It’s just the bare necessities, the simply bare necessities of life.
I wonder if I’ll ever understand the ways of the Xhosa people here. I’ve only been here a month so naturally it’s way too soon to even imagine that I’m close to knowing what makes them tick.
The cultural village rondavels where we are staying has given me lots to mull over. A few years ago some or other concern, I think it was the department of water conservation, pumped a lot of money into this development centre and it seems as though this place pumped. There is a massive woodwork rondavel where they made cupboards, chairs, blinds and screens from bamboo. At the leather rondavel, it seems as though hundreds of leather shoes, key rings, book covers and bags were produced. The dusty filing cabinets filled with fishmoth riddled paperwork indicates that different skills were taught here but when the development group left, for what ever reason I don’t presume to know, things just stopped. The fence has fallen down around vegetable garden which is now a field but the nursery is still standing although the sprinkler system doesn’t work anymore and in fact none of the taps around here work since apparently the road construction diggerloader rode over and broke all the irrigation piping at the project rondavels. The handful of crafter women left over from the project just sit around waiting for a miracle or for someone to fix things. That’s the way things appear to be from an outsider point of view. When I questioned Mandisa, who is making a desperate, albeit futile, effort to get things going again in some way, about the possibility of selling the machines for scrap and using the money constructively she showed concern that the people who ran the programme before, might return and demand their equipment back. The programme ended in 2004, which was 8 years ago and the sewing machine, the pattern press and the R100 000 or R200 000 woodwork saw is now a scrap of rusty metal from rotting outside in the rain ever since that rondavel roof caved in. About 4 or 5 women, Mandisa’s team, still come down here occasionally. They have made a few crafts and planted a few seedlings in the nursery which they want to sell but don’t have an offset. We mentioned to Faneka, one of these women that there is an opportunity right here on our doorstep to cook food for the 20 or so construction workers who are building a road here and who Mandisa rents out a few rondavels to for a site office and accommodation for couple of the workers. She seems very keen and wants to learn to cook but has missed out on the past 6 months that the workers have been here. There’s no electricity in the kitchen here but there is a lovely big gas stove and an empty gas bottle. She doesn’t have the know how or the money to lay out to get started. We hope to get this project going soon and I will write about its progress.
A lawyer from Cape Town has sometime ago, kindly sponsored stacks of books and computers which are in another rondavel here. I don’t know why but no-one ever bothered unpacking the books before so this week Theo and I helped ourselves to some of the dusty bamboo shelves from the woodwork rondavel and I’ve unpacked all the boxes, sorted and alphabetized all the books. The library now has one whole rack of wonderful reference books, another with great fiction books and a third with lovely story books for the younger children. There are even another two racks of high school text books which I’ve unpacked as well as a bunch of puzzles for the kids to do. Apparently during the school term, the high school kids come down here to use the computers but there’s no-one around to teach them so I don’t know how much they get used.
So, as a 1st world city person you are probably shaking your head, tsking away about the backward way things happen here. Let me tell you about a few other things which have come to my notice recently. A few days ago I asked Mandisa where she lived, assuming her house was over the road or down past the general dealer since, when she does pitch up here, she arrives at about 9 o clock in the morning and her 3 kids go to school where we teach which is down the road next to the general dealer. She turned around and pointed to the hill in the distance and told me that her house was way over there, more than 5km’s away and that’s why sometimes her children can’t go to school because when it rains, they can’t cross the river. Wow. So they don’t just jump into their double cab and drop the kids off at school when the weather is bad like the folks do back home. A few afternoons ago, 2 matric students pitched up at the computer room to see what was happening after hearing that we were here. They stayed a while, fiddling on the computers, playing music and we chatted in English. I offered to help them with homework projects etc when school starts again in 2 weeks time. Soon thereafter they said they had to leave before it got dark since they had to walk home. They live 10 km away from here so I guess they will spend a huge chunk of their afternoons walking to and from the library in their efforts to get their homework done to pass matric. No internet access at this library or in their bedroom at home so that they can cut copy paste like the kids do back home who prepare for the same matric paper. Today being Saturday is shopping day for many people here. It was raining so I stood in my rondavel doorway watching the countryside get wet and I noticed 3 women walking in the distance. They were on their way over the hill, laden with shopping balanced on their heads and clutching bags in both arms. I wondered how far they had walked already or how far they still had to go or whether they first needed to make a fire to cook dinner since I doubted they were carrying take away Pizzas to feed their families. Every day this week I’ve seen a bunch of kids with buckets on their heads off collecting water somewhere. Half the village’s water has been off for nearly a week again and it’s the 2nd time since we moved in here but luckily there is a rain tank here at the nursery where Theo fills our 20 litre plastic containers. I’m waiting for the water to come on again before I can do my washing in my fancy Sputnik washing machine which I proudly showed to some of the women here who admired it. Many of the people here do have those big green rainwater tanks but they don’t exactly run through to a tap in their kitchen or bathroom like they do in the city so you fill a bucket manually to wash dishes or your body. We have electricity in our rondavel (well we run an extension lead from the site office 60m away) so I’m thankful that I can quickly first boil my water and not have to make a fire first every time.
Last night we visited at Tim’s house (our new friend who I’ll tell you all about later) for a braai and a welcome shower. One of his workers, Doemesan, who had lingered a little later than usual and didn’t go home when the rest did, ended up hanging around for about 3 hours waiting for the moon to come out. He had to walk home, I don’t know how far but I do know that he also lives over the hill and had to walk through the river and his only light was the full moon which only rose at about 10 o clock. There’s a bus which runs to Kentani then on to Butterworth daily but that’s at 7 in the morning so great if you work there (I doubt anyone here does) or need to go there for shopping but otherwise around here after work (the lucky handful who do while the rest live on a government grant) you walk home no matter how far it is. Doemesan said we are teaching at the wrong school and that we should rather come over the hill nearer to his house to teach at the poor school where his kids go. I didn’t even know that there was another primary school other than the high school 15 km’s from here so I wonder if it’s as modern as the one we teach at which has an actual building and even has electricity in most of the 8 classrooms.
I haven’t even scratched the surface yet of finding out what these peoples dreams or ambitions are or what makes them happy or sad so I know that I have a lot to learn. What I have figured out so far is that the Xhosa people here have basic daily needs to attend to, like being able to get to school, access to water, collecting firewood and a simple thing which I take for granted such as the time of day is pertinent to going somewhere on foot like the library to learn how to type and still make it home before dark and definitely not what time the Cape Town Museum closes or what time the next episode of National Geographics is shown on the dish. Fanciful and complicated ideas like starting ones own business or the desire to know the diet of Eskimos are not high on the list of the adults here in Transkei. I on the other hand, once again forgot to close the door down at the ablution rondavel and now the goats have left what looks like 5 kg’s of chocolate coated raisons all over the floor. Oh Dear.
So, look for the bare necessities, the simple bare necessities of life. Forget about your worries and your strife. I mean the bare necessities, old Mother Nature’s recipes that brings the bare necessities of life. Wherever I wonder, wherever I roam I couldn’t be fonder of my big home.
I wonder if I’ll ever understand the ways of the Xhosa people here. I’ve only been here a month so naturally it’s way too soon to even imagine that I’m close to knowing what makes them tick.
The cultural village rondavels where we are staying has given me lots to mull over. A few years ago some or other concern, I think it was the department of water conservation, pumped a lot of money into this development centre and it seems as though this place pumped. There is a massive woodwork rondavel where they made cupboards, chairs, blinds and screens from bamboo. At the leather rondavel, it seems as though hundreds of leather shoes, key rings, book covers and bags were produced. The dusty filing cabinets filled with fishmoth riddled paperwork indicates that different skills were taught here but when the development group left, for what ever reason I don’t presume to know, things just stopped. The fence has fallen down around vegetable garden which is now a field but the nursery is still standing although the sprinkler system doesn’t work anymore and in fact none of the taps around here work since apparently the road construction diggerloader rode over and broke all the irrigation piping at the project rondavels. The handful of crafter women left over from the project just sit around waiting for a miracle or for someone to fix things. That’s the way things appear to be from an outsider point of view. When I questioned Mandisa, who is making a desperate, albeit futile, effort to get things going again in some way, about the possibility of selling the machines for scrap and using the money constructively she showed concern that the people who ran the programme before, might return and demand their equipment back. The programme ended in 2004, which was 8 years ago and the sewing machine, the pattern press and the R100 000 or R200 000 woodwork saw is now a scrap of rusty metal from rotting outside in the rain ever since that rondavel roof caved in. About 4 or 5 women, Mandisa’s team, still come down here occasionally. They have made a few crafts and planted a few seedlings in the nursery which they want to sell but don’t have an offset. We mentioned to Faneka, one of these women that there is an opportunity right here on our doorstep to cook food for the 20 or so construction workers who are building a road here and who Mandisa rents out a few rondavels to for a site office and accommodation for couple of the workers. She seems very keen and wants to learn to cook but has missed out on the past 6 months that the workers have been here. There’s no electricity in the kitchen here but there is a lovely big gas stove and an empty gas bottle. She doesn’t have the know how or the money to lay out to get started. We hope to get this project going soon and I will write about its progress.
A lawyer from Cape Town has sometime ago, kindly sponsored stacks of books and computers which are in another rondavel here. I don’t know why but no-one ever bothered unpacking the books before so this week Theo and I helped ourselves to some of the dusty bamboo shelves from the woodwork rondavel and I’ve unpacked all the boxes, sorted and alphabetized all the books. The library now has one whole rack of wonderful reference books, another with great fiction books and a third with lovely story books for the younger children. There are even another two racks of high school text books which I’ve unpacked as well as a bunch of puzzles for the kids to do. Apparently during the school term, the high school kids come down here to use the computers but there’s no-one around to teach them so I don’t know how much they get used.
So, as a 1st world city person you are probably shaking your head, tsking away about the backward way things happen here. Let me tell you about a few other things which have come to my notice recently. A few days ago I asked Mandisa where she lived, assuming her house was over the road or down past the general dealer since, when she does pitch up here, she arrives at about 9 o clock in the morning and her 3 kids go to school where we teach which is down the road next to the general dealer. She turned around and pointed to the hill in the distance and told me that her house was way over there, more than 5km’s away and that’s why sometimes her children can’t go to school because when it rains, they can’t cross the river. Wow. So they don’t just jump into their double cab and drop the kids off at school when the weather is bad like the folks do back home. A few afternoons ago, 2 matric students pitched up at the computer room to see what was happening after hearing that we were here. They stayed a while, fiddling on the computers, playing music and we chatted in English. I offered to help them with homework projects etc when school starts again in 2 weeks time. Soon thereafter they said they had to leave before it got dark since they had to walk home. They live 10 km away from here so I guess they will spend a huge chunk of their afternoons walking to and from the library in their efforts to get their homework done to pass matric. No internet access at this library or in their bedroom at home so that they can cut copy paste like the kids do back home who prepare for the same matric paper. Today being Saturday is shopping day for many people here. It was raining so I stood in my rondavel doorway watching the countryside get wet and I noticed 3 women walking in the distance. They were on their way over the hill, laden with shopping balanced on their heads and clutching bags in both arms. I wondered how far they had walked already or how far they still had to go or whether they first needed to make a fire to cook dinner since I doubted they were carrying take away Pizzas to feed their families. Every day this week I’ve seen a bunch of kids with buckets on their heads off collecting water somewhere. Half the village’s water has been off for nearly a week again and it’s the 2nd time since we moved in here but luckily there is a rain tank here at the nursery where Theo fills our 20 litre plastic containers. I’m waiting for the water to come on again before I can do my washing in my fancy Sputnik washing machine which I proudly showed to some of the women here who admired it. Many of the people here do have those big green rainwater tanks but they don’t exactly run through to a tap in their kitchen or bathroom like they do in the city so you fill a bucket manually to wash dishes or your body. We have electricity in our rondavel (well we run an extension lead from the site office 60m away) so I’m thankful that I can quickly first boil my water and not have to make a fire first every time.
Last night we visited at Tim’s house (our new friend who I’ll tell you all about later) for a braai and a welcome shower. One of his workers, Doemesan, who had lingered a little later than usual and didn’t go home when the rest did, ended up hanging around for about 3 hours waiting for the moon to come out. He had to walk home, I don’t know how far but I do know that he also lives over the hill and had to walk through the river and his only light was the full moon which only rose at about 10 o clock. There’s a bus which runs to Kentani then on to Butterworth daily but that’s at 7 in the morning so great if you work there (I doubt anyone here does) or need to go there for shopping but otherwise around here after work (the lucky handful who do while the rest live on a government grant) you walk home no matter how far it is. Doemesan said we are teaching at the wrong school and that we should rather come over the hill nearer to his house to teach at the poor school where his kids go. I didn’t even know that there was another primary school other than the high school 15 km’s from here so I wonder if it’s as modern as the one we teach at which has an actual building and even has electricity in most of the 8 classrooms.
I haven’t even scratched the surface yet of finding out what these peoples dreams or ambitions are or what makes them happy or sad so I know that I have a lot to learn. What I have figured out so far is that the Xhosa people here have basic daily needs to attend to, like being able to get to school, access to water, collecting firewood and a simple thing which I take for granted such as the time of day is pertinent to going somewhere on foot like the library to learn how to type and still make it home before dark and definitely not what time the Cape Town Museum closes or what time the next episode of National Geographics is shown on the dish. Fanciful and complicated ideas like starting ones own business or the desire to know the diet of Eskimos are not high on the list of the adults here in Transkei. I on the other hand, once again forgot to close the door down at the ablution rondavel and now the goats have left what looks like 5 kg’s of chocolate coated raisons all over the floor. Oh Dear.
So, look for the bare necessities, the simple bare necessities of life. Forget about your worries and your strife. I mean the bare necessities, old Mother Nature’s recipes that brings the bare necessities of life. Wherever I wonder, wherever I roam I couldn’t be fonder of my big home.
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