Viva Village

Mamelodi

On Tuesday and Wednesday I visited Viva Village. Each day follows the same basic pattern: I wake up at about 6:45, grab a bowl of cereal (oppertunity to try new South African varieties), and go outside to the gate to play harmonica and wait for Leon Kriel, who picks me up in Bushfark right after dropping his daughter off at school at 7:15. Bushfark is Africaans for Bushpig (German speakers: note the similarities between "-fark" and "farkel," the German word for piglets), and refers to an old green Toyota jeep with a cracked back window, no back seats, and a very handy roof rack on top. In a word, it is the ideal safaria vehicle, and it is the workhouse of Viva Villages. Immediately after pickup we stop by the Kriel house for tea, coffee, toast, or boiled eggs (Second Breakfast!) before running a few errands like picking up cement, solar panels, or lawnmower blades needed at the Village. Then we head out to Mamelodi East, the township where Viva is located, stopping on the way to pick up assorted Viva coworkers on roadsides along the way.

I imagine that for many people, Mamelodi would be a shock. The poverty is quite extreme, and there are "homes" for entire families that are literally half the size of the three-person bedroom I'm staying in now. There is trash everywhere, and there is a constant smell of smoke in the air because the people scavenge firewood to cook their meals with. I don't know where they get their water from. School costs money, and one must also pay for books and uniforms, so in a nation of nearly 45 million, Leon says an estimated 3 milion children do not go to school. In the winter, the average minimum temperature is around 40 degrees, which doesn't sound horrible until you realize that's in a shack of twisted sheet metal held on to a frame of scrap wood by a few rusty nails. (Since we are below the Equator here, however, the seasons are flipped; it's spring now). Broken glass is everywhere, and I am told that there is a bar just up the hill from the village where you can buy a beer and a girl for fifty-odd Rand, which is about $7. Somehow, though, the situation did not surprise me, I guess because of time spent in similar conditions in Guyana; and I've yet to decide whether that's a good thing or not. I see all this, and yet I also see the mountains, which are fantastic rocky ridges covered with dusty yellowish rocks, the red dirt, the beautiful roses growing in peoples' gardens, and the kids. It is truly a beautiful country. The dirt in places is a deep red, and the streets of Pretoria are lined with Jacarandas, which are blooming purple right now. And the children...

On my first day at Viva, without so much as a look around, I was dropped straight into a classroom of 86 three to six year olds who were all together in a probably 20 x 18 foot room. (Normally the kids are spread out over several classrooms, but they were together to practice drama for the term graduation in December). Neither the children nor the teacher speak much English, I believe they were speaking something pronounced Sipedi (though I don't believe that's how you spell it), and to say it was loud would be an understatement. When I arrived the teacher was mopping the wooden floor, so I asked if I could help. My job was to pour the muddy water from the bucket onto the floor and to scrub it with the broom; then the teacher left for a moment, and I took over moppping too. Why haven't I ever learned to mop with an old-style yarn-head mop? And is it better to scrub down the planks or across them? And why didn't I watch more closely when the teacher did it?? Soon the teacher returned with a full bucket of clean water to mop with, and I poured the next section, a little to sparingly, so I poured some more... and probably overdid it. It wasn't disastrous, but there more water on the floor than there needed to be, certainly... Soon the kids came inside, and sat down on the blankets for their lunch of pap (aforementioned fine-grit-like-stuff). Then they practiced their play, a very complex affair about in which an child, played by Saramina, a confident, bright-eyed girl of about five with short hair, gold earrrings, and a red jacket went to school, met her boyfriend, comforted her hungry sister, and hung out with her friends. I would love to be able to tell you more about this 30 minute long skit, but it was all in Sipedi!

Soon the kids went on break again. Several of them were still in the room, so I asked them, since they had been reviewing parts of the body earlier, whether they knew the song, "Head, Shoulders, Knees, and Toes." They did, so we started to sing... "Helping" out in a classroom is always a little delicate; you want to connect with the kids, but you also don't want to be holding them all and talking to them and indulging crying kids to the point where you interfere with the teachers authority. Know, however, was my time to shine. The teacher was very entertained: When all the rest of the kids came back, I asked her whether she wanted them to do something different now? Not really--just keep going. (How many times can you do "Head, Shoulders, Knees, and Toes?? I guess once you start though, it's kind of hard to stop!). Now the official one "in charge" for the moment, I decided to introduce myself as some of the kids had before their recitations earlier. "Hello Everybody!" "HELLO EVERYBODY!" nearly 90 kids shouted back in unison. "My name is Johanna!" "MY NAME IS JOHANNA!!" "My surname is Depenthal." "MY SURNAME IS DEPENTHAL!!" "I live in America" "I LIVE IN AH-MER-I-CA!!" Suddenly every kid in the place was pressing towards me, holding my hands, and shouting something like "My name is Tsimilango!" "My name is Mlogoki!" "My name is Renee!" "My name is Delasin!" "My name is Precious!" "My name is Kabo!" I got them back to singing: We made up more verses, we had kids demonstrate, then we moved on to the ABC's song, with great success, and to Old Macdonald and Down by the Bay, with decreasing levels of sucess. Thankfully, just as it was turning into a mob situation, one of the women called me ("Johann!"), and it was time to go. On Wednesday I spent my time at Viva helping put up banners and replanting chrysanthamums that one of the Viva guys had mistakenly "weeded" from all the flower beds.

After Viva, we frequently run some more errands, pick up the Kriel's daughter from school, and drop me off at the Student House, where I write, go up to the church to get my laptop working, have dinner with everyone here, and laugh constantly at the uproarious conversations until about 9:30 p.m.

Yesterday I got news that my suitcase had been found, and today it was dropped off at the church, completely intact. Praise the Lord for answered prayers! I don't think it made the transfer at JFK on time, and it was sent on the same flight the next day.

I hope you all are well!