Hi everyone. Christy and I arrived in Dallas last week Tuesday for a full 5 weeks of vacation here in the States and needless to say we are very excited. This past weekend we spent with Scott and his family at their new lake house on Lake Livingston. Tomorrow we head over to San Antonio to spend time with the Hotard clan before we head south to Puerto Rico for our wedding. Again, we are very excited about that and look forward to seeing those of you who will be able to make it down to celebrate with us.

Anyway, just wanted to say hello quickly and to also let you know that I’ve uploaded some new pictures to my flickr account as you will see to the right. Feel free to peruse and I’ll try to upload more while I have a good internet connection. Cheers for now!

I know it’s been a minute since the last update and for that (as always) I apologize. I actually have been busy over the past few weeks and just have not had the time to think about anything but work and life. However, as Christy sits next to me working on another application letter and I realize I’m wasting time playing Spider Solitaire, it dawned on me to go ahead and give a bit of an update.

I’ve been busy here in Harare for the past few weeks writing proposals, meeting all of the players in the water, sanitation and hygiene sector and generally bringing myself up to speed on ZimAHEADs activities, both current and past. I’ve met some interesting people over the course of the last few weeks, but the most intriguing of all are our new friends who are born and bred in Zim who have been through the worst times and are now wondering just exactly what is going to happen. It’s quite amazing how it wasn’t until Christy and I traveled south to a town called Chiredzi that we realized most people in general throughout Harare have no idea what is still going on in their country. Most of the people we met down there were still fighting for their lives and livelihoods, both in and out of court. Dollarization (yup, that is the official term for adoption of the US dollar as the main currency) has created a sense of euphoria in the capitol as goods are on the shelves and commerce is allowed to flourish, but in fact, the rest of the country is still struggling to make ends meet. It was a sobering trip, that much is for sure, and has given us a new appreciation for the struggles that the normal person here in Zim have to face. This includes ourselves; still without running water, erratic lights and a general sense of instability (work-wise and personally).

Anyway, in an effort to keep this short, I will give a bulleted summary from here forward of some of the highlights from the past few weeks, starting with the big winner:

1. Hit my first animal on the road and to my great pleasure it was a…(drum roll please)… guinea fowl! That’s right, he ran straight out in to the road Saturday late afternoon as Christy and I were coming back from a day trip out to a place called Tanganenga (a rock sculpture art community). I figured that he, like most of his kin before, would immediately dart back across the road. Nope. He kept on running and managed to find the bottom of my rear right wheel. Pay back is sweet! For those of you who don’t know what I’m talking about, ask me again sometime later, but rest assured I am due my vengeance.
2. Whirlwind trip across the South African border to re-up our double entry visa at the beginning of this month found me having to make my first official bribe of a public official. Not my proudest moment, but the situation called for it as there was really no other solution. A lack of information (not having a police clearance to go across for 2 days!), unsympathetic staff at the border, and no time to get said document (our visas were expiring that day) forced my hand. To add insult to injury, we were making good time all day after having already logged something like 600 km on the Beast, arriving at the border well ahead of all the traffic, this short delay forced us to join a queue of about 500 people waiting to enter SA. Lucky for me, I’m technically a resident and could use the short line. Average time spent at the border each time: 4 hours. Time it took to come back across after our 2 day break: 45 minutes!
3. Christy and I were stopped at a police roadblock about 70 kms outside of the town of Mutare and immediately were hassled about the state of our number plate. In Zim, there are three types of number plates: black typeface on yellow background (private vehicles), red typeface on white background (public vehicles – transport), and black typeface on white background (diplomats and government officials). Well, we currently have the last type, but our vehicle is private. This of course has created confusion at the many police roadblocks and this one was no exception. After about 30 minutes of inquiry and a failed phone call to Mutare headquarters, they decided to put their flamboyantly gay comrade in the truck with us to go to police headquarters in Mutare to check whether our vehicle was legal. What an interesting hour drive! OHHKAYEE! In the end, everything was fine and I’m not even sure they checked the legal status of our vehicle. I think they just wanted to give our friend a ride.
4. Made some quick contacts in the development arena and managed to get invited to some parties very early on in our visit. To date we have gone to 3 parties, which is 3 more than we have gone to in the past 2 years! The most recent was with a group of teachers from the international school, whom we met at a recent event for the new US Ambassador to Zimbabwe.
5. Have made some very nice Zimbabwean friends who we have joined for dinner and drinks on a few occasions. In fact, one night Christy and I were so desperate to use a real kitchen that we asked if we could prepare a Mexican night for two couples. We had a wonderful evening and even managed to avoid discussions about politics and the economy for most of the night.
6. The Beast is still limping along with her typical need for maintenance about once a month. While a recent oil leak was repaired this week, it appears that the mechanics managed to mangle her beautiful wench up front! I will be going back to have that fixed, free of charge of course.

That’s really about it. The Jacaranda’s are no longer in bloom, but they have been replaced by their fiery brothers the Flamboyant, with their bright red and orange blooms covering the entire canopy. This country is absolutely beautiful and Christy and I only hope that we will be able to extend our stay beyond these short two months.

After South Africa’s parting shot, I have to say I was quite ready to move on and see what Zimbabwe had to offer. Unfortunately, it took us about 1.5 weeks longer to get here than we had hoped, all due to the time required to replace our stolen items. However, we managed and got on the road heading north from Johannesburg a week ago this past Sunday. It wasn’t all miserable times trying to organize passports, bank cards and credit cards our last two weeks in South Africa, mostly because Christy and I managed to catch up with an old friend of mine from Peace Corps Ghana, Leslie Marbury. She and her husband Tommy were nice enough to open their house to us for a week and what a week it was. Lots of booze and a bit of karaoke. I have to say, it wasn’t as bad as I thought it could be!
But I digress. After a bit of last minute shopping, we hit the long road north to Harare. Not much to report in the Limpopo Province of South Africa, except for the nice mountain range you pass through just north of Louis Trichardt. After that though…desolate semi-desert dotted with beautiful boabob trees that somehow make the scenery more tolerable, mostly because these giants always impress with their beastly trunks. Oh, the addition of a stereo in the Beast over the last month also helped enormously (yes, we are now rocking out in an effort to cover up the loud growl of the Beast). Around 3:30/4pm, we finally hit Bietbridge, the bridge over the Limpopo River that marks the border between South Africa and Zimbabwe. What we thought should be the easy part of the crossing actually ended up taking about 1.5 hours due to the illegal nature of the Beast. When Ant originally brought her across over 7 years ago, she was never officially registered in the system. For that reason, all of the Revenue Service staff got excited because they knew some money was about to change hands. So, we sorted that issue out (thank you replacement debit card!) and actually managed Christy’s ‘lack of a visa’ issue pretty quickly. Thank you friendly Sepedi people! We were on our way, with the sun setting over the Limpopo.
Then the mayhem that is the Zimbabwe border. Lines of trucks and vehicles laden with goods, all trying to cross the border at the same time. Christy was driving at this point because she was the only one with a valid license. So, I left her with the truck and headed up to the border post, where we stood in three different lines, paid three different tellers, shook off the help of one well wisher/helping hand, and somehow managed to get through customs without a single person checking the large amount of bags, boxes and other sundry items in our truck. This was surprising as every other vehicle was completely emptied so as to check their contents. What was immediately apparent on the Zimbabwean side, however, was how friendly and helpful everyone was. It was like heaven compared with the South African’s we were used to dealing with. At the border, where my experience tells me you have to be most careful, we were barely disturbed. In fact, despite the delays associated with a paper-based system and a missing cashier, it was quite a pleasant experience. Not quick though. By 6:30 we were through the gates and considering our continuing drive north. By this time I took over the drivers seat and Christy convinced me to go no further than the heavenly sign of a Holiday Inn Express just across the border, where we showered and slept in comfort before the remaining 6 hours of driving ahead…
Up early for a 7am departure so that we can avoid the complication of arriving in Harare after sunset. Well, it was a good thing we stopped when we did because the roads in Zimbabwe, while not terrible, are not great. Narrow. Bouncy. Lots of animals. Lots of big rigs passing towards the border. Did I mention the narrowness of the roads? This makes the drive more exciting as the big rigs pass. The scenery continued it’s monotony for another 1.5 hours or so – semi-desert, but without the grace of the boabobs. Only a few small towns were passed as it appears that the majority of the land in Southern Zim is ranch land. However, on the horizon we could see some mountains rising to the north. After passing the Runde River, we hit the koppies (rocky outcroppings that dot the landscape) and wished that we only had a bit of extra time to hike around in the mountain bliss. But as quickly as we hit them, we soon left them behind and to the East as we hit the high-grasslands that would soon lead us to Harare. So, after about 4 more hours of monotonous driving (thank you iPod for making that time pass), we hit the outskirts of Harare, never once having to flash a driver’s license. After filling the Beast’s tank (all 70 liters, with some left to spare) and unofficially changing some of our Rand into US dollars, we continued on our way to find Anthony and the ZimbabweAHEAD office. Oh, one note about US dollars at this juncture. You guys remember those $2 bills that we never see anymore in the States (I used to keep two of them in my wallet as a novelty item)? Well, they are all over the place here. Even more…the US Treasury apparently still prints them to date, as the most recent printing I’ve seen is from 2008! Crazy! And yes, it is a bit weird to see US Dollars exchanging hands all over the place and to have to switch back to thinking in dollars.
So…that was the trip to Harare. Very little stress after a very stressful month preparing to leave. We are now here and loving it. Harare is quite a beautiful city, mostly due to the enormous number of Jacaranda Trees that seem to line every single avenue and street here. These are the trees with the amazing purple blooms and we arrived just in time for them. Yes, the city and country as a whole is a bit run down. It actually looks like it was put on pause for 10 years. No war. No destruction. Just a bit run-down, like it needs a paintjob and some new fittings. It was a bit sad to see what used to be highly productive farms around Harare that are now defunct and overgrown. But this country is a far cry from where it was when I visited in November 2007. It’s amazing what a change in currency (and inflation – it was somewhere in the trillions of % earlier this year before the new government finally decided to axe the Zim Dollar) and a few competent people in strategic places can do. This country is well situated for an amazing recover as soon as the politics can sort themselves out. The people are highly educated, very friendly and relaxed and have a good work ethic. It’s really only a matter of time… but I will write more about that at another time. I’ve rambled enough for one night. Hope you enjoy!

Despite our successes with the 9 Community Health Clubs we started training in Umzimkhulu  in January of this year, nobody has yet to come forward to support Africa AHEADs continued efforts in the Sisonke District of KZN. In addition, with our project in Durban only half-way completed, there is unfortunately a severe lack of work for me in South Africa at the moment. Therefore, the decision was made about one month ago that Christy and I should pack up our lives and head up north to assist our sister organization, Zimbabwe AHEAD, in their efforts to break into the mainstream of Zimbabwe’s health and development sector.

After last year’s horrible cholera outbreak, Zimbabwe AHEAD was recognized as one of the leaders in the water, sanitation and hygiene (WASH) sector because of the significant lack of cholera in the areas where it operates. As the cholera outbreak devastated communities without appropriate health and hygiene education, those areas with Health Clubs (even those started over 10 years ago), were taking all of the necessary steps to avoid cholera’s transmission (hand washing, solid waste management, etc). In response, UNICEF and the other international organizations operating in Zim stated their interest in supporting such a successful, indigenous organization. For a variety of reasons, this support has not been forthcoming. One such reason posited by myself and Africa AHEAD’s director’s is Zimbabwe AHEADS lack of, how do I phrase this without upsetting anyone…, a white face. Ok, I just said it, but we believe it is true. Anyway, this is one reason I have been asked to travel north; to assist ZimAHEAD in becoming not just a preferred NGO in the WASH sector, but a leader and innovator who can work independently of the larger, more established international NGOs who, for better or worse, obtain the majority of donor funding in Zim.

To assist ZimAHEAD in reaching this goal, I will be traveling with 14 Nokia cellular phones. These phones will be our first line of offense in this battle. How, you might ask? Well, through an innovative research tool that allows surveys to be conducted via cellular phones and then uploaded directly to a central online database. The Mobile Researcher platform cuts the overall time needed for field-based research in half and when we prove its efficacy in a place as hard pressed as Zim, it is hoped that the Unicef’s, Oxfam’s and other big time players will wake up and take note. As if a successfully demonstrated methodology that stimulates sustainable hygiene behavior change is not enough to impress! As usual, I digress…

The second role I will play is to assist the Program Manager in Zim in obtaining regular and timely support for training new Health Clubs and supporting the health and development endeavors of those clubs previously established. As indicated above, many of the big players in this sector, despite their verbal offerings of support, appear hesitant to put significant support into ZimAHEADs programs. My job will be to keep the pressure on these players and assure them that the provided resources will be utilized appropriately. The hope is that we can break out of the current paradigm where ZimAHEAD is merely a secondary service provider beneath a larger, more established international organization. There is no reason that ZimAHEAD should and could not be a primary provider for Unicef or DFID (UK) or USAID (USA). My goal is to make this vision a reality through proper advocacy and demonstrated efficacy of appropriate monitoring and evaluation.

So, in short, I am heading into ‘Africa’, where the game is different. When I first began working in South Africa I realized immediately that I was working in the idealized state, where government funds and oversees development initiatives (with a little help from foreign donors in our case). At first I thought this would be refreshing…boy was I wrong. Now I’m heading up to Zim where I will no longer have to deal with the headaches of inefficient government. In fact, government might as well not exist at all.  Now it’s back to development as usual and I have to say, I’m interested to be able to make the comparisons. Check back here for my thoughts and muses on these two different systems of implementing health and development in Africa.

As some of you may or may not be aware, Christy and I are currently on our way up to Zimbabwe for work. After successfully completing the project I had been working on for the past year in the Kwa-Zulu Natal Province in South Africa (Umzimkhulu), there were few opportunities available for work in the area. So, as a stop-gap measure, the director’s of Africa AHEAD suggested that we head up to Zim so that I could work with our sister organization there, who is just beginning a new project funded by Oxfam. I will try and provide more information about that at a later date.

Anyway, after spending days packing our house in Ixopo and storing some things with friends and neighbors, we got on the road to Durban to spend the night with friends before heading up to Jo’Burg and then to Zim. Well, if that was not stressful enough, South Africa would not let us leave without one final parting shot. Sunday morning, around 4 am, a group of late night revelers returned to the backpackers where we were staying and forgot to lock the door to the lodge. Apparently someone followed them back to the lodge that morning and broke into the lodge. He got into the room where we were staying and stole Christy’s purse (with wallet and passport), my wallet and both of our cell phones. When he picked up Christy’s toiletry bag, thinking it was a purse, both of us woke up to see him leaving our room. I gave chase, but never saw the guy again. So, we spent the morning talking to the police, canceling all of our debit cards and credit cards and just generally stressing out about how to deal with a move to another country. Adding insult to injury, we both lost our drivers licenses as well, so now we are driving with a police affidavit indicating our licenses were stolen.

Now we are in Jo’Burg picking up the pieces of our lives and hoping we can leave the country later next week after all our local cards are replaced and Christy’s new passport is provided. Life goes on, but not in the manner we had envisioned. I guess South Africa just did not want us to leave quite yet.

So after we get settled into our seats at the back of the plane, Christy and Jason each started crossword puzzles while I gazed out the window sad to leave such a beautiful country behind. As we rumbled down the runway I could feel that anxious excitement about liftoff build inside, which only jumped a little bit when I felt, and heard, the bump on take off. Thinking that I had felt that before, I continued my gazing in hopes of catching the coming Rift Valley lakes. About 20 minutes into the flight, the pilot came on the loudspeaker and announced that we had to return to Addis because of a mechanical malfunction. He said that we were heading straight back there. Well, because I was looking out the window the whole time, I was the first to realize that we began to merely circle Addis at the same altitude instead of descend as the pilot had indicated we would be doing. All the while, Jason and Christy are doing their crossword puzzles, with the occasional look out the window. Finally, after about an hour of circling the pilot slowly started to bring us down and proceeded to fly directly over the airport, but at altitude. It was at this point that I began to get nervous because the pilot was tilting his wings back and forth and the plane was shuddering a bit, but this was nothing compared to the next two passes we made over the airport.

As the pilot was bringing the plane around for another pass, the flight attendants came out into the aisle and began to point out the right side windows at the wing. I thought at first they were locating the airport and wondering, like me, why we still were not on the runway, but then I realized that they were looking at the wing and that there was a bit of nervousness in their eyes. So, we came around over the airport again, but this time much lower. As we go over, the pilot tips his wings back and forth again, which rattles the plane and my nerves. I note that we are in fact very close to the airport now, but still not landing. Can we not land? Is that the mechanical problem? Is our landing gear damaged? The pilot does another quick bank to get us over the airport one last time, but a bit lower. This time there are the plane shudders as it passes right over the airport and now the rest of the passengers begin to wonder aloud just how bad it is. Out the window I see that the emergency vehicles are lining the runway awaiting our arrival…

The pilot takes us up again and by now the airplane is close to panicked. I can see the wonder and fear in everyone’s eyes and hear the prayers from around the plane. As we begin our approach, the pilot finally comes on the loudspeaker, the first time in hours, to tell the flight attendants to prepare for landing. We anxiously await. I’m sweating through my red and white sweater and hoping that I get to go home to. As we get closer and closer, at least it feels a bit better than the last few runs, but we just don’t know…and then we’re on the ground, safely, without problem and the plane erupts in cheers. I reach over and steal a kiss from Christy…ah, don’t tell Jason. As we slowly come to a stop, the emergency vehicles pull up alongside and get their hoses ready. That’s when we see the smoke coming up from beneath the plane. Why don’t they let us off, I asked. Nobody knew. The firemen get their hoses out and spray underneath the plane. One of them even gave me a thumbs up, which helped calm me down a bit, but I still wanted off that plane. Before we get a chance to get off the plane, the Nigerian gentleman sitting next to Jason crosses himself a few times and whispers something to him about being able to see his son again. Geeze. Did that really happen? After another 30 minutes or so, they finally opened up the doors and let us get off onto shuttles. It was then that we saw the back, inside tire. Torn to shreds. Crazy…but it wasn’t until after the free beers and a cigarette or two (don’t tell mom), that we got the full story.

Apparently we did hit something on take off and that was the bump and bang we heard. However, the pilot apparently did not know and it was the tower that called up to him after takeoff to ask if he left his tire behind. Whatever we hit not only popped the tire, but was kicked up into the fuselage, causing a fuel and hydraulic fluid leak. So, that is why we circled for 1 hour. We were dumping our fuel for our landing. And that’s why we did three fly over’s. The tower was inspecting the damage to assess our landing. In the end, the pilot did an amazing job of getting us down without blowing us up.

Recently Christy I had the opportunity to travel to Ethiopia; me for work and Christy for pleasure. I was attending my first international water and sanitation conference, which was great, so that I could present my first peer-reviewed paper, which I thought went very well. It definitely helped me in my advocacy efforts! This year’s Water and Engineering in Development Conference (WEDC) was held at the UN Conference center in Addis Ababa. This is a beautiful center, except for the sweat box of a room that I presented in on the first day. They of course moved that ‘group’ down to a larger, more formal room (which is nice with their long tables, each with a microphone and a earpiece for translations – no, we were not that fancy, but it did help for those close talkers that presented), but it made the room I presented in feel like it was packed with people. A bit intimidating, but you know me, I’m a talker! Afterward I got a few nice compliments about my ‘facilitators’ style of presenting, which believe you-me was not common the rest of the week.

Anyway, I met some interesting people throughout the week, including one guy that is currently implementing CHCs in Ethiopia and another that knows about the CHCs in Sierra Leone (he’s from Oxfam, which I think is pretty cool – particularly because he poached the woman from CARE who started the CHC project there!). I also made some important contacts, I hope, that could help get myself some more work. In between all of this, Christy and I managed to see most of Addis (she did a whole lot more of course), including a crash into Mercato, the largest market in Africa. This is the only place in Addis where everyone is warned to be careful, including Ethiopians. Dee and I actually got pick-pocketed twice within a 5 minute period in that area 6 years ago. Anyway, we ducked in with the driver we hired for the day before we left to pick up a few items and made it out unscathed. It definitely helped having someone to ask where we needed to go because Christy and I probably would have wandered around for hours or been pick-pocketed poor before we found what we wanted. The place is huge.

Oh yeah…the food. Yummy! We ate Ethiopian every night except for one (a story for another time, but rest assured it was a pretty miserable night for the water to stop). I think I was ready for a change by the time we left, but I already miss tibs and njeera. I’m told I can find some here in South Africa, so hopefully we’ll get our fix again soon.

So, we get to the airport with plenty of time and actually realize that we have money left over that we have not changed yet. So, we do a bit more shopping and by the time we finish, our flight is boarding.

Hey! Who? What…are you doing here Flat Stanely?

You want to tell this part of the story? Oh, ok. I guess you havn’t had your chance to tell it yet. Ok ladies and gentlemen, from this point forward, I’m going to let Flat Stanely take over. You’re in for a real treat!

My apologies to all of my dedicated readers who have probably wondered if I stepped off the face of the earth for the past 7 months. My absence on this blog can be boiled down to one, simple word: laziness. I have no real excuse (other than work and a host of American TV shows Christy and I recently got our hands on) and because I was reprimanded by people I had no idea were reading this blog while I was home recently, I feel I owe it to those dedicate few to revive my story telling and punditry again. So, prepare yourself, here we go again!

Before I start this story, I want to say three things. First, Mom & Dad, cover your ears. Second, I will attempt to tell the whole truth and nothing but the truth, but because this story took place late at night at a Reggae bar, my memory is a bit hazy. Therefore, all quotes are of course filtered through my own memory and perceptions and should not be considered the actual conversation that took place. Third, despite the second point, I was fully aware of the situation I was in, but was unable to extract myself. Ok, here we go!

This past Friday I drove through to Durban to meet Jamie and Justin, two South African RPCVs from Christy’s group, for a night on the town and a morning at the beach before they left for the States.  Upon arrival at the backpackers, Justin and I headed up to the rooftop bar for a couple of beers while Jamie cleaned up. As we were enjoying the balmy weather, our conversation moved around a bit before settling on quite morbid topics, instigated by a story I was just told about a couple of murders that took place in a rural community in Umzimkhulu where I work. We talked at length about the risks of living in Africa, particularly while driving or during a night on the town. It was at that point that I mentioned that I believe all expatriates have at least one car crash story and probably multiple stories about crime/violence. I only raise this point to highlight the irony of the situation I was to face later that evening.  Anyway, after bar hopping along the wharf for a couple of hours, we decided that before heading home (it was around midnight at this point) it was time to check out Cool Runnings, one of a few bars located downtown that just happens to be a Reggae bar.

After refusing to get in the first cab because of the inflated price, we finally found a cab for the right price and pulled up to a mass of humanity spilling out of what looks like a dive from the outside. We were immediately welcomed by the pungent smell of marijuana and men selling loose joints. So we pushed our way into the tiny pub, ordered a few beers and began dancing to Burning Spear.  It was at that point that we made our first friends for the evening, a pair of ladies who were also feeling the vibes and decided to start dancing with us. After a bit I excused myself to take a call from Puerto Rico (Christy, Nita and my mom are there making wedding plans) and when I returned I was given a new beer by our new friends, who proceeded to scold me for not telling them where I went. By now we too had spilled outside for some fresh air where we made a few more friends. Little did I know one guy was listening in on my conversation with one of my new friends about American politics.

At a lull in the conversation I felt a tug on my sleeve and was greeted by a large colored man with a shaved head and round facial features. Of course I turned, thinking I was making a new friend, but little did I know this guy had other plans. He started off sharing how he’s interested in America and always likes to talk with Americans. After making small talk about America – ‘Not all white men can be from Dallas’ – and about the work I was doing in South Africa – ‘I’m sure that you’re not helping those people at all’ – my new friend started to become less friendly. It should also be noted that he never really let me finish a sentence, rather choosing to cut me off and start in on the next topic halfway through my responses to his questions. Anyway, since we were now on the topic of careers, he decided to discuss his current situation in life. ‘You know, I run these streets. The streets here in Durban are mine. Like for instance, this street here where you’re standing, it’s mine. The problem is, we have to deal with these damn Nigerians now. But I know how to do that (his hand then shot into his black leather jacket a couple of times like he was going for a gun). You know, like some gangsta shit. But coming from America you know how that goes. I figured that you being American and all, you were coming here with some new shit that I’ve never seen or heard of before. [Long stare] But these streets, their mine. [Long stare]  I don’t think you know what I’m talking about.’ I reassured him that I was fully aware of what he was talking about, but as he continued on, in a much more sinister way, he kept repeating that I just did not understand what he was talking about (with me reassuring him at each point) and he might have put his hand in his jacket again for effect.

As I mentioned at the start, I was now fully aware of the situation that I was in, but honestly had no idea how to remove myself. How do you end a conversation with a guy who is clearly much stronger than you and is trying to intimidate you or even thinking of other, worse things? I thought of trying to call Justin over, but what good would that have done?  So, I kept at it, trying to act calm and keeping a keen eye on my new friend as well as the contents of my own pockets. Finally, after a few more minutes of very uncomfortable conversation that revolved around his owning the streets and long stares, he inquired as to what I was drinking. I showed him my bottle of Hansa and he again became aggressive, asking why I was drinking that and not Black Label (another beer that has a bit more of a kick to it). He then invited me to buy him a drink, which I happily agreed to, thinking this would help diffuse the situation. Honestly, the only thing I remember thinking was that if I could just continue talking with him and steer the conversation back to more mundane topics, this whole situation could end or I could finally get myself back to the safety of my group.

Well, as we went inside, I asked Justin if he wanted another, to which he signaled yes. I tried to get his attention and have him come in with me, but apparently my signals were not clear or the late hour had really numbed our senses. Either way, I went in alone, thinking that this was a safe place with plenty of people around. He asked what I wanted and told him that we should just get three Black Labels. He then said he wanted something else and that he would get the drinks. Unfortunately I only hade a R100 bill at that point so I gave it to him. I was now thinking two things: 1) he’ll buy the drinks and we’ll continue running around in circles until I can extract myself or 2) he’ll take the money and this will all hopefully be over.  He took the money. As luck would have it, I ran into one of our girlfriends from earlier in the night that was there with her German fiancé. As I struck up a conversation with him, I stopped paying attention to my gangsta friend, hoping that this would just end. After 10 minutes and no drinks, I decided it was safe enough and bought a round for my German friend, Justin and myself.

I stayed inside for a bit talking with Mike (I think) and then dropped Justin’s beer outside thinking it was finally over. Almost. As I continued my conversation with Mike (a full 20 – 30 minutes later I would guess) I happened to look up into the taxi that had been sitting in the street for awhile and what did I see, but a round, pale colored face partially hiding below the drivers window. I cannot confirm that this was my gangsta friend, but the fact that this person stared at me for a good 2 minutes led me to believe it was him. I then decided to avoid further eye contact and after another minute he finally started his taxi, picking up a few people down the street before driving off into the night.  I finally got around to telling Justin to look out for a tall, strong, colored man and that if he did see him, to give me a heads up because I was ready at that point to get the f*** out of there if he showed his face again. Luckily for me, he never returned.

So, I was hustled. I was shaken down. I was intimated. While I am personally a bit embarrassed that I basically gave this guy R100 (~$10), I believe that I got out of that situation cheap. I still have no idea what he really wanted, but this was the most uncomfortable experience I’ve been in here in South Africa and in the rest of Africa for that matter. Well, at least since my late night run in with a police officer in Ghana about 4 weeks after arriving there as a PCV, who, while pointing his most likely unloaded AK-47 (I did not know that police were not given bullets at that time) at my face, told me to get off the public phone with my mom in Dallas because I was using illegal numbers to call overseas. When I could laugh at this latest situation a bit later on the drive back to the backpackers, Justin asked as we walked into the building, ’so, do you think that counts as your one?’ I sure hope so.

This year for Thanksgiving, a group of Americans (mostly PC South Africa) converged outside of St. Lucia on the north coast of South Africa at a villa built and owned by the Italian Embassy (I believe). At the moment this villa is being rented out to a John’s Hopkins HIV/AIDS project that a few PCVs are currently working with and the project directors agreed that we could use this location for our Thanksgiving weekend. Well, this villa, which easily slept the 15 or 17 people that attended, is sprawled over a hillside overlooking sugarcane fields and surrounded by some of the most beautiful Flamboyant trees (beautiful red blooms). But it was not the location and surroundings that stood out. In fact, it was the design of the house itself. At the end of the ‘grand tour’ we were given upon arrival we were brought into the living room/TV room. It was then that I realized where we were. A Stanley Kubrick film! The solid pastel wall colors, indoor columns and archways, large fireplace, and long, winding hallways are classic Kubrick and around every turn I expected to see the twins from The Shining waiting to make me a permanent resident.  When I wasn’t relaxing poolside or preparing the stuffing for our Thanksgiving feast, I spent a glorious work-free weekend in an alcoholic stupor. While our meal turned out delicious, I also was finally able to see Obama’s election-night speech (amazing and uplifting), visit a beautiful beach at Cape Vidal and finally see a black rhino, which to that day had eluded me on all of my previous game drives. All in all, a wonderful weekend and to this day, I still give thanks that we must have been in one of Kubrick’s lost comedies!