Strike Season

Wow, it has been a long time since I have written. Most every time I go to write I think: where to start? Then, I feel overwhelmed by how much there is to write -- and the tremendous task of putting into words all I am experiencing/learning/doing -- so I don't write at all.

ANYway- the main drama at the moment in South Africa is the ongoing strike which has crippled most of the country for the past week. A basic overview: the public servant unions (which includes nurses, teachers, social workers, police, cleaners) have declared an indefinite strike in response to the government refusing to give them a 8.4% pay increase plus significant increased housing allowance. Several public hospitals have virtually shut down, with patients being blocked from entering the hospital (we went a pregnant woman in an ambulance last week to the hospital and the ambulance returned her an hour later, saying they were refused entrance), and staff being threatened if they do work. A doctor told me yesterday that she was actually chased up into her office by protestors and the police had to intervene!

So this means that kids are not going to school, if they attend public school, and today several of my co-workers received text messages to fetch their children from private schools because the strikers were infringing on private school campuses. It also means that patients are delivering babies at home, HIV patients are being denied treatment at some hospitals, and as for my expired visa -- I have no chance of getting it now that home affairs is also on strike.

In other news, Ari leaves in a week, and as his time draws to a close we are busy running around and seeing all the things we didn't manage to see in 5 months. I have decided to go away to a HIV clinic out in the very rural area for a week with an American friend (who went to UCSB, interestingly enough), right after Ari leaves, which I think will break up the sadness of his absence.

I started the 'Healthy Sexuality' (read: sex ed + sexual violence prevention) programme at a local township school about a month ago, complete with the usual South African complications, only to have it canceled the following three weeks due to the all-encompassing Strike. But one of these days we will go back, and then I will have stories to tell of my new career as a sexual educator.

World Cup End (or almost)

The past few weeks of the World Cup have been sheer madness-- complete with many many late nights, constant energy and plenty of vuvuzelas (at all times). Besides going to see Ghana v. Australia, I have watched at fan parks set up around the city which provide a second-best option to going to the actual games.

Work, which has taken a backseat these days, continues to offer challenges and rewards a-plenty. The Postnatal Clinic has grown to about 36 patients a day, and we are now having to cap which is a little sad but will offer a chance to catch our breath. I am working with 2 psychologists and a counselor on a sexual violence prevention/sex ed program for a local elementary school, which I am sure will provide much awkwardness over the next 2 months (and much heartbreak). And project #3-at the moment- entails recruiting HIV-positive moms for a support group, which will be run by one of the social workers and supervised by yours truly. So positive things are starting, and continuing, and yet the constant encounter with poverty and sorrow feels oppressive.

Oh, and did I mention it is winter in the southern hemisphere? And teetering below 30 degrees at night? I spent the 4th of July with a few friends hovering over a tiny little bar-b-que (braii, in SA), covering our red white and blue clothing with layers of warmth. No fireworks or extravagant celebration but memorable, to be certain.

World Cup Begins!

The first World Cup game begins in less than an hour, and the energy here in Jo-burg is amazing! Everyone at work had on yellow Bafana Bafana (SA) jerseys, babies came for injections with SA flags tatooed on their faces and work ended at 1pm so people could go watch the game. Yesterday I saw England's soccer team (police escort and all) and today I saw Honduras' soccer team (ditto). Even as I type this now, I can hear horns blaring from every direction. The streets are lined with flags adorning people and cars, and every building has flags sticking out.

Heading out now to catch the game at a local pub since the traffic to the fan park is reported to be in gridlock. Viva Africa!

Driving to work one day

Just have to perpetuate the stereotypes of Africa any chance I get :)

The frustrations of living overseas

I am not completely sure if that is an appropriate title. Are these frustrations expected for living overseas? Or is it just the developing world? Or is it just South Africa?

In any case, this week has been full of frustrations, and I can only attribute them to the roller-coaster of living overseas, even though, at nearly 5 months, I would have hoped to exit the ride by now. Allow me to vent:

1. Internet. I know I should be grateful for internet, since in Huanuco, Peru they thought wireless was some myth they had heard existed "out there", yet the unpredictability of internet in this country is completely unnerving. What is all the more frustrating is when you must call the government telecommunication corporation to inquire, and they blame it on "Expected and unexpected maintenance" (which could be code for someone deciding to not come into work today).

2. Driving. Having just learned to drive manual, and while driving on the left-hand side of the road, I am a bit cautious still. My nervousness is only exacerbated by the random buses that cut in front of me, the hired (yes, hired) blind person standing in the middle of traffic and the constant threat of someone smashing through my window to steal my purse, as indicated by Highjack Hotspot warning signs at intersections. 

3. Language. Someone should have informed me before I arrived in SA that "piss" means "piece", "aslam" means "asylum", "where do you stay?" means "where do you live?" and to most South Africans, an American accent sounds like your nose is plugged and/or you have cotton in your mouth. Furthermore, "cross" means "angry", and South Africans have absolutely no problem telling you that they are cross with you for any number of reasons. Get ready to explain yourself.

4. Customer service. This is virtually non-existent in SA, and manifests in ways large and small; from cell phone carriers offering no explanation for why your phone won't work to hospitals inattention to patients which results in babies being delivered in waiting rooms (as I learned yesterday). All of my tried and true arguing strategies and threats-to-speak-to-the-manager are met with a blank stare and flat affect here in SA. Even my law-school-trained boyfriend has found minimal success leading me to believe that poor service is something I just may have to accept.

5. Crime. The high crime levels in Johannesburg have many affects on daily living, not least of which is being sequestered to shopping malls for entertainment. Gone are the days of walking from my apartment to Central Square to meet a friend for coffee-- not only is it unsafe to walk outside here, but all coffee shops are hidden away in protected shopping malls, many of which require you to be patted down to enter! Sure, the cappuccinos are only $1.50 and that is wonderful, but what I really want is to sit outside, by myself, and sip a cappuccino while enjoying nature, unawares. 

And I'd even be willing to pay the extra $3.00 to do this :)

Photos from our trip

Above: Cooking class :)
Below: Prince Albert, beautiful country town located in the Little Karoo.

Above: Ari and I in Plettenburg Bay, hiking next to the Indian Ocean.

The Great Karoo (and a new clinic too)

 April began with A) Ari’s arrival and B) a two-week trip across the country. The vacation confirmed for me that South Africa is truly a diverse place—both in its people and landscape.  Our highlights included: swimming in the Indian Ocean (and escaping human-size jellyfish); wine tasting in Franschoek, the Napa-esque wine country; taking an all-day cooking course in the middle of the Karoo (read: middle of nowhere); and exploring the trendy and popular Cape Town. My personal highlight was Cape Town, as I could walk around outside freely, a luxury I am not afforded in crime-ridden Johannesburg. The museums were incredible, and there is oh-so-much to do.

            Since we have been back, Ari has been volunteering at the clinic, helping with administrative and semi-legal projects, and trying to adjust to a foreign country. What a relief to finally have a fellow American to vent to and share developing-country frustrations with, though we set daily quotas so we don’t slip into complete cynicism.

            The middle of April brought the opening of the Postnatal Clinic, the big project I have spent the past 4 months working on. Jean, the director, brought in cake and streamers to celebrate the opening, and we sent a press release and photo to the local papers. It has been very exciting to see the fruition of months of planning, meetings, data, and such. As an added bonus, I am not only managing the Postnatal Clinic, but I am also working in it as the social worker. The combination of roles makes for a lot of stress, but is also quite rewarding, as I am able to live out my ultimate macro/clinical social work fantasy. In addition to being rewarding, I have also felt completely overwhelmed. The stories these women share compounded by the utter desperation and the poverty they live in is rattling. Several of the patients I have seen are teenage girls, newly diagnosed as HIV-positive, carrying their 7 day-old-babies as they tell me of how their boyfriend left them and they have no money.

            Perhaps one of the most shocking facets of Johannesburg is the contrast between rich and poor. Several people warned me of this startling reality before I arrived, and yet it never ceases to disturb. An example: Every morning Ari and I notice a verdant stench of smoke coming from our “neighbors.” We could not place this smell, and furthermore, had no idea where it was coming from. Finally, one day, on the way home from work, I looked over to the side of the road, just outside my street, and saw a small batch of corrugated tin shacks set up, otherwise known as an “informal settlement.” These are in no way uncommon, despite the fact that this one is literally ¼ mile from a Porsche dealership.

            Now, at the beginning of May, a new season is upon us (Fall) and leaves are changing colors, though nowhere near as beautiful as New England. The nights and mornings are cold, and days are clear and sunny still, which I hear is typical for Johannesburg winters. The whole city, and country, is abuzz with World Cup anticipation, as road workers scramble to finish all the construction. Ari and I joined a new yoga studio, and are committing to go 2-3 times a week. On Saturday we met a lovely couple and began chatting after class, comparing stories of America v. South Africa. The woman mentioned she is a singer, the man an actor, by way of conversation, and we chatted casually before they left. Come to find out, she is one of South Africa’s most famous singers (nominated for Best Female Vocalist at SA’s Grammy awards equivalent), and he is a famous actor who does soap operas! When I went to the grocery store the next day, there they were—plastered all over SA magazine covers. So we have been scheming how to become friends with our famous yoga classmates, all while pretending we have no notion of their fame.

            I have managed to kill the thirty minutes or so I needed to kill while waiting for a meeting with my supervisor while our Internet is down all day (more specifically, all the internet in the town of Fourways is down). More regular updates to come, I promise J

Katie