The Hills Are Alive With The Sound Of Music

I don’t think many (if any) white people get to spend the whole day as we did today, experiencing the Xhosa culture performed by the children of this region.

We were so lucky to have been invited to the interschool Arts and Culture Festival which took place in Centani. The trip there took an hour on the bad dirt road with 3 of us in the front of a bakkie and about 15 kids squashed in the back, with their props and costumes on their laps. The rest followed in 2 more crammed bakkies. Everyone, us included, was super excited. We piled out at a building with no toilets but the 1 000 or so participants and a dozen or so teachers didn’t seem to mind. In fact I don’t think they noticed. You lift your skirt and wee behind the building facing the back road. When in Rome.



The day was quite an emotional one for me. Most of the teachers were dressed in their traditional outfits and the cultural ambiance was quite something. The theme was Human Rights and the morning opened with various drama scenes acted out by the children depicting their rights to education, food, social services, freedom of choice of faith and marriage. I was quite moved to realise that what they were portraying was real for some of them. The short plays were all performed in English so we understood everything. Watching children act scenarios of being too poor to afford school clothes which denied them access to a school while their mother sat at home drinking out their government grant money, touched a sensitive note. Other plays were about orphaned children living with other family members and being abused. This was their lives for many I presume. I don’t really know what goes on in their homes but I do know that most come to school with clean but broken school clothes, many have shoes tied together with string, and when they queue for their samp and beams for lunch I often wonder if it’s the only meal for some?

Then the singing began. Those kids just sing so beautifully and when they do that pumping thing with their arms and shuffle their feet from side to side and their voices harmonise so beautifully I had to keep swallowing back a lump as their voices resonated though to my soul.

Then the angry poetry followed which we couldn’t understand but there was lots of viva South Africa and waving of sticks as they shouted their proclamations.

Late afternoon they performed their traditional Xhosa dancing and I sat on the edge of my seat, goose bumps all over as the dancers captivated me. It was just so wow. The girls danced bare breasted, wearing string skirts and beads around their necks and ankles and they kept a beat by clapping while others stomped and shuffled and kicked and I felt the music coursing through my body. Some danced to traditional music played through speakers while others kept a beat on a drum or banged on a bucket. One group even had a bucket with a wet plastic rope attached inside which they pulled hard and created a deep sound together with their drum. I was enthralled by them. The boys added whistles, kuduzelas, guitars, safety hats and tattered clothes combined with animal skins to their acts. They were amazing.

Then the dancing changed from girls dancing to their interpretation of older women dancing. Young girls show their breasts and wear flimsy skirts when they dance but older women wear colourful wraps and skirts with aprons as well as headgear. They shake their big backsides in a certain way which some of the girls did excellently. The teachers who ululated throughout the day at any acts which did well really belted their tongues cheering at these girls.

After the traditional dancing came the free style dancing and I was amazed to see the same children, girls who had just been dancing bare breasted on stage were now wearing jeans and T Shirts and shaking their pelvises to kwaito rhythms.

We arrived back in Qolora by the sea school at about 8 o clock that evening. It was already dark. The kids excitedly made their way home, barefoot, following foot paths in the dark to their homes scattered over the hillside. Theo and I had a good laugh as we too made our way home in the dark, camera over our shoulder and passed a man whistling along and carrying a pick axe over his. How different we were.

The day at the Arts and culture Festival was one I will never forget and I consider myself extremely lucky to have been able to see the children perform their singing and dancing.

As the Stomach Turns (If you can remember which TV programme that line comes from, you’ve scored Brownie points)


Our daily life here in Qolora is not that different to life back in Cape Town, well other than logistics and a few finer details like earth, wind, fire and water. Otherwise life here is pretty similar to being in the concrete jungle. For instance, on washing days my UDD (underarm dingle dangle) flaps around vigorously as I manually spin my very upmarket Sputnik washing machine through its wash and rinse cycle. The makeshift table which develops a life of its own when the Sputnik is in full swing, tries desperately to worm its way down the hill in pursuit of the goats, with me in tow. To stabilize everything, I have to pin the table down with my foot, hold the machine in place with my left hand and spin like mad with the right. I get an upper body workout without having to fork out gym fees. I don’t mind carrying pots of boiling water and traipsing back and forth to the garden tap and in fact I consider myself lucky that I don’t have to hunch over a bucket or make a fire to boil the water.

We also have baking days. How else do you think we get bread? As long as it’s not windy, we can fire up Theo’s “boer maak ‘n plan” oven. He gave a 25 litre thinners drum a facelift by cutting the lid off to become to door which we open or close with a pair of pliers. He rammed a wire rack inside and tada. He makes a fire underneath, adds extra coals on top and our oven is set to go. So long as it’s not too windy so that the coals blow away. On those days Theo cooks pap or flapjacks inside. I’ve even baked biscuits and an end of the month version of lasagne using macaroni and soya in our eye level oven. We save a fortune on oven cleaner!!

The upside of living in our cosy rondavel is that there’s no major housework to do. There is a downside to living in one room though. Being woken up at 3 in the morning by a roving beam of light sweeping across the room similar to a police raid, can be disturbing. When Theo wakes up in the middle of the night he tiptoes to the kitchen corner so as not to wake me and with his head torch on full beam, he scans the shelves looking for ingredients to cook dishes such as curry afval. The first time the swooping lights woke me, I ducked my head under the blankets, fearing the inevitable. We all know the aliens will arrive some day and I thought this was it. The body snatchers were hovered above our hut scanning for my perfect vessel to be beamed up and used for reproduction and probably they’d stick probes with flashing lights up my bum. But then the smell of Theo’s afval wafted up my nostrils and I knew I still had more time on Earth before I was needed elsewhere.

Our rondavel roof is propped up with a centre pole (which is actually off centre) but unfortunately it’s too gnarly to wrap my limber self around for pole dancing. I’d consider climbing it and doing a swan dive onto our wobbly bed if the woodwork was not so rickety. Someone has mounted a ceiling fan (which is not connected to electricity) in the most peculiar way up at the top of said pole. I’m not sure which came first - the fan or the pole but the intriguing device will never serve to cool anyone down. I’m posting a picture of it.

Most days we can collect water down at the garden tap and we’ve run a 40 m cable from across the way for electricity so what can I say, we’re pretty comfortable.

Now I’m off to mix some dugga from mud and water as I’ve seen the mammas doing around here. That’s how you repair a leaking grass roof it seems and ours drips when it rains. Oh well at least we wont have to budget for handyman call out fees.

Lately there are just not enough hours in a day to get to everything but I’m as happy as a tick on a cow.

Where do the children play

…….”I know we’ve come a long way, changing day to day but tell me, where do the children play.”……..

Well gee whiz.  Talk about a roller coaster ride of emotions. 2 weeks ago I was feeling sorry for myself cos no-one came to the library.   This week I barely have had time to wipe my….. nose. The word has spread and the children have discovered the library.

– Yeeehaaa. 

I’ve assisted a high school student with his project, Theo and I have given a few school teachers computer lessons (which will be ongoing), and the primary school kids come around every single day now.  They do puzzles, type in English on the computers, play computer games, play the music keyboard (note to self: need to get headphones for the keyboard) while I talk to them all in English.  I even spent an afternoon helping the Grade R teacher with her college assignment.

Today was special.  For many reasons actually.  Mostly because an 8 year old boy took the initiative, selected a book and started reading it all by himself.  I had been walking around, assisting at the “puzzle table” and at the computers when suddenly I saw him.  He was sitting on a bench in front of the children’s books, engrossed in a book which he was reading and I could see he was enjoying the story.  I was thrilled.  Generally the children don’t come to the library to read as they prefer to play solitaire and pinball on the computers or type.  I’m just happy that they come to the library at all.  I don’t want to frighten them off by pushing the books on them too much.  Anyway, I sat down next to him and listened to his reading as he read the story aloud and I helped him with a word or two when he asked me to. I had to restrain myself from hugging him every 20 seconds. Occasionally he pointed out a picture to me and he was amused when he questioningly pointed to a word in the story, “Eeeeee” the sound which the mouse made.  The printed word really intrigued him and each time he read it slowly and extra loud.  Now doesn’t that just make it all worth it?  I felt like I’d been given a Christmas present which I was unwrapping each time he turned a page. What a wonderful feeling.  And the best part is he took a second book home and I bet he’ll be back for more.

I had a lovely afternoon chatting to a high school student.  She told me she wants to become a pilot if she passes matric next year.  She also told me that she enjoys dancing and singing and her dancing instructor in Butterworth has told her that she is good.  I considered that she has a better chance of making a career on stage than in the air but naturally I didn’t tell her that.  I’ve told her to come back and I will help her with some English grammar exercises at the library.  The high school is about 15 km’s away and we don’t teach there but the students come to the library if and when they can get here. 

Clinton who is 12 is typing a letter about himself at the library.  He likes cabbage but hates samp and beans and would like to become a teacher one day.  Taylor who is also l2, likes BMW’s, his community, his brothers and sisters and wants to become a doctor one day.  Big dreams. 

Little things that give me great pleasure are when small people have big smiles.  3 days ago a grade 1 pupil, walked home with Theo and I.  He held my hand all the way and we sang songs like “This is the way I brush my teeth” as we walked.  He giggled like mad when I got stuck singing Inkosi Sikele.  After singing the first few lines I mouthed the rest with him while he giggled like crazy and sang it right through. 

Besides the library keeping me busy every single day now, we are also really getting stuck into the lessons at school.  The teachers seem to put a heck of a lot of time into their meetings which I don’t understand and the classes are often left unsupervised.  The term started slow, in fact a week late due to bad weather and more meetings.  We don’t give as many lessons per day as I would like, especially since the children are way, way behind in their English. I hope the teachers don’t think we are trying to take their jobs away or that we know better than them because we don’t.  They teach all the subjects from English textbooks to students who’s home language is Xhosa, including the teachers themselves so it must be really difficult.  I sympathise with them.  Theo and I are just here to assist with English.  I wish we could pick up the pace a bit, i.e. on Friday’s, school closes early because many of the teachers go home to their families in East London so we don’t go in at all.  Perhaps as I get used to teaching I will also learn to utilize my time in the class more effectively.  The children love playing I spy, hangman and teamwork which they take very seriously.  They really enjoy doing the excercises, showing their capabilities, and they are so keen to please. I’ve been mostly focusing on listening and speaking English which they are shy about but I think its time to buckle down and help them with grammar since they are sooooo far behind and it obviously affects all their subjects. 

Theo has connected the schools’ computer and is showing the teachers the spreadsheet which is the new system for ordering books as per the department of education.  

I’ve really enjoyed spending time with the students these past two weeks and I’m slowly getting to know them. 

 Finally I feel I have a purpose.