Red Rocket of Soweto

Hello all - Tonight I am writing from the frigid garage of the Mbizi Backpacker's Lodge at 288 Trichardt Road in Boksburg, SA, just outside of Johannesburg. While affordably priced at 100 Rand a night, the three coaches are all staying in one cozy bedroom (9' x 12') in this converted house. We have been growing closer, no doubt as a result of the beds abutting each other (reminds me of days in New South). Of course our bags, including the majority of my recovered Kigoma bag, fill the remaining space. Well, not all the space. We have been able to sneak in a small, electric space heater to get our noses and ears a tad warmer until we shut it off for night, night. However, after my day today, I am grateful for this arrangement.
If all works out correctly, my fantastic editors (Elsa and Jacqueline) will be attaching a photo with this post and possibly a short video clip of my day in Soweto. If you don't know, Soweto is the south west township on the outskirts of Joburg. There are roughly 4.5 million residents in the 13 neighborhoods with unemployment up to 65% or higher in many areas and poverty levels beyond description. In Klypton, a squatters neighborhood of Soweto, we met with the Klypton Youth Project. During our time there, we worked on some passing and juggling skills. While we lacked a proper soccer ball, we made due with a slightly deflated basketball on the dusty, cracked cement 15' x 30' field. The children, beaming with joy, gladly displayed competitve skill but more importantly, a willingness to come to school on Saturday as long as there was the prospect of fun, specifically including football (soccer to us yanks - notice I did not call us Yankees, as that word still evokes a sour taste to me). Teachers used this Saturday attendance to repeat certain lessons taught during the prior week. Among the morning session was a practice run of an
upcoming recital with songs in various languages and dance routines.
The 3-5 year olds displayed the same happiness, pride and nervousness as my nephews Peter and Rocco displayed in their recent recital in America. The darting eyes from their peers to their teachers to their audience reflected the similarities between all children, no matter in which country or continent they live.
One poignant memory for me was my time spent with one specific 4 or 5 year old. As he was too young to play with the older children and their basketball, he diligently dribbled a plastic 20 oz. Coke bottle around the small, dirt parking lot. I signaled for him to pass it to me, and he excitedly obliged. Of course, that is when the pressure turned on me. What exactly was I going to do with this bottle? With a lot of luck, I was able to step quickly on the neck of the bottle and propel the bottle in the air allowing me to juggle it a few
times. Having gained my new friend's respect, he began showing me
his full reportoire of moves. And while I longed to be able to find a ball for him, I felt good that the power of soccer, even without proper equipment, would draw him to school on a Saturday and provide him the opportunity to receive more education. As I had already taken a brief tour of the surrounding neighborhood, with its tiny one room, tin shanties, with no insulation or chance for electric heaters (the metallic homes had no electricity or plumbing), I knew that while a ball would be nice, education was the key to his bright, bright future.
Because typing is made difficult by the temps, I will end my post there and head off to the warm confines of my shared suite.

Chubbs is introduced to Africa

As you can see, I have been truly partaking in the delicacies of Africa during my stay. From malva pudding, to ting, to samp and peri-peri chicken all washed down with some litchi flavored water. All the food, however, seems to fester in my love handles...well, actually the mid section girth reflects my planning for the temperature drop that occurs here at night. While the sun is strong, the temperatures dip into the 30's and 40's and so I carry in my pockets a Georgetown beanie and a pair of New Orleans saints gloves. I can represent the Fifth ward and 504 wherever I go.



Cheers (hanging with a Brit for too long),

Chubbs

Boom Boom Pow

To all the fathers out there, especially my Dad, Happy Father's Day. To my Dad specifically, I won't be able to make it home today but I am there in spirit and you are with me as well. I love you. However, your day with me will not be too exciting as we will be doing laundry at a laundromat, studying up on my HIV/AIDS facts and reviewing some of the soccer curriculum. Tonight, on the other hand, should be more exciting as we head out to Rustenburg to watch the USA men's soccer team take on The Pharoahs of Egypt. Getting tickets to the game was a bit of a joke. First, we went to the Ticketing Centre at the Loftus stadium here in Pretoria to learn that they don't sell tickets. To buy tickets, one would need to go to the Brooklyn Mall, some 3 miles away. After a nice walk there, we were incredulously told it was sold out. An hour later we bought our tickets. I am finding that my Lafayette luck transcends continents.

One quite stark reality of my stay in Pretoria, truly a nice, neighborly city, is the fact that every house has either barbed wire or an electric fence. Walking in these neighborhoods, there is a constant humming and some loud "pops" emanating from the fences. Additionally, most houses have a guard dog as quiet as Scully, and some of the larger homes have armed guards. That popping sound will constantly remind me of my walks through these neighborhoods and of the harsh realities of life here.

Another reality here is that TV is on its way out of my life. Well, TV variety is leaving. For two nights straight, the options of the three channels included rotating still photos from cities around the world, Gospel Time (a talk show about Gospel music) and the making of The Black Eyed Peas "Boom Boom Pow" video. In an effort to memorize some dance moves to use in our Street Football sessions, we have chosen to focus on Boom Boom Pow. Not sure we are 3008 yet with our moves...but we have lots of swagger. And hopefully the kids will love our self-effacing swagger.

Off to switch the clothes to the dryer,
Christian "not in the basement" Aviza

From cubicle K

Hello all! I am cramped in an internet cafe in Sunnyville, Pretoria (Tshwame) surrounded by 25 young African men and women. The atmosphere feels a bit like a college computer lab, with one old man (me) in the corner. The cost is 6 Rand an hour so I can't beat it.

As an update on my travels, I arrived last Sunday but only one of my two bags made it. Sadly, missing is my 50 lbs. bag of youth uniforms I am taking to Kigoma. SAA is to deliver it to me, but it has been 5 days with no success. I may just give them an address in Tanzania and then I don't have to carry it around with me;)

The weather is quite nice -- 50's and 60's during the day (converted from Celcius - x * 9/5 + 32) with a strong sun, and cool at night (high 30s). We are staying at a Bakpacker's Village and it is quite rustic. At night, I stare up at the thatch roof and feel a breeze through the tent-material wall next to my head. To those who know me well, they know I spent a full New England winter preparing for this, except for the warm showers. Love those old, oil burners! We have befriended some of the Village's staff and are able to talk football (soccer) with most of them. An interesting piece from today's conversation with Mama involved an explanation of where Spain was, what language they spoke, and what Spaniards are like. As background, Spain is playing South Africa in the Confederations Cup here tomorrow night. The question made me appreciate her similar inquisitive nature as through her question I came to realize how little I know about South Africa and the places I am going (Malawi, Tanzania and Zambia), and how many similar questions I ask. They might sound silly to them... I also came to appreciate the resources I have back at home that would allow me to do more research.

As my hour dwindles down here, and as the sun goes down, I need to head back to the village to do some more homework. I will probably dine on some chicken with peri-peri sauce and some samp. If I am lucky, then the local eatery will have some malva pudding. I will be posting a picture soon...

Shahp, shahp,
Christian

I made it!

I have arrived safely in Jozi.

Currently, I am on South African Airways, by the way, a lovely airline, flying over Dakar, Senegal. It is 2:30 a.m. in South Africa and I expect some nasty jet lag when I arrive.

My flight to NYC was uneventful, and my Joburg (named for Jacqueline Oberg) flight so far has been blissful. A delicious chicken dish that came with egg rice. I would give it a name but I am practicing just eating what is offered and not asking questions! My seat companion is a nice South Afican man from Durban, SA. He is a professor at Ohio University who is taking students over to Botswana to work with HIV/AIDS patients. We talked football for a while and then went our separate ways (he found three empty seats to rest on-I way longingly...).

My first real chuckle just arrived so I thought I'd share it while it was fresh. Having finished watching Benjamin Button, I decided to get the blood pumping in the legs, so I walked the plane. Diversity best describes the travelers. African nuns, college students to Brazilian soccer fans. Best of all, no signs of Jack, Kate or Hurley. Having sufficiently, yet inappropriately, finished stretching my legs, I returned to my seat to find an early birthday present. There, slightly moist, yet partially encrusted on the seat cover, were the remains of someone's after dinner chocolate. I touched it, both out of curiosity and concern, to discover it could easily transfer to the backside of a pair of light khaki, convertible pants. However, because these are one of the only two pair of pants I could fit into my backpack for the next six months, I have yet to do a full examination of my backside as I did not want to ruin my positive spirit. It does make me reflect on some of my packing choices, and really leaves me wishing I had packed a Tide-to-go stick. Not only would it have reminded me of two dear friends - Gail and Zwirko - it would have potentially made my entrance into Africa less noticeable. But, alas, I chose that stupid snake bite kit. I do hope, in the end, to regret that decision until December 10 as it will mean I never was snake food.

Jabs and Dreams

Jambo Voluntourists! I hope everyone is as excited as I am to be spending the next six months in Africa. I will do my best to supply photos, tales, thoughts and a few new words during the journey. And, since the preparations have been a big part of my last few weeks, I thought I'd share a bit about them. The first story involves my tackling of the language barrier I knew I would inevitably face in connection with my journey to Africa. I mean, I will be doing some traveling with an Englishman -- Nick Gates of Coaches Across Continents -- and blooming heck if I know what Brits are saying half the time. During one of our initial conversations, he kept telling me to get my jabs, jabs, jabs. Got it. Off to REI in the morning to get those infamous jabs. Then it dawned on me after a few seconds, maybe jabs is an English slang word, maybe meaning shots? But since Nick stressed the critical importance of those jabs, I figured I should just ask him and break down that language barrier. Jabs = Shots. English English language barrier conquered! Swahili, here I come! Of course, here I come with ten new holes in my arm from all the jabs for yellow fever, MMR, rabies, etc.

Not only was I getting shot up in the arms, I was beginning my 7 month cycle of weekly malaria pills, with all of the glorious side effects. When I asked a friend what I realistically could expect, I was told that my dreams would just become more vivid. To me, that didn't sound so bad until he followed that with a statement that the dreams were "not the good kind." That left me speechless.

However, when I wrote the title for this post, I was thinking about other dreams -- childhood dreams (we'll call those the good kind). How do the dreams of my nieces and nephews compare to the children I will meet in Africa? As of right now, I can't honestly say I know but I hope our work will allow at least one African child dream his a little brighter.

Until my next post,
Christian

Thanks and Welcome!

Thanks!  I wanted my first word of my first post to demonstrate my appreciation to the many people who are making this Voluntour possible.  Without you all, I would not be embarking on this amazing journey with Coaches Across Continents.  I hope you all know you will be missed but in my thoughts.  I wanted my 61st word to be Welcome!   Over the next several months we will be experiencing many different situations and locales, so I hope you are prepared.  It is not too late to start training, or at least I keep telling myself that.  Since the countdown of days is into single digits, I best keep this short and get back to preparations.  

Welcome everyone aboard the Africa Voluntour!  

Coach Christian

PS -- If you double-checked my math, then you have to admit it in a comment:)