Archive for the 'South Africa' Category

The Boy and the Bread

Published
by
twinutero
on October 15, 2008
in Fair & green and South Africa
. 1 Comment

This post is in support of Blog Action Day on Poverty: October 15, 2008

The boy cupped his tiny brown hands and tilted his head just slightly. His ragged T-shirt fell from bony shoulders into thin air, and his trousers faded into threads below his knees. He looked seven or eight years old but likely weighed little more than Thomas, my three-year-old. His feet were scuffed and bare. I didn’t understand a word he said.

The boy was probably speaking Afrikaans. But I’m English-speaking Canadian and had lived in South Africa less than a week. I mumbled my incomprehension, and the boy repeated his request. His plea and his gestures were well-practiced but genuine. Their meaning, I realized, was perfectly clear. He was asking for food.

I scanned the parking lot for his parents or siblings, but he seemed alone. Once again, he asked for food, moving his hands from cupped to praying. How could I refuse? I was packing groceries from an upscale market into our new Honda. I grabbed a loaf of bread and handed it to him, smiling. He took it, looked me in the eye, and was gone.

It was a minute gift - but I hadn’t considered Thomas. He was perched in the shopping cart, watching the exchange. As the boy fled, Thomas went wild, as if his most cherished toy had been squandered. His legs flailed as I tried to untangle him from the cart. It was five or ten minutes before he found words.

“My bread! I want my bread! No! No!”

I hadn’t imagined that giving away the bread would upset Thomas any more than handing money to the grocery checker or pushing letters across the counter at the post office. Yet Thomas had identified with the boy as – simply – a boy. Not poor, not hungry, just another child who wanted something that was his. The boy hadn’t said please or thank you (that we know of) and he didn’t share. He just took our food and ran. And that, to Thomas, was wrong.

I felt compelled to explain a greater, more complicated injustice. “We have lots of bread. That boy doesn’t have any. He needs the bread more than we do. We can get more bread at home.”

Eventually, Thomas is quiet, and we are driving away from the shop. I hope he understands.

“Are we not going to give our bread away?” he peeps from the back seat.

He doesn’t understand. How could he?

This week in South Africa

Published
by
twinutero
on May 23, 2008
in South Africa
. 0 Comments

It’s impossible to write from South Africa this week and not comment on the violence that has flared in the country.

When we arrived in South Africa last January, the people I met were friendly and welcoming. Those same people, however, were surprised and curious as to why a Canadian family would move to South Africa, when so many South Africans were looking to emigrate to Canada and elsewhere.

That exodus seems much more likely now. And, of course, thousands of immigrants are fleeing.

I’ve only lived here four months and I don’t get out much, but based on the people I’ve talked to, frustration in this country is chronic. Frustration that life for everyone isn’t better. People seem worried about the future, especially for their children, and are unsettled by political and social uncertainty – a feeling that anything can happen. Yet everyone says, with a shake of their head, what a beautiful country this is.

People I’ve spoken to this week are deeply, profoundly disturbed by the violence. There’s much discussion of root causes and possible solutions but also a consensus that nothing excuses violence.

So I’m adding my voice to countless who condemn violence, apathy and intolerance. And if I’m on edge about the safety of my family, my heart goes out to all mothers in more vulnerable places this week.

Parenting tips by Eskom

Published
by
twinutero
on April 26, 2008
in Learning & play and South Africa
. 0 Comments

Eskom is South Africa’s state-owned electricity company. The company people love to hate.

In January, Eskom began “load-shedding”, or rolling blackouts. This is meant to protect the electricity grid by reducing demand. It regularly throws large areas of the country into darkness.

Nevermind that many residents of South Africa have never had, or have only recently acquired electricity. Load shedding seems to be causing serious irritation among those accustomed to reliable power.

But consider the up side.

Our household power is cut once a week in the early morning. The kids wake up to darkness.

“I want to watch Noddy,” announces Alex, looking expectantly at the TV.

“No! Power off,” says Jon.

One minute later:

“I want Wheels on the Bus,” announces Jon, pointing at the CD player.

“No! Power off,” says Alex.

And on we go, reviewing all the things that need – and don’t have – electricity.

During our weekly share of load shedding, the kids have learned:

  • That lights, TV, music and the toaster need power to work, but the gas stove (source of Mom’s coffee) does not;
  • Not to touch candles;
  • How to blow out candles – without touching them;
  • That flashlights pointed at the ceiling look just like the moon;
  • That 6 o’clock is followed by 7 and 8 o’clock, when the power returns;
  • That it gets light outside at 7 o’clock;
  • That reading, playing and staying in bed do not require power.

So, load shedding is a pain – and points to larger problems in South Africa – but still, that’s a lot of learning in two dark hours.

Goods 4 Girls

Published
by
twinutero
on March 29, 2008
in Fair & green, School and South Africa
. 0 Comments

Here’s another dose of reality for me.

Thomas may have had trouble starting school - big troubles in his world. In the grand scheme of things, however, this trauma was a small and normal part of growing up.

Imagine the very different problems of school girls all over the world, girls who go to school but for a few days each month. They stay home because they lack something many women take for granted: menstrual products. Their education suffers, as does their self esteem.

To help, Goods 4 Girls and Crunchy Chicken are donating hand-sewn menstrual pads to girls in Africa. You can donate pads or money through their sites.

Beginning Montessori

Published
by
twinutero
on March 27, 2008
in School and South Africa
. 2 Comments

Four weeks ago, Thomas and I set off for our first day at preschool. I was calm and confident. He seemed so too. He had his new backpack, name emblazoned in permanent ink, extra underwear in case of accidents, and the requisite tube of sunblock. We drove to his school, found his class and placed his backpack in his personalized cubby-hole. The calm and confidence ended just about there.

Thomas is attending a local Montessori school. There are several in our neighborhood - Montessori seems quite popular around Cape Town and Thomas’ school seems as impressive as those we’d looked at in Canada. I had high hopes. I continue to have… hopes.

We all sat in a circle, that first day. Twelve children, a teacher, an assistant, and me with Thomas buried in my lap. He stayed like that through the date and weather, and surfaced just in time to run outside for playtime.

The second day went pretty much the same way except that during playtime, I told Thomas that I was going to pop to the store to buy milk, then come back to get him. During the brief time I was gone, he had a complete meltdown and wet his pants.

Every school morning for the following two weeks, I would leave Thomas screaming at the threshold to his class. I’d pick him up a few minutes later each day. He seemed fine when I “fetched him”, as they say here, except for a bursting bladder. He refused to use the school toilets and we had, um, major potty-training setbacks at home. All over our home, in fact.

Rebellion? Regression? Or simply a result of being deeply unsettled? I don’t know – but it was profoundly upsetting for me too. I had clearly underestimated preschool as a significant milestone in his life. I thought it would be similar to the home-care he attended in Canada. You know, play, other children, snacks….

I now realize that thinking was simplistic and optimistic. A classroom with twelve children, in a school with six classrooms, bears little resemblance to a cozy house with five friends. And as much as I agree with the Montessori method, I think Montessori schools may be a tougher initiation than the average preschool. Thomas is in the 3-6 year old class, so he is among the youngest. Ultimately, this could be great for learning and social development. Initially, however, I imagine it’s daunting – and confusing as the expectations of the older kids are different.

Montessori is also “hardcore” in the toy department. No plastic cars, no battery-operated entertainment, and much to Thomas’ dismay, no trains. The toys are specialized, educational, and for the most part wooden. Again, I like this approach, but the initial lure of new shiny toys that other preschools might provide just isn’t there.

I really considered pulling Thomas out of his school after a few weeks. I wondered if I was doing much, much more harm than good. School at three-years-old isn’t compulsory, after all. It’s supposed to be stimulating and fun. I almost packed it in when Thomas dressed up Alex in a hat and backpack and gently pushed him across our kitchen “to school” with the warning that Alex “mustn’t cry”.

We persisted however, to Thomas’ credit, and he made progress. He started using the toilet again. He stopped screaming at the sight of his school. He started to make friends. There were changes at home too. I saw a new independence as he prepared his own snacks and “fetched” his own clothes. He showed an interest in arranging things “in the right order”, and to my surprise, casually recited the days of the week in both English and Afrikaans.

But perhaps the greatest leap forward was expressed in a single new word. Thomas stood up straight on the couch one afternoon as Alex brought him one of our many wooden puzzles. Thomas pushed his chin in the air and proudly declared the puzzle “Bor-ring!” Boring – and with the intonation of a world wise teenager.

Okay, not a ringing endorsement of the Montessori method, but I was strangely relieved to hear it. It shows, for better or worse, a camaraderie with his classmates and an opinion about activities on offer. It was also a tiny dose of reality for me.