Safety and Security
I woke up yesterday morning, stepped out of my room, and immediately knew I was the enemy and had stepped into unfriendly territory. Terrifying glares ensued from my mother and father as they stared at me while I went about my morning business. I knew the reason: the impending meeting that afternoon, which they had obviously just been informed about, and with Mapula not yet awake I had no one to translate for me to discover exactly the meaning of those looks of bitterness.
I went to school dreading the day. My principal discussed the issue with me, but she too seemed slightly put out. The whole thing was overwhelming: I was the one who had been sinned against yet suddenly I was also the one that was the most guilty, the one causing the problems. I hadn’t asked for this meeting from Peace Corp, it was something they insisted upon, but no one saw it that way. My family had assumed the issue was closed and then this. I could see why they felt betrayed, but at the same time I too felt deceived, everyone had made so light of the issue, and here I was, worried about the upcoming year and a half I was to spend in this home.
When I got home my mom wouldn’t even look at me. I tried to talk to her, to have Mapula explain that if an issue arose in the family Peace Corp required a meeting, but she was resistant.
“It is court.”
“No, no it’s not court. They aren’t coming here to attack you. They just want to come and make sure that I am safe and this won’t happen again.”
“I don’t like bad things.”
“I don’t either.”
“Oupa apologized.”
“I know. I told Peace Corp but they still have to have a meeting.””I don’t like this I have a short temper. I don’t like bad things.”
Still she would not look at me, and I went to hide in my room, to avoid this accumulating hatred from the family. The evening dragged on. The meeting was planned for six. Peace Corp got lost. My principal and family sat outside waiting disgruntled and outraged that they were forced into this meeting and now had to linger. Finally, the head of safety and security arrived. Then my mom, my principal, and he disappeared into the house for a long conversation. I sat outside, cross stitching, wondering why I had cancelled going on my afternoon run if I wasn’t even going to be apart of the meeting, while thinking:
“I’m going to be homeless. The village hates me. What am I doing here? Why do I cause so many problems….wait why do I think I caused this problem? Why am I the one who feels guilty? This is somehow a nasty turn of events.”
The tribunal started and Oupa was called in. After a short amount of time he left the house and consequently burst out laughing. He’s definitely an immature sixteen year old. I hope he trips on a rock and breaks his arm….again.
Finally, I was brought in. The issue was resolved. They had come to the same conclusion I had on Sunday with my family. The only advice I got was to buy lace curtains to further bolster my privacy (I wonder if Peace Corp is providing the extra stipend for that…currently I have the equivalent of thirty dollars to get through the rest of the month meaning I’m stuck in my village and not going to a certain get together with other volunteers this weekend…being poor sucks).
After Peace Corp left, my family asked if Peace Corp employees got paid by the hour. “He just wanted money. Was that why he felt the need to come?” I explained it was protocol… they were confused.
I think the whole result of this meeting is that my family no longer trusts me. Khutso is most upset with me, God knows why, and that’s what upsets me the most. I think Oupa harasses him more than anyone else, but perhaps after Khutso’s upbringing he is the abused dog that is overly protective of his master even though that same master constantly kicks him.
Mapula leaves for university on the 23rd. Oh lonely nights to come. With the exception of my mother, I will be residing in a household containing an abundance of men. I need to find someone to adopt me in the village and give me an occasional escape. There is way too much testosterone in my house.
I went to school dreading the day. My principal discussed the issue with me, but she too seemed slightly put out. The whole thing was overwhelming: I was the one who had been sinned against yet suddenly I was also the one that was the most guilty, the one causing the problems. I hadn’t asked for this meeting from Peace Corp, it was something they insisted upon, but no one saw it that way. My family had assumed the issue was closed and then this. I could see why they felt betrayed, but at the same time I too felt deceived, everyone had made so light of the issue, and here I was, worried about the upcoming year and a half I was to spend in this home.
When I got home my mom wouldn’t even look at me. I tried to talk to her, to have Mapula explain that if an issue arose in the family Peace Corp required a meeting, but she was resistant.
“It is court.”
“No, no it’s not court. They aren’t coming here to attack you. They just want to come and make sure that I am safe and this won’t happen again.”
“I don’t like bad things.”
“I don’t either.”
“Oupa apologized.”
“I know. I told Peace Corp but they still have to have a meeting.””I don’t like this I have a short temper. I don’t like bad things.”
Still she would not look at me, and I went to hide in my room, to avoid this accumulating hatred from the family. The evening dragged on. The meeting was planned for six. Peace Corp got lost. My principal and family sat outside waiting disgruntled and outraged that they were forced into this meeting and now had to linger. Finally, the head of safety and security arrived. Then my mom, my principal, and he disappeared into the house for a long conversation. I sat outside, cross stitching, wondering why I had cancelled going on my afternoon run if I wasn’t even going to be apart of the meeting, while thinking:
“I’m going to be homeless. The village hates me. What am I doing here? Why do I cause so many problems….wait why do I think I caused this problem? Why am I the one who feels guilty? This is somehow a nasty turn of events.”
The tribunal started and Oupa was called in. After a short amount of time he left the house and consequently burst out laughing. He’s definitely an immature sixteen year old. I hope he trips on a rock and breaks his arm….again.
Finally, I was brought in. The issue was resolved. They had come to the same conclusion I had on Sunday with my family. The only advice I got was to buy lace curtains to further bolster my privacy (I wonder if Peace Corp is providing the extra stipend for that…currently I have the equivalent of thirty dollars to get through the rest of the month meaning I’m stuck in my village and not going to a certain get together with other volunteers this weekend…being poor sucks).
After Peace Corp left, my family asked if Peace Corp employees got paid by the hour. “He just wanted money. Was that why he felt the need to come?” I explained it was protocol… they were confused.
I think the whole result of this meeting is that my family no longer trusts me. Khutso is most upset with me, God knows why, and that’s what upsets me the most. I think Oupa harasses him more than anyone else, but perhaps after Khutso’s upbringing he is the abused dog that is overly protective of his master even though that same master constantly kicks him.
Mapula leaves for university on the 23rd. Oh lonely nights to come. With the exception of my mother, I will be residing in a household containing an abundance of men. I need to find someone to adopt me in the village and give me an occasional escape. There is way too much testosterone in my house.
posted by Cait at 11:17 AM
1 Comments:
Cait, I have been following your predicament w Oupa. It's SO familiar including the 'money by the hour must be involved' bit. I know the hurt too, you are doing good things , one on one is finally working and suddenly 'outside' interferes, along w guilt/ outrage on all sides.
All I can say is that you are there to teach so in some way communicating Euromerican structures and POV's is a culture they must learn.
On the other hand their collective wisdom has been honed over the years by innuendo and guessing and plain punishment under folks like Dr Jan van Elfen circa 1983 and earlier. He most CERTAINLY was paid by the hour with bonuses for 'field hardship' for living in the nearest comfy white hotel with a driver in seperate quarters.
Thank you for doing all you do, it's not for nothing. Africans understand and respect consistency, keep your head up and keep at it, if you are not derailed and "different" because of this ordeal, they will respect you more. The trick is to not have it brushed under the carpet yet not be seen to harp on it. Being firm on standards, predictable will help.
hugs.
Auntie Marge (Melissa's friend)
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