The Lady of Limpopo

The story of how that “pivotal moment” finally came goes back to the previously mentioned evening in Pretoria...sometime in the middle of the two weeks I spent sitting around there. It was one of those days on which there was a mixed bag of volunteers staying at the guest house (PCVs generally tend to frequent the same accommodations throughout their service. A note to my South African friends running hospitality businesses: win over a few PCVs to your establishment and you’ve given yourself a gift that just keeps giving. Once it catches on, more PVCs from that group will start coming, as well as subsequent groups that find out via word of mouth…it’s not a bad business strategy…continuing…) On said night a group of us went out to one of our favorite local establishments to have a few drinks and chat it up. Amongst the group was a wonderful young lady id only just met…ill call her Mel. Mel was of one of those “older generation” PCVs who was just about to finish her service and head back to the US. She’d been going through all those “close of service” (COS) motions and it was an emotional time for her and the others of her generation. As we sat over our wine she began to tell me about her village and the worked she’d done…as well as the work she’d started and hadn’t finished. As she was talking I started having a really strange sort of feeling…I suppose it was like a premonition or some kind of divine hint that this was more than just another great PCV story. I listened with great interest as she went on about how she’d started organizing a library at the high school there. Funds had been raised and payments made for a shipment of books from a donor organization in the US. They were poised to receive enough books to make for a respectable collection. Yet here she sat, suddenly in the middle of her COS. The clock had run out on her. The books were to arrive sometime in the near future, but who could manage their delivery now?  What would happen with them? It was like watching a dream die…all her hard work and planning gone to waste. I could see the pain in her face as she explained.

 It was at that point that something clicked inside me. I became certain…this was not just a chance meet like any other—neither was it just another evening out for drinks. No indeed! This was none other than providence at work. How else could it be that the two of our paths had crossed at that particular juncture? And how indeed did it come to be that in so large a crowd I happened to sit across from her at the table? One may never know. All I know is that it fit like a glove. Me, there with my sorrow at being ripped away from my old community and all the preparatory work I’d done—including preparations for a library at the high school, which lay a ruinous ash heap at that very moment (just like all my aspirations for that village)—and she, with all her regret over the very same work that now would be left desolate. I looked at her over my wine glass, my eyes widening with amazement. She caught my gaze and instantly knew what I was thinking. “Hey! Maybe you should come work at my site when I leave!” I agreed heartily “Absolutely!” The rush of excitement between us was palpable. We both vowed to contact our supervisor about it and see whether or not it was a real possibility. I had no idea what her site was like. I knew only that it was in Limpopo province somewhere near Tzaneen, but my heart had instantly latched on to the idea. Somehow I just knew it was right. We wasted no time in contacting our Peace Corps supervisor about the prospect the very next day. I’m not sure how long I would have been stuck in limbo otherwise. Perhaps two more months would have gone by before a new placement was found for me. But as it was, God intervened to do the work the Peace Corps was too preoccupied to do.  

Over the next few weeks my supervisor as well as Mel herself worked together over the next few weeks to seal the deal. Naturally there were a lot of organizational details that had to be sorted out before I could actually move in. Housing with a family had to be arranged and approved of…the school(s) had to agree to have me, the Department of Education in Limpopo had to agree to host me…and of course, as is common here in South Africa, every person in that department with a shred of say on the matter had to say their piece twice over before anything could happen. This latter detail inevitably led to some being jerked around emotionally for me. There were a few days of tension in which the department tried to insist on putting me at a location of their choice, rather than in Lorraine ga Sekororo, where Mel had been serving—even though all the preliminary details had already been worked out.  This provided a good dose of frustration for all of us on the Peace Corps side. In the end, however, providence reigned and on a sunny day of late September I was on my way from the capital to the Kalahari to get my things and move clear across the country to the heart of Limpopo…the country’s fruit capital…in every way the opposite of everything I’d known in Bona Bona.

Saying good bye to my family and friends there was a painful ordeal. It was hasty and sloppy. The Peace Corps driver tasked with chauffeuring me (who I’ll call Charlie) did his best to entertain me on the hours long drive from the capital. He was great company indeed. On the way, we stopped to pick up another volunteer (Kay, as I will call him) who had been my closest neighbor. He’d offered to help me with the move. It was time to rip off the band aid. We had set out around 6am and arrived at Bona Bona around one. It was such a strange feeling being back after such a long absence. The familiar faces of my neighbors and students could be seen milling about the school yard and down the sandy road towards my old home. My chest tightened when we drove through the gate into my Host family’s yard. I had seen my mama in two whole months and hadn’t been able to speak to her at well. I nearly cried when I saw her sweet round face looking up at me from her petite frame. She was so glad to see me. She asked me what was happening and if I was going to stay. I tried in very broken Setswana to explain that I couldn’t…that I had to leave. I was sure she was very confused. Charlie tried to explain more fully in Setswana. She simply nodded and didn’t say much. I could tell, however, that she was disappointed. I unlocked the door to my small brick house and Charlie, Kay and I entered. I had to be fast. Lingering would only make it worse—beside which, time was of the essence. We had to drive back down to Vryburg before it got too late. I rushed to pack clothes and other essential belongings and speedily rake through the other items for anything thing that might be of secondary importance. 

It was a great help and comfort to have Kay along. He was quick and smart about packing and kept me moving when I inclined towards emotional paralysis. I no more than an hour the deed was done, the truck was loaded, and I had a few minutes to exhale. I have never been good with long good byes. So after presenting some small gifts to my host mom and her daughter in law and grandchild; and after taking a few more pictures with my family I quickly said goodbye and was whisked away. I felt numb inside. I managed to stop briefly at the primary school to say goodbye to the teachers there. When I arrived some of the high school students were there taking and exam so I peeked in to say goodbye…somehow that goodbye hurt the most…to see their excited faces when I came in followed by the pain and confusion as I explained that I wouldn’t be coming back. My last stop in the village was to see what was left of the high school. It was really eerie….the school yard almost seemed post-apocalyptic. All that remained were hollow shells of the buildings; strewn inside were corroded and caved in slabs of metal that once were the roof, atop the ashy carcasses of tables, chairs and metal filing cabinets. It looked very much the way I felt at that point in time. All the way back down that bumpy 25k of gravel road (which was at fault for all this mess) I couldn’t stop thinking about that scene.