I was picked up by her village's daily taxi from Kuruman which passed through my town just as the sunset, and the taxi driver showed up 2 hours later than they said they would come. The picked me up in one of these large white taxivans and as soon as I jumped in then pulled over again about 500 meters down the road at my local supermarket to run into the liquor store to buy "cold drink.". I looked around the taxi to see who I'd be making the ride and saw 1 woman and that gave me comfort.
At that moment a guy spotted me and jumped into the taxi and tried to talk me up for the location of where I lived and what were my digits. These guys here have really sly tricks to get out the information they need. He kept on prodding and prodding and occasionally tapped me with the newspaper he held in his hand and each time he touch me with the paper ot attempted to touch me hair I'd yell at him to not touch me and the women sitting in the row behind me would curse him out in Setswana. He managed to get out of me where I worked since I figured he was heading up to my friend's village and seemed to know the past Peace Corps volunteer.
Once the taxi tank was filled to capacity (which always involves a few guys rocking the taxi back and forth - apparently this gets in those last drops of petrol) we finally got on our way and it was dark. We sped off out of my town and we had driven maybe 20 minutes out and surrounded by nothing but bush, this dude that was talking me up finally asked to get off, apparently he had just joyrided with us out and once realizing he wasn't going to get my number jumped ship.
We continued through the night up north getting closer and closer toward Melissa. The tar road also soon turned to an unpaved dirt sandy and pebbly road. I had been on this road before with my host family to go up to a small little town to visit for a family funeral. I remember how when we hit the unpaved part of the road how slowly my host brother had driven, but this taxi driver named Sko was something else. As the unpaved road began to resemble something more like the Kalahari Desert we glided over the top of it as if we were Aladdin on his magic carpet in a very rhythmic melodic way - though horribly terrifying and scary.
I looked out the window and saw those heavenly sparkling of the Northern Cape sky and found myself comforted. The taxi driver who quickly learned my Tswana name kept on checking in on me with periodically saying: "O sharp Fifi?"
I finally made it to Melissa's house just in time to miss Generations, my favorite soapie here.
We snuggled in for bed and then woke early the next morning to go visit her school and see the caves.
Melissa is great and she went to university to be a teacher and it instantly shows when you walk into her classroom. She had posters that name the class rules and the consequences for breaking those rules. Give Me Five - I think is my favorite since it was such a simple class room management tool and it was in English and Setswana.
1. Be quiet = Didmala
2. Put everything down= Baya sengwe le sengwe month fatshe
3. Listen = Reetsa
4. Be still = Se tselinyege
5. Look at me = Ntabelele
She also had one wall dedicated to "Work that makes us proud.". As I instantly saw it I knew I'd have to do that for one of my classes next term.
It made me happy to say what a great space she had made for herself in a primary school of 160 students. It's interesting to see where they placed us based on our skills and I think this town was a perfect fit for Mel :)
Sent via my BlackBerry from Vodacom - let your email find you!
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