Free for all!

Monday and Tuesday at House all of the children were home.  Usually we only work with the two to five year-olds in the play school, but the older kids are home on term break for a week so we played outside with them and the younger ones.  We began the morning in “the wing” in a small room where the children wait for Connie before going to the playschool.  I got called to the kitchen for my practiced pumpkin-cutting-skills (peeling, pipping (taking seeds out), and dicing butternut squash).  Initially I was a bit sad, because I really enjoy playing with the kids by now.  In the beginning it was so new and challenging to understand the kids that I would rather have been in the kitchen.  It’s funny how little ones can grow on you.  After about an hour, Mel came to see if I wanted to switch out into the playground where the rest of the kids were playing.

It was not long after I went outside into the beautiful fall-like day that I realized why Mel was eager to be in the kitchen for a respite.  It is an interesting dynamic to observe sharing with two-year-olds.  I don’t know if they just don’t like it, or if they are not developmentally able to understand it.  Either way, ten minutes after I arrived outside there were at least five two-year-olds crying about soccer balls.  We tried to show them how to pass with the other kids, but as soon as the ball left their hands, the heads flew back, tears started streaming, and wailing ensued.  I am usually of the attitude that that kind of show is best solved by ignoring; however, the crying seemed to go on and on.  Eventually, one by one we distracted them with other things, and once order resumed, I went to help in the kitchen for the last few minutes of the day.  Who could deny the kitchen of deft pumpkin-hands, right?

At the end of the day, I am always sad to go.  The kids are getting more comfortable with us, and it was even easy to fall in love with the older kids in two short days.  On Tuesday, we were met with little ones running up to us and hugging our knees.  To a less alert person, it would be easy to end up on the ground with a two-year old underneath your buckled knees, but we’re better at removing ourselves safely from the popularly- known little-arms-knee hold without harm to us or the kids.  We like to play games of throwing them up in the air, cars, Legos, puzzles, “look at” books (reading is difficult with the language barrier and short attention spans), coloring, and counting. With the older kids, I got to play soccer shootouts all morning beside the playschool and racing (reminding me of the old days with the grandkids out at Wagner’s running all over the place—attempting not to break our arms, right Al?).  Near the end of our time, the little ones began getting tired, and the climbed onto some of our laps who were sitting in the shade and rested.  It’s a hard balance between showing the kids how much you care about them, and “do no harm.”  Recently studies in human development are showing that children who come into contact with role models and volunteers for short periods of time lose trust for those people who can care for them long-term.  I try to look at my job more as a babysitter than a big sister figure, because I’m not permanent.  I want to help them, not hurt them, but it’s so hard to restrain myself from carrying them, consoling two-year-old toy tyrants, and giving them crutches that will be gone in a few weeks.  It’s a dilemma which hasn’t come into play too much before this week, because we have spent the majority of our time painting or in the kitchen, whereas this week we were able to be with the children most of the time.   I have some pictures from last week and this Monday and Tuesday.

This play set is in the back yard.  The kids don't get to go out there very often, because Connie is only one woman with 17 little kids.  We were really happy to play out there with them.  They set up an obstacle course, rolled around in barrels, had a jumping contest, set up perilous contraptions to attempt to balance on, and it was a good time.  Plus, it felt like fall outside, so I just imagined apple orchards all day, and I was so happy.

I hope you can see right through that innocent look on the left.  It is absolute mischief and don't think otherwise.  Considering what these two are full of, I'm not surprised in the least that they have brown eyes!

Some of his true colors showing through.  (Cute though)

Sibu.  Another misleading picture.  He is a maniac!!! 

Okay, now that's cute.  Steph with Monde.

Linati is quiet and fun.  He is a good little friend to have.

Sibu and Katie.

That's more like it.  Sibu is known for his priceless facials. 

Kuhle is older, but she stays with the younger kids at the play school.  She is a crowd favorite because there are very few girls, she knows English well, and she is adorable.  So tiny!

Two of the older kids.

Awwwe, that girl is adorable.

Evidence of "pumpkin" chopping.

My cough* favorite*cough.  I don't really want to favor him, but he's SO cute, and he's a cuddler and really shy.  So he's so easy to just love on.

Very focused on driving a broken stroller which was sadly thrown away later that day.  The kids were very creative with how they used it seeing that it didn't really have a seat, one wheel was broken, and it had metal parts sticking out.  They still raced with it, and he kept asking me to sit in it, but that obviously wasn't going to happen.

Right outside the play school.

Sitting in the new shade spot.  There is a canopy with mesh to give some shade in the yard.

The play school door.

Norma, one of our program directors, with Denver and one of the older girls against the building in some shade.

Katie with Sikelewe

Laura with an older boy.

Culture for Bruce and Norma

Bobotie.  The first time I saw it written out I said, “Bow-bow-tī,” but it’s actually “boo-boo-tē.”  This traditionally South African dish is made of a meat and dried fruit with curry mixture, topped with almonds, and an egg custard.  I combined the recipes of an ostrich cookbook that I copied earlier in the semester with Jamie Oliver’s (the English chef who starred on the reality TV show about reforming the school lunch program in West Virginia—the most obese state in the Union—as well as many cookbooks and TV cooking shows) bobotie recipe.  The lack of kitchen timer almost inevitably ends with one of my flatmates alerting me that the oven is still on, and I haven’t burnt anything to a crisp.  Actually, the custard was only slightly overdone.  I am in the habit of making big batches of food and freezing it after the spoiling-food-fiasco at the beginning of the semester.  So, I have a big container of ostrich bobotie in my freezer, and next week Taylor and I plan to try ostrich meat loaf. 

I am fascinated at my rate of meat consumption in Africa.  To be honest, it's disconcerting at times, and I don't know where it's coming from.  For the first few weeks of my stay I rarely ate meat, and I found that my vegetables went bad very quickly.  In the States I only eat meat about every other day at the most.  But for the last month, I lived off of a chicken and squash hot dish over rice most nights of the week, and I have plenty of meat lined up for the next few weeks.  It is interesting buying the ostrich, because it is not considered poultry.   It is in the “butchery” section of the grocery.  I buy mince ostrich and it is more like beef rather than chicken which is sold in the poultry section.  The adventures of African food will continue, and I hope to visit a farm or two over Easter break to get a better idea of the food system in South Africa.