The Move

My life, over the last few weeks, has been absolutely insane. Things at my site finally went awry. Allow me to paint a picture:

I have had "difficulties" with my host family for a sustained period of time. In fact, it has really been one "difficulty" by the name of Oupa, but one problem often leads to two and then suddenly you find yourself in a plethora of disaster wondering how it ever got this bad and cursing everyone and everything around you.

Case in point, about three weeks ago I came home from school. I had a great day at work. I had just found out that the hall we were renovating was completed and I could now transfer my library from its limited classroom to a locale that allowed walking two steps without crashing into an object. I was happy, which is not a state I always claim in the village. So I walked home, entered my compound, went to unlock my door, looked up, and realized that my house, had in fact, almost no roof. Apparently, my host family had decided they were going to remove the tin roof and replace it with tiles. Now, I respect this decision; after all, it meant an upgrade in lifestyle for them. What I was unhappy about was the fact that no one had told me and I had in the space of five minutes, basically become homeless.

I attempted to calm myself. This is Africa. None of this is surprising. It's a different culture. I know this. Still, I was annoyed. Thus I went into my room (that still had most of it's roof) to try to calm myself. This strategy was not effective as I soon found myself stumbling through the door after being assaulted with dust and debris from the construction overhead. Thus, I left. I went to go for a walk around the dam until it got dark so that the construction would end and I could cool down. It worked. I felt much better coming home. I had found a new path and walked by the river for awhile. There was no one around. I felt peaceful and calm. In fact, I could handle anything.

Actually, I lied. I couldn't handle anything. I thought I could but was quickly confronted with a situation that is always a bad one: teenage boys. As I walked back up the path I came upon a group of five guys. I tried to ignore them and go quickly on my way but it was not to be. They started verbally harassing me and by that point I had no temper so I did the last thing I should have and flipped them off. The response was devastating. I was surrounded and stayed that way for 10 minutes while they yelled "Fuck me bitch," "Kiss my ass" and other less pleasant statements until they finally tired and left me.

By now, I was in tears. I was almost home and I was beside myself. I walked back into the compound thankful to see they had finish construction for the evening. Yet, Oupa was there and quickly yelled more obscenities at me. I lost it and spit at him (no it was not mature but I didn't spit on him so I don't feel too horribly about it). I slammed my door and called Seth and Ivy.

Luckily, I have good friends who know what is best for me even if I won't admit it. Thus, they called Peace Corps and I was called back by my organization and told that it was time that I moved. I'm not a person who takes change well but by this point I finally admitted they were right and thus I went to bed setting up a meeting with my schools the next morning to find new housing.

By the way, what was left of my roof flew off during the middle of the night.

So to end this part of the story, the next day I moved out, into the nearby township, where I was to stay indefinitely until housing could be obtained.

While all this was occurring I was also moving my belongings and putting them into "storage" until a house could be found. We packed my stuff up and drove it to a neighboring village where someone had offered to keep my stuff until I had a room. We drove up to a house, exceptionally nice by village standards, and were directed to a small outside building to leave my things. As I wandered around the compound I realized how nice it was and jokingly asked my principal why I couldn't stay there. She said she thought it was too far and hadn't even thought about the possibility. We discussed it and finally decided that it would work, and that a teacher could always pick me up on the way to work to avoid transportation problems. Thus, in the typical African way, my principal and this family I had just met had the following conversation:

"How are you?"
"I'm fine and how are you?"
"I'm fine"
"Thank you for letting us store Makobo's things here."
"It is fine."
"By the way, we wondering if she could stay in the outside house also."

After some more detailed discussion and a quick consultation with his wife I was given a new home: one twice as big as my previous one in addition to having amenities I haven't seen in years such as a pit toilet without maggots. Thus, I now live with Andrew, his wife Salphina, their son Thapelo (grade 6), their daughter Charmaine (3 years old), and their 9 month old son, Kolo. In addition, I'm happy; really happy. I haven't felt this way in my village for over a year and the only question I keep asking myself is: why didn't I do this sooner? How could I have allowed myself to be so miserable for so long?