Soweto

Today Karen, Kandace and I had volunteer’s day off and took the opportunity to go with Delia and Mr. T to Soweto, which is only around 30 minutes away from us. Delia is one of the local volunteers who comes multiple times a week after work to visit and play with the babies (I blogged a picture of her here). She is hands down one of the sweetest, kindest people I have ever met. Delia drives us around everywhere, picking us up from grocery shopping, taking us to a restaurant, driving us to the mall, the airport, on outings, etc. She’s one of our best friends here. Mr. T, the janitor/maintenance man at the school Delia is a teacher for grew up in Soweto and came with us to act as an informal tour guide. He was extremely informative and was able to talk to people as they passed us and remarked (in Zulu) about our white-ness.

Soweto is rich with history. To give the brief backround, Soweto is an urban area of the city of Johannesburg, standing for South Western Townships. Soweto became a hub of mass protest during Apartheid, (when the Afrikan-er dominated National Party began to implement a system of racial segregation) over the government’s policy to inforce education in Afrikaan’s rather than English. 15,000 students marched through the city and police opened fire. Then Nelson Mandela came in, changing the city forever by helping to end Apartheid.

I really appreciated the opportunity to come here, eat at “Mandela Family Restaurant”, go inside Mandela’s house, and even see some donkeys in traffic.

(Here we are in Maponya Mall, where we drank some Mc Donald's coffee and enjoyed look at the interesting African fashions.)

We walked around Regina Mundi Catholic church, where thousands of people packed themselves in during the uprising, and shot at by police as they exited.


Creeping on the taxi's which are the most ridiculous, dangerous vehicles I've ever seen.

There are 6 (or 7? I forget) “zones”, each representing a different tribe or language like Setswana, Xhosa, or Zulu. Mr. T directed us through the different sections and showed us his old house, then figured we could just stop in to see his granny! She gave us hugs and blessed us when we came in, and we had a lovely talk with Mr. T translating. She lives in a 3 room house, but despite being so small and surrounded by other dirty homes, it was remarkably clean and beautiful.


Outside of Granny's house we met "Billy Bob". I don't know much about him besides the fact his liquor was nearly empty, and it showed.
(Mr. T said it would be safe to take this picture. But when the men started pointing and yelling "camera! camera!" and walking around the cart, we left in a hurry. Still worth it. ;))

A friendly confrontation with a traditional Zulu warrior (but are those really weapons?) who invited us to take a picture.

Anecdotes From The Toddler Room

How many people does it take to pull a plastic training potty off a little girl’s big booty? In case you’re wondering, three. Three people.

Yesterday we were happily eating lunch outside and I looked over to see little Z with a potty around her waist, the plastic bottom taken out and legs through the hole, seeming to have gotten it up without any problems and proud of her new accessory. She walked around in it for a few minutes, and then we tried to wriggle it off. It would. not. budge. The auntie’s exclaimed, “Ach, Z! Your big bums!” Z ended up lying across one of the auntie’s laps, with another auntie trying to pull her out, as I tried to pull the potty off from behind. If I’m being honest, a mental image of me sawing the potty off of her flashed through my mind in the middle of the ordeal. With the three of us pulling her and the potty, and pushing her thighs through bit by bit, we were finally able to get her out. Z won’t be doing that again anytime soon, I assure you.

While working in the toddler department, this kind of excitement happens every day. Really, if it wasn’t for the comic relief I might sit on the floor and cry with them. Except one time I slipped in a puddle of snot on the floor, and I still haven’t recovered. The toddler floor isn’t really my chill spot.

I get up for work at 6:00 am, start at 7:00am, and end at 6:00 pm. There are twelve 1 to 2 year olds, and let me tell you, it is the most energetic room in the building. Each day, I leave covered in sweet potatoes, snot, drool, juice, yogurt, and whatever else the kids manage to wipe on.  I leave exhausted and I look like a mess. I leave waving back at them as they stand at the window and say, “bye auntie! bye auntie!”, watching me walk into my house. I leave remembering all the snuggles we’ve had, the kisses they’ve given me, the memories we’ve made, songs we’ve sung, and I leave feeling completely covered in love.

At this age, they develop such a strong, memorable bond with each other and us aunties. I can hear them chattering to each other in their beds through the wall when I get up in the morning. They share with each other, fight with each other. The older kids take care of the younger ones (for the most part), and kiss them many times a day. They teach each other their own unique dance moves, and sing songs together when the radio isn’t working. The other day I looked over to see them sitting on the couch with one calling out, “HALLELU!” and the rest answering, “YAAAAAH.” Then they all clapped their hands and chanted, “JeSUS, JeSUS, JeSUS, JeSUS!” and started the anthem over again. These are the moments that will be forever fastened to my heart.