Thanksgiving!

As sometimes happens, my birthday fell on Thanksgiving this year and I relished the fact that I was in a country that had no knowledge the latter and thus was able to focus entirely on the former. I spent the week cooking and baking (and am now suffering exhaustion as a result) but can proudly brag about cooking an entire Thanksgiving dinner myself -- and off crutches. An array of lovely friends joined me in celebrating and eating, making my 26th birthday a unique and memorable birthday -- one of the best, truly.

A week and a half to go, and nothing seems to be dying down in terms of my work here. The principal at the school where I have been delivering SV prevention declared a crisis in Grade R (Kindergarten) as the youngsters are "sexually active" and asked us to come in and help this week. Apparently some, or most, of the 52 kiddies are molesting each other while in the classroom, out on the playground, just about anywhere and no one noticed until now.

I also have to wrap up the evaluations on the programs I worked on, which will mean hours of tedious number crunching. Despite the mundanity, this week is the staff end-of-the-year party, complete with DJ and dancing. It is sure to provide unparalleled entertainment as some of the best dancers I have ever seen will take to the dance floor. The clinic is celebrating World AIDS Day is on Friday, and an outside speaker and choir are coming in to perform.

At the tail end of my immobilization (which is gladly over!) I voraciously read through a few notable books. One of them, When A Crocodile Eats the Sun, is written by the author of the quote that inspired my blog in the first place, Zimbabwean ex-pat Peter Godwin. It has truly all come full circle! Here are a few other quotes from the same book, the first one for anyone who has worked in the field of international aid:

"It's always instructive to observe the life cycle of the First World aid-worker. A wary enthusiasm blooms into an almost messianic sense of what might be possible. Then, as they bump up against the local cultural limits of acceptable change, comes the inevitable disappointment, which can harden into cynicism and even racism, until they are no better than the reside whites they have initially disparaged."

AND -- because now, at the end of my time here, I have developed an affinity and endearment toward South Africa:

"I feel like weeping. Weeping at the way Africa does this to you. Just as you're about to dismiss it and walk away, it delivers something so unexpected, so tender. One minute you're scared shitless, the next you're choked with affection."