A weem-ba-wop a weem-ba-wop

This past week I stayed in a rural area of aMacambini. We left on Sunday morning and arrived in the afternoon. I had two other roommates, and we were placed with a zulu family that had 3 sons, a daughter, 2 grandchildren, and several neighborhood kids that played on the soccer field in the front of our house. Upon arrival, we were greeted my Mama and Baba who speak no English but had their children translate for us. Their house was the largest of 5 other buildings/huts in the close cluster, and they had all the amenities we expected not to have-running water, an indoor porcelain toilet, beds to sleep on, and several kitchen appliances. They also had electricity, but it had been off since the morning. Luckily, the chief’s daughter was having her coming-of-age celebration that afternoon so we weren’t going to be around the house anyway. The celebration was everything I expected- men, women, and children in traditional Zulu dress, singing, dancing and chanting to the beats of their native tongue. The chief’s daughter and her friends were so excited to have us there, which was very assuring because we didn’t want to impose on her big event.
The next day we had to walk 45 minutes to and from the camp where we worked with local high school students. In groups we traveled to the Indian Ocean beachfront and played a game that was designated to us, and my group, who so proudly decided on the name Purple Prawns, played handball for a good 2 ½ hours until lunch. In the afternoon we had discussions about what it means to have healthy habits, and how to maintain a healthy lifestyle. These habits involved social skills, disease prevention, proper nutrition, exercise, and self-consciousness (having confidence and setting goals). That night we introduced the family to Nutella, and they almost had their own celebration for that glass jar that hardly survived to see breakfast the next day. Hannah, my roommate since day one was also one of my roommates here at the rural stay, and she brought the guitar home that night. Mama got down to acoustic renditions of “Baby” by Justin Beiber and “Forever” by Chris Brown as she maneuvered her voluptuous curves around the living room furniture. It was quite a hilarious sight to see! After that we received some good isizulu lessons from our siblings, because the older locals hassled us for not speaking zulu earlier in the day.
On Tuesday we had fish sticks and French fries for breakfast…I bet you can guess that I ate more corn flakes than the hot breakfast that morning. On our way to camp we surprised the locals with our capability to successfully acknowledge them in isiZulu. At camp we headed straight for the beach again and started off with yoga and meditation in the warm morning sunlight. We had an intense handball tournament that lasted the whole morning, and everyone thoroughly enjoyed going into the ocean for our halftime breaks. The afternoon had time for a follow-up discussion with our groups, where we got onto the topic of marriage. In Zulu culture there is a dowry of at least 11 cows (every cow costs about $1,000), and typically more is given through negotiation. One of my SIT peers was outraged that the day before, when a man had purposed that she marry him, that he only offered 2 cows, haha. True story! They couldn’t believe that there was no dowry in America, and that the divorce rate was above 50%. They claim that it is very rare and shameful to divorce in their culture. After discussion we played tug-o-war, said our goodbyes, and left for our last night at home.
After a long walk of munching on sugar cane, we got home and played soccer with about 30 neighborhood kids. I sat by the goal with the kids that didn’t want to play, and there was an awkward tension between me and the girls that crowded around behind me. All of a sudden I felt a poke on my arm and the girl who poked me ran away. Yes, they were scared to touch the skin of a white girl. I left my arm out and let them touch me. Then I let down my braided hair and they were even more taken aback by its soft, smooth texture. None of them spoke English, so I gained their friendship by teaching them hand-clapping games and performing cartwheels. I can’t speak for them because I wasn’t able to communicate with any of them, but by their big smiles and lingering hugs when I had to say goodbye, I think the fact that a foreigner (no less a white girl) took the initiative to play with and acknowledge them meant a lot.
Had the same dinner as the night before (Pap, cabbage, potatoes and peas) then watched the first semi-final game on the eldest brother’s projector screen. –You weren’t expecting that one, were ya? Woke up Wednesday morning to no electricity again, and played soccer outside with the usual group of boys (we call them “bafanabam” which means “my boys” in isiZulu) until our van came. Going back up to the house to collect my things my buti and sisi came out wearing the U of M t-shirts I had given them, and demanded we take pictures. I felt like I had become a part of their family in just 3 days, and I’m bummed we didn’t have more time to stay there. Today (Thursday) is my last day with my urban host family in Durban until we stay in a convent for the last a week. The rest of this trip is going to fly by so fast, I just know it.