This freedom has allowed me certain privileges that I am very grateful for, one being the right to go places on my own. Where before I would need an escort to do many basics tasks, I have begun to branch out and explore, meet, and investigate the village on my own. South Africa grants me the capability to be completely capable to interact with people using English, and this affords me certain opportunities that I can achieve on my own without the help of Magogo or my other colleagues.
Case in point, I visited the second High School in my area and, although my visit was not formally announced (it was my second visit, and I was told I could come back on any Monday before 8am), I was given the chance to talk with some teachers, greet the entire student body at their morning devotion, and talk to a class of 9th graders in their “Life Orientation” class. I took the opportunity to facilitate some participatory analysis of my community and starting spouting off questions to this class of timid 15 and 16 year olds.
“Do you know what HIV is?” A few heads nod, I’m not expecting to get an answer.
“Do you know how it is transmitted?” A few girls in the front giggle as I tell them that I don’t want them to tell me, I just want to know if they know.
They nod their heads and I realize that I am knee deep in cold water and need to slow down for them to get used to me. I ask them what they like about the community. A hand suddenly shoots up. He is wearing a blue blazer, sits in the back of the classroom, looks small for his age, and especially when compared to the girls that sit around him, but that is life. He tells me he likes that school is free, and that the government pays for his books and the field where he plays soccer. Those around him are in agreement and I’m happy that anyone is raising their hand to talk to me.
Kids at this age don’t have the English skills yet to feel completely comfortable talking to me and this is the biggest downside of going in alone. I tell them that they can speak Shangaan and their teacher can translate for me. I get the same answers and move on to the next question.
“What does your community need?” “How can I help?” The same hand in the back goes up; he is the only one with the courage to talk to me at this point so I hear him out. “A library” he replies, and I smile and ask for other answers.
The rest tell me that they need another soccer stadium, the second one in this town, but it needs to be closer to their school, the bitter rivalry with the other High Schools seems to carry over to the access to soccer grounds. I laugh and thank the teacher for giving me the time in class to address the learners.
As I’m leaving I ask the teacher the name of the very vocal student in the back. He hesitates and then decides to go get the student for a formal introduction. When he is pulled out of class he looks terrified. I put myself in his shoes, his mind racing at what he has done to get pulled out of class, the embarrassment that he is going to face from his peers when he goes back, he doesn’t seem to have the same confidence now, but when he talks I get a whole different sense of who he is. I tell him that his English is great, and thank him for helping me out.
His name is Maxwell, and he finally cracks a smile and tells me that he also writes poems. I tell him where I work and that I would love to read his poems some time. I tell him I will be back, and to stop me when he sees me. I leave the school feeling refreshed, and head back to work for a short day of circulating office gossip and some computer training.
Just before I am about to leave for home I see Maxwell entering the complex of my work, school books in hand. He goes to school about a 30 minute walk away and I am shocked to see him strutting in the door. He greets my coworkers, brave is the only word I can use to describe him at this point, and sits down next to me. I’m in the middle of an interview with one of my coworkers, but I finish and sit down to greet my new friend and can’t wait to read the poems he wants to share with me. They are beyond fascinating; he talks about his dreams in life, his dreams in sleep, his country, and crime, the meaning of peace and love. We share our favorites, I like all of them, but he tells me which ones he likes the best. I agree with him, giving him the positive reinforcement that is such a void in this country.
We sit and talk longer, about his family, his friends, his goals in life. He has an assignment that he needs help on. It’s a paragraph on HIV/AIDS in English. A tough assignment by any standards, but he has come to the right place. My coordinator and I help him with the right words to use, give him a book in English and Xitsonga, he definitely came to the right place.
It’s time to head home so I pack up my things and begin the short walk home. He accompanies the coordinator and me on the walk towards my house, and he continues with me towards my home. He is polite, intuitive, and witty. We sit and talk more and he teaches me traditional African games as I tell him about the chess club I want to start. He’s interested, but has no idea how to play chess; he would rather stick to Murhabarhaba, of which he is the uncontested champion.
He wolfs down a plate full of food and I am beyond happy with my day. He heads home at dusk, and I hope to see him again. I’ve had trouble connecting with men in my village. Those who are older than 16 or 17 seem to be uninterested in me. Too cool for the mulunghu (that rhymes if you were wondering). And those that are 18 to say 28 seem to spend most of their weekends in the tavern, so the little amount of time I am not in work on the weekdays are hard to make lasting relationships.
All in all, I have to say that Max may be the most sustainable friend I have made so far. He challenges the way I think, likes learning from me, and helps me learn from him. He is not afraid to ask me questions; even those that I think he knows that I don’t know, and seems to genuinely enjoy my company. Even today, when I was not at home, craving chips (French fries) beyond belief, I come home, and loe and behold, he had brought me chips. It may be too early to say, but I think he is my first real friend in my village.
My favorite Max quotes thus far “Do you know how to speak Xhosa?!” “What is rehab like??” and the best one to another PCV “I’m done helping you guuuurl!”
Sustainability, make friends with a 15 year old…they will be 17 when I leave.
