Oh, while I'm here, stopping traffic...

Who say the traffic police in Mthatha don't have a sense of pride in their jobs? This officer opted for a pop-up valet for his vehicle while he was on point duty.

Doing Assignments Mthatha Style

This on-campus experience has really opened my eyes as to the passion people in this country have, in order to get an education.

Lectures have been cancelled three days this week because of power cuts. I spoke to two fellow students today. One travels from Port St Johns and the other travels from Mount Frere every day for lectures. That's a long way. And it's not cheap at R80 for the taxi each way. One is studying to teach Maths and Science. The other is studying to teach English and History. They are both incredibly accepting of the situation, as they are used to it. I would have flipped long ago.

Enough procrastination. Let me continue writing about 'Factors contributing to poor academic performance in Grade 12 for Economic and Management Science' (Please note, the wine is compulsory for this kind of essay)

Water, Water, Everywhere . . .

Part 1:

So, I'm sitting at my desk on a cloudy day, and hear a 'WHOOMPH' from outside.  Being the nosy concerned neighbour that I am, I go and investigate . ..

The road is flooded . . .

 . . .with water streaming out of my neighbour's gate.

I see that the wall of the neighbour behind him has collapsed from the pressure of water

And so, being the nosy concerned neighbour that I am, I go and investigate . .

One road up, the situation is much the same, so I wade on up to the N2.

Aha! A burst water main.  The now defunct orange temporary fencing tells me that this is not the first time there has been a problem here.

I follow the trail of the water along a row of oh-so-glamorous Vibracrete

 

 

 

The water had only one small hole through which to escape - down someone's driveway, over the road, and into my neighbour's neighbour's yard, where it was stopped by a wall.  The water level rose to about 1 metre before the wall collapsed.  Apparently the whole house was flooded, and all the carpeting and furniture needs to be replaced.  

This hadeda thinks the flooding from the overflowing sewer is quite fun

Excitement over.  Time to go home for a cup of coffee. Great idea, except that there's no water to fill the kettle.  Good thing we have a water tank.

Part 2:

You may have noticed the orange temporary fencing in the first picture.  It's been there since October last year, when the Municipality decided to lay new sewage pipes.  They  laid the pipes, erected the safety fencing, then went away to do something else. Here are the before and after pics:

Then. A neat verge to park and put out your rubbish. 

Now.  No verge, piles of soil, orange temporary fencing and a missing tree.

Back to the flood:  All that water had to go somewhere. Much of it went into the trenches left by the municipality.

All the sewage pipes got filled up with the flood water.  And mud.  The sound effects were quite delightful.

 But wait, there's more:  The flood shifted the orange fences, and the inevitable happened:

This white bakkie was stuck in this trench for over an hour, until another white bakkie came along to pull him out.

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.

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.