Many of you believe that I currently inhabit the country of South Africa. You are wrong. Recently, it seems as though I've moved to a new place, the glorious land of terrifying arachnids. That is to say, a band of button spiders have moved in and made my home their own. In honor of their arrival I renamed my space Arachnahomia. See how I did that?
During the summer months I noticed an increase in spider webs throughout my hovel. Whereas I once had none, I started knocking them down every week. Because I never actually saw a spider, I assumed I was just being visited by a particularly industrious few who might have made their home inside the cracks in the walls. I didn't worry about it too much.
A few weeks ago I finally saw a spider. It was in my closet. I grabbed a shoe and that was that. I expected a sharp decrease in spider webs, but that didn't happen. In fact, suddenly, spiders were everywhere! And not the cute kind, these are black with ominous red markings. I looked them up in my handy-dandy guidebook and they turned out to be button spiders. Button spiders may be a cute name, but they possess a dangerous neurotoxic venom and propensity to bite that is decidedly inconsistent.
Even worse than the big momma spiders are the egg sacs. Yes, spiders are laying eggs sacs in my room! They look fluffy and soft, like tiny clouds, from a distance, but they're oddly crunchy to the touch. Baby spider bones? Anyway, these spiders are terribly creative in their selection of web and egg sac locations. I found today's batch in the folds of a curtain. Three egg sacs and a spider in the folds of a curtain! What an unfortunate surprise.
Hopefully the spiders will fade away as the weather cools, but until then I'm never going on vacation. These spiders are taking advantage of my every absence to stage a take over. On the bright side, they've eaten every other insect that used to creep inside. Nevertheless, residents of Arachnahomia, prepare to die!
Saturday, April 9, 2011
Wednesday, April 6, 2011
Loopeng Walking Safari
I was at the tap, fetching water, when my evening reverie was interrupted by teenage girl with a red umbrella coming down the path towards me.
"Hello?" she called.
"Hi." I don't like my evening reverie interrupted.
"Are you visiting someone?"
"No." I've lived here almost a year. Get with the program.
"You stay here?"
"Yes." Brilliant conclusion, Captain Obvious.
"Where?"
I pointed.
At this point the girl's enthusiasm started to rub off on me and we engaged in an actual conversation. As it turned out, she's spent most of the last year away at school and her family lives on the very fringes of the village. She had no reason to be aware of my existence. I had a reason to be a wee bit ashamed of myself. Oh well. We moved on.
She came over to my house for a visit this afternoon, and she wound up taking me on the most entertaining and informative walking tour of Loopeng I've experienced in the last 11 months of living here. We climbed up one side of the valley, into the bush, and she pointed out the various neighborhoods, the old sections of the village, where certain families lived, old cemetaries, the remains of kraals and farmhouses. She showed me various edible flora, and even had me try some of it. There were a few historic sites as well, including where a cheetah was killed half a century ago, a solid metal pipe stuck into a stone (King Arthur, anyone?) and an abandoned bakkie deep in the bush.
The best part, of course, was being accompanied by her four dogs. We were hoping one would catch a rabbit for dinner, but alas, no such luck. Maybe next time. I hope to go again sometime this winter, when I'm not quite as deathly afraid of stepping on a snake.
"Hello?" she called.
"Hi." I don't like my evening reverie interrupted.
"Are you visiting someone?"
"No." I've lived here almost a year. Get with the program.
"You stay here?"
"Yes." Brilliant conclusion, Captain Obvious.
"Where?"
I pointed.
At this point the girl's enthusiasm started to rub off on me and we engaged in an actual conversation. As it turned out, she's spent most of the last year away at school and her family lives on the very fringes of the village. She had no reason to be aware of my existence. I had a reason to be a wee bit ashamed of myself. Oh well. We moved on.
She came over to my house for a visit this afternoon, and she wound up taking me on the most entertaining and informative walking tour of Loopeng I've experienced in the last 11 months of living here. We climbed up one side of the valley, into the bush, and she pointed out the various neighborhoods, the old sections of the village, where certain families lived, old cemetaries, the remains of kraals and farmhouses. She showed me various edible flora, and even had me try some of it. There were a few historic sites as well, including where a cheetah was killed half a century ago, a solid metal pipe stuck into a stone (King Arthur, anyone?) and an abandoned bakkie deep in the bush.
The best part, of course, was being accompanied by her four dogs. We were hoping one would catch a rabbit for dinner, but alas, no such luck. Maybe next time. I hope to go again sometime this winter, when I'm not quite as deathly afraid of stepping on a snake.
Tuesday, April 5, 2011
Occupation: Baker
I've always enjoyed baking. Well, I've always enjoyed opening a box, pouring its contents into a bowl, adding a few liquids and throwing it into the oven. That was my pre-Peace Corps idea of baking. Now, in spite of the lack of mixes and dishwashers, I find I still really enjoy baking, even if it's a bit more difficult.
I own no mixing bowls, just a pot, a frying pan, a couple cereal bowls and a small variety of cups and mugs. I have a cup measure, but the lines have worn off. I splurged on teaspoon and tablespoon measures. I'm a sucker for accuracy. For recipes, I use the internet and scour allrecipes.com or just e-mail the fount of all wisdom (my mother). I almost always have to make a few adjustments. The village tuck shop is not a great source of whole vanilla beans or coconut oil. I make do, and things generally turn out okay.
Better than okay, actually. With a little bit of free time and/or nothing better to do, I've discovered my own frostings, icings and syrups. As a result, I've discovered fantastic frosted brownies, pound cake soaked in syrup, and glazed lemon muffins. When I have less time and more fruit about to turn, I make banana bread and apple crumble, seemingly by the ton.
Of course, I've had my fair share of utter failures. My peanut butter muffins turned out terribly. Thankfully, the young neighbor kids turned out in force to polish them off. The kids are also useful when it comes to cleaning. I give them a pan glazed with brownie batter and it comes back to me in perfect condition. I give them a piece of cake on a plate and wah-la! Clean plate. I might be taking advantage of them. Oh well. They get cookies. They're pretty happy.
I hope I manage to keep up my baking abilities when I go back to the States, but the allure of the microwave may be too much for me. We shall see. In the meantime, I must go soak my pound cake.
I own no mixing bowls, just a pot, a frying pan, a couple cereal bowls and a small variety of cups and mugs. I have a cup measure, but the lines have worn off. I splurged on teaspoon and tablespoon measures. I'm a sucker for accuracy. For recipes, I use the internet and scour allrecipes.com or just e-mail the fount of all wisdom (my mother). I almost always have to make a few adjustments. The village tuck shop is not a great source of whole vanilla beans or coconut oil. I make do, and things generally turn out okay.
Better than okay, actually. With a little bit of free time and/or nothing better to do, I've discovered my own frostings, icings and syrups. As a result, I've discovered fantastic frosted brownies, pound cake soaked in syrup, and glazed lemon muffins. When I have less time and more fruit about to turn, I make banana bread and apple crumble, seemingly by the ton.
Of course, I've had my fair share of utter failures. My peanut butter muffins turned out terribly. Thankfully, the young neighbor kids turned out in force to polish them off. The kids are also useful when it comes to cleaning. I give them a pan glazed with brownie batter and it comes back to me in perfect condition. I give them a piece of cake on a plate and wah-la! Clean plate. I might be taking advantage of them. Oh well. They get cookies. They're pretty happy.
I hope I manage to keep up my baking abilities when I go back to the States, but the allure of the microwave may be too much for me. We shall see. In the meantime, I must go soak my pound cake.
Friday, April 1, 2011
Success
It rained. I earned multiple new blisters, one of which popped 6 km from the finish. When my friend was brutally attacked by the sidewalk, we became the walking wounded (she's fine, scraped and bloody, but okay). Even with all that, Longtom Marathon 2011 was a great success. I finished the race, and we raised almost $400 for a great cause!
KLM had their best year yet and over $20 000 was raised to support the learners at Uplands College by PCVs and even a few RPCVs. There were over sixty people participating in the Longtom/KLM event this year and meeting all the new-to-me people was definitely a highlight for me. Not so much of a highlight? The long trip there and back!
I've got a few posts up my sleeve in the next few days, but this weekend I plan to spend mostly curled up in bed, in recovery. Thanks for all the support!
KLM had their best year yet and over $20 000 was raised to support the learners at Uplands College by PCVs and even a few RPCVs. There were over sixty people participating in the Longtom/KLM event this year and meeting all the new-to-me people was definitely a highlight for me. Not so much of a highlight? The long trip there and back!
I've got a few posts up my sleeve in the next few days, but this weekend I plan to spend mostly curled up in bed, in recovery. Thanks for all the support!
Tuesday, March 22, 2011
Almost Forgot
Here we are, just days away from the marathon, and I almost forgot to pester you all about KLM! My preparations for Saturday are almost complete. I've washed fresh socks and packed my bag. Have you donated to KLM? Every penny makes a difference.
I'll trade you a fun fact. There are thousands more elephants than white people in Zimbabwe.
And how about a pithy quote from Robert Guest's The Shackled Continent?
"The Third World lives at the back of the First World's garden, which he weeds on Wednesday." I can't think of better way to describe South Africa myself.
Grazie!
I'll trade you a fun fact. There are thousands more elephants than white people in Zimbabwe.
And how about a pithy quote from Robert Guest's The Shackled Continent?
"The Third World lives at the back of the First World's garden, which he weeds on Wednesday." I can't think of better way to describe South Africa myself.
Grazie!
Rioting 101: UA Has Much to Learn from SA
I was doing my morning Facebook browse recently when I discovered my college friends all a-twitter about the university cancelling the largest on-campus event of the year, Fountain Day. The campus of the University at Albany is focused around a gigantic fountain in the middle of an enormous concrete block that hosts 13 3-story buildings. The block is fondly referred to as the Podium. It looks very sci-fi. In any case, slapping a campus designed around a major water feature in upstate New York was maybe not such a bright idea as the freezing cold temperatures dictate that it be kept off for most of the year. The day when it is turned back on is called Fountain Day and the whole university, students, faculty and staff turn out to enjoy the first of the spring sunshine and splash in the fountain's pool. Apparently that will not be happening this year.
Why?
Well, there's another big UAlbany tradition that takes place around St. Patrick's Day. It's called Kegs and Eggs. On the appointed day, people set their alarms for 6 am and start drinking immediately. The bars open at 7. The party lasts all morning. Kegs and Eggs is hardly a venerable tradition, but it certainly helps UA retain their reputation as a massive party school. "We pregame harder than you party," is a common, if idiotic, refrain.
Nevertheless, Kegs and Eggs is not necessarily a troublesome event. Usually the only clue to its presence for non-paricipants is an unusual number of college students pouring into diners and dining halls in the early morning hours under an alcohol-induced haze. The drunken masses choke down a few waffles and then quietly collapse to sleep off the, err, morning. This year was an exception. Kegs and Eggs announced itself with rioting along a city street popular with university students. Some two dozen have been or will be arrested. Expulsions are being threatened. Apparently, the party got out of hand on Hudson Street. Bottle were being thrown, vehicles damaged, and even appliances flung from windows. The police tried to intervene, but the student weren't having any of it. A full-out riot ensued. It was certainly not the university's proudest moment. The Albany community is furious, and very likely yielding to this pressure, UA's president decided to punish the student body by getting rid of Fountain Day 2011.
While most of my friend's objections to this lie in sound, rational fact (a few dozen individuals are responsible for the riot, there are twenty-thousand other students who were not at all involved) my principal objection comes from a very real encounter with a riot of a much more serious nature. Students at a high school in a village outside Kuruman, Batlharos, decided to go on strike after a police officer assaulted a student following the student's refusal to submit to corporal punishment. Their strike lasted several days, involved learners at multiple high schools, and resulted in the blocking of a major road with trees, rocks and destroyed road signs. A police car was burned, and there was an attempt at burning the entire police station. Reinforcements were called in from Kimberley to calm the region after a few days. Reportedly there was also a stabbing related to the strike. This terrifying glimpse into the destruction wreaked by a mob mentality is brought to you by a genuine, South African riot. Two dozen angry drunks and Albany cries the end of civilization. An entire village terrorized by high school students and it's just another day in Africa.
Now that's what I call perspective. If the university insists on their disproportionate response the so-called riot, I suggest importing some South Africans to show them what is "real" riot is all about.
Don't worry, I wasn't present during the worst of the rioting in Batlharos. I just happened to try driving through with my principal on the way to a meeting in Kuruman. "Why are there rocks in the road? What are helicopters doing here? Is that smoke coming from the police station?" I had a few questions...
Why?
Well, there's another big UAlbany tradition that takes place around St. Patrick's Day. It's called Kegs and Eggs. On the appointed day, people set their alarms for 6 am and start drinking immediately. The bars open at 7. The party lasts all morning. Kegs and Eggs is hardly a venerable tradition, but it certainly helps UA retain their reputation as a massive party school. "We pregame harder than you party," is a common, if idiotic, refrain.
Nevertheless, Kegs and Eggs is not necessarily a troublesome event. Usually the only clue to its presence for non-paricipants is an unusual number of college students pouring into diners and dining halls in the early morning hours under an alcohol-induced haze. The drunken masses choke down a few waffles and then quietly collapse to sleep off the, err, morning. This year was an exception. Kegs and Eggs announced itself with rioting along a city street popular with university students. Some two dozen have been or will be arrested. Expulsions are being threatened. Apparently, the party got out of hand on Hudson Street. Bottle were being thrown, vehicles damaged, and even appliances flung from windows. The police tried to intervene, but the student weren't having any of it. A full-out riot ensued. It was certainly not the university's proudest moment. The Albany community is furious, and very likely yielding to this pressure, UA's president decided to punish the student body by getting rid of Fountain Day 2011.
While most of my friend's objections to this lie in sound, rational fact (a few dozen individuals are responsible for the riot, there are twenty-thousand other students who were not at all involved) my principal objection comes from a very real encounter with a riot of a much more serious nature. Students at a high school in a village outside Kuruman, Batlharos, decided to go on strike after a police officer assaulted a student following the student's refusal to submit to corporal punishment. Their strike lasted several days, involved learners at multiple high schools, and resulted in the blocking of a major road with trees, rocks and destroyed road signs. A police car was burned, and there was an attempt at burning the entire police station. Reinforcements were called in from Kimberley to calm the region after a few days. Reportedly there was also a stabbing related to the strike. This terrifying glimpse into the destruction wreaked by a mob mentality is brought to you by a genuine, South African riot. Two dozen angry drunks and Albany cries the end of civilization. An entire village terrorized by high school students and it's just another day in Africa.
Now that's what I call perspective. If the university insists on their disproportionate response the so-called riot, I suggest importing some South Africans to show them what is "real" riot is all about.
Don't worry, I wasn't present during the worst of the rioting in Batlharos. I just happened to try driving through with my principal on the way to a meeting in Kuruman. "Why are there rocks in the road? What are helicopters doing here? Is that smoke coming from the police station?" I had a few questions...
Monday, March 21, 2011
Dog Days of Summer
I'm not actually sure what the title phrase means, just like I'm not totally clear on the exact meaning of "Indian summer" either. No matter, this post is about a real dog, Shaka, and what we've been up to lately.
I usually take him for an evening walk, and we wander all over to new and exciting parts of the village. Loopeng is so large that there are little pockets I still haven't visited. Anyway, out on one of these walks we met another dog. Well, he was more of a puppy. He looked very similar to Shaka, black with a white chest, except much smaller. Shaka and the new dog stared to play, but the new dog's owner wanted to be on her way. She called to her dog, "Rusty! Rustenburg!" Her dog perked his ears and went trotting towards her. I was more than a little surprised to hear the name of my former dog. What it mere coincedence? Nope, this lady liked Rusty so much she named her dog after mine. It was oddly touching.
In more recent dog news, Shaka got his first bath today. It consisted of me holding onto him tightly as he tried desperately to wriggle away from four kids splashing water at him. He did much better when we got to the lathering. He stood patiently while we scrubbed him up and down. The rinsing was a near-disaster. He saw me coming with the water bucket and ran like the wind. We managed to get him clean enough that no soap was visible, and any remaining he quickly scrubbed off with a roll in the sand. So much for a clean dog.
All the washing and rolling left him a bit tired, and he trotted off for a nap in the shade, but we still didn't leave the poor puppy alone. No, we brought out the brush. He actually seemed to enjoy it, even though all four kids insisted on their turn with the brush. It's amazing to me how just a few months ago all the children were terrified of the "beast" and now they enjoy nothing more than sitting next to him on the stoop and giving him a pat. It's a good thing Shaka is so patient.
Also today, I heard a mysterious noise coming from the roof of the house. I looked up and saw two kids on the roof, and one on a ladder on his way up! Needless to say, I was next in line. I got all the way up the ladder, but chickened out when it came to putting my weight on the tin roof. I admired the view for a minute, and clambered back down. "Resego!" called one of the kids. I looked up just in time to see one of Shaka's toys flying towards me. I thought it had been lost or stolen ages ago. It turns out that it had just been on the roof all that time. Shaka is extremely pleased to have it returned, as am I.
I so wish I could take Shaka to Longtom with me, but alas, dogs and taxis are not a good mix.
I usually take him for an evening walk, and we wander all over to new and exciting parts of the village. Loopeng is so large that there are little pockets I still haven't visited. Anyway, out on one of these walks we met another dog. Well, he was more of a puppy. He looked very similar to Shaka, black with a white chest, except much smaller. Shaka and the new dog stared to play, but the new dog's owner wanted to be on her way. She called to her dog, "Rusty! Rustenburg!" Her dog perked his ears and went trotting towards her. I was more than a little surprised to hear the name of my former dog. What it mere coincedence? Nope, this lady liked Rusty so much she named her dog after mine. It was oddly touching.
In more recent dog news, Shaka got his first bath today. It consisted of me holding onto him tightly as he tried desperately to wriggle away from four kids splashing water at him. He did much better when we got to the lathering. He stood patiently while we scrubbed him up and down. The rinsing was a near-disaster. He saw me coming with the water bucket and ran like the wind. We managed to get him clean enough that no soap was visible, and any remaining he quickly scrubbed off with a roll in the sand. So much for a clean dog.
All the washing and rolling left him a bit tired, and he trotted off for a nap in the shade, but we still didn't leave the poor puppy alone. No, we brought out the brush. He actually seemed to enjoy it, even though all four kids insisted on their turn with the brush. It's amazing to me how just a few months ago all the children were terrified of the "beast" and now they enjoy nothing more than sitting next to him on the stoop and giving him a pat. It's a good thing Shaka is so patient.
Also today, I heard a mysterious noise coming from the roof of the house. I looked up and saw two kids on the roof, and one on a ladder on his way up! Needless to say, I was next in line. I got all the way up the ladder, but chickened out when it came to putting my weight on the tin roof. I admired the view for a minute, and clambered back down. "Resego!" called one of the kids. I looked up just in time to see one of Shaka's toys flying towards me. I thought it had been lost or stolen ages ago. It turns out that it had just been on the roof all that time. Shaka is extremely pleased to have it returned, as am I.
I so wish I could take Shaka to Longtom with me, but alas, dogs and taxis are not a good mix.
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