Springbokkies!

So, I’m now in Namibia, back from a 3-day springbok transporting trip. Already I remember why I love this country. Although Namibia lived in Apartheid-like conditions until their independence in 1990, there’s a palpable decline in tension between the races once the border is crossed. Violent crime is uncommon here. And many people speak German! Namibia has a tiny population and vast natural areas; there can’t be many other countries on earth where every farmer you meet complains that the cheetahs got into their antelope again. I could totally live here, and people who do concur; this place gets its hooks into you and you don’t want to leave.

The arid conditions of Namibia make farming difficult, so many farmers have decided that instead of (or in addition to) domestic stock, many farmers keep game. They then offer this wildlife for trophy hunting, tourism, and live to other game farms. Voila, you have nature conservation that is actually profitable! Once sold all this wildlife has to be moved, of course, and that is my uncle’s job, so off we went to transport 108 springbok from one game farm onto 3 others, whose previous herds those darn cheetahs had eaten.

The springbok had already been “passive caught” for us, which means you build a coral out of heavy canvas and corrugated metal (called a boma) around a water hole, wait for animals to get used to it, and then shut it behind them. The springbok are chased into a narrow corridor in the boma funneling into the back of my uncle’s game truck (a massive semi with a huge metal box, divided into compartments, for holding the game) and another door is shut, trapping them. Here the fun begins, with the loading and off-loading. Naturally, the terrified antelope don’t want to get onto the truck, and once on they often don’t want to get back off. Springbok are small enough (25-40 kg) to be handled by hand, and it’s pretty exciting.

In the confined spaces, trapped by man, the animals resist to the stress in two ways. One of which is to lie down and refuse to move, in which case you have to drag or even carry them where you want them to go. The rest start jumping around like crazy as only a springbok can (wonder where they got the name?), trampling all over the “lying down” ones and scaring the crap out of rookie springbok wranglers. The trick to controlling a springbok is to grab the horns. This provides an excellent handhold with great leverage, and has the added benefit of keeping those horns out of your flesh. The springbok can then be “persuaded” to get onto the truck, off of the truck, into the designated compartment or whatever else is needed. The scary part is barring the exit; every so often a springbok will see daylight behind you and make a flying leap towards it, in which case you throw up your arms a legs and hope that a) it doesn’t get out and b) it doesn’t get you. (At least that’s what I do, the professionals are probably more technical about it.) We even had to transfer the antelope from one truck into another in near-total dark when ours broke down, but it went surprisingly well.

All of this, of course, is in between hour upon hour of driving, some of it at 20 kph before we realized the truck wasn’t going to heal itself. However, that’s all part of the business, and you can always amuse yourself by looking for game out the window. I feel like I saw more game driving through Namibia then I did at the Kruger park. We also ate lots of biltong, the world's manliest food. (Think of jerky injected with purest awesome). Next stop? Depending on how soon the truck gets fixed, I will either be catching oryx with my uncle, or going to Swakopmund to whine about how much fishing trips cost.

The Lighter Side of Race

First, some terms:

NP = National Party, the Afrikaans-dominated apartheid government
ANC = African National Congress, the Xhosa-Dominated current government
Quotas = specific percentages of black persons that must be employed at a jobsite or on a team. A sort of Affirmative Action to help black persons previously disadvantaged under Apartheid.

So now I am in the city of Pretoria where I lived as a child. Pretoria is at the centre of one of the biggest name-changing controversies in Sunny South Africa... but let me explain. After the ANC took over leadership in 1994, they decided to be offended (and not without cause) that all the cities, streets and buildings were named after Afrikaaner heroes. Much like we would balk living on Hitler avenue or Stalin street, the ANC decided to change some names. Fair enough, but of course the Afrikaans population doesn't like it much. The argument between "hero" and "opressor" becomes especially heated in Afrikaans-dominated Pretora, named after Pretorious, white hero of the battle of Blood River where the Zulu were routed. People on both sides of the name-changing controversy are bitter and determined, while the rest of us wonder how much bloody money could be saved and poured into schools and hospitals.

The ANC seems to flop between saving money, and spending it stupidly. Therefore when you drive to the airport, you can find 3 different sign-names. The Jan Smuts Airport, named after a white President who ran AGAINST the NP, was deemed offensive and changed, logically, to Johannesburg International Airport. However, this wasn't quite patriotic enough, so it was then rechanged to Oliver Tambo Airport (Tambo was ANC leader before Mandela, I think.) The more prominent road signs now have 2 sheets of tin bolted over top of the name, one covering "Jan Smuts" with "Joburg International" and a second, smaller sheet, covering that with "Oliver Tambo..." The less prominent signs remain unchanged to save money.

For lesser destinations, they barely botherd to change any signs at all... drive to "Polokwane" and you follow mostly signs saying "Pietersburg". In PE, you have 3 names to contend with when following a map: The Original Afrikaans (ie Bothalaan), the English (Botha Street) and the New English (Steve Bilko Street). The map you are following will call ti something like like "Main Road."

Name changing, of course, does nothing in and of itself. Jobs, too, are entitled to affirmative action. Blacks get priority over whites (remember that whites had been given priority since forever.) However, in Africa, nothing gets simple... At the University my great uncle works at, a job opening will always go to a qualified black over an equally qualified white, in order to meet quotas. Fair enough. Not just South African blacks though... a foreign black man, such as a highly educated Nigerian who has come to SA for greater opportunity, counts as "black" in the hiring process, thus having an advantage over South African whites, and less educated South African blacks. (One wonders how that could possibly help black South Africans.) However, once he is hired, he stops counting as "black" towards the quota. And no, I don't know why.

In sports, things get worse. Wrestling is a sport that lends itself to easy picking of a national team- national champion goes. Most countries do it like that. SA, of course, needs to be difficult.. the coaches pick the team. I was privileged to train with, and compete against, the 2 best 84 kg wrestlers in the country, one of which is the African Championship and the other placed 13th in the world. One is a white Afrikaaner, the other a black man from the DRC... since the two of them are fairly equal on the mat, great politics go into picking the national team athlete... depending on who you believe "I'm better but they try to pick him because he's black" or "I'm better but they try to pick him because his coach is on the committee"... finally they realized that there are 2 styles of wrestling in South Africa, and decided to specialize in one each.

For the truly bizarre. we turn to rugby. This story was told to me by my great-uncle, and with Pretoia's exorbitant internet rates I can't afford to check names or details, but I'm fairly sure he didn't make it up...

A white rugby player deems himself good enough to make the Springbok team, but blames animosity with the coach for not getting picked. (Rugby is a sport where quotas are a huge deal... it is the favorite sport of Afrikaaners, who argue that inferior black players are picked over superior white ones, weakening the national squad. Whether this is based on the reasonable conclusion that most black athletes don't care abour Rugby or simple racism I don't know.)

However, some supporters of our white hero did some digging into the athlete's past and unearthed some facts... his father had been a strong (white) opponent of Apartheid, and had allied himself with the black "freedom fighters". As such, our rugby player (through choice or discrimination I don't know) spent his youth playing rugby in the black townships, not with other white athletes. This man, argue his supporters, should be seen not as "white" but as "black" since, despite his skin color, he was "disadvantaged" by the previous white regime. As a black rugby player, he could then make the team under the quota.

Since the press got hold of the story that a white man wanted to be counted "Quota Black" they have had a field day. Digging into the past and financial situation of every athlete on the national squad, they speculate on who should be racially re-classified based on their past experiences. Only in Africa...

Oh, by the way, I am heading to Windhoek on Tuesday, to catch either wildlife, or sharks, or hopefully both.

Finally, congrats to the Ottawa Senators for making the Stanley Cup finals without a single close series. Congrats to Team Canada for winning another World Hockey Championship. And thanks to the lovely Kathryn, now on her way home to Canada, for making our trip together truly amazing.

Safari Time

So, we are back in Johannesburg after a 6-day Safari to the Kruger Park and surrounding area. On Sunday, Kathryn goes back home and I am probably (but not certainly) heading off to Windhoek, Namibia.


Our trip to the Kruger was a mixed sucess. On the plus side, we stayed at a jungle paradise, in rustic but comfortable conditions in which food magically appeared on the table, and messy beds became made while we safari-ed. During the day, herds of nyala frolicked in the camp, along with clothes-stealing, crap-throwing monkeys. (Kathryn says: not at us, but at the annoying other tourists. The monkeys have a sixth sense about these things.) At night there is no light pollution, making the stars shine brighter than you ever thought possible. The eerie sounds of the bush made going to the bathroom exciting, especially last night when the raspy grunts of a leopard (sounds like sawing wood) echoed through the camp, very close to the sleeping quarters. We also went on two guided bush-walks. On both, we encountered solitary bull buffalo (they tend to be grouchy). Exciting...


On the minus side, the game viewing was- well, I think the technical term is "miserable". Forget big cats; even the herbivores were few and far between. The only exception was the numerous impala, (which are presently in mating season, meaning the males scream and roar and chase each other- and the females- around.) and lots of giraffes. To blame were late April rains, dispersing the herds (no need to come to the water hole to drink) and turning the bush and grass into a thick tangle to hide just about everything. However, the gods finally got tired of my whining... on visiting an Endangered Species Breeding program on a private game reserve, we were treated to a rare sight: free roaming wild dogs, who had recently entered the reserve of their own accord, had taken affront to the captive-bred wild dogs at the centre and were running up and down the fence, jipping and jumping and trying to assert dominance. (FYI "wild dogs" doesn't refer to feral domestic dogs, but the rarest and most efficient big predator in Africa.) Seeing these highly elusive animals next to their caged counterparts was very strange and very cool.


I just got back from my most incredible treehouse adventure. It was sooooooo cool. We stayed in reall thatched bamboo treehouses, with monkeys on our roof and, as we were reminded frequently, buffalo (the most dangerous animal of the big 5) roaming our camp at night. The game viewing sucked but thankfully we had gone to another game park beforehand and had seen other cool animals then. It was definitely a once in a lifetime thing.

Today we are in jo-burg again after a very long, unshowered drive. We have all day tmrw to hang out in jo'burg and do something I assume. Not quite sure but "we will make a plan" (that is very funny to anyone who has been in africa ever). (Jens says: "we'll make a plan" is a classic Africanism, the SA version of "Hakuna Matata". It is invariably said when a) no plan has been made and b) a plan is urgently necessary, right now, but will definitely not be made until much, much later.)

All I can say is I have enjoyed this trip immensely and I am very sad about my flight back (mostly cause it will be long and suck). I will be back in edmonton on monday night.

I keep thinking that, more for my own sake then for that of any reader who might care, I should come to some sort of conclusion about my time in South Africa. There are no easy words are answers: "It was cool" is an easy way out, and quite true, but the phrase doesn't cut it for. A couple of nights ago, as I lay in bed having stared into the bush all day at nothing to the never-ending commentary of some irritating Calgarians (we just can't get away from them) all the disappointments kept flooding to mind: no cheetah, no Greco medal,a strained relationship with a former friend, car problems, destructively ungrateful students and the never-ending mind-boggling permafrustration required to get anything done.

After hearing leopards and seeing wild dogs (game viewing is clearly more important to my emotional well being than is normal or healthy) I regained a more balanced perspective. I remember working where no foreigners (and few white South Africans) ever go, falling off a waterfall and catching myself on a branch, locking and painting a school, seeing lions and elephants close enough to spit in their faces (Addo rules), making new friends, catching ocean fish, FINALLY winning a provincial chapionship and spending time with my glorious girlfriend, Kathryn, who is currently reading this over my shoulder and laughing. In fact, our entire trip together was a huge highlight except for the two game drives of suck. (I'm still cool- says Kathryn.)

So that's it then, I hope; a few loose ends have to be tied up but most of the hassles are over. Hopefully my trip to Namibia will be a big, exciting journey. The lack of time on the internet and Kathryn laughing at me prevents me from thinking of something deep, insightful, or wise. I've grown more cynical here, certainly. (Didn't think it was possible...) Hopefully, I've also grown wiser, more experienced and closer to God, I guess. (Very hard to type- Kathryn trying to braid my hair.) I'll keep you guys updated. (Kathryn denying braiding loudly.)

Bye all!

PS Kathryn will post pictures when she gets back, I am much too stupid to hang onto a USB cord and I am without it again.

Boring McUpdate

Hey all...

Unfortunately, I have no time to write anything meaningful, or to post our many glorious pictures. We enjoyed a few days in Vryheid, my parent's parent's place. We went to Ithala Game reserve where we saw shockingly little game (but did manage to follow giraffes on foot), the Blood River monument where we learned that not only did 400 odd Afrikaaners defeat thousands of Zulus, but they killed 12 Zulu commanders from 2 km away with one cannonball, the Mayfair where we went on little kiddy rides, the Vryheid hill where we walked through a herd of zebras, and a really boring Greyhound ride. Tomorrow, off to the Kruger National Park (note a pattern here) to look for the glorious trifecta of lion, leopard and cheetah... wish us luck!

Kathryn says: Happy Birthday Jens

NICE, NA?

"Na" is the South African version of "eh" and our high-as-a-kite Rastafarian guide on the short cruise we took joked that's how the costal town of Knysna got it's name. We've been having a great time, but I have writer's block again so I will let Kathryn describe it.

So I am officially sunburnt, shocking I know. It is sad that my combination of norwegian, scottish and swedish blood could not stave off the sun any longer. Though perhaps I should blame the 5 hour ocean fishing excursion where I for sure thought I would be ok if I did not put sunscreen on my legs. Anyways now I am walking around another beautiful ocean town during a wonderfully sunny day and I am covered from head to toe in order to stop the burning. I am an idiot.

During our ocean fishing we managed to catch a few fishes that we could keep, and a ton of little baby fishes. I am going to say I caught the biggest fish although Jens did catch the prettiest one (he is not so proud of that title and he would dispute that he caught the biggest one). (Jens says: I caught a massive sand shark but Kathryn won't let me count it because it's not edible.) Today we went on a cruise of the knysna ocean port it was pretty cool. There was still fog coming off of the bay so, as jens says, it was very "evocative". The shore is dotted with multi-million dollar homes and rich people swimming and kayaking. It is quite the place. Today after I drag Jens shopping (I am being so nice we are only going for an hour, and after almost two weeks we have yet to even really step into a store) (Jens: nooooooo!!!!), we are going to drive to Port Elizabeth (PE). Tomorrow we are going to go on my first game drive at Addo Elephant park. I am looking forward to finally seeing some real wild animals.

Oh yeah before I finish :GO SENS GO!!

Finally, if you want to read about our possible near-mugging, check the "comments" on my previous post with the pretty pictures.

VACATION TIME

So

Pics:

1) Fooling around at Cape Point

2) With Kathryn on a rock ledge

3) the sunrise from "my" farm

4) Mighty waves at Cape Point

My "work" time in South Africa ended with a bang and a curse. The bang was my head bouncing off the wrestling mat to the cheers of the crowd, and the cursing came from having a 2nd straight trip to prison mysteriously cancelled, without the perpetrator having his friggin' phone on to explain why....

Anyway, I did not medal at the SA greco championships... due to the complex draw system used in SA, I wrestled both the finalists. I was horribly thrashed by the champion (who placed 12th in the world last year) by a score of 0-6,0-8 and literally feared for my life. I was beating the silver medalist 3-1 when he turned and pinned me with 20 seconds left in the 1st period. It was quite frustrating, and I ended up 4th.

So anyway, now I am drowning my frustrations not in the traditional, alcohol-based way, but by sightseeing. Kathryn and I went out onto a ledge at Cape Point where heavy waves smashed into the rocks directly below, spashing us with frothy spray. It was absolutely amazing.

We leave for Hermanus later this week, followed by visits to Knysa, Port Elizabeth, the Addo Elephant Park, Vryheid to see my grandparents, Pretoria and the Kruger National Park. I will try and keep the interested updated.

And Kathryn Lochhead offers her opinion, copy-and-pasted from email, on the first few days on her visit ( she claims "excessive laziness to actually post something original).

So I just about finished my first full week in South Africa and it has been amazing. We have done so much stuff, here is the short list;

-ocean swimming
-flew to jo-burg so jens could wrestle in the south african national greco championships (he was fourth and pissed)
-slept on many planes
-slept in cars
-went to the waterfront
-celebrated jens' 24th bday (Jens note- actually on may 12)
Visit Jens's cousin in Pretoria (who so mercifully and graciously let me use her shower and wonderful comfortable bed)
-hung out with crazy afrikaaners
-walked in Mitchells Plain (google it, which i have been told no other tourist has ever done as it is a really poor gang infested community, trust me i was freaked right out walking the 5 blocks to the 'store' {run down house with bars on it}) (Jens edit.. like 1 minute walk)
-went to the south-western most point on the african continent, cape point, where we saw baboons and elands, and definitely climbed where we should not have next to the raging ocean (i have very cool pictures)
-we saw penguins (jack-ass or 'african' penguins as they have been name changed too)
-climbed part way on table mountain to see Rhodes Memorial and drove up signal hill (saw the whole city of cape town in lights at night)
-tried to go visit Pollsmore Prison (google it), but the massively incompetent guy who runs the program jens volunteers for "shockingly" did not show up, if you would like mad angry near assault like ranting ask him about ___ (Jens edit... removed name but would be happy to rant in person.)

-watched really cool wheel chair basketball in pretoria.
-learnt really racist afrkaans terms and almost strangled little coloured (trust me that is what they are called it is not racist) wrestling boys on a very very long bus ride.

Much more but I only have so much time on this computer. The big thing was the trip to Pietersberg to go watch the wrestling. More cool then watching the wrestling and seeing really really strong men throw each other in the air was seeing actual every day normal afrikaans culture. Trust me you have never seen disorganization and incompetence until you have been to Africa (and this i am told is the most organised organization jens has been affiliated with). Perhaps it was the combination of lack of sleep and being told "we'll make a plan" repeatedly, when clearly no plan is being made at all, but I have now seen the frustration that is Africa (for those of you who have seen blood diamonds "TIA" this is africa). We literally wasted an hour doing nothing before we left to go on a three hour bus ride in the dark. Was anyone doing anything relevant? no. Why? don't ask me. Did we need to go right away? yes!. It is so hard to convey, but trust me you don't know until you have been here.
(Jens Edit: Now she understands... she was quite upset)

But despite the mad mad frustration of the complete inefficiency of everything, this country is soooo beautiful. Today we just got here from cape point, the tip of africa, and it was breathtaking. The ocean was just roaring, crashing and frothing. So we climbed down the rocks to the bottom of it (where we should not have gone, blame jens for all the cool things we do on the trip) and stood right beside where all the waves were breaking on the rocks.

PAINT PICS

The first picture is from the funniest, most graphic sex-ed session I have ever attended, facilitated by students themselves (with help from my partner.) The pointy finger symbolizes EXACTLY what you think it does!

What a school left negleted for months, a phenomenal group of students- mostly girls- did in a matter of hours yesterday. After several rooms were broken into through the roof (seems to happen every long weekend) the school had simply locked them, not bothering to clean up fibreglass, broken bottles, old textbooks and human pee. Thanks to the students of Groenvlei high school, who totally blew me away with their work ethic, two rooms were cleaned and one was painted. Next one gets painted Tuesday (hope you're up for it Kathryn). Great job kids, you rock!!! Your worth ethic, enthusiasm and desire to help make me believe in you.

Finally, a little reader's quiz: that means you, reading this blog, get to say what you think! I've had several discussions with people in both medical and religious fields on the subject of miraculous healings; that is, people cured of ilness or injury through supernatural power. I'm interested to see what you guys think (Christians and non-Christians, perspectives from other religions might be especially interesting). Do you think miraculous healings:

A) Do not occur. Supposed healings are either fake or occur due to a placebo effect. If God exists, he does not heal people physically.

B) May occur, but only in the realm of the improbable, not the impossible. Impossiblilites such as healed paralysis don't occur; however, God might give a person the strength to overcome, say, cancer or serious injury.

C) Occur, but very rarely and unpredictable. God can, and has, work clear-cut miracles to heal people. However, it is vastly more likely that a person, Christian or not, will not be healed miraculouly from ilness.

D) Occur frequently, among people "tapped in" to God's healing power. God wants to heal us, and will do so provided we approach him the right way (be it prayer, healing services, enough faith, or whatever.)

My personal beliefs hover between "B" and "C." If anyone has a cool healing story I'd also LOVE to hear it!

A PILE OF SUCK

Please, person reading this post, take a second to stop reading and offer up the following prayer: "I pray that soon, I will be able to read a post that starts with: car working, school painted, plans made."

Thank you... for now, my car is busted again, and the clutch-piston-thingy that is leaking is hard to find. Hopefully we get one soon, or there will be major suckage. My lack of transport also leaves me unable to get to the school where I am supposed to be running some classroom paintings. Hopefully, my very capable parter can see things through, and my very capable mechanic can get the car part we need.

Otherwise, not a whole lot going on, hence my lack of posting... school was out for 2 weeks, which stopped the school program. I went to a Greco-Roman training camp, went a round against a guy who was 13th in the world and is also my new room-mate, and beat the crap out a big cocky guy from Brackenfell, which single-handedly convinced me that I am finally getting the hang of Greco-Roman wrestling, apart from the clinch, which I loathe.

Oh, and a firecracker blew up in my hand... an idiot friend of mine wanted to toss it off a truck, while we were parked at a gas station where people were busy pumping gas. I grabbed it from him, and thought I put it out... didn't.. bang! suprisingly I wasn't hurt.

I hope to have an actual post, with actual news on it, soon. Things really aren't anywhere near as bad as my title, "pile of suck" just happens to be one of my favorite phrases.

UMMM... MORE PICS

1) Eating oysters in Knysna

2) Romantic buffalo pause between matings

3) Elephant family

4)

Lazy lions lay here for 9 hours

5) "My" car in front of "my" house

6) WP final

7) A beautiful man gets up in the morning

Role Models

Personal notes:
1) In less than a month, my girlfriend Kathryn will be gracing SA with her glorious presence!
2) This weekend my sister and I plan to grace Addo Elephant Park with our presence.
3) I won the Western Province Open... see comment on previous post for scores.

anyway...

You must be the change you wish to see in the World- Mahatma Ghandi

I've decided to be a role model. Not because I'm a terrific human being, which I am not. Nor because I think everyone else should be like me. Just because I can't do a whole lot else. I have discovered that I am unable to save Africa. (I know, I was suprised as well.) Nor am I able to do a huge amount of good while I am here. I like to think the repairs we instituted will help out one school , the motley group of prisoners take my words to heart and the kids I coach will stop getting pinned in a quarter nelson. However, with only 1 month left in my work, I'm not here nearly long enough to start any large-scale humanitarian project and I don't have enough faith to evangelize. So I've decided to be a role model, hoping desperately that when I leave Africa the good (but not the bad) parts of my character and knowledge and goals remain behind, transferred to a larger number of people with the ability to make a lasting difference.

My sister and I have decided that many of South Africa's problems can be traced back to a harmful attitude: South Africans want to live a Western life style of materialism, sexual freedom and wealth, without following the "western" strategies of safe sex, years of education and long hours of work. (Yes, this is a massive over-generalization... and also to blame are the already rich whites, who don't want to share with their former subjects.)

Inefficiency, slopiness and corner-cutting are absolutely rampant (see most of the posts on this blog.) You'll have to ask me for specific stories in person, they are many and fill us with "permafrustration". I'll only share one... a senior member of a humanitarian association recently asked me what country I was from, then proceeded to tell me in detail that a) the Canadian flag is hideous, pointless and stupid and b) I am a racist. He didn't stop until I snapped and threatened to hit him... who does that? Who goes out of their way to piss off people trying to make a difference for free? I wish this were an isolated story but it's merely the strangest one.

As a "real" westerner, I- we- can be role models by mere nature of our upbringing. The thought of my modelling order, work ethic, time management, organization or efficiency would be downright comical in Canada (I bet my parents are laughing as they read this.) In South Africa, I can. In SA I can be shocked about racist comments, question the need to bring a gun to a bar fight, tell students that a 60% fail rate is NOT normal for high school, and that the crime is the worst on FRIGGIN' EARTH and should never, ever be accepted as normal. It's hard, really it is, to convey the attitudes of apathy and ineffectiveness that one encounters here. It is, perhaps, impossible to convey them without sounding like an arrogant prick; if so, I appologize. However, after much thought, I have decided what South Africa needs is not so much my "life skills" teaching, or even my money, as my willingness to paint a school of my own initaitive, my desire to question why a car must only take R30 at once, my ability to befriend people of all races, my need to argue that volunteers need to be treated well so more of them will come. (This is a real problem; both missions and the places they work at, schools and prisons and churches, don't know how to handle help.) More importantly, SA needs full time South Africans to do those things more often.

On a more philosophical/religous note, shouldn't we all be role models? Certainly, all of us who call ourselves Christians- "like Christ"- should be. Imagine, for a moment, if all of us made the following pledge: I will inspire others to improve our world by my example. I wish I myself could honestly say that. The Apostle Paul asks us to "imitate us as I imitate Christ!" Wouldn't it be cool to be able to say that?

Each of us is good at something. My personal talent at the moment seems to be complaining. But who is to say that God, in His wisdom, did not place me among people who frustrate me- who could be doing so much MORE good if they did things more efficiently- for that very purpose? Perhaps God can use me to help others do their work better, to provide alternate viewpoints and to suggest ways of changing procedures? Perhaps this is my calling.

I started my post on a pretty cocky note ("I've decided to be a role model") precicely because I thought it might raise some eyebrows. But the more I think about it, the more I wish that all of us would say that. Our world is a hell of a mess (not just South Africa) and not-giving-a-crap is a major reason why. I know; I don't usually give a crap either. Perhaps that has to change. Perhaps I need to start to care; not once in a while, when I get to go to an exotic country to try to help out, but all the time. Few of us are going to be Ghandi or Mother Theresa or Nelson Mandela, though it doesn't hurt to try. All of us, though, can try to do something- can try to do a lot- to help improve our world. And if we were all role models, if we all tried to model "caring", I have to believe that even if our own efforts were futile, the ripple effect could lead to something big.

Role modelling is, after all (for Christians, and probably other religouns too) one of our core spiritual disciplines. Jesus calls us the "Light of the world"; the Kingdom of God is within us and is shown through us, apparently. We are the hands of Christ. God (and I'm not sure why, because we suck at it) has chosen us to be his hands. When Christ was on Earth, his hands healed. His hands comforted. His hands worked. His hands were tirelessly involved in the helping of, and the eventual sacrifice for, his fellow human beings. Why can't I be more like that? Christian living is- should be- so much more than avoiding drugs and sex and the f-word. We should- we must- be the change we wish to see in the world.

This post would not be complete without listing a few of my role models, people who have, and are, working their rear ends off to improve the lives of others. They are, in many ways, my inspiration. Many are Christians, many are South Africans, and all of them do amazing things...

They include a group of coaches putting together the largest wrestling club in the country to offer low-income students a chance at sucess; a businessman who finances the project, helps out his athletes financially and gives me a place to stay for free; my co-workers at the YMCA, willing to forgo a higher salary and put up with danger and hassle to help others; my uncle who gave up a lucrative medical practice to work amongst the poor and lobby the government for better AIDS care; my grandfather, who gave up a lucrative building contracting business to evangelize the Zulus in the hills of Natal; my parents, who support their kids financially and emotionally even when we leave them and do stupid, dangerous things; my sister, the most ethical person I know, who runs a project to feed a homeless shelter while studying medicine, and finally my girlfriend Kathryn, a constant source of support and encouragement even when we are far apart. You guys ARE the light of the world. May there be many more like you.

Get Out... and Stay Out!

Thought I'd share a couple of good meetings I had... The first involved our prison program, where I challenged 4 inmates point-blank to share their plans for staying clean once they get out. There's just too much peer pressure to stay out of gangsterism with no plan. We discussed moving to a new environment, getting and keeping a job, possibilities for working with NPO's, and techniques for avoiding temptation. It was great to see them really think about what it will take to build a new life for themselves.

We also got the dreaded question "what if my gang comes after me?" This is no paranoia... an ex-con was recently shot to death the day he was released. The best I could do was tell them "you're life will also be in danger if you're involved in crime. You may as well try to start a new life"... Easy to say, hard to practice, it's not my butt on the line. How many of these guys will actually stay clean? I have no idea. Going back is just so easy.

I was asked if I could pick up a murderer, released on Thursday, every day and bring him to the YMCA for volunteer work. I'm told that he's changed, but he wasn't in my group and I'm somewhat worried. Dunno if I'll do it. I guess my faith is weak, my car just seems so hijack-able.

The Vice Principal of Groenvlei school gave us, not only permission but enthusiastic suggestions and a promise of co-operation so we can start painting rooms with the students. (Are you listening, other SA administrators? When someone wants to help for free you say friggin' yes!) Project could go as early as next week. I hope it causes less gong-show than the doorknobs did. Incidentally, the doorknob problem seems to be solved; we combine the shiny handles and bar on "new" locks with the locking mechanism on stronger "old" locks to create one functioning entity. (By "we", I mean "me". Apparently you can lead a caretaker to step-by-step instructions, but you can't make him do unsupervised work.)

If anyone's into prayer, I would really appreciate some, both for the prisoners of Pollsmore and the students of Groenvlei trying to make a change for the better.

To fill up Space

For those of you interested in cross-cultural gender roles, picture this scene from my place:
two shirtless, muscle-flexing Afrikaaner farmboys sit relax on their couch, having a beer. The girlfriend of one is in the kitchen, making sandwitches to their specifications. Both of them are watching "Desperate Housewives" on tv. No one thinks this is wierd.

In other news, filth-man has writer's block. I'm trying to work on a post about the supernatural, but until my brain gets in gear here's more pics to look at.

1: Some sort of undersized and over-ugly sand shark
2: A typical classroom
3: Some Hanover Park troublemakers
4: A high gut-wrench. (this one's technically from last year).

Updates

I am now staying on a farm in Durbanville with some teammates of mine.

We have unfortunately had problems with the door knob project, due to a mixture of cheap doorknobs, caretaker sloppiness and incredibly destructive students- and teachers- some of them have already broken. By putting together old, broken doorknobs and new, breaking doorknobs we hope to get them fixed soon. I would say more but it would involve a lot of cursing.

I went to a "healing service" at a church recently. It involved the least convincing display of miraculous power I have ever seen. "My knee hurts, and now it doesn't!" Even a wrestling match can do that...

Finally, I got a great DVD of Pollsmore prison. Please ask to see it when I get back. It includes the two gangsters paraphrased in the previous post.

Evil Forces

"Every two weeks, I pick a man and I make him a woman. He washes my clothes, and brings me food, and I have sex with him. If he refuses I kill him."- General of the "28s" gang, Pollsmore prison.

"I left my gun on the table when my son was two. It was loaded. He shot himself through the chest, and died in my arms on the way to the hospital. I trust in God that, one day, I will see him again." Leader of the "Americans" gang, Mennenberg.

These two quotes (and to be honest, I paraphrased) are from a video discussing gang activity in South Africa. The first gangster, imprisoned for life in Pollsmore, has so much power he rapes people weekly, and has killed several, on the inside without reprocussion. The guards fear and respect him, and the entire prison population jumps at his command. He is a king in prison, ruling the fortress that should be punishing him by fear.

The 2nd gangster leads the most-feared street gang in South Africa (which is currently battling the 28s for drug turf.) Haunted by his past, inspired by his firm religous beliefs which make it crystal clear that his lifestyle as atrocious, he still has no intention of quitting his life of crime. The money made from tik (crystal meth) is just too good. The entire justice system is so corrupt- cops, judges, prison guards- that the crooks at the top can brag about their crimes on television and still get away with it.

Hearing such statements, and talking with members of their gangs in prison, I find it easy to believe in the Devil. In Evil, real and living and active, twisting ordinary human beings to do horrible things. When heterosexual men gang-rape boys for the fun of it, when devout Christians live lives that cry out "don't do this- ever!" something is seriously wrong. We can try to explain such behavior, I'm sure, citing psychology and sociology and pharmacy and historical factors. We might even explain it well. However, behind it all I see the hand of an evil mastermind, a spiritual being dedicated to screwing up the world as most it can.

Christians (and some other religons) call this being Satan, of course. In churches back home we believe in Satan- the Bible mentions him after all- but we don't think about him that much. Mostly, he seems to make people tired at prayer meetings and cranky at staff meetings at camp. In South Africa, theologans analyze the Bible regarding Satan to a ridiculous degree. They come up with highly inventive and shockingly specific explanations about Satan's past, his future, his present powers, the ranks and names of his evil minions, and even his appearance. While I find the theology fanciful, I now understand the emphasis: in Africa, the hard work of Evil Beings is easy to see, and people gleefully hop on board.

Consider, finally, what I consider the most depressing- and fascinating- part of the Bible:

When the thousand years are over, Satan will be released from his prison and will go out to deceive the nations in the four corners of the earth—Gog and Magog—to gather them for battle. In number they are like the sand on the seashore. They marched across the breadth of the earth and surrounded the camp of God's people, the city he loves. But fire came down from heaven and devoured them.
Revelation 20

For those not familiar with the book of Revelation, this event takes place after Satan has been in prison for 1000 years and God rules the earth. Basically, people have been living in heaven-on-earth while Satan has long hours to think about not pissing God off anymore. However, Satan is (apparently) so evil that, knowing full well he will get his butt kicked again, he rushes off to cause more misery (much like many of Pollsmore's prisoners, who spend their whole lives in-and-out of jail.) And human beings, having lived in heavenly conditions for 1000 years, decide to fight for Evil. What could compel one to do such a thing? (Don't tell me they are innocently misled. They have 1000 years to see what is right, they can see God face-to-face and ask Him if they have questions, they even have the book of Revelation before them to explain what's going on.) Evil beckons and human beings willingly follow, spitting in the face of what could have been. We do not, today, have the ablility to see God face-to-face. Few of us will ever join a street gang. We may never even shoplift instead of working. However, I wonder how often we- myself included- do the exact same thing on a different scale. Knowing exactly, without a doubt, that something is wrong, we shrug our shoulders and do it anyway.

I hate to end this post on such a miserable note, but I feel that if I make it longer it will start to look dumb. I will mention, however, a glimmer of hope, perhaps the only hope against supernatural evil: supernatural good. My faith may tell about the devil, but it also says that no human being, no matter how messed up, is beyond redemption. In a subsequent post, which will require a lot of thought (and thus might take a while) I want to explore the possibility of human beings choosing to side with supernatural Good (and after all, many do... in Revelation, countless human beings do NOT follow Satan), what that looks like, and the results it has.

Doorknobs

Like a swarm of screwdriving pirannahs, an army of YMCA workers, students in the peer education program and caretakers descended on Groenvlei High School today, removing old and broken doorknobs and replacing them with shiny new ones. Step one of our restoration plans was a sucess.

Pictures:

1) Locks galore
2) Installation
3) Peer Educators group photo
4) This road divides 2 gang turfs

Edit: Today (the next day) is also worth writing down... This morning, going to a store to pick up a meat-pie, I got too close to a money truck and a guard pointed a massive shotgun at me. Most of the day was spent supervising a teacher-less classroom, managing insane jr. high kids all day. I counted 5 comments from the girls about my beautiful blue eyes, while the boys just threaten to stab everything in sight. At one point I physically had to bar the door and shove kids out of the entrance to keep them in the class. My partner drew a massive penis on the board during one long impassioned speech, and in the final class, a student vomited out his nose.

Issues with God

Lately it seems that I have issues with everyone. I always thought I was easy-going and could get along with everyone, but apparently not. I have issues with my former landlords over money matters, issues with my “employers” over communication and issues with school and prison officials over (their) laziness. Some of this is no doubt entirely my fault, but it still leaves me frustrated…

So anyway, I can just hear a bunch of Christians reading this and saying, “it’s okay. Just turn to God. He’ll take care of you.” And with that, we come to the reason for this post: my issues with God, whose help I would greatly appreciate to resolve my issues with people. Whatever it means to be connected to God, I’m not. Like a billion married couples in the world, we have bad communication. I struggle to understand God’s presence, and actions, in this world. The claim that the God of the universe gives a crap about what happens to us is rather presumptuous, but it’s one of the cornerstones of religion, and Christian thought in particular. God apparently talks to us, or at least to millions of other Christians. Since I have never heard a voice booming from heaven, and my dreams tend to involve my fighting animals and not spiritual guidance, I have asked a bunch of other Christians, especially Charismatic ones that emphasise such things, how God speaks to us.

Through the Bible…
The Bible is great for learning about morality and useful for understanding theology. (In fact, I should probably go research the Biblical principles of God-communication). I don’t know how much it helps personal communication though. The Bible doesn’t tell me if I should quit my job, start a project, lend a friend R5000, or drop a weight class. The Bible seems to suggest that the Spirit of God takes care of these things. Does the Spirit work together with the Bible? When I actually read the Bible (instead of reading about it) I get really confused. It's not made clear to me at all. I’ve even tried the “open the Bible” trick, where you throw open the Bible and trust that God wanted you to read the verse that appears. Sometimes it actually works… unfortunately, “God” tends to tell different people different things... For example, the last time I tried this trick, struggling to understand the conept of hell, I landed on a very Universalist chapter. I doubt a lot of charismatics have had the Spirit tell them that hell is temporary.

It's sometimes argued that, the closer you are to God, the more correct your understanding of Scripture. Works great in theory, but in practice? Billy Graham and Mother Theresa, two of the most “godly” people of recent times, have vastly different understandings of theology. And even if God does give some people flawless Bible understanding, how do the rest of us know who they are?

Other Christians tell me that, while they might not understand the theology of the Bible, certain verses speak into certain people’s lives. For example, the story of the ungrateful servant convinced me to indeed lend a friend R5000, but I’m still unsure about whether I heard from God, or just put myself on a guilt trip. Personal interpretation is not always benign either; the Dutch Reform church in South Africa decided that the story of Joshua spoke to them in a special way, which meant white people were the chosen race and black people the evil Caananites. I’m pretty sure that one wasn’t from God.

Through the emotions. You “feel the presence of God”. Maybe I’m the wrong person for this one, as I am not in touch with my feelings (my most emotional moments usually involve sports) and very cynical. In fact, this might be one of my barriers to experiencing God. At a worship session I want to make sure that I REALLY feel God moving, instead of just enjoying the music. (Usually I do neither, I’m just bored.) Nor do I especially crave “feeling” God, I just want Him to tell me stuff. I’m not totally immune to Spiritual experiences, though: I once spoke in tongues. It was very unexpected and very strange. I even tried to swear in tongues. Surely, I thought, the Spirit won’t allow this, and sure enough I could not swear. This very cool experience helps remind me of God’s existence, but is singularly unhelpful for planning my life now. If God communicates through feelings, does that mean I should trust my emotions? I thought that was the cornerstone of irresponsible living.

Through that “still small voice”. This is the one that honestly confuses me, and I’ve tried to get definite answers from many different people. How does God talk to us? Do we “hear a voice” in our brain, or feel a conviction, or assume that when another person gives adive it is coming from God? How does this one work? (I really want to know. Tell me.) A charismatic pastor explained to me that there are 3 “voices” we hear: God’s, Satan’s (or that of demons) and our own. It's almost like that cartoon with the angel on one shoulder adn the devil on another. A sceptic would assume that most thoughts, good or bad, come into my head without any supernatural voice … but let’s work with the “two voices” idea.

Some thoughts act loving, speak the truth, help another person) can be safely assumed to be from God, or at least agree with what God would say. Others (watch that pornography, tell that lie, punch that guy in the face) can be assumed to be evil, even if Satan himself didn’t actually say it. The problem is, there is a bunch of grey area. This encompasses both morally confusing areas (do I turn the other cheek or stand up for my rights? Can I teach kids a lesson I disagree with?) and practical, morally neutral ones (where do I live? What job do I do?). It seems that God would be giving the good, or correct, ideas, whereas Satan would imput the bad ones to screw up my life and make me unhappy... but how do I tell them apart? Is it God’s will, or the Devil’s, that I am in South Africa now?

Biblically, Satan seems to be pretty good at what he does. If Satan is speaking into my head, how dare I trust any thought at all? (I’ve been told he can fake near death experiences, so that unsaved people think they aren’t going to hell, which leads to a nasty shock when they actually do die. That takes a lot of power.) I’m not sure I believe this, but still… How can I possibly have faith in a voice that I presume to come from God when it might come from Satan? If Satan can decieve most of the world, why am I immune?

Even more troublesome, does God really want me to do what’s good for me? For all of the apostles, God’s will seemed to be torturous death. How can I trust that God wants something else for me? Perhaps, even if I find His will it will suck beyond all imagining. Perhaps God’s will is for sinful Africa to die of AIDS and crime, a plague of sorts. Where would this leave my peer education group and myself? Opposing God? The truth is I haven’t the foggiest idea what God wants for a bunch of things, so I have no reference point for deciding if in idea might be from Him.


Through circumstances.
Some Christains tell me that “there are no co-incidences” and that everything happens for a reason. I seriously doubt that, but I can believe that SOME things happen for a reason. ("You said 'shutout'? Of course the other team will score now.") More seriously, in my family, there have been numerous occasions of “opened doors” (as the Sound of Music would say) which seem to be signs from God. However, just like God’s voice, His signs aren’t always clear to me, nor do they unequivocally point in one direction. For example, does all the frustration I feel about Prison Work show that God is slamming a door in my face so I will move elsewhere? Or am I experiencing the “adversity from Satan” I hear so much about, and does God want me to fight it and persevere? Or perhaps God and Satan are both sitting there amazed at what a naïve fool I was to think I could do things in Africa without struggling all the tine. How do I know? Perhaps if I pray a lot, God will tell me.. probably through a feeling or a still small voice. Wow, I better stop typing before I say something really sacreligous.

Total surrender.
This one, I haven’t tried. I can’t even bring myself to sing “I surrender all” in church because I’d be lying. (Nor, for that matter, is Jesus everything I want.)According to many, this is the key to effective communication with God, so it may well be the reason I struggle so much. For me it’s like a big catch-22. I don't have faith without experiences, and maybe I can't get experiences without faith.

If God’s plan for me is to die under torture, like the apostle Peter, well maybe I’d rather live I’m not sure why, but I have trouble accepting that God really is, well, nice. I always picture him as more of a traffic cop. in my own will and accept less heavenly rewards. I’ve always distrusted God. “Okay, one lie… two lustful looks, and you said the F-word.. I’m gonna break your starter.” (In fact, the most supernatural force at work in my life seems to be bad karma. My pride AWAYS comes before a fall.) Clearly, God and I have problems beyond bad communication, but since communication is the one that seems to destroy early relationships, maybe I should work on that one.

Anyway, I always ask for comments on my blog, mostly because they make me feel important. This time, when I ask for comments, I have a purer motive. I really would appreaciate advice, or anwers. I’ll even take sympathy.

SCHOOL PROJECT

Wrestling results: I wrestled in a small tournament in Robertson, took 2nd. I pinned the SA high school champ in a wild match with a bunch of throws, and I finally caught him on his back in a scramble 6-1. 3-6, 5-1 pin). I lost in the finals to the SA Sr. Champ (0-6, 0-4). I got his legs several times but couldn't finish my shots.

Now to hype my project:

The location: Hanover park, a suburb in the Cape Flats notorious for its gang wars.

The school: Groenvlei high school, and under-staffed, heavily vandalised high school with an 80% rate of student failure. Because of it's location the buildings are under heavy attack, both from vandalising students, and from drug addicts who brave the razor-wiring at night to steal anything they can sell to a scrapyard.

The mission: To improve the school buildings. We are going to involve the "Peer Educator" students taught by the YMCA. Our hope is that, in addition to improving the school, we will instill students with a sense of ownership, so they will feel protective and respectful of the work they have done.

Specific steps:
A (next Tuesday): 25 door knobs have been broken or removed from doors. Along with the peer educators, we are replacing them with new, lockable door handles. All supplies have been bought, thanks to a generous donation by a certain reader of this blog.

B (coming up): We want to paint several of the peeling, grafitti-splattered classrooms. This will be a major undertaking, including moving an entire class at a time. We have most of the supplies ready, though we may need more paint.

C (hopeful plan): We want to re-wire the intercom system. Much of the wiring has been stolen. However, the quote the school got is rediculous, so I hope to find an electricial willing to do it at cost, with ourselves or students doing much of the labor. This one, if it happens, will cost a lot of time and money.

You can help: We can use as much prayer as possible. In fact, all of Hanover park needs a lot of prayer! Financially, we have all we need for now.. however, if we start needing more paint, or if the wiring project goes ahead, I will not be shy in asking for donations on this blog...

Anyway, that's the goal. I'll keep updates posted.

FISH AND PICS

1) A bontebok on table mountain, a rare antelope hunted to near-death because they were too dumb to run away
2- the child of my landlords
3- An informal settlement, or "township" in Mitchell's plain
4- part of our catch (read below)
5- fishing boat in Kalk Bay harbor

Despite fate's best hindering efforts, I finally got to go boat-fishing, with some YMCA guys and their buddies. Some commercial fisherman have decided that it's advantageous to take visitors along for cash, so local anglers now have a chance to fish with the big boys, in ludicriously small boats. Things were fairly familiar from other boat-fishing trips... the blue of the ocean all around, the taste of salt, the smell of bait, the feel of thick handline through shamefully soft fingers and the sound of other passengers hurling over the side.

The oceans here are shark-infested from the bottom up, it seems. I caught the largest fish of the trip to be landed sucessfully, an irate, leg-sized sand shark. It flailed wildly in the boat, whipping its needle-like teeth around and wrapping its shockingly supple body around arms, waists, and lines, anything to prevent us from unhooking it and throwing it back. In the mid-depths, our fearless leader hooked the largest fish of the trip, a man-sized thresher shark. Thereafter he gave a truly expert preformance in "loosing all your line". And just to show us who was boss, a great white shark breached on the surface, making an enormosu splash and putting an immedate end to the "I could go for a swim" jokes.

The water is even more infested with hand sized bait fish, that school and swarm around the boat. It was fun, because we could literally catch them at will, throw them into a tub and then pull them out later to feed bigger fish. They were also annoying because they ate tremendous amounts of bait off the hook, but inbetween the sharks and the baitfish we still managed to catch a good number of eating fish. I got pretty outfished by the experts, but still went home with enough for a couple of good meals. Fishing rocks.

MITCHELLS PLAIN

(Note: To see how the wrestling went, check post below this one.)

Wow. Sometimes this place scares the shit out of me.

Yesterday, I was in a sketchy-looking parking lot with 3 YMCA workers (my immediate partner and our 2 female bosses) when some drunk men began, persistently, to hassle us for money. The girls freaked out "lets' go before they attack us!" so we jumped into me car and I peeled out of the lot, feeling very cool.

I thought they were being a tad dramatic. Then one of them launched into a story- her sister had, earlier that week, been caught in a massive gunfight between two gangs- IN the Police Station- A couple blocks away from the YMCA. Wow. The other girl didn't have a cool story, but today she was robbed. Oh well. Everyone in Mitchell's Plain has been robbed.

Today, waiting to judge a high school debate on abortion (particularly gripping because, statistically, many of the participats will be raped at some point in their lives) I had a truly bizarre discussion with my partner about theology (again.) It blew my mind. He has a strong loathing of Roman Catholicism, because they apaprently mixed the truth of Christianity with paganism. True, maybe, but iw was wierd for him to say it because he is a pretty unorthodox christian who doesn't believe in hell (score- there's more of us every day) and thinks that eternal life is a kind of reinarnation. Then he went into his beliefs on history and geography and race, drawing heavily on the books of Genesis and Revelation and truly bizarre interpretations therof.

His arguments deflated when I convinced him that Isreal is in the Middle East, not Africa, and that the race-based theology of his "experts" was used to justify apartheid. This brand of Christianity is like another world for me. (Homework assignment: flip througha book by "Rebecca Brown: MD". Do so without reading what other doctors have to say about dr. Brown. That's the kind of thinking I'm talking about.)

I am battling with feelings of racism myself these days. It sucks. Comes not from hanging out with Afrikaaners, I think, but from hanging out with colored people... Because I work with mostly the colored culture, all my fears and frustrations are directed towards people of that race, and I long to escape to sanctuary among "my people" who think the way I think, work the way I work and isolate themselves from areas of crime. I know I'm a terrible person, and that scares me toom, because every time I go off feeling superior fate, or God, or my subconscious, makes me do something really stupid so I feel humble again. I don't want to be humbled again.

Anyway, my posts keep coming out negative, complaining and whiny and all that. I'm sorry. I really am. i want to write about people's lives being changed, people overcoming adversity, hope and fun and adventure. I really do. I don't know why I feel so melancholy lately, or why I'm not thrilled to be doing this. I think my sights are set too high.

Wrestling Recap

A long discussion of SA wrestling would be frustrating for me to write and boring for you to read, so here's a short summary...

My dream of representing South Africa died a quick and gut-wrenching death. (Pun alert: a gut wrench is a painful wrestling move.) I wrestled okay but not great, and the competiton was tough. National team trials are, I suppose... I placed 7th at 84 kg. My teammate and defending champ won the tournament.

Match 1: lost 0-2, 0-6 to the Jr. Commomwealth champion. A very frustrating match, because no less than 4 points awarded were highly questionable, a combination of differences between South African and Canadian officiating and outright bias.

Match 2: Won 6-1, 5-2. A good match against a tough opponent. I scored 2 massive double leg takedowns and was in control most of the match.

Match 3: lost by pin trailing 4-2. I wrestled well, tried to score in a wierd scramble with seconds left and got caught on my back. Getting pinnned sucks.


On a 20 hour (one way) drive with 14 people crammed into a 12-seat van, I also got to experience true Afrikaaner (white South African of Dutch ancestry) culture. They are a fun people, if you ignore the odd shockingly racist comment. (Some, but by no means all, Afrikaaners still hang onto apartheid-era beliefs.) The Afrikaaners are really the ultimate rednecks. They have big, patriachal families that go to church on Sundays and pray before tournaments. They like meat and beer and sports (especially rugby) and wildlife and fighting. In fact, much of our drive was spent alternately being amused and irritated by the 2 lightweights in the back, who entertained themselves by annoying each other. This repeatedly cumulated in fistfights. These are grown men, mind you...

Anyway, I have big plans for my school project, I may have found a new place to stay, and just got invited to go ocean fishing this Sunday but now I am very hungry and will report on the happy stuff once it all falls into place.