle Steve, you are
truly a man of vision!)</div>
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<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Cambria; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">2)<span style="font: 7.0pt "Times New Roman";">
</span></span></span>Always carry a roll of TP or at least a pack of
tissue.</div>
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<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Cambria; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">3)<span style="font: 7.0pt "Times New Roman";">
</span></span></span>Clothing and baby animals are a lot more
resilient than they appear.</div>
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<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Cambria; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">4)<span style="font: 7.0pt "Times New Roman";">
</span></span></span>Keep your word at all times.</div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Cambria; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">5)<span style="font: 7.0pt "Times New Roman";">
</span></span></span>No electricity is often a sign of bad things to
come: PAY ATTENTION!</div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpLast" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Cambria; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">6)<span style="font: 7.0pt "Times New Roman";">
</span></span></span>If you see people running for cover, THERE IS A
REASON!</div>
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This list will undoubtedly develop as I continue to navigate
the intricate web of life as a PCV. Experiences will be had and lessons will either
be learned right away or they may take some time.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Whichever our path, and whatever the storm we’ll make it
through stronger and wiser, even if it means stopping to ask the help of a
spider along the way :)</div>
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Alyssa Boninihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10346702845400546815noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6734828900295555624.post-21515800448506864352013-03-15T10:05:00.003-07:002013-03-15T10:05:27.633-07:00Pesach!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCJ1iIEcnpoeh5ViCp6LsH0ML-Ucl16mQWcu4IVUzmViegD03y3KJUvD397etoO-BM864xMRcNKxHC-MWtNmqnUPx97hM9qW4t9Zb49o_UoPX410EhpsiT9xHqQpA9JLF_kO5-MSM2gfM/s1600/IMG-20130313-01065.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCJ1iIEcnpoeh5ViCp6LsH0ML-Ucl16mQWcu4IVUzmViegD03y3KJUvD397etoO-BM864xMRcNKxHC-MWtNmqnUPx97hM9qW4t9Zb49o_UoPX410EhpsiT9xHqQpA9JLF_kO5-MSM2gfM/s320/IMG-20130313-01065.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
While we were all together in Pretoria for Mid-Service Training (Wow!!!) Lilly and Niki coordinated an AMAZING Passover Seder dinner that we all contributed to by each preparing a dish. We were even lucky enough to have our Country Director attend the celebration, bringing along with him delicious little date, sesame, cumin, cayenne, and honey (I think) balls that simply blew me away.<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirxRHycx-uQPFnm5BsQ1QW2FT8MQAI5gPB-LaZMQsFRB0HwAUawgI7kOnaoxhDlOqtGc7InTy61dX0hrTRST7LbyyGOyA0bj46afaP_5lI5sBNjSRC6pqBv9oAaK-sS6g1IFwjfX7T810/s1600/IMG-20130313-01095.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirxRHycx-uQPFnm5BsQ1QW2FT8MQAI5gPB-LaZMQsFRB0HwAUawgI7kOnaoxhDlOqtGc7InTy61dX0hrTRST7LbyyGOyA0bj46afaP_5lI5sBNjSRC6pqBv9oAaK-sS6g1IFwjfX7T810/s320/IMG-20130313-01095.jpg" width="320" /></a><br />
Additionally, the feast included baked/mashed/cheesy potatoes, potato salad, butternut-squash-parmesan, salad, chicken, brisket, hummus, and more matzo and wine than anyone knew what to do with! I used this chance to experiment with flourless-chocolate cake that I then cut into bite-sized pieces and dusted with powdered sugar. Yumm!<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEja9JvBb2I3Q-hdeRuC5GwekZKFb_UkPNeRRzAMpet2YEZDJ7g1jUvnT7sJh4hvi1f5csYRuacnyHcKYt7vpFGVEJkV-Ezb7ENb4xfRtHDQBFNQJ4-C0qXrcPneaNbIt15ej4jM6YRPvsU/s1600/IMG-20130313-01088.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEja9JvBb2I3Q-hdeRuC5GwekZKFb_UkPNeRRzAMpet2YEZDJ7g1jUvnT7sJh4hvi1f5csYRuacnyHcKYt7vpFGVEJkV-Ezb7ENb4xfRtHDQBFNQJ4-C0qXrcPneaNbIt15ej4jM6YRPvsU/s320/IMG-20130313-01088.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
MST came and went with lightning speed. I can't believe we have only 9 months left until we meet up one last time as a group for our Close-of Service (COS) conference! For MST we were divided into two groups who took turns meeting for sessions and getting poked, prodded, and drilled upon by the dentist and medical personnel to make sure that none of us are falling apart too severely. Speaking for myself at least, I can say so far, so good on the health front!<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4lBQhwJTb72gsOHko2Ubn1H-aKhMmGDRm8rtGLe_PcHBM78YgH9l0Yj5zDaaHdVttLKtH-FAPl8IsX0R26FxsptJ88d8V0AxADH11_Gmbt69rdKmN7VfEbe6WxTH_W9AOi4deV9hUBhU/s1600/IMG-20130313-01080.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4lBQhwJTb72gsOHko2Ubn1H-aKhMmGDRm8rtGLe_PcHBM78YgH9l0Yj5zDaaHdVttLKtH-FAPl8IsX0R26FxsptJ88d8V0AxADH11_Gmbt69rdKmN7VfEbe6WxTH_W9AOi4deV9hUBhU/s320/IMG-20130313-01080.jpg" width="320" /></a>Heading back to site this weekend after a brief farewell to some of our beloved SA 23s, then I'll be taxiing back down to Gauteng to meet up with the Madre and Gilroy when they land in Johannesburg on the 27th! I can't believe how quickly time has gone by!<br />
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All my love,<br />
Alyssa<br />
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P.S. I have not forgotten that I am miserably behind on blog postings, but never fear. They are coming!<br />
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<br />Alyssa Boninihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10346702845400546815noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6734828900295555624.post-84850708727201040622013-01-10T12:37:00.001-08:002013-01-10T12:37:10.667-08:00September - November 2012<style>
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</style>Dear all,<br />
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So begins my documentation of the past four and a half
months of my life. Get ready; it’s going to be a bumpy ride!</div>
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Jetting back to September , 2012, I will generalize and say
that the month for me was marked by the departure of our dear SA22s.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Although I only knew a handful of them
well enough to call my friends (and one in particular who I am lucky enough to
call more than that) their absence has been indisputably noticeable and has
given those of us who remain a reminder of the constant ebb and flow of volunteers
that is an integral part of Peace Corps service.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Next to go are the 23s, who have already begun to steadily
leave South Africa in pursuit of new adventures, opening up doors for the new
SA27s who are due to arrive at the end of January.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Too all our dearly departed, “go well”, and a heartfelt
welcome to SA 27! Yay CHOP!</div>
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October, admittedly, was the most difficult month of my
service here so far.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As if hand in
hand with the end of the school year, work began winding down and I found
myself with an even more excessive amount of idle time.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Keep in mind that schools wouldn’t
officially close for the next month and a half roughly, but you could feel the
anticipation in the air that intoxicated the mind, body, and apparently the
productivity of everyone and everything around.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Meetings were cancelled, classrooms were empty, and food was
even sparser in our DIC than usual.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>With nothing to do, time seemed to slow and I was left to simmer in a
stagnant pool of my own thoughts and frustrations until the beginning of
November when I gratefully left the village for a long-awaited Election Day
bonanza in Polokwane.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A group of
us PCVs congregated at the centrally located and wonderfully modern school/site
of the lovely Susan Burton where we braaied, made deviled eggs, mac n’ cheese,<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>and boatloads of hummus with enough
garlic to keep an army of vampires at bay for a decade.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Or any normal human for that matter :) </div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCXdxJE9VGcFxwQtF8joUVGVG0Cd1k2ypA9a2Mxnkldd7979yi4swbaY_fzeoY8-ftBQ25jOQw3wzSGQvI7ZCugAAmydHtfyaPgFNlLq3HYs4f6u948wuEIjPgDutQdTPZlPa6argCxn8/s1600/IMG_6200.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCXdxJE9VGcFxwQtF8joUVGVG0Cd1k2ypA9a2Mxnkldd7979yi4swbaY_fzeoY8-ftBQ25jOQw3wzSGQvI7ZCugAAmydHtfyaPgFNlLq3HYs4f6u948wuEIjPgDutQdTPZlPa6argCxn8/s320/IMG_6200.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Obamatron!</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td></tr>
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Because of the time change (I believe we would have been
around 6 or 7 hours ahead at this point) we spent our time upstairs in the
apartment of one of Susan’s colleagues to soak in an all night binge of
Anderson Cooper, Christiane Amanpour, and 2013 Election coverage.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In an attempt to keep this blog
apolitical, I’ll avoid the particulars of our viewing experience (including but
not limited to those charged political statements that inevitably come exploding
out of the mouths of even the most modest viewers on election night) and say
that by morning, we were all delirious with lack of sleep but with a newfound
and joyful drive to continue on with our work until the holidays.</div>
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Rejuvenated by good food, friends, and daily showers, I
returned to site and was able to push through the month of November in much
higher spirits than had accompanied the month of October. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My birthday weekend on the 10<sup>th</sup>
was marked also by the christening (baptism) of my host sister’s baby boy
Lesego on the 11<sup>th</sup>. The whole house was in an uproar for days
preparing for the celebration.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The
entire family seemed to have had made the trek home for the weekend, including
my host sister who is also named Pebetse, and cousin named Manku, both of whom
are in their mid twenties like myself. Having them around was like a breath of
fresh air, and we spent the weekend goofing off and having fun in the sun
surrounded by more family than I’ve ever seen together in one place with my own
eyes. </div>
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On the morning before the christening (my birthday), I was
busy baking my family a chocolate layer cake with citrus cream cheese frosting
and rainbow sprinkles when I was interrupted by a knock on my door followed by
hushed giggles.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Wiping my powdered
sugar covered hands on a dish rag, I opened the door to find my family standing
there with Pebetse and Manku in the lead holding a solitary red velvet cupcake
with a candle pushed delicately into the middle.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Normally I’m not one for birthday celebrations, but as they
began to belt out “Happy Birthday To Youuu!” I was so touched that it was all I
could do to not embrace all of them at once in a huge hug.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Instead, I just stood there blushing
with a bashful little grin on my face until they were finished and I managed to
squeal out infinite thanks and explain that their cake was almost ready. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihF_q8EmBb1l0ZA2lPhFwxEa2UE0x6VChyphenhyphen7mfcGF1YOof0nn7KSB1A4k4Q1kbwWsrnjdLwdiEIY_ZNs-dpSZS3SPkpcZZHyAvBBaBvhP34npQDYm7ZBGwmwqVmlv7nOXtD6UyuwAmCrqc/s1600/IMG_6222.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihF_q8EmBb1l0ZA2lPhFwxEa2UE0x6VChyphenhyphen7mfcGF1YOof0nn7KSB1A4k4Q1kbwWsrnjdLwdiEIY_ZNs-dpSZS3SPkpcZZHyAvBBaBvhP34npQDYm7ZBGwmwqVmlv7nOXtD6UyuwAmCrqc/s320/IMG_6222.JPG" width="320" /></a> </div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">A
short disclaimer about Sepedi birthday celebrations:</i></b><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"> </i></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">On your birthday, your friends and family
shall not shower you with gifts and cake, but instead fully expect you to bake <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">them</b> cake and shower them with bottles
of champagne. Typically, I was under the impression that the number of bottles
of champagne purchased ought not to be of a lesser number than your age, but as
I am a relatively impoverished PCV, I figured 4 would be enough :) )</i></div>
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As a follow up, I have to say that I love this birthday
custom.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It completely erased the
weird feeling I dread every year that comes from not wanting people to feel
obligated to celebrate <u>me</u>. Now, I know that that’s not really what
birthdays are about, and truth be told I adore celebrating other peoples’ big
days, but I can’t help but feel awkward about the celebration of my own.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This new system let me off the hook and
instead provided me with an excellent opportunity to spoil my host family with
cake and booze. Along with a full day in the kitchen preparing for Lesego’s
feast? What more could a girl ask for on her 24<sup>th</sup> birthday??</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjN4MZGWj6vS30BKXCgma2KuWH3QdeOdcpBMqJfOnqbHTzKVwm46xw3zs5LUIEQfbtA0KZPE7RJfuVKyQ0Tl0dT75M4zolFFK-0eJ1b0otunpJvV7LLmm5k8f54PYPE4v3-6HcEwlSzYlQ/s1600/IMG_6226.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjN4MZGWj6vS30BKXCgma2KuWH3QdeOdcpBMqJfOnqbHTzKVwm46xw3zs5LUIEQfbtA0KZPE7RJfuVKyQ0Tl0dT75M4zolFFK-0eJ1b0otunpJvV7LLmm5k8f54PYPE4v3-6HcEwlSzYlQ/s320/IMG_6226.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
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As anyone who knows me well could confirm, I’m a sucker for
kitchen work and would opt to pursue life as a sous-chef if there was a way I
wouldn’t be killed by the stress of it all first.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This being the only true trait I posses that conforms to traditional
gender roles here in the village, the women of the kitchen wasted no time in
commending me for my hard work on the skinning and chopping of various gourds
and veggies and declared that they needed to marry me off quickly to someone in
the family before I was taken away by another man and my ‘wifely talents’ were
wasted elsewhere.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Laughing, I
thanked them for the compliment and told them than I would consider any offer
they had so long as they also found a way of transporting all of the cows required
to pay my hefty lebola overseas so that they could be inspected and approved by
my father in Oregon.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We’ll see if
their determination can survive Delta’s baggage policy.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhc9LtbJ3YnRtkdny-f4Rrt1EbsAv6duGmAP-C6x9O3XY_wYb72_OfZimAhmuKQ_XEMfvCwnLA6-b1PqDSoRLMpJn5PUICw_-_RldgkUVRmdt3xqh-FVeIkP5tfoPrL5vkMqrxpWcQWLFw/s1600/IMG_6239.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhc9LtbJ3YnRtkdny-f4Rrt1EbsAv6duGmAP-C6x9O3XY_wYb72_OfZimAhmuKQ_XEMfvCwnLA6-b1PqDSoRLMpJn5PUICw_-_RldgkUVRmdt3xqh-FVeIkP5tfoPrL5vkMqrxpWcQWLFw/s320/IMG_6239.JPG" width="320" /></a>As far as I could tell, the christening of baby Lesego and
the consequential party that followed went off without a hitch.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Everyone was full, drunk, and happy,
and Lesego looked like a dapper young gentleman in a white silk suit with a
bowtie. Sorry Oshkosh, babies have to flaunt it here in Africa!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I used the joyous occasion as a reason
to break out my video camera for the first time in-country and am now working
on editing it all together into a DVD for my family to keep and inevitably show
to house guests for years to come.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>It was so much fun for me to do, and will also help me remember the
experience after I leave this place in one years time.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My how time flies!<br />
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After the weekend birthday/christening bash, I had two weeks
of normal life before taxiing back up to Polokwane to join most of the PCVs in
Limpopo for the 2<sup>nd</sup> annual Limpopo Thanksgiving at the game reserve.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>To say that the weekend was gluttonous
would be a colossal understatement. I try to justify the overindulgent couple
of days by noting that a group of us participated in a 5k/8k Fun Run on the
Friday night before our official “Thanksgiving”, but even with a time of 20min
(which I was dumbfounded by given my current fitness level) I don’t believe it
holds a candle to the sheer amount of food consumed in the following days.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There were deviled eggs, various dips,
veggies, bruschetta, springbok, turkey, chicken, lamb, 3 different stuffings,
salads, sweet potatoes, mashed potatoes, scalloped potatoes, cranberry sauce,
gravy boats overflowing with creamy goodness, mac n’ cheese, baked veggies, wok
– fried veggies, and really anything else you could possibly dream of. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Pie you ask? Ohhh god. Such pie came
after the meal! Blueberry cheesecake, chocolate pie, pecan pie, apple pie, and
others that I’m sure I missed due to what I can only begin to describe as “food
blindness” i.e. a new level of food coma.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>It was unreal. So unreal in fact, that I forgot to take any pictures. Shame. I'll try to remain more gastro-sober next year!</div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIy2H-aKTOJsixqeZWDJMmS42bdoNLqKWmXG3YG9neZcPhpdSYGU1ntn7OWRUqYDyX35PJS8ur2uXpeQElvI012jL7dVdz9Z1b_cZxuf2MTtLH-McaV1ENrmFFnVDMHKBCK6YLAJZrs74/s1600/IMG_6586.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIy2H-aKTOJsixqeZWDJMmS42bdoNLqKWmXG3YG9neZcPhpdSYGU1ntn7OWRUqYDyX35PJS8ur2uXpeQElvI012jL7dVdz9Z1b_cZxuf2MTtLH-McaV1ENrmFFnVDMHKBCK6YLAJZrs74/s320/IMG_6586.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Panel of Speakers at World AIDS Day Event</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyhdHFfGAm5z7Bv7hj27eS-UKpk0E1cSNYBfUS434CSJp9IKL4Ri_Hiz0YuimGJgVhJEOtY1nSmZfuaDMW5WGvk6gK7EnJyGzPT3TbVbL33K_S6_OLn5LXKHeoIvpewH1_XwPGKzHVASs/s1600/IMG_6647.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyhdHFfGAm5z7Bv7hj27eS-UKpk0E1cSNYBfUS434CSJp9IKL4Ri_Hiz0YuimGJgVhJEOtY1nSmZfuaDMW5WGvk6gK7EnJyGzPT3TbVbL33K_S6_OLn5LXKHeoIvpewH1_XwPGKzHVASs/s320/IMG_6647.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Male Condom Demo</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
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On Sunday, after gaining approximately 1 million KG over the
course of 48 hours, I rolled myself back home for the next two and a half or
three weeks before I would head out for one month of vacation in the Drakensburg
Mountains and Cape Town. The past few months had been spent on my part trying to
facilitate the organization of a community World AIDS Day event that would
serve as a fun way to talk with community members of all ages about HIV/AIDS
and what we can do to reduce the stigma that surrounds the disease.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Admittedly, I was astonished when the
big day came around on the 31 of November (the day before the official and
internationally recognized World AIDS Day) and somehow, everything we had
worked for fell into place.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Somehow, the food we “didn’t have” had appeared in copious amounts to
fill every caldron, pot, and frying pan we had. The DJ, sound system, and HTCT
tents (HIV Counseling and Testing) that “weren’t available” showed up.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The speakers who “were too busy to
come” somehow found the time to make an appearance, if only about 4 hours late,
along with about 50 community participants. </div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzh5woMyi3kik-YTlegMzPij7u2wEFTOVf3DerHQfJWKDHNpnUXYk7sLLTCDrIlGqwai_tZl6l3RL9kZm11xj6Pt-5Ke5ne2PqwlqNsd1bhfvYWFm-Z4xImqiPpXs1ySghlpx5VIV4btg/s1600/IMG_6657.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzh5woMyi3kik-YTlegMzPij7u2wEFTOVf3DerHQfJWKDHNpnUXYk7sLLTCDrIlGqwai_tZl6l3RL9kZm11xj6Pt-5Ke5ne2PqwlqNsd1bhfvYWFm-Z4xImqiPpXs1ySghlpx5VIV4btg/s320/IMG_6657.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Female Condom Demo</td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0WHN2vIo_qUu9tpUkkUgXQ8LKkcLX0x16KaZrbMXoSOhSeJTmFwbCr9yPAnQ0THu_ITMpbmz0AFCfNwwQjpuSXxWOuM7R2s5UsHvE3eRCSgL7Qn7TfrYtpTxkvLkGCJlu8VPEoVIDM1Q/s1600/IMG_6670.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a>With everything in place we started the event, passing out
hand made, red ribbon pins to every participant, and allowing time for prayer,
song, dance, and health related presentations by community leaders and clinic
workers about HIV and how we will address it within our community.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I contributed by demonstrating how to
effectively use and dispose of both male and female condoms, much to the
delight of my audience who erupted into fits of nervous giggles when I stood before
them with my counterpart Debrah, who was boldly holding a massive cucumber I
had bought for the occasion.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>After
that, we played a game provided in our Life Skills Handbook called “Condom Time
Bomb” wherein condoms are inflated and filled with a question relating to
condom usage. Music is played and the “balloon” is bopped around the crowd
until the music stops and the person holding the balloon has to pop it and
answer the question out loud.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s
a really fun game to play, and not only shows how strong condoms are
(dispelling the excuse that “they’re too small!!”) but provides a
non-threatening environment in which people can familiarize themselves with
touching condoms.</div>
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0WHN2vIo_qUu9tpUkkUgXQ8LKkcLX0x16KaZrbMXoSOhSeJTmFwbCr9yPAnQ0THu_ITMpbmz0AFCfNwwQjpuSXxWOuM7R2s5UsHvE3eRCSgL7Qn7TfrYtpTxkvLkGCJlu8VPEoVIDM1Q/s1600/IMG_6670.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0WHN2vIo_qUu9tpUkkUgXQ8LKkcLX0x16KaZrbMXoSOhSeJTmFwbCr9yPAnQ0THu_ITMpbmz0AFCfNwwQjpuSXxWOuM7R2s5UsHvE3eRCSgL7Qn7TfrYtpTxkvLkGCJlu8VPEoVIDM1Q/s320/IMG_6670.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Condom Time Bomb</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
After playing a few rounds of this, we ushered the small
children out of the room to play outside while the adults remained to watch an
STI slide show.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Honestly, for the
unadulterated horror I experienced in 9<sup>th</sup> grade at the hands of Ms.
Gorman and her legendary “cauliflower penis” presentation, I was excited to
impart the same information on to the adults of Mohlarekoma.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Sure, pictures of infected intimate
areas are never pleasant to see, but they are crucial to a complete sexual
education especially when HIV/AIDS is so prominent, yet simultaneously so
invisible.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s important to
realize the importance of condom usage not just to avoid pregnancy and HIV, but
because contracting herpes, syphilis, and/or chlamydia isn’t an incredibly sexy
thing to do either. Right kids?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As
the sisters at Nmvolu Clinic say: “Wrap it or zip it!”. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWUF1Y_u2ff8soFpr8WYMZPcWJZ9UQXrVwHJtjeS02RUHUghZZ-ojaXJbqv7tQiNo4K4-qo5TDTcRT1RM8xll4QA6Yhj79MSaL-Gam2Yf9YCKBFxrpZcNuS4Dad0DakQfI93vpQvAGgJs/s1600/IMG_6682.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWUF1Y_u2ff8soFpr8WYMZPcWJZ9UQXrVwHJtjeS02RUHUghZZ-ojaXJbqv7tQiNo4K4-qo5TDTcRT1RM8xll4QA6Yhj79MSaL-Gam2Yf9YCKBFxrpZcNuS4Dad0DakQfI93vpQvAGgJs/s320/IMG_6682.jpg" width="240" /></a> </div>
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With our WAD event miraculously accomplished, I felt a huge
weight lifted off of my shoulders and the tingle of holiday anticipation surged
to a golden glow of excitement.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Before I could leave though, I wanted to attend the graduation ceremony
for children moving from crèche to grade R at Mmeshi Primary School.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><br />
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Most of the small children who I have
become incredibly fond of during my stay here would be participating in the
ceremony, and I gladly offered my services as “official photographer” of the
event.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjD8gvfpV7abWd-VmYvAGTzob1rLpX-50xUz7OsLZoo8BR9eQ-_uJSb0Sn0Rp4B5_hmswrcHAjKRNvlLIgncyWUQ5l-DP7iafKqGZtKSrnUugQFgttfLxePHhsUJz4kO2Hzm4XVcVgSpCw/s1600/IMG_6845.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjD8gvfpV7abWd-VmYvAGTzob1rLpX-50xUz7OsLZoo8BR9eQ-_uJSb0Sn0Rp4B5_hmswrcHAjKRNvlLIgncyWUQ5l-DP7iafKqGZtKSrnUugQFgttfLxePHhsUJz4kO2Hzm4XVcVgSpCw/s320/IMG_6845.JPG" width="320" /></a><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQ1-B6gGV58L0i1nK-fbkDodUiULvLtGbqUAviUCu3828ANsdscNRUowUHWY_CbXHL4CQfvEIZyfFCHRkIitSiMMRhyrD8mD3tidvWLaWRZZk5x1AaMAqDL-0nqflNshBhVcG_W1h-8EE/s1600/IMG_6926.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQ1-B6gGV58L0i1nK-fbkDodUiULvLtGbqUAviUCu3828ANsdscNRUowUHWY_CbXHL4CQfvEIZyfFCHRkIitSiMMRhyrD8mD3tidvWLaWRZZk5x1AaMAqDL-0nqflNshBhVcG_W1h-8EE/s320/IMG_6926.jpg" width="240" /></a>The ceremony was beautiful. All of the children were dressed
in their finest as they ran around the drop-in center in their newly done hair
and pressed black graduation robes.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Cute doesn’t even begin to describe how precious these kids were. After
the learners received their <span id="goog_563762726"></span><span id="goog_563762727"></span>diplomas and finished showing us their complete
knowledge of stop light colors/meanings, shapes, animals, and vowels, they were
presented with brand new yellow and red uniforms that would mark them as
learners of Mmeshi. “They’re not your kids Alyssa” I kept on having to remind
myself.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Calm down, they’re not
your kids”.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbNiQZ7uWUuP8w6_NxbxLSWRu2zliIZ3aAc_ickJ-HWzJ5r4ZZPN5mi8Ftihr7JVi6LtfP0v2RPUGcRX1Ugq2i8mSTx8tV7lcKXdRYA8aRIYLLUTuU0uX3wlkBc2vdOevQXyhARs4LowQ/s1600/IMG_6878.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbNiQZ7uWUuP8w6_NxbxLSWRu2zliIZ3aAc_ickJ-HWzJ5r4ZZPN5mi8Ftihr7JVi6LtfP0v2RPUGcRX1Ugq2i8mSTx8tV7lcKXdRYA8aRIYLLUTuU0uX3wlkBc2vdOevQXyhARs4LowQ/s320/IMG_6878.jpg" width="240" /></a><br />
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In complete disregard
of my mantra however, I found my heart fluttering with pride as the children
I’d spent some part of almost every day with since my arrival grow up before my
eyes in a flurry of yellow and red.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>It’s official.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’m doomed
as a ‘cool’ parent. Not a chance.</div>
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This concludes Part I of my four-month saga. Stay tuned for
the Drakensburgs, Ballito, Christmas in Machipe, and NYE in Cape Town!</div>
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Alyssa Boninihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10346702845400546815noreply@blogger.com3