Tribute to Thandi

Thandi has worked as our weekly gardener* since June last year.  She is in her late twenties, always has a bounce in her step and a smile on her face, despite her circumstances.

Thandi's home is in Qunu, about 30km from Mthatha.  She lives in her mother's house.  Her mother is frail, and cares for Thandi's 3-year old child while Thandi stays in Mandela Park Township in Mthatha during the week.  She is desperate to earn more money, because she believes that when her mother dies, her brother will turn her and her child out of the house, and they will be homeless.  Thandi's plan is to build an extra room onto the house, so that she will have somewhere to stay.  So, I pay her more than the local rate for gardeners (which is about half the going rate of Cape Town), and she is incredibly grateful each time I pay her, taking her leave each week by saying, "Oh my God, thank you my boss, I love you my boss", followed by a hug.

In October last year, Thandi fell ill, and two of her other employers shared the medical costs of the tests.  Thandi was diagnosed with TB, given tablets and sent home.  Thandi continued coming to work, as she said she felt okay.  She continued sweeping leaves and annihilating weeds, with her cellphone at her waist, tuned to uMhlobo Wenene.

The last time I saw her was on 17 December, where she was angry and frustrated at how tired she was feeling, but she promised she was taking her medication, and that she would take it easy over Christmas and New Year. She also said she was looking forward to coming back to work on 8 January.

This is the last communication I had with Thandi.  She died on Thursday 15 January.  Her funeral is tomorrow.

I am heartbroken, angry, feeling helpless and overwhelmed, and looking for someone to blame for yet another wasted life.  Is it the fault of poor medical care in rural Eastern Cape?  Or is it lack of education in rural Eastern Cape? Poverty? Politics?  All of the above?

I'm afraid that Thandi's child will become another statistic. Will she be brought up by her grandmother, or will she be placed in one of at least five children's homes or orphanages in and around Mthatha?**

I really love my country, but sometimes it hurts too much.

R.I.P. Thandi




*Women gardeners are a common sight in Mthatha
 
**Children's homes in Mthatha:
Bethany Place of Safety
Happy Homes Disabled Children Centre
Khanyisa Children's Home
SOS Children's Village 
Thembelihle Home

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.

Say What?

So, I go into my local Checkers and ask for the health food section.  After getting a puzzled look, I try asking for pumpkin seeds.  No?  Maybe that's too obscure.  Sunflower seeds?  I see the lightbulb go on, and follow the shop assistant to...the gardening section, where she proudly shows me the range of Starke Ayres seeds.

(This type of conversation is not limited to Mthatha though.  A few years ago, Bob went into Builders Warehouse with a full bladder.  He asked where the toilets were, and he was directed to Aisle 9. You've guessed it - the sanitaryware section)

Day Trip to Port St John's

On Sunday, we decided it was time for another outing, this time to Port St John's, which is about 70km from Mthatha, and at the mouth of the Umzimvubu River.

I've seen plenty of breathtaking pics of the Wild Coast coastline, and was looking forward to seeing it in all its panoramic glory. The countryside was beautifully green and lush, but unfortunately it's useless for farming, as it's too mountainous.

As we drove into the village, one of the first things I noticed was the proliferation of signs like this all along the beach front. The next thing I noticed was the blatant disregard for this regulation.

Broken glass and empty beer cans all around the car park. Even so, people were enjoying themselves on the beach and in the sea,  despite the warnings about sharks.

And of course, the entrepreneurs were present, with the uber-versatile wheelbarrow acting as a mobile braai.

This magnificent fellow also thought it was a great day for the beach

Election posters for May last year are still up - as in Mthatha.  Admittedly, this one could be a bit tricky to reach.

We went to Amapondo Backpackers for lunch.  On the back of this sign was another notice, asking us to keep the gate closed, to stop the donkeys from getting out.  When we arrived, the gate was open, and the donkeys were nowhere to be seen.  We knew where they were though - we'd seen some donkeys hanging around the braai area on the beach - hoping for tidbits.

Okay...

After lunch, we went exploring.  There are houses dotted all along the cliff tops.  At lookout points there were women selling beautiful beadwork.  We didn't see any other cars while we were up there, so business must have been very slow.

Someone found a bit of flatness, and planted a vegetable patch. The colour variation in the sea is probably caused by the fresh water of the Umzimvubu River mixing with the sea water. The 'stripe' runs for kilometres, and is this straight as far as we could see.

Love it!

Interesting combination.  And just in case you can't read, here's a picture to help you make up your mind.

A deserted beach.  Well, almost.

On the way home, we noticed kilometre upon kilometre of concrete pathways next to the road.  Good to see some infrastructure development.  Would be nice if some of it was sent in the direction of our potholes.

Now we know where white bakkies go to die.

Transkei Traffic Lights

I've just dropped Bob at the airport for one of the only two flights out of Mthatha today. Stopped by Transkei Traffic Lights on my way back.

All You Need is Love

While shopping at my local Spar on Saturday, I complimented an employee on his impressive apple packing skills. He gave me a big grin and said, "Thanks ma'am. Look, I wrote something too." I had to take a few steps back to read it.

Even in Mauritius...

We stopped over in Mauritius for a bit of R&R on our way to Australia.


There was a bit of a mix up with our car hire booking. 

"Don't worry", says the man (in a delicious French accent), "I have another vehicle for you. And it's in a higher bracket than you booked, and you pay no more, okay?" 

"Okay," we say.

At least we can be grateful it's not white.