Weekend Away: Bulungula

A year ago, when we learned that we were relocating to Mthatha, a friend said, "Ooh, you MUST go to Bulungula, it's AMAZING!"  She was right, and I'm sorry it's taken us so long to get there. 

The map says the travelling time from Mthatha is 3 hours.   This is true, unless you take a 25km detour, as we did.  The directions are good, but there are so many roadworks, the distinction between main and subsidiary roads can become a bit blurred.

An advantage of the detour - we got to see that the washing of vehicles in rivers is not restricted to taxis and bakkies

Some of the landmarks can also a bit tricky to identify..."After another 10km you will drive through a small stream and soon after you will reach the Arts Centre – turn right here (Embekweni Store will be on your right)..."

Embekweni Store was open for business on Sunday afternoon

We arrived at dusk, and had to negotiate the hilly, grassy 500m from the car park with all our luggage and two dogs* on leads . . . in soft, soaking rain.  It was pitch dark by the time we arrived at Reception.

The view from our hut in the morning made the soggy slog worthwhile though:

The view of the sea from our hut.  The blue building is the reception/dining/kitchen/lounge area.

The view of the Bulungula River from our hut

All the buildings are beautifully painted in cheerful colours.  Kilo, the resident dog-who-must-be-patted basks in the morning sunshine.

The goats are quite used to humans, but don't like being patted.

They prefer to wait at the entrance to the campsite - where the grass is greener, of course.

The unisex toilets are a riot of colour, and immaculately maintained

Telling it like it is - on the back of each toilet door

This cubicle, for some unknown reason, is the most used toilet at Bulungula, and the system battles with the amount of waste it has to process.

For a special treat, you can use the forest shower, which is fuelled by paraffin and tissue paper in a delightfully noisy pipe contraption which heats the water long enough for a steaming hot 7-minute shower.

Or you could go for a more rustic option. Light a fire under the bath and ablute with a view of the sea

Saturday morning was glorious, and we explored the mouth of the river before heading off down the beach.

The dogs were intrigued by this peculiar looking dog they encountered

Bulungula has several activities which involve the community.  Here, a local takes a visitor fishing. 

There are quite a few large branches along the beach which have been stripped of their bark by the elements.  Some of them look quite apocalyptic.

Harry, at 15, is getting a bit old for these long excursions, and was quite happy to hitch a ride in the backpack

On our way back, we are reminded that people are living here - wood needs to be collected, and rivers need to be played in

Maintenance is ongoing, even on Sunday morning.  

The Xhosa bread is amazing.  When last did you see a bread slicer like that?

There is a library with books ranging from a tourist guide to the Peninsula in Chinese,  to fantasy, crime thrillers, some rather obscure textbooks and a book on the history of the trading stations in the Eastern Cape.

On Sunday we explored the goat-free campsite and decided that this is where we're going to stay next time.  Because there will definitely be a next time. Everything is perfect - eco-facilities, price, hospitality, yummy food, beauty, community responsibility and friendly staff.

 

This donkey visited us and was quite happy to be patted. Aren't those clouds glorious?

A perfect end to a perfect  weekend - chilling with a book.  Even with such heavy cloud cover, we got sunburned - don't forget the sunscreen.

* Dogs are welcome, as long as they don't chase the chickens and goats.  So, the first thing Jasper did on Saturday morning was chase a chicken.  The dogs spent the rest of the weekend on leads, unless we were on the beach. Late Sunday morning, one of the staff asked why we kept them tied up, and we told her.  "No man,"  she said, "let them off.  The chickens must look after themselves."  And of course she was right.

Back to School . . . I'm in!

I am now officially a PGCE student, and have the student card to prove it.  Below please find the hoop-jumping process to achieve this:

Monday

Hoop 1:  Postgraduate registration opens.  To avoid the early morning rush of last time, I arrive at 11am, and go to the Registration Office to pick up my Admission Form (Form A).

Form A. I'm glad I'm not a Mr

Hoop 2: However, I cannot pay the required deposit, as Mthatha has had a power cut for 24 hours, and even my cellphone battery is flat.  So I make a plan,and return at 2.30pm, with proof of payment in hand.

Hoop 3:  The Registration Office says I'm in the wrong place, and says I must go to the Registration HALL.
Me: The same place as last time?
Them: No.  This time it's in the Chumani Dining Hall.
Me: Where's that?
Them: (Pause) Just wait.(Animated conversation in Xhosa with everyone in the open plan office). Here, she will show you where to go.
Me:  Thank you (Aware that this is the third time I've had my own personal guide)

I would never have found it. It's attached to one of the residences.

\

Seven terminals this time, up five from last time.  Only two operators though - each one performing a different function. It feels like I'm applying for my Driver's Licence all over again

Hoop 4:   I'm quite relieved - there are only 24 people in front of me.

But I've left my book at home, and the only thing I can find to read is the package insert for the homeopathic wart remedy I bought that morning.

Bad idea.

Ingredients:  Anagallis arvensis acts on the skin to treat severe wart outbreaks, groups of vesicles on hands and fingers with severe itch. (My wart is on my shin.  How will this stuff know that?) 

Hydrastis canadensis acts on the skin to relieve irregular growths accompanied by profuse perspiration and generally unhealthy skin (I can't remember when last my shin perspired).

Thuja occidentalis (sounds like something out of Harry Potter)

Castor equi is indicated for skin thickening and warts on the forehead and breasts. (WHAT?)

Fortunately, by this time I had reached the front of the queue, and was spared any further reading.  I hand in form A, and get given Form B, with a stamp confirming that I have paid my deposit.

Form B

Hoop 5: I have to wait in another queue in the same hall, so that I can hand Form B in to the second person in the row of 7 terminals, who will capture the data on Form B, and print out Form C. I ask what I have to do next, and get told that I have to get my curriculum approved, then go back to registration.

Hoop 6:  I take Form C to the Very Nice Man from my first visit. (Basically all I have to do is mark on Form C which two of Business Studies, Economics or Life Orientation I wish to teach when I graduate).

The office where the candidates for the PGCE are chosen and announced.  The list of names is on the piece of paper on the window at the top of the door.  I'm not sure why the notice boards on either side of the door were unsuitable.

Hoop 7:  I take Form B and Form C to the Faculty Office to get the stamp saying that my curriculum has been approved.  Problem is, it's 4.35pm, and everyone has gone home.  Oh well, I'll just have to come back tomorrow.

As I make my way back to the car, I start to take note of my surroundings.

A sight I'll have to get used to - abandoned braids.

The notice boards are full of pleas like this one.  Not a drawing pin in sight - the stapler seems to be the weapon of choice.

Rugby is the only extra-mural activity that seems to have got its A into G.  Well, for the most part.

Tuesday

Hoop 7 (continued):  I arrive at the Faculty Office at 1.30pm.  Closed. Now why did I think they would be open during the lunch hour?  At least I've remembered to bring my book this time (Girl with a Pearl Earring). At 2.15pm, there are quite a few students standing and waiting (there seems to be a lot of this all over), and eventually a woman comes up to us, and says she can't help us, we must come back another time.  I say, "All I need is the stamp approving my curriculum, where must I go?" She tells me to come with her, adorns my form with said stamps and gives them back to me.

So off I go to Registration.

Hoop 8:  As I sit down in the only queue in the Registration Hall, a security guard approaches me, and asks what I need.  I tell her that I was sent here.  She looks at my documents, and says, no, this queue is for student cards only. I must go to the Registration OFFICE. 

After a 15-minute wait in that queue: 

Hoop 9: 

Them: I don't know why they keep sending everyone here.  You're supposed to go to Faculty Office

Me:  But I've just come from there.  Look, I've got my stamp.

Them:  But where's your Proof of Registration?

Me:  Here - my form, it's got a stamp

Them:  No, they were supposed to give you another form

Me:  The same people who stamped my form?

Them: Yes

Me: Then why didn't they give it to me when they stamped my form?

Them:  I don't know.

Hoop 10: Back at the Faculty Office. More students standing around and waiting, with no apparent queuing system.  Eventually a woman comes down the passage, takes all our forms, and leaves without a word.

Two minutes later she comes back:

Woman: The machine is broken, you must come back tomorrow.

Me: NO! FORGET IT! (The seemingly infinite well of patience has now run dry. All the other students scatter).  THIS IS MY SECOND DAY HERE AND I'M NOT COMING BACK TOMORROW (Yes, I was shouting)

Woman: Okay, come with me...

I follow her down the passage into an office where a young lady explains to me that the printer is not working properly, but she will do her best to help me. I must wait. It will take about 10 or 20 minutes. Fine, I said, I'll wait here.  No, she says, please wait in the passage.  So I go and stand where she can see me through the door.  She closes the door.  The only thing there is for me to look at is this poster:

I have two problems with this poster.  1)  Why is it still up, if the conference was three years ago? 2) How did the Department of Education manage to organise an extra day in September 2011?

Eventually I get Form D, and the woman tells me to go to get my student card,  Ha!  I know where to go!

Hoop 11:  This was the most painless procedure of all.  There were two guys - one taking the photo, and the other one printing the card.  It was great watching the students get all self-conscious as they looked into the lens.

By now, it's 3.30pm, and time for the Orientation Lecture. YAY, my first ever on-campus lecture!  Apart from the normal stuff about dates and times, we are told that the Faculty's means of communication is via the notice boards.  As students are still registering, no timetables are available.  Lectures were supposed to start last week, but because of the demonstrations, everything is delayed.  The best way to establish when classes are, is for the students to speak to the lecturers directly, and negotiate the best time.  Yes, I'm serious. And the only way to find out when lectures are, and if there are changes, is to come onto campus and check the notice boards every day. I'm still being serious.

We had to finish up by 4.30pm because we were due to have our first Real Lecture at 4.30pm.  But at 4pm, the lecturer phoned in to cancel the lecture.  Sigh.

Anyway, those of us at Orientation swapped details, including subject choices (to facilitate setting up study groups).  I am delighted that of the 17 students present, five are studying to teach Maths, and six are studying to teach Physical Science.  It makes my heart sing that in some small way our class will help fill a very big gap in our High School education system.

Back to School . . . or maybe not

After all the fun I had helping out at school last year, (read about it here and here) I've decided to do a PGCE (Postgraduate Certificate in Education). 

I hold a B.Com which I completed at Unisa just over twenty years ago.  I've never experienced campus life, nor have I attended lectures, so with Walter Sisulu University about two kilometres from my doorstep, this is the perfect way to remedy both deficiencies.

So, in October, I set about applying, which included getting certified copies of all sorts of documents.

Now that the application is in, I need to go and register.  The WSU Facebook page states that registration is from 8.30am, so I thought I'd be smart and arrive at 7.30am

All sorts of political and student groups set up recruitment tables outside registration.  Even the DA had a table.

Well so much for that plan.  About 200 people had the same idea

There were two terminals set up to process all these students.  I can't imagine how long some people had to wait.

As I arrived, a young man was addressing the students, explaining procedures and requirements (Well, I assume that is what he was doing, as he was speaking in Xhosa*).  When he had finished, he came over to me and asked if he could help. 

I said, "Yes please, which queue do I stand in for the PGCE?"

Young Man:  You don't have to stand in a queue, just go and sit over there, and when registration opens, someone will help you.

Me:  Thanks, but I'm happy to wait in a queue. I don't want it to look like there's any favouritism, you know, because I'm um...white... (By now I was very conscious of my age and melanin-deficiency)

Young Man:  Ma'am, race has nothing to with it.  We are all equal. You should be served first because you are an adult, and you shouldn't have to wait with all these kids.

Give the man a Bells.

I sat down with my book (Good Morning, Mr Mandela) and waited. And waited. At 9.40 a young woman arrived and started seeing people in my queue.  I was out of there by 10.15, escorted by a security guard, who was showing me to the Music Department.  No, I don't know why the PGCE people are in the Music Department.

I spoke to a Very Nice Man, who answered my questions, took my details and said he would call me.

Yeah right. 

Well he did call me!  I had to go to his office on Friday to 'discuss my curriculum'.

My second and third year subjects were Business Economics, Economics, Industrial Psychology, Labour Law and Cost Accounting.  Only one of those is an 'Approved School Subject (Economics), so it looks like I don't qualify to do a PGCE.

The Very Nice Man suggested that I get the Unisa course outline for Business Economics, and WSU will decide if it's close enough to Business Studies to allow me to qualify. 

On my way back to the car, two 'students' approached me, asking for money. 

The first one asked for R50 to get to town.  I said No.  "Ok, how about R7?" "No." "You haven't got R7?" "No." He looks at me in disgust, shakes his head and walks off.

The second guy asks me to pay for his tuition, as he has been accepted, but has no funds.  He was also quite taken aback when I said no. 

Quite a few companies set up gazebos like this Vodacom one, to try and attract student business.

I get home and check the Unisa website.

Problem.  Business Economics does not exist as a subject any more.

So, I guess Monday will be spent on the phone to Unisa.  Oh joy.



* WSU teaches in English. The website is in English. The Facebook page is in English. Yet most of the comments on the page are in Xhosa.  Not only that, it's in SMS code.  OMW, I cnt hlp 1dring hw thz kdz R gng 2 ryt coherent Xam pprs. LOL.**

** Oh my word, I can't help wondering how these kids are going to write coherent exam papers. Laughs out loud.

Back to Book Club

Book Club is one of the highlights of my month, just as it was in Cape Town.  Not only do I get to chat to a wonderfully diverse group of women, eat great food that I didn't have to cook, and drink wine I didn't have to shop for - I also get to choose books that I haven't read, at a fraction of the price I would have had to pay for them.

It's like Christmas every month. I can't wait to savour my presents.

My choices for July were:

Queen Camilla (Sue Townsend of Adrian Mole fame). If you don't have an understanding of the English psyche, you probably won't enjoy this.  And even if you do, it becomes a bit much at times.

The Hundred-Year-Old Man Who Climbed Out of the Window and Disappeared (Jonas Jonasson) What a fabulous book!  It's in the same mould as The Unlikely Pilgrimage of Harold Fry, which I thoroughly enjoyed.  I see they've just released the movie.  I hope it does the book justice.

The Lacuna (Barbara Kingsolver)  Interesting, but rather long-winded.  An amusing coincidence is that there are historical similarities with 'The Hundred Year-Old Man...', but on very different levels.

Sycamore Row (John Grisham)  This was my favourite for the month.  Especially as I had the luxury of starting it at dawn, and finishing it before sunset on the same day. Just couldn't help myself.

On to August:

In the time since I joined this Book Club in June, three new members have joined, so I'm no longer a newbie. I think there are about 18 members now, which would normally be quite cumbersome. But, because of other commitments (aka Real Life), I still haven't met everybody. There have been about ten members at each meeting, which is ideal for getting a chance to chat to everyone.  I met one of the founding members this month (the club has been going since the 70s), for the first time.  She lives in Grahamstown (a 5-hour drive), but she tries to make a plan to come to book club in Mthatha each month.  How's that for commitment? (In Cape Town, one of our members used to go home to Paarl each month, and that was impressive enough!)

August book choice:

The Son (Jo Nesbo) I almost started hyperventilating when I saw this one.  Published in May this year, it's Brand New.  And it was another fabulous day-waster...accompanied by copious amounts of popcorn and Savanna while Bob was Doing Important Stuff in Pretoria.

The Little Old Lady Who Broke All the Rules (Catharina Ingelman-Sundberg) This genre seems to be the latest fad. I was really looking forward to this, but it is a pale imitation of  'The Hundred Year-Old Man...'.  Even though the story was amusing, I found the writing to be inconsistent and stilted in places.  I thought perhaps it was because of the translation, but Rod Bradbury also translated 'The Hundred Year-Old Man...', which was a very easy and enjoyable read. 

Talking of translations, I see that I have a definite leaning towards the Nordic.  Translations are becoming more popular, and it seems as if a whole new world is opening up for fiction readers.  Yippee!

The Secret Daughter (Shilpi Somaya Gowda) I'm usually hesitant to read Chick Lit, but this one went a long way towards changing my mind. Powerful stuff.

And finally, The Language of Flowers (Vanessa Diffenbaugh) More Chick Lit.  But I woke up at 03:00 this morning (Mthatha mozzies don't know it's winter) and started reading it.  I'm absolutely loving it - so refeshingly different, yet very real.

I'm hosting Book Club in November, and have no idea what books to buy.  Food is easy - Vegetarian and Banting (Yes, it's reached Mthatha).  The closest Exclusive Books is 220km away, and the ONLY bookshop in town is in a shopping centre I have been told that it's only safe to go into with an armed chaperone (Bob's got arms, two in fact - so we're going there on Sunday morning). 

But...I'm lucky enough to be visiting Cape Town next month, so would be most grateful for any book ideas.

And now, if you'll excuse me, I'm being called by my book - I really need to find out more about The Language of Flowers.

Back to School

I've always believed I was allergic to children, but it appears I've grown out of it.

One of the gals at Book Club is a Grade 3 (Standard 1 for the oldies like me) teacher at the local primary school, and she mentioned that this is a crazy time of term with exams needing to be marked, marks needing to be submitted, and learners needing to be kept occupied at the same time. Would I, she asked, be interested in class-sitting for her at all?

Ooh, something new to do!  So I said yes, and went to meet the class of 9- and 10-year olds on Tuesday morning.  I greeted all 33 of them as I have been taught : "Molweni Bafundi".

"Ahem,"  said titshalakazi (Xhosa for a female teacher), "this is an English medium class."  Never mind, it worked!  A class of faces lit up and grinned.  We did a bit of reading, maths and Life Skills. At home time, titshalakazi asked if I would like to come in the next day and provide relief for another Grade 3 teacher.  I'd had such fun, I agreed.

Well.

On Wednesday, as I walked into the classroom, I was engulfed in a 20-strong hug sandwich.

"Yay, Aunty Wendy's back!"  What a heartwarming, special experience.  I just had to laugh out loud. I must have done something right! Each child wanted to say hello, and hug me individually.  How on earth can hugging a child be wrong?

And then I started getting letters:

 

Have I mentioned that children are observant  and intelligent?

On Wednesday, I was left alone in the classroom with a whole new set of young minds to warp.  Silly titshalakazi. They were fascinated with my attempts at Xhosa, and I rewarded each completed task with a phrase or two, which usually resulted in laughter and arguments correcting my pronunciation.

Most of my utterances that day were along the following lines:

Sit down / hlala phantsi (raucous laughter)
Yes you can go to the bathroom.
Sit down.
You don't have a pencil. Well, borrow a pencil.  Who can lend Ovayo a pencil? (Big mistake - any diversion is a welcome opportunity to avoid work)
Sit down.
No, you can go to the toilet when Kora gets back
Sit down.
I don't care who farted.
Sit down.
No!  Please don't use the Glade Strawberry for Sipho's farts. It makes my teeth curl.
Sit down.
No, you can't write the names of the people who are talking on the board.
Sit down.
That's beautiful!
Sit down.
Mpho, please give Onamusa's shoes back.
Sit down.
What are you doing under the desk?
Sit down.

That was the first ten minutes.  Lather. Rinse. Repeat.

It was exhausting, but we still got through a remarkable amount of work between 7:30 and 14:00.

I'm delighted that despite technology cursive is still being taught, and that the times-tables are being drilled into the kids. I couldn't fault them on their 6x table and they weren't too shabby up to the 8x table.  I was secretly thrilled to see a child sneaking her book out of her case to read, instead of doing a maths exercise.

I also invigilated a Grade 6 Afrikaans Begrip exam, and was heartbroken when a child asked what 'vakansie' meant when the question asked 'Vertel van jou beste vakansie'.  I couldn't tell him, as it was an exam.  It reminded me of one of my Afrikaans exams, when the question was something about 'iemand wat met worshonde teel'.  I had no idea what 'teel' was, the invigilator couldn't tell me, and I still remember the hour of terror and despair that followed.

Friday was amazing.

I spent it with Grade 7s who were preparing for Speech Night in August.  Just up my street! Each of the three classes (now between 20 and 25 learners per class) had to tell me what their topic was, and a little bit about what they were going to say.  If they didn't have a topic, we would use the time to help them choose. The range of topics blew my mind.  Inner Beauty versus Facial Beauty, Freedom of Religion, Racism, Therapy of Dogs, Rugby, Significance of Rap Lyrics, Bullying, Political Secrets and Corruption.... it made my heart sing.  At this age (12/13/14) all I was thinking about boys and discos.  These kids are so aware of society and what's happening around them, I have renewed hope for our country, our kids, our education system.

Please sir, can I have some more?