Fall 2007

The School was in Africa for Fall 2007

Africa 2007

Trip Reports
October 2, 2007- From Claire Hirschmann
October 6, 2007 - From Claire
October 15, 2007 - Meeting Nelson Mandela- From Claire
October 25, 2007 - From Claire
November 4, 2007 - From Clare

November 19, 2007 - From Claire

December 17, 2007 - From Claire

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October 2, 2007

Finally, working internet!

I write to you from Eshowe, South Africa, in the heart of Zululand, where we have (at last) found computers, a phone, and other such delights.  I'm sorry you haven't heard from me until now, but we seem to have been thwarted at every stop in our quest to find consistently-working internet.  But.  Here we are, and so now I write.

It seems like so long ago that we arrived in Waterval Boven (just shy of a month!) -- trying to recount everything that has happened since is a daunting task -- I know that Whitney has done a great job keeping you informed of our comings and goings, so I'll just try to fill in the colorful details along the way.

We spent our first two weeks in Waterval Boven, which is reputed to be the best climbing in South Africa (some might even say all of Southern Africa, if not the entire continent).  All of the girls climbed at least three times, and some prided themselves on conquering every route we set. While we were there, we also biked around the township (and saw an impressive collection of steam engines), rappelled beside a thundering waterfall, visited a local township school (and lauded them with such gems as "Ain't No Mountain High Enough", "My Girl," "Build Me Up Buttercup," and other such tunes), ate indescribably delicious roasted chicken, and befriended many of the local shop owners.

And then our truck arrived!  It is large, beige, holds all 17 of us (plus our two new best friends, driver Japhet and cook Peter), and manages to get itself into the most unfathomable parking spaces.  We packed all of our bags, shoved them into the truck, and loaded ourselves into our new home.

Feeling like we were leaving old friends (especially our incredible guides, Gustav, Morris, Thulani, and Mandla), we said goodbye ("Totsiens", in Afrikaans) to Waterval Boven, and departed for the next stop on our adventure: the safari mecca of South Africa, Kruger Park.  We spent about three days in Kruger, daily taking advantage of the incredible wildlife sighting in the area (we saw, among other things, giraffes, hippos, elephants, impala, cape buffalo, a LEOPARD -- very rare -- and a lion devouring an impala).  The girls were all floored by the immediacy of the animals ("There's a giraffe RIGHT outside the window!") and the beauty of the various ecosystems of the area.

We left Kruger and stopped off at Mohloholo Wildlife Preserve, where we fed vultures peices of raw elephant, came within two feet (or closer) of a baby rhino, stared in awe at lions, cheetah, wild dogs, and a prowling leopard, and learned about the different aspects of wildlife conservation and land use in South Africa.

Our next stop was Dundee, where we had our first Study Day/Rest Day (read: sleep in and get caught up on work), celebrated our first trip birthday (Happy 16th, Mattie!), and began an epic ping-pong doubles tournament.  From Dundee, we went to the Battle of Blood River Monument, which is a history teacher's dream come true.  The Battle of Blood River was the 1838 encounter between the Voortrekkers (similar to the Pioneers of the US) and the Zulu.  At the battle site there are now two musuems (one from the Voortrekker perspective, one from the Zulu) and 64 life-sized bronzed covered wagons.  We arrived around noon, visited both museums, and then settled into a sheltered room to plan.  The girls took over, kicked the teachers out of the room, and spent two hours planning an elaborate rewriting of history: they adopted Zulu personas, the teachers were the Voortrekkers, and they challenged us to a stand-off at dawn the next morning.  We teachers snuck out at 5:00 in the morning and, armed with water balloons and sleeping bags (Africa is colder than expected!), layed in wait (in the covered wagons) for the Zulu to approach.  Then proceeded a monumental reenactment in which the girls used the innovative Zulu attack strategy and, reversing history, broke their way into the wagons and managed to get Dawn wet.  Quite the event.

We then reloaded ourselves into our truck and set off to explore the Drakensberg Mountains...or that was the plan.  We arrived at our campground on a glorious with full views of the majestic peaks that surrounded us.  We awoke the next morning to rain.  Rain, rain, and more rain.  So.  We postponed our backpacking trip, settled in to watch some African-themed movies, and waited for the rain to end.  It didn't.  Well, not entirely.  On Friday morning, half way through History class, we realized that we had a clear day, and it was imperative that we follow what has become the motto of the trip: "Carpe Diem".  So we did just that: cut history short, frantically stuffed our daypacks, and departed for the breathtaking hike around what is known as the Ampitheatre.  We ascended a steep gully, sat in awe at the sheer mountains, and descended using metal ladders.  A spontaneous, perfect day.

We had then planned to do a two-night backpacking trip around Cathedral Peak...but, you guessed it: rain with chances of thunderstorms.  So much for the backpacking trip.  Instead, we held a talent show, which, though not as physically-challenging, was equally as exciting (Jacie's impersonations of the rest of us was definitely the show-stopper...).

And now we're here in (currently cloudy) Eshowe.  We're planning several different cultural experiences: everything from a tour of the town to a visit to an orphanage to watching a traditional Zulu ceremony; the girls are ecstatic about everything that's coming.

And on that note, I am just incredibly impressed by this group: the girls are flexible, constantly enthusiastic, eager to interact with the people we meet, curious about the world through which we travel, supportive of each other, and anxious to make a difference somewhere and somehow.  We teachers all feel incredibly inspired and honored to be leading the girls through this experience: the delight on their faces as they make connections between classes or have a new realization is what it's all about.

To give you a brief description of the girls on the trip:

JUSTINE is a warm, reflective, and insightful senior from California who constantly looks well-dressed and put-together (despite living, like the rest of us, out of one backpack), and whose comments in class consistently offer new perspectives on topics we discuss.

CHRISTINE is a senior from Michigan and on her second semester at the Traveling School; because of her experience from last semester, her innate curiosity, and her intellectual drive, she is proving to be a natural leader among the girls.

KELSEY is a senior from New York who earned the nickname "TrailBlazer" on one of our hikes outside Waterval Boven.  She guided us through some tricky route-finding with ease and enthusiasm: her exuberance throughout this trip has proven necessary motivation for the group.

EMILY is a driven and eager senior from Washington state who won our first African Queen award for her clear desire to get to know our climbing guides in Waterval Boven.  She continually asks the people we encounter insightful and intelligent questions about their families, their living situations, and the areas in which they live.

CHARLOTTE is a clever and creative senior from Montana who constantly entertains the group with her witty and ingenious observations.  She balances a feirce creativity with a deep perception: the rest of the group revels in her celebrity impersonations and her rewriting of various popular songs.

HEATHER is a vibrant and engaged junior from Montana whose passion for the connections between our classes inspired her to volunteer to lead one of our Gobal Studies classes -- the rest of the girls were awed by her spirit and motivation.

LAURA is a warm, smiling, and beautiful junior from Montana whose brilliant grin never fails to lighten the group, and whose air-drumming skills at the talent show brought down the house.
BRIELLE is a bubbly and intelligent junior from New York whose exuberance and excitement motivates the whole group to be equally bright.  Along with this exuberance, she has a serious and insightful side that reveals deep reflections into and considerations of the topics we discuss both in and out of class.

RACHAEL is an insightful and helpful junior from Montana.  This is her second semester with the Traveling School and, now that she's figured out the program, she shares her knowledge and information readily with the rest of the girls, frequently offering to help others with things she has already finished.  She makes perceptive comments in class and frequently surprises the group with her spontaneous and excited thoughts (and her enthusiasm for yoga!).

MATTIE is a sparkling and chill sophomore from Montana who, after receiving a gift of "Rock Princess" shades and beads, wore her new accessories constantly for a week.  She is perceptive, intelligent, and considerate of the needs and feelings of the girls around her.

JACIE is a lively and talented sophomore from North Carolina whose previously mentioned impersonations left the whole group laughing hysterically.  Jacie also frequently blesses us with her voice: she is the lead off in our "Ain't No Mountain High" routine, and it's gorgeous.  Trust me on this one.

JENNA is a quiet and engaged sophomore from Washington state who happily surprises us with incredible stories of her travels, her dogs, ghosts, and other miscellany that she finds.  Her smile lights up her face and infects those around her.

LISA is an outgoing and adventerous sophomore from Montana whose laugh fills the truck.  She is eager about everthing: learning, playing, laughing, meeting people, and otherwise enjoying every aspect of this trip.

And there they are; our girls.

I plan to write more and send more pictures soon -- I realize that I haven't even gotten into what we're doing in the most important part of this trip: classes!  I'm going to send an update on that part of it tonight or tomorrow, but I wanted to get something out to everyone, just so you know we're all here and happy.

Off to explore Zululand!

Your South African correspondent,

Claire Hirschmann
Academic Program Director
History and English teacher

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October 6, 2007

Me again.  I promised you an update on our classes, and I am here to deliver.  (We're leaving for a traditional Zulu wedding in a few minutes, so this may be short -- how great is it that THAT is my excuse for brevity?)

I could talk ad nauseum about what we're doing in History, but I'll try not to.  We are simultaneously working our way through the book My Traitor's Heart (by Rian Malan), which is a white South African's account of his country -- it starts discussing basic South African history, but focuses most on the chaos in the 1970s and 1980s.  The book is a fantastic entry to the big questions about race, equality, and morality; thus far we have started hammering out such topics as, "Why do humans become violent, and what breeds hate?" and "Can we judge the actions people from a different era?"  The girls are insightful and eager to discuss these themes; it is such a pleasure to facilitate the conversations.  We're also working our way through the basics of South African history (lecturing is probably one of my favorite things to do around here, but they all seem into it) -- we've gone from the first native settlers of South Africa (about 30,000 years ago) and finished this morning's class talking about gold, diamonds, (bling), and the mineral revolution of the late 1800s.  The girls begged to go to the local museum (really -- they begged), so we're going to try to make that happen.

In Literature, we're just finishing Alan Paton's classic Cry, the Beloved Country, which tells the story of an old Zulu preacher's search for his son in urban Johannesburg, in the era just before the legalization of apartheid.  The novel was incredibly prescient (it was written before apartheid began) with its analysis of what South Africa was and would become.  The girls are also finishing their second draft of their first big writing assignment: a descriptive of an object or place that is important to them.  It's been a joy to look over their first drafts -- these girls are remarkably talented writers and are able to convey emotion and insight with their writing.  I'm also going over words of the day with them, and the girls now (already) have phenomenal vocabularies.  A sample of quotations from the girls thus far, "Arg, this is such nefarious homework," "Our method of drying dishes is antediluvian," and "I don't know how to describe it -- the visit to the orphanage was ineffable."  Positively heartwarming to hear those words popping out all around me!

As far as science goes, when we started our tour through Kruger Park, the girls were spectacular observers -- they constantly spotted the hard-to-find creatures hiding in the African Savannah (giraffes can be surprisingly camouflaged), and kept detailed records of all the animals we saw.  The girls just finished studying climate and the world's biomes (especially as they relate to the places where we've traveled).  They are now embarking on their midterm project to create their own nature park (imaginary or real), where they will have to decide everything from the park's board of directors to the animals endemic to their region to the use of natural resources within the park.  They are all pulsing with creative ideas of the inhabitants of their park (pygmies have been mentioned, as has a board of ninjas).

In Algebra 2, the girls are studying inverse functions, special functions, and are about to move to transformations.  They are also keeping a weekly budget to monitor the spending.  The class is a small one, which means the girls get a lot of attention, and are also able to make the class what they want it, which turns out to be quite exciting, at times.

In Math Applications, the girls are beginning what we like to call the Game of Life.  Each has adopted a new persona, complete with name, occupation, location, marital status, and number of children, and are now responsible for researching their characters.  They are writing cover letters for job applications, creating resumes, and preparing for mock-interviews.  They're incredibly excited about the task and finding out about various sectors of society.  They have prepared for the Game of Life (and life in general) by studying credit cards, mortgage loans, and mutual funds.  (It's the kind of class that I always want to sit in on, just to make sure that I know everything about life that I should...)

The girls are finishing studying the Zulu language, and will soon be moving onto the click-filled Xhosa.  When we were in Waterval Boven and Kruger Park, they focused on Afrikaans, and the girls are now in the process of completing children's books in Afrikaans.  Their vocabularies are impressive;  they are constantly willing to try new words and phrases with the people we meet -- "Sawubona" is the Swazi and Zulu greeting for hello, and we say it everywhere, much to the excitement of the people we greet.  The girls keep a weekly language journal in which they record all the new words they learn -- thus far, they have extremely impressive lists.

In Travel Journalism, the girls have finished talking about the qualities of taking a good picture -- they studied symmetry, the rule of thirds, and other aspects of composition.  They have also spent time working on writing composition, focusing especially on writing organization and transitions.  They are in the process of sending out their first articles about a specific day on the trip, so you should be receiving them shortly.  They are going to be starting their next article.  It's wonderful to watch the girls looking around, trying to find the great pictures, experimenting with their cameras, and otherwise processing this experience (and figuring out how to explain in to others!).

We've spent the last week in PE playing a lot of games, especially soccer.  We found this absolutely beautiful field near our hostel, and spent two perfect mornings in fierce competition.  Our cook Peter and our driver Japhet joined in, and proved to be excellent competitors.  The girls loved playing against them, and the heckling is still going on!  We also have been running, swimming, practicing yoga, and lifting weights (it's amazing what you can do with a Nalgene!).  In Nutrition class, the girls have talked about personal and travel hygiene and are now moving to carbohydrates, proteins, and fats.

Global Studies is the class that tries to pull it all together: so far, we have extensively discussed culture (African, American, as a general concept), leadership, and group dynamics.  The best example of what we do in Global Studies happened yesterday: we arranged what we called AIDS Day -- we talked about various aspects of HIV/AIDS in every class.  We started with Health, and talked about the virus itself, how it is transmitted, and what it does to the human body.  We then moved to History and went over the theories of the origin of HIV, its spread through South Africa, and how the South African government is handling the epidemic.  In Math, we discussed some of the economic causes and implications of HIV/AIDS.  Language focused on the Zulu and Xhosa words for the disease and prevention of the disease, and then the girls had a discussion of what the words reflect about the cultures' approach to all of it.  In Literature, we read narratives of individuals affected by HIV/AIDS, and then the girls wrote incredibly empathetic personal accounts of those individuals -- we were all blown away by the writing.  We ended the day with Global Studies, in which the girls artistically represented what they learned through the day: they created collages, posters, advertising campaigns, and poems.  This morning we created a gallery walk and each of the girls presented her project -- it was truly breath-taking.  (Ineffable, you might say.)

I can't express to you what a pleasure it is to be teaching your daughters: they are vibrant, enthusiastic, and soaking it all in.  They are passionate, engaged, and truly model students.  They inspire me to make my classes as interesting, challenging, and informative as possible; I know the other teachers feel exactly the same way.  Thanks for sharing them with is -- they are what make this job the joy that it is.

We are leaving for Durban this afternoon, and then will begin our trip along South Africa's wild coast.  Our access to internet will be limited for a little more than a week...until we get to Jeffrey's Bay, most likely.  I'll try to send something out from there.  Please let me know if you have any questions about anything -- I'll try to get back to you when I can!

Take care,
Claire

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October 15, 2007

Here it is.  The Story (deserving of a capital S, even).

I thought that my life as a history teacher had reached its pinnacle a few weeks ago when the girls spontaneously reenacted the Battle of Blood River on the actual battle site (I literally asked Heather how it could possibly get any better), but I have to admit that this recent event may have trumped it. 

Yep; it's big.  But you probably already know how it ends.  If you're so anxious you can't wait for the punchline, skip down to the * * *.  Only if you're really anxious.  It's got a pretty good lead-up...

Our story begins on a fairly normal Traveling School day: we were driving from Durban to the largish city of Umtata, and we had made arrangements to camp about thirty kilometers outside Umtata, in the small traditional Xhosa town of Qunu (famed for being the childhood home of Nelson Mandela).  It was cold and windy: really cold, really windy.  Maybe, just maybe, if our collective karma points were sufficient, we could sleep in the rondavels there.  We crossed our fingers.  When we arrived, we found that we could, in fact, sleep in the rondavels.

Excellent.

Umtata is home to the official Nelson Mandela museum, so we awoke early the next day planning to learn all about one of the most famous men in the world.  We discussed who he was and what he did, and then we decided to spend the day contemplating the "genesis of greatness" (not my phrase, unfortunately; it is coined on the back of his autobiography), and we piled into the truck.

And as we were driving back out our little dirt road, Japhet driver slyly asked me, "Did you know that he's around here?"

I did not know that he was around there.  No one knew that he was around there.

WHAT?
 
So I did the only logical thing to do: I leaped out of the truck and sprinted back down the little dirt road to ask the woman of the complex what exactly was going on.  She told me that Nelson Mandela (yes, THAT Nelson Mandela) was in town ("town" being an exaggeration), that he was meeting up with the ex-president of Zambia (Kenneth Kaunda, another legend), and that she knew where they were.  At this moment, just for divine effect, I imagine, three police cars drove by, sirens blaring.

WHAT?

She sent her friend to guide us, and we embarked on a most ridiculous chase.  (Cue to racing, adrenaline-inducing background music.)  Imagine, if you will, a truck the size of a large U-Haul making its excited way toward Nelson Mandela over the winding dirt roads of rural South Africa.  Seventeen female faces plastered to the windows of this truck.  The screams.  The exclamations.  Four teachers marveling at how this could possibly actually be their job.  Thirteen girls marveling at how this could possibly actually be their lives.

And then the truck stopped.

We were in a tiny parking lot in the middle of nothing but rich and rolling hills, and 300 yards away from us, a group of about fifty people were massed around what looked to be a memorial of some kind.  We sat in the truck and waited.  In silence.  Absolute silence.  We were far enough away to be unobtrusive, but we were there, nonetheless.  And as we sat in our pulsing silence, a small black car, escorted by a few police cars, passed our truck.  We could just make out the shadowy figure sitting in the back seat.

"That's Nelson Mandela," everyone felt the need to whisper at least twice.

The car passed us, joined the mass, and then.  Oh, then.  A white head, THAT white head, emerged from the car.  "That's Nelson Mandela," we all whispered again, just for good measure.

And then a policeman told us we could go closer, if we wanted to.

IF WE WANTED TO?

We quickly (still magically silently) disembarked and virtually tiptoed our way toward the famous white head.  We got to the group, and people moved to let us in.  And then we just stood there, all of us wearing the typical Traveling School outfit (some kind of fleece, mildly stained pants, and flipflops), and watched.  There he was.  THERE HE WAS.  He spoke to a few reporters, and moved to his car.  We were on one side of his car; he was on the other.  NOTHING between us but his sleek black car.

We stood ten feet away from him.

Him, NELSON MANDELA.

* * *

WE STOOD TEN FEET FROM NELSON MANDELA.

* * *

And he stood there, and we stood there, and the surreality of it all was overwhelming.  Astounding.  Inspiring.  Bewitching.

He got in his car.  Throwing decorum to the wind, we waved frantically.  (The windows were tinted.  We have no idea if he waved back.  We've decided that he did, though.  He seems like the kind of man who would wave back.)  The car departed.

And that was that.

Unbelievable.

Just thought you guys might want to know the full story...

In high praise of serendipity,
Claire

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October 25, 2007

I write to you from the city of Cape Town, a glowing, bustling metropolis full of cars and cultures.  On Monday, we dropped the girls off at their homestays, and all reports since have been of massive amounts of spoiling (with real beds, shopping trips, TV watching, and other such amenities rarely found on the rest of our trip).  The girls unanimously report that after the requisite initial awkward stage, they truly love their families.

But before I get too far into that, we have some catching up to do.

(To begin, let me just say a few things: when we left Eshowe, where I last wrote, we went to Durban.  In Durban, we said goodbye to our beloved cook, Peter, and welcomed the last addition to our trip, our new cook Crispen.  Crispen is a wonderful man from Zimbabwe who speaks almost like he's singing -- which is appropriate: his totem animal is the Lilac-Breasted Roller bird.  His food is delicious, his kitchen is impeccable, and his personality is absolutely charming.  Crispen has been part of almost every Traveling School Africa semester, and our group is now complete.)

And then happened an event so monumental it deserves its own email.  So I'm going to do just that: send you all a second email.  Suffice it to say that we stayed in a small town by the name of Qunu, and then we then proceeded to Hole in the Wall, a gorgeous coastal enclave where we got to catch up on work, scream poetry off rocks into the crashing Indian Ocean waves, and otherwise try to make sense of the incredible event.

Trekking our way along the southern coast of the country, we next stopped in Jeffrey's Bay, the thriving surf mecca of South Africa.  The girls went crazy.  First, they went crazy surfing.  The girls are all naturals: all of the stood up at least once (which is an incredible accomplishment for beginning surfers), and were fantastically devoted to it.  They cheered each other on, caught at least a hundred waves on their knees, bellies, or feet, and positively glowed throughout.  They continued glowing as they stormed the factory outlets of Jeffrey's Bay -- every girl now as at least one new addition to her wardrobe!  Other highlights of the stay included going out to a movie (Hairspray), completing a Language scavenger hunt and learning new Xhosa and Afrikaans songs, and massive shell-collecting from the pristine beaches.

Continuing along the Garden Route, the safari truck stopped in Tsitsikamma National Park. Our campsite was only a few (but significant) rock outcroppings away from the crashing, spraying ocean.  We're talking huge waves, here.  Like cannon shots.  We did an afternoon hike along the coast line, and arrived, gasping and ecstatic, at a 50 meter waterfall.  Several of the girls climbed up next to the waterfall and serenaded the rest of us (and the ocean) with a medley of cheesy love songs.

Getting closer to Capetown brought us closer to midterms, and we spent the night before exams in the tiny town of Swellendam.  That same night, South Africa reached the culminating point of a journey that had sparked great pride, great debate, great ire, great passion throughout our trip.  Rugby, my friends.  Rugby.  The Springboks of South Africa played Britain in the championship game of the World Cup.  Think Yankees-Red Sox, here.  We're talking OLD rivalries.  At around 10pm the girls were finishing up their final studying when a roar echoed from the downtown area of the city (a good mile and a half away).  The roar continued for a solid hour (punctuated by horns, shouting, and sirens)...guess who won.

(South Africa!)

Our last stop en route to Capetown was Cape Agulhas, nothing other than the southernmost tip of Africa.  It is at this point that the Atlantic Ocean meets the Indian Ocean, and we will all attest that there is absolutely no color difference between the two.  The girls again screamed poetry (this time mostly memorized), sending it simultaneously to India, South America, and Antarctica. 

And now we're in Cape Town.  When we arrived, we stopped by Sharon Cupido's house, where we were all greeted with massive amounts of mail (thank you thank you thank you), warm freshly-baked doughnuts from Sharon's mother (known to all as Ma), and warm hugs.  Clutching their bags, envelopes, and boxes, the girls dispersed to their new homes and settled into the aforementioned pampering.

So that's where we are now.  The future holds wonders: the service project, a visit to Robben Island (Nelson Mandela's prison and home for almost 25 years), the Cape Town planetarium, and then...a new country.  Yep.  On November 6th, we will be leaving our beloved South Africa and entering Namibia.

But we've got some things to do here first.

Hope all is well back on the home front.  We miss you.

Much love,
Claire & the Girls

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November 4, 2007

Dear Parents:

I last wrote to you from Cape Town...and we're still in Cape Town (how's that for a bit of stability and continuity?).  Don't get your hopes up too much on the stability and continuity front: we're leaving for Namibia tomorrow.

There are two major parts of our stay in Cape Town: the first is the homestays; the second is the service project.  I am hoping that you've all heard plenty about the homestays from your daughters -- it sounds like they got a lot of pampering, a little bit of space and freetime, real beds (real beds!), varying views of Cape Town and South African television, and a bit of a break from group living.  We reunited on Thursday, and the girls are now happily ensconced in two dorm-style rooms (and the joyful chaos and mess of 13 girls living together is reborn...).

And now, about the service project.  This year, we decided to consolidate our efforts on one township outside Cape Town called Vrygrond (Afrikaans for "Free Ground"), which is reputedly the oldest informal settlement in the Western Cape area of South Africa.  For a bit of background: during the apartheid era, townships were living areas designated specifically for non-whites, usually on the periphery of major towns and cities.  During apartheid, many blacks, coloreds, and Indians were forcibly removed from their homes and relocated to these townships; while apartheid ended in 1994, the townships are still areas of poverty and dilapidation.  Drugs, alcohol, teen pregnancy, violence...all run rampant throughout these communities.  Vrygrond is no exception.

We spent four days working in Vrygrond, mostly working in kreshes (preschools) by helping teachers, playing with kids, and giving our love to as many people as we could.  A few of the girls also sat in on community workshops (one on entering the business world: having interviews, writing a CV, identifying one's own strengths; another on drugs and drug counseling).  The girls found this experience simultaneously rewarding and frustrating: though they could see some of the positive results of their presence in the community, many of them initially expressed a sense that the community is "just stuck" where it is.

The sense of hopelessness transformed, however, when we met Generation for Change.  Generation for Change is an organization created and run by high schoolers who live in the township: they have started dance groups, soccer teams, poetry clubs, and other youth-oriented programs in an effort to provide shelter and diversion for the kids of the area.  At one point, they put on a performance for us: they sang, danced, recited poetry, and otherwise stunned us with their talent.

On our last day at Vrygrond, we facilitated a workshop between Generation for Change and the Traveling School: we played some crazy games, and then settled into discussion.  Each group presented what life was like in its own society and talked about both the positives and negatives of its community.  Then they broke into different groups to discuss life as a teenager and the teenager's role in the world.  Each person came up with some powerful insights into his or her responsibility -- it was inspiring to hear.

The most inspiring part of the whole workshop, however, was our ending activity.  Heather (teacher) described it as follows:

What I'm writing here is a compilation poem created by all of the participants in the workshop. The requirement was simply to fill in the following blanks:

I am _________.

I will _________.

Read on. As you read it, imagine a group of about thirty kids -- white girls from the US, black and colored kids from the township, huddled around three giant pieces of butcher paper.  Each one read out loud the words that someone else had written: how each had chosen to define him or herself, what each had committed to for the future.  And then at the end, imagine all thirty, without hesitation, reading the last two lines confidently. Imagine them reverberate slightly in the room we were in. So read on the words. They speak for themselves.

We Are Who We Choose to Be

I am a dancer and I believe in myself to live my dream.
I am observant.
I will see and help the people in need.
I am a part of the solution.
I will be a politician.
I am the New Generation and will try to pull my community together.
I will respect my family.
I am a leader of this generation.
I will share my urge to change the world.
I am a listener.
I will listen and help the hopes and dreams of people around the world.
I am a friendly person.
I will always make new friends.
I am a doctor.
I will help people.
I have dreams of myself.
I am kind.
I will help people in the community.
I am happy.
I am pretty.
I will always be pretty.
I am clever.
I will always be clever.
I want to be a doctor.
I want to help people.
I am black.
I will always be black.
I am a writer.
I will make a difference.
I am Crystal and I have a lot of dreams.
I will make a change in my community.
I am passionate.
I will inspire others to make change and discover their own passions.
I am a good listener.
I will learn and grow from every answer I receive.
I am Ashley and I have a dream.
I will love my community as I love myself.
I am passionate and driven to acquire knowledge.
I will learn how I can help the world.
I am BLANK.
I will try to change that.
I am what many will never be.
I will acknowledge my responsibilities.
I am very kind.
I will dance.
I am proud to be part of this generation.
I will make a difference.
I am active and fit.
I will promote a healthy lifestyle in my community.
I am strong.
I will strengthen others.
I am honest.
I will always tell the truth.
I am passionate and unique.
I will help to promote positive change and NOTHING will stop me.
I am well connected, opinionated, educated, and frustrated.
I will talk to the people who have the power 'til I become one myself.
I am capable of changing the world.
I will.
We are one.
We will stand as one.
* * *

Yep.  That was powerful.  And the perfect end to an intense but thoroughly rewarding day.

We've been together in Cape Town for about three days, and in that time have packed in a tour of Robben Island (where Nelson Mandela and thousands of other political prisoners were held for countless years, and where we spent time speaking to a former political prisoner who described his own experiences there), a visit to the District Six museum (District Six was an area of Cape Town that was razed during apartheid; thousands of colored families, including some of the girls' host-families, were displaced), a viewing of the night sky at the Cape Town Planetarium, and, just this morning, an introduction to hip hop and graffiti in South Africa (we learned some moves, saw some incredible artwork -- one, specifically, that spoke out against xenophobia).

Tomorrow, we load up the truck and head north; on Tuesday, we'll get some new stamps on our passports and see what Namibia is all about...

You may remember the warning from the beginning of the semester: communication is difficult from Namibia.  As soon as we can, the girls will buy phone cards and call home, but it may be a few days before that actually happens.  Just to let you know.

Hope all is well back home; we miss you!

Your South African correspondent,
Claire

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November 19, 2007

Hello, Parents:

I write to you from our latest port (literally, as it happens: we're
on the eastern shores of the Atlantic) of Swakopmund, Namibia. True
to African form, this place is...well...let me just describe. To
begin, the journey here: you know those pictures you always see of
Africa with the blowing romantic grasses and the lone tree silhouetted
against either a blindingly blue sky or a ridiculously multicolored
sunset? Right. Imagine that scene for minutes...hours...days.
(Imagine the havoc caused when our over-sized U-Haul truck stops for a toilet break and the lone tree is a good mile away. Mmm. Yep. A lot
of bare bums, one hundred percent visible.) So we've been driving
through the shimmering heat and lone and level sands for a good three days. All of a sudden, this mirage of a Bavarian town rises OUT OF NOWHERE. German beyond imagination. Complete with incredible bakeries and that unique double-s thing on all the street signs.

(Brief historical note -- history, is, after all, my forte -- when the
white man's burden and the mad rush of imperialism hit Europe,
Germany, a little late in the game, came storming down the western
coast of Africa. They passed lands already claimed by the French,
British, Belgians, Spanish, and Portuguese and found themselves in
what remained: a near-uninhabitable desert. Unperturbed, they claimed it and started making it into a German colony. Hence the Bavarian architecture.)

Almost two weeks ago, we moved back into our reliable and clunky
truckhome, and rumbled our way over the Namibian border. The change in geology was instantaneous and breathtaking: rock formations that left Dawn reeling in excitement and the rest of us gasping to know more. We spent a few days on the banks of the Orange River, where we got in some classes (a shocking reminder of the academic side of things, after ten days of homestays), spent a morning tooling down the river in canoes, and remembered what camping is all about.

We left the lush haven of Orange River and made our way toward Fish
River Canyon, a gloriously textured and wandering canyon that cuts its
way through the dusty landscape; we gazed out over the marvel, spent
some time thinking, and had our dinner at the overlook.

Next, Luderitz and, more interestingly, Kolmanskopp: I feel a
compulsion to tell you about this other crazy town we've visited. In
the early-1900s, someone found diamonds about thirty miles from the
Atlantic coast -- again, in the middle of the desert -- and a tiny
mining town rose out of the sand. Germans of all classes rushed to
the site and erected these massive houses -- they even shipped in a
game hall (complete with an opera stage and bowling alley), piece by
piece, from the homeland. This town was unfathomable. They had a
hospital, a post-office, an intra-town train system, and an ice-maker.
In the 1920s. In the desert. An ice-maker. Absurd. Anyways, less
than forty years later, better diamonds were found farther south, and
the place was left. Abandoned. Deserted. And now the desert is
devouring the houses. There are rooms half-full of sand in houses
that rise out of and are entirely supported by the dunes. I rustily
recited Shelley's Ozymandias to them. Very appropriate.

Sometimes on this trip, we discover new places: Qunu (of the famed
Mandela-sighting) was one of them; an unexpected farm in Namibia was another. A three-hour drive from, well, anywhere, we happened across a lovely bushcamp, complete with bathrooms built into the surrounding rocks and (inconceivably) hot showers. We stayed for two days, just because we could...and just so we could have epic water-fights. Epic. We also went on a sunrise hike and read a few chapters of Jane Austen's Pride & Prejudice (which has become a group hit) at the top.

Glorious.

Our next major stop was Sessrium, a small campsite (smack in the
middle of the Namib Desert), that acts as a jumping-off site for trips
to...Dune 45. Dune 45 is one of the most famous and
popularly-photographed dunes in Namibia, if not the world. We woke at 4:30 in the morning, stumbled our way through the desert darkness to the truck, and drove forty-five minutes into the emptiness. We
arrived in the dusky haze of morning and began our trek up the side of
the dune, feet slipping and crunching in the sand. When got to our
various chosen perches, we sunk down and watched the sun begin to peek over over the sea of dunes. We then spent hours frolicking: rolling down the dunes, diving after a frisbee into the sand, making
shadow-shapes and sand-angels on the orange slopes.

And now we're here in Swakopmund. On Saturday, we experienced the joy of sandboarding. For those of you unfamiliar with the logistics of sandboarding, there are actually two types: one is very similar to
snowboarding (but in shorts, and on sand); the other is more akin to
sledding and involves lying down on a sheet of wood and more or less
flying down the dunes. Both induce total joy. Both make for great
pictures. Both make for spectacular wipeouts.

So that's the update, thus far. We're moving inland tomorrow, toward
cheetahs and national parks and Peace Corps sites...but you'll hear
all about that once we get there!

And classes...it's about time I talk about classes. (Actually, I'm
going to let the teachers talk about their classes. They'll do a
better job, anyways.)

Heather writes about her two classes, "In Math Applications the girls
are wrapping up their Game of Life scenarios and moving into a
discussion of global economics. Beginning with the basic principles of
supply and demand, we have looked at the differences between
centrally-planned and market capitalist economies. We are working
towards an understanding of the benefits and drawbacks of free trade.
The girls are also researching different industries and will be
filming consumer awareness videos to inform the public about what they
learn. We'll be finishing up the semester exploring major players in
the global economy and their roles, the economics of climate change,
and labor and environmental issues related to global economics.

In Language the girls are diving into the study of German. Swakopmund is the perfect backdrop and opportunity to explore pronunciation and cognates. They just finished putting together skits using cognates and false cognates that resulted in hilarity (ask Jacie and Laura about the "alligator in the toilet bowl" skit). Next, we'll be using Japhet and Crispen as the excellent resource that they are and learning Shona. For their final, the girls are putting together a full-length play that incorporates all of the languages they've studied. There are no limits on their creativity or innovation and I am excited to see what they come up with!"

Dawn says of her science class: "I have had one of the best
experiences teaching science ever. We started the second half of the
semester with a visit to the Planetarium in Cape Town to prepare us
for Namibia's spectacular night skies. We also visited the Natural
History Museum where the girls were amazed by the size of the
full-grown whale skeleton hanging from the ceiling above us and the
larger-than-life jaws of the Great While ancestor, the Megalodon. We
then began our Geology unit as we headed into Namibia one of the most magnificent places to study Geology on earth -- full of gemstones and minerals and amazing geologic features such as Fish Canyon and world-renowned Namib desert sand dunes. The girls are currently working on a mineral research project (on minerals found here) to present to the class. To get them excited we visited one of the most prized private mineral collections in the world which includes the largest quartz crystal cluster ever excavated...weighing in at 14.1
tons. It took five years to dig out of the earth! Even though our
Geology unit is coming to an end, only good things are to follow:
we're about to begin our unit on Global Climate Change, which the
girls have been eagerly anticipating."

On Photo-Journalism, Eula says, "We have finished our second article
and started our third. While working on the second article, we
changed our digital photos into web-formatted versions for easier
email. The latest photo assignments have been group picture
compositions and pictures involving movement. The girls used creative arrangements to grab the viewer's eye wile insuring that all< individuals in the pictures are clearly seen. They have been exuberant in this assignment, and have captured some wonderful group
shots. Movement shots include human, animal, and, in some cases,
plants. (We have had some useful wind.) The girls outlined their
third article on more serious topics like HIV/AIDS and poverty."

And then here's what I say: in History, we've been moving our way
through apartheid-era South Africa (I know, I know...we're now in
Namibia...but none of us could bear to cut short South African
history, so we're dwelling on it a little bit. Right now, we're on
the edge of our seats, about to find out with happens between 1990 and 1994...) We're also finishing Rian Malan's My Traitor's Heart and
still grappling with questions of human violence and hatred. The
girls are just beginning work on their final project, in which they
each will create a multigenre research paper (a compilation of
different media representing different phases of South African
history). I have only glanced at the drafts (I want to be surprised
and blown away by the final products), but the glimpses I've gotten
have been magnificent.

In Literature, we're finishing Bryce Courtenay's The Power of One (a
pithy and inspirational account of the hero, Peekay, at the beginnings
of apartheid). We've also become somewhat obsessed with poetry, and we frequently find ourselves screaming it off various rocks and
cliffs. About a week ago, we had a poetry recitation on the banks of
the Orange River -- everyone memorized at least 14-line poems (of a
myriad of poets, from Chaucer to Hafiz to Billy Collins); our next
poetic event will be on Thanksgiving. We're also delving into
similes, metaphors, personification, and other forms of vivid
language: the girls are using the skills and forms they're learning in
their poetry, their essays, and their everyday language. The Word of
the Day is still going strong, as is our capricious schedule,
increasingly esoteric knowledge of writing style, and devoted aversion
to all things banal.

We're counting down the days to Thanksgiving (turkeys are scarce in
Namibia; we may have to settle for chicken. But it will be a
delicious chicken. That I can assure you. Crispen never fails us on
the culinary front).

With sadly less than a month to go,
Claire, Heather, Dawn & Eula

* * *

Ozymandias
(Percy Shelley)

I met a traveller from an antique land
Who said: Two vast and trunkless legs of stone
Stand in the desert. Near them on the sand,
Half sunk, a shattered visage lies, whose frown
And wrinkled lip and sneer of cold command
Tell that its sculptor well those passions read
Which yet survive, stamped on these lifeless things,
The hand that mocked them and the heart that fed.
And on the pedestal these words appear:
'My name is Ozymandias, King of Kings:
Look on my works, ye mighty, and despair!'
Nothing beside remains. Round the decay
Of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare,
The lone and level sands stretch far away.

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December 17, 2007

Dear Parents:

Well, the adventure is over, your girls are all safely home, and I'm
sure you're getting many of the stories from them. In the name of
thoroughness, however, I want to make sure you get the typed
description of our last few weeks in Africa (though I'm going to make
the episodes brief, for the sake of all concerned...).

When I last wrote, we were in Swakopmund, that funny little German
town on the Namibian coast, and we were about to begin our adventure
northward into the deserts of the Kalahari. Quite the adventure it
turned out to be. The day after leaving Swakopmund, the group stayed
in a small, gorgeous campsite in the rocks of Namibia...where we had
a slight interaction with a horned adder. I'm sure at this point,
you have all heard the story of Rachael's snakebite, so I'll try not
to make this an email of (too many) redundancies.

We spent Thanksgiving at the Cheetah Conservation Fund
(www.cheetah.org) in northern Namibia, where we managed to learn a
myriad of fascinating things about cheetahs (did you know, for
example, that the cheetah has an enlarged nasal cavity to assist with
aerobic intake while running? Perhaps this does not seem entirely
fascinating, but wait: this enlarged nasal cavity is so large that it
actually comparatively weakens the cheetah's jaw. Which means that
it is less able to break bones and do other such necessary predatory
things...the cheetah, therefore, is so bred for speed that all else
is made inferior. Stunning). We also met Robbie Morell, Harrison
Morell, and Moana Heimberg (Kelsey's mom and brother and Justine's
mom, respectively), who provided us with welcome news (and goods)
from home.

After Thanksgiving, we visited Namibia's Etosha National Park, where
we spent some time studying, watching the wide savannas and the
animals that inhabit them, and reminding ourselves of the glories and
splendor of African wildlife.

Our next stop on the grand adventure was in a remote town in northern
Namibia. Our purpose there? To visit Will, a friend of mine from
college. His purpose there? Through the Peace Corps, to teach
English at the local elementary school. Will spent a extensive and
fascinating time talking to us about his experience in and
reflections on both the Peace Corps and Namibia, and then we helped
him plant a few baby trees around the grounds of his school. We had
arrived at a fortuitous time, he told us, because it was the day of
the monthly cattle auction. We bought raffle tickets for ten
Namibian dollars (roughly $1.30) each; if we were lucky, we could win
first prize: a goat carcass. (We never actually discovered who
won...the Traveling School was certainly not one goat carcass
richer. But we did go to the auction.)

We found ourselves in a dusty field-cum-auction site, complete with
bleachers, a huge cattle pen, a large amount of people, and several
hundred head of cattle. Being the only white people in the entire
place (with the notable exception of the two men buying all the
cattle), we caused quite a commotion. Especially after a downpour
started and we all crowded under a wooden overhang with thirty other
people. Somewhere in there, we befriended a local woman who bought
us a pineapple Fanta, we arranged a ride to the school, and we drove
back in the torrent while sipping Fanta, ecstatically waving, and
screaming rain-related songs into the downpour.

Our final notable activity with Will was helping him paint a mural on
the lunchroom wall, a mural of HIV prevalence in the world. I'm
including a picture of the finished product.

From Otjituuo, we drove to a traditional San village. The place is
close to indescribable: minute mud huts, an incredible feeling of
stagnancy, an indelible sense of culture, poverty, and humanity. We
walked through several clusters of houses and watched an elder start
a fire with flint. Later at night, we joined several of the San
around a campfire and listened to their traditional songs: the fire
covered their bodies with a copper glow, their voices echoed through
the dark trees, and we found ourselves in the center of a storm with
thunder crashing and lightning cracking all around us. Truly magical.

Next stop: Botswana. The Okavango Delta. Paradise. After a few
days of intensive studying in the town of Maun, we loaded up ten
mokoros (dugout canoes, some now of fiberglass) with our stuff and
ourselves and spent the next few hours watching the lilypads go by
(as our faithful guides poled us into the Delta). We stopped at one
point to watch an elephant make his slow way through the reeds; at
another to cool off in a secluded swimming hole; finally to settle
into our home (read: campsite) for the next two days.

That evening and the next morning, we broke into small groups and
departed on game walks through the area, looking footprints of
elephants, birds, wildebeest, ostrich. We saw a herd of zebra
galloping across the plains. We witnessed a gang of ostrich run like
old ladies through the grasses. We watched the sun set in glorious
pink hues that ignited the sky.

And the next evening, we sat around the fire with our guides and
spent hours singing, playing games, talking, enjoying the camaraderie
of the deep African night.

Our final stop in Botswana was at Chobe National Park, home of more
elephants than one can fully comprehend (of which we saw surprisingly
few), countless hippos, trees full of fish eagles (my favorite; think
bald eagles, but with more white), and a lot (and I mean a lot) of
kudu. Here, we went on a morning game drive in open Land Rovers and
then spent the evening on a boat cruise through the Chobe River. It
was, we realized sadly, our last encounter with African safari.

Next country: Zambia. Livingstone, Zambia, to be precise, home of
(part of) the Zambezi River, the Zambian side of Victoria Falls, and
bustling Zambian markets. We got to explore all three: on our first
night in Livingstone, we went on a sunset cruise of the upper
Zambezi; the next day we followed the path to Victoria Falls and then
traded both money and goods (including beads and sunglasses) for
various African items; the day after that, we (drumroll, please)
RAFTED DOWN THE ZAMBEZI RIVER.

Twenty-three rapids. A lot of water. Adrenaline to the extreme.

And then we said sorrowful goodbyes to Japhet and Crispen and boarded
a plane to Johannesburg...and then one to Washington D.C.

The rest, ladies and gentlemen, is history.

I just want to tell you all what a delight is was to spend three and
a half months with your daughters. Since I've been home, I've been
telling everyone what incredible energy and spirit our girls have,
what phenomenal drive for excellence and development they possess.
They continually reminded me of what it means to question things, of
why it's important to be passionate about the world, of what it means
to be alive. I know all of the teachers feel exactly the same way.
Your girls are the reasons we're here and do what we do. Thank you.

And now, signing off one last time,
Claire

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Trip Reports

Current Reports

Archived Reports:
Fall 2007 - Southern Africa
Spring 2007 - South America
Fall 2006 - Southern Africa
Fall 2005 - New Zealand
Spring 2005 - South America
Fall 2004 - Southern Africa
Spring 2004 - South America
Fall 2003 - Southern Africa
Spring 2003 - South America




Selected Fall 2007 Photos:







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