It's that time of year again! Time for me to strap on my running shoes in 100-degree heat and start training to walk/run the Longtom Marathon in support of the Kgwale Le Mollo Foundation.
The annual Longtom Marathon is a 56 kilometre race through the Longtom pass in the mountains of Mpumalanga. I will be participating in the half-marathon, same as last year. Yup, that's right, I'm preparing to spend the better part of 3 hours panting under the African sun... again. As tiring as it was, the marathon filled with quirks that I look forward to experiencing once more. Last year, I wound up spending a few kilometres behind a woman who was not only smoking during the race, but carrying a monkey in her backpack. Only in Africa. I'm more than willing to crawl out of bed at 4 am to see that again. Longtom is also the only event organized by PCVs that brings together volunteers from different cohorts, so the social aspect is a big draw as well. Most importantly though, is that the money we raise goes to Kgwale Le Mollo.
All the books, computers and textbooks in the world would hardly improve many of the schools in South Africa. Too many of them are just pits of dysfunction, and learners, no matter how smart and ambitious, are lost before they even get started. KLM plucks these students from failing schools and provides them with scholarships to Uplands College, one of the best prepatory schools in South Africa. At Uplands, students not only receive quality instruction in the core subjects of the South African curriculum, but are also provided with various enrichment activities including sports, music, chess and community service. I have never visited Uplands, but other volunteers have and their reports are nothing short of glowing regarding both the school and the current scholarship recipients.
I would love to make the argument that taking the best students out of public schools is a disservice to the students left behind. I would love to be able to say that the resources of KLM would be better spent improving state-sponsored education. But I can't. Because neither of those things are true. I wish they were. I wish that improving the education system here was as easy as throwing in a handful of exemplary students and building a library, but it's not. The bright students are too often hindered by their overburdened instructors, and books alone won't teach anyone to read. For the time being, shifting the smart kids to an environment where success is all but guaranteed is the best that we can do for them.
There are two ways to donate.
Method 1: Online
1. Visit the KLM website at http://www.klm-foundation.org
2. Click the donate photo in the upper left corner
3. Follow instructions (please make sure to put my name in the Longtom Marathon field)
Method 2: Snail Mail
1. Make a check out to Kgwale Le Mollo
2. Add a post-it stating that the volunteer you are supporting is Kelsey Soeth
3. Mail to:
KLM Foundation
c/o Bowen Hsu
461 So. Bonita Avenue
Pasadena, CA 91107
We raised nearly four hundred dollars last year which was absolutely awesome. Let's try to do it again this year.
Thank you!
Thursday, January 20, 2011
Saturday, January 8, 2011
Ode to an Ex
It's been a while since we had any contact. I know you are unable to respond to this post, but I feel compelled to write it.
This morning, as I stood in the far corner of the yard dumping out the sloggy mess that results from an overdue hairwashing, I glanced in your direction. Let's be frank, you were never much of a looker, but you've reached a new low.
When we first met, I almost cried at the sight of you. Again, let's be honest, you were a real step down for me. We were flung together anyhow, and I learned to get along. Sure, you were too hot to handle in the heat of an African midday son. You weren't always as hygenic as I might have wished, but all that crouching turned out to be pretty stellar exercise. You always stood straight and tall, a beacon of refuge when parasites and bacteria threatened to squeeze from my very pores. In short, we learned to get along. I settled down. You were my one and only. No Prince Charming, but it seemed like we would have a long and happy life together.
Then, disaster struck. The rains came and try as you might, you could not fight the shifting sands. You slid, you shuddered and finally, you fell. Your tin walls remain standing, as a testament to your former glory perhaps, but they are tilted like an Okoboji funhouse. The gaping pit has been exposed, a depthless pool of darkness. You lean away, in fear, or in shame. You are a shadow of your former self.
While you lie, defeated, in your corner. I now trek to the neighbor's. It is a journey I abhor. Whatever our troubles may have been, I apologise. I took you for granted. Now that it's over between us, I miss you. My only hope is to replace you, dear former pit toilet, with a genuine flush toilet in just a few months. I can hardly wait.
This morning, as I stood in the far corner of the yard dumping out the sloggy mess that results from an overdue hairwashing, I glanced in your direction. Let's be frank, you were never much of a looker, but you've reached a new low.
When we first met, I almost cried at the sight of you. Again, let's be honest, you were a real step down for me. We were flung together anyhow, and I learned to get along. Sure, you were too hot to handle in the heat of an African midday son. You weren't always as hygenic as I might have wished, but all that crouching turned out to be pretty stellar exercise. You always stood straight and tall, a beacon of refuge when parasites and bacteria threatened to squeeze from my very pores. In short, we learned to get along. I settled down. You were my one and only. No Prince Charming, but it seemed like we would have a long and happy life together.
Then, disaster struck. The rains came and try as you might, you could not fight the shifting sands. You slid, you shuddered and finally, you fell. Your tin walls remain standing, as a testament to your former glory perhaps, but they are tilted like an Okoboji funhouse. The gaping pit has been exposed, a depthless pool of darkness. You lean away, in fear, or in shame. You are a shadow of your former self.
While you lie, defeated, in your corner. I now trek to the neighbor's. It is a journey I abhor. Whatever our troubles may have been, I apologise. I took you for granted. Now that it's over between us, I miss you. My only hope is to replace you, dear former pit toilet, with a genuine flush toilet in just a few months. I can hardly wait.
Wednesday, December 22, 2010
Exhausted, but Alive
Once again, I have failed over a long period to update the blog. Once again, my apologies.
My mom came for a visit and wow! We squeezed in quite the South African holiday.
We...
-went to Simon's Town to see "seals" and wound up going on house tours
-took a train journey cross-country
-drove in Jo'burg
-zoomed around the Pretoria Zoo
-observed an ostrich family
-hit a game park that was awesome and terrifying
-hung out in my village
-visited a beach town with one main attraction that we missed due to "rain"
-watched a musical production starring several of my Kuruman friends (You guys are amazing! The singing! The dancing! The costumes!)
-jumped off a mountain
-swam with sharks
-saw tons of birds and a few giant dogs
-realized that "professional surfer" is not a viable career option for me
-regretted my choice of university
-pat a cheetah
-admired plants hundred of years old
-visited some choice museums that are a bit off the beaten path
-almost never slept
-seemed to cheat death on a fairly regular basis
-looked for sheep, found an evil horse
-rode machines of torture
-got a few serious work-outs
-ate so much kingklip I never want to see it again
-discovered the wonder of snoek
-got trailed by a few dassies (rock hyraxes)
-drank hot chocolate at Cape Town's very own Alpine ski resort (wait, that was Table Mountain...)
-nearly met a tragic end due to adverse weather conditions at Cape Point
-enjoyed a tour guide who was practically incapable of uttering a verb that did not end in "ing"
-spent too much time aboard busses
-got in some excellent photoshoots
-went shopping (obviously)
And so much more, I'm tired just thinking about it!
Clearly, very little time was spent just lounging about and relaxing. Mom and I are practically professional tourists.
In other news, my right wrist has decided it's had enough with me and all the typing on my tiny phone, so I'm wearing a brace and trying to rest (hence the list instead of complete sentences).
Happy holidays! And thanks for the birthday wishes!
My mom came for a visit and wow! We squeezed in quite the South African holiday.
We...
-went to Simon's Town to see "seals" and wound up going on house tours
-took a train journey cross-country
-drove in Jo'burg
-zoomed around the Pretoria Zoo
-observed an ostrich family
-hit a game park that was awesome and terrifying
-hung out in my village
-visited a beach town with one main attraction that we missed due to "rain"
-watched a musical production starring several of my Kuruman friends (You guys are amazing! The singing! The dancing! The costumes!)
-jumped off a mountain
-swam with sharks
-saw tons of birds and a few giant dogs
-realized that "professional surfer" is not a viable career option for me
-regretted my choice of university
-pat a cheetah
-admired plants hundred of years old
-visited some choice museums that are a bit off the beaten path
-almost never slept
-seemed to cheat death on a fairly regular basis
-looked for sheep, found an evil horse
-rode machines of torture
-got a few serious work-outs
-ate so much kingklip I never want to see it again
-discovered the wonder of snoek
-got trailed by a few dassies (rock hyraxes)
-drank hot chocolate at Cape Town's very own Alpine ski resort (wait, that was Table Mountain...)
-nearly met a tragic end due to adverse weather conditions at Cape Point
-enjoyed a tour guide who was practically incapable of uttering a verb that did not end in "ing"
-spent too much time aboard busses
-got in some excellent photoshoots
-went shopping (obviously)
And so much more, I'm tired just thinking about it!
Clearly, very little time was spent just lounging about and relaxing. Mom and I are practically professional tourists.
In other news, my right wrist has decided it's had enough with me and all the typing on my tiny phone, so I'm wearing a brace and trying to rest (hence the list instead of complete sentences).
Happy holidays! And thanks for the birthday wishes!
Tuesday, November 30, 2010
Turkey and Post-Turkey
Hope everyone enjoyed their Thanksgiving. I certainly did, but ever since then I've been suffering from a mild viral infection. Being sick in a village setting is draining, especially when I'm busy trying to wrap up my schoolwork and domestic chores in time for my vacation. So, if you've been trying to get in touch with me lately, thank you, I always enjoy hearing from you, but I've been a little too wiped out lately to formulate a coherent response.
Anyways... Thanksgiving!
Just like last year, I went into Kuruman to a guesthouse where the owner prepared a fabulous feast for about a dozen Americans (all volunteers). There were not one, not two, but three whole turkeys and we ate all of them over the course of the day. I baked four loaves of psimo spitiko (sp), and they were a hit. Other volunteers prepared banana bread and apple pies, everything was delicious. It was such a refreshing change from my regular village fare of rice and beans or bread and peanut butter. After the meal, and the Christmas crackers which contained both very self-explanatory crowns and completely inexplicable pink plastic bits, E brought out a surprise. It was a hand-drawn board game.
E is a fantastic artist, as well as my roommate during staging. Her board game was loosely based on Monopoly. Each player started out with R500 and had to make their way around the board without going bankrupt. Each place on the board was somehow related to Peace Corps and/or South Africa, and there were both PC acronym cards and Ga Ke Itse (I don't know) question cards as well. I took several pictures of the board. It was almost too beautiful to play on, especially considering the dirty rocks we were using as pieces. Anyway, I suffered a brutal loss after being sent back to PST and then spending a few too many nights clubbing in Pretoria. Other players suffered such fates as being trapped at taxi ranks, tied to other volunteers in a relationship and being stuck on indefinite medical leave in Pretoria. Such is life.
After Thanksgiving was, of course, Black Friday, which K and I duly celebrated with a trip to uber-cheap clothing retailer, Mr Price. Afterwards I made my way to a classier part of town to spend the rest of my weekend with some Afrikaaner friends. I went swimming, played chess, worked on my language skills, watched rugby and cricket and generally lazed about. The feasting continued with a braai Saturday night with several other families. (SA rubgy played England and won, finally.) As much as I love a good bacon roll washed down by cheesecake, all the rich food left me feeling less than well. That, combined with whatever virus I picked up, led to my spending most of Sunday sleeping off the previous few days.
I'm feeling a bit better, but still a little rough around the edges. I hope to spend as much time resting as possible between now and next week in order to be in tip-top shape for my upcoming vacation.
Oh, and one last thing that some of you may get a kick out of. It's been raining quite a bit lately, and the pit toilet in the backyard could not take it any more. It has caved in. So if you were thinking about how "Posh Corps" SA is based on my long weekends spent eating, shopping and swimming, let me say that right now, I would trade in everything for a decent hole in the ground.
Anyways... Thanksgiving!
Just like last year, I went into Kuruman to a guesthouse where the owner prepared a fabulous feast for about a dozen Americans (all volunteers). There were not one, not two, but three whole turkeys and we ate all of them over the course of the day. I baked four loaves of psimo spitiko (sp), and they were a hit. Other volunteers prepared banana bread and apple pies, everything was delicious. It was such a refreshing change from my regular village fare of rice and beans or bread and peanut butter. After the meal, and the Christmas crackers which contained both very self-explanatory crowns and completely inexplicable pink plastic bits, E brought out a surprise. It was a hand-drawn board game.
E is a fantastic artist, as well as my roommate during staging. Her board game was loosely based on Monopoly. Each player started out with R500 and had to make their way around the board without going bankrupt. Each place on the board was somehow related to Peace Corps and/or South Africa, and there were both PC acronym cards and Ga Ke Itse (I don't know) question cards as well. I took several pictures of the board. It was almost too beautiful to play on, especially considering the dirty rocks we were using as pieces. Anyway, I suffered a brutal loss after being sent back to PST and then spending a few too many nights clubbing in Pretoria. Other players suffered such fates as being trapped at taxi ranks, tied to other volunteers in a relationship and being stuck on indefinite medical leave in Pretoria. Such is life.
After Thanksgiving was, of course, Black Friday, which K and I duly celebrated with a trip to uber-cheap clothing retailer, Mr Price. Afterwards I made my way to a classier part of town to spend the rest of my weekend with some Afrikaaner friends. I went swimming, played chess, worked on my language skills, watched rugby and cricket and generally lazed about. The feasting continued with a braai Saturday night with several other families. (SA rubgy played England and won, finally.) As much as I love a good bacon roll washed down by cheesecake, all the rich food left me feeling less than well. That, combined with whatever virus I picked up, led to my spending most of Sunday sleeping off the previous few days.
I'm feeling a bit better, but still a little rough around the edges. I hope to spend as much time resting as possible between now and next week in order to be in tip-top shape for my upcoming vacation.
Oh, and one last thing that some of you may get a kick out of. It's been raining quite a bit lately, and the pit toilet in the backyard could not take it any more. It has caved in. So if you were thinking about how "Posh Corps" SA is based on my long weekends spent eating, shopping and swimming, let me say that right now, I would trade in everything for a decent hole in the ground.
Wednesday, November 24, 2010
Gratitude
As much as I bashed Elizabeth Gilbert's Eat, Pray, Love the other day, I will cop to one sentiment I wholeheartedly share.
"Maybe we must all give up trying to pay back the people in this world who sustain our lives. In the end, maybe it's wiser to surrender before the miraculous scope of human generosity and to just keep saying thank you, forever and sincerely, for as long as we have voices."
Happy Thanksgiving! And thank you.
"Maybe we must all give up trying to pay back the people in this world who sustain our lives. In the end, maybe it's wiser to surrender before the miraculous scope of human generosity and to just keep saying thank you, forever and sincerely, for as long as we have voices."
Happy Thanksgiving! And thank you.
Friday, November 19, 2010
Anthropological Study: SA Mating Rituals: The Jive
Bar, club, lounge, tavern, whatever you call it, and wherever it is, the same scene plays out again and again.
There is music of the loud and thumping variety and there are men and women hoping to attract each other with the awesomeness of their dance moves.In South Africa, however, people do not dance. They jive. The best way I can describe what jiving looks like is as follows:
Imagine a tyrannosaurus rex with its really small arms. Now imagine a person imitating a crimpled, limp tyrannosaurus rex. Shoulders up, elbows in, wrists flapping in the breeze. Got it? Okay, now picture said person hurling their body with great force in a series of random directions at high speed. In order to prevent themselves from toppling over entirely, they keep their feet in constant motion. It might appear that they are attempting to trip themselves. In fact, they are just trying to remain vertical.
Done well, this display is quite impressive. Done poorly, well, it's still a lot more interesting than what you might see in America.
There is music of the loud and thumping variety and there are men and women hoping to attract each other with the awesomeness of their dance moves.In South Africa, however, people do not dance. They jive. The best way I can describe what jiving looks like is as follows:
Imagine a tyrannosaurus rex with its really small arms. Now imagine a person imitating a crimpled, limp tyrannosaurus rex. Shoulders up, elbows in, wrists flapping in the breeze. Got it? Okay, now picture said person hurling their body with great force in a series of random directions at high speed. In order to prevent themselves from toppling over entirely, they keep their feet in constant motion. It might appear that they are attempting to trip themselves. In fact, they are just trying to remain vertical.
Done well, this display is quite impressive. Done poorly, well, it's still a lot more interesting than what you might see in America.
Intellectual Snobbery
I'm a voracious reader, but not particularly discerning. I consume books of all types: trashy, high-brow, best-sellers and basically whatever I can get my paws on. I just like to read. Quality is a secondary concern. Often I find popular books highly entertaining, if not particularly enlightening, hence my love of authors like Sophie Kinsella. So regardless of my collection fancy Russian literature, I do not consider myself a snob.
A few months ago, while perusing the library at the Peace Corps office in Pretoria, I heard another volunteer state that she did not read popular books. Mentally, I instantly catgorized her under "snob". Well, maybe she is and maybe she isn't, but I should apologize because I definitely am.
Long, long ago I stumbled across a Newsweek that reviewed two very popular books in America: Julie Powell's Julie and Julia and Elizabeth Gilbert's Eat, Pray, Love. Finally, I have read them both. In my humble opinion, they were terrible. I had trouble getting through them. Powell and Gilbert are not masters of the written word. Their stories were fundamentally interesting, but their narratives wandered. Their voices came off as whiny and unsympathetic. It's tough to be a W.A.S.P. in America these days. We (Gilbert and Powell) deserve more. We're destined for greatness! Life as it is is just so unsatisfying. That was the message I got. Also, according to Gilbert, if I'm not happily married at 34 I should just roll into a ball and pray for divine intervention because 34 is just so terribly OLD! She, at the time of writing, was not even part of More magazine's target demographic! (If you don't get that reference, good, you're not a forty year old woman looking for fashion tips and insipiring stories of reinvention.) Ugh. Ridiculous books, but at least we got two decent movies out of them.
We have yet to get a decent film out of Alexander McCall's Ladies' Detective Agency series, but I have also been consistently underwhelmed by those books. I recommend them if you're interested in seTswana culture, but if you just want a good mystery, look elsewhere.
Looking back on books that I have enjoyed I find more evidence of my snobbery. I absolutely loved Theodore Dreiser's An American Tragedy. I think that's my favorite book ever, all 900 pages of it. Other members of my personal hit parade are historical biographies and non-fiction. I'm a nerd. And a snob. I'm a nerb. Or a snerd.
A few months ago, while perusing the library at the Peace Corps office in Pretoria, I heard another volunteer state that she did not read popular books. Mentally, I instantly catgorized her under "snob". Well, maybe she is and maybe she isn't, but I should apologize because I definitely am.
Long, long ago I stumbled across a Newsweek that reviewed two very popular books in America: Julie Powell's Julie and Julia and Elizabeth Gilbert's Eat, Pray, Love. Finally, I have read them both. In my humble opinion, they were terrible. I had trouble getting through them. Powell and Gilbert are not masters of the written word. Their stories were fundamentally interesting, but their narratives wandered. Their voices came off as whiny and unsympathetic. It's tough to be a W.A.S.P. in America these days. We (Gilbert and Powell) deserve more. We're destined for greatness! Life as it is is just so unsatisfying. That was the message I got. Also, according to Gilbert, if I'm not happily married at 34 I should just roll into a ball and pray for divine intervention because 34 is just so terribly OLD! She, at the time of writing, was not even part of More magazine's target demographic! (If you don't get that reference, good, you're not a forty year old woman looking for fashion tips and insipiring stories of reinvention.) Ugh. Ridiculous books, but at least we got two decent movies out of them.
We have yet to get a decent film out of Alexander McCall's Ladies' Detective Agency series, but I have also been consistently underwhelmed by those books. I recommend them if you're interested in seTswana culture, but if you just want a good mystery, look elsewhere.
Looking back on books that I have enjoyed I find more evidence of my snobbery. I absolutely loved Theodore Dreiser's An American Tragedy. I think that's my favorite book ever, all 900 pages of it. Other members of my personal hit parade are historical biographies and non-fiction. I'm a nerd. And a snob. I'm a nerb. Or a snerd.
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