I’ll have my house back now, thanks

Well, I have reached yet another weekend and Africa continues to throw challenges my way - as if my mettle really needs to be tested yet again.  That being said, I’ll start with the positive news first.

The egg competition went quite well.  As it turned out, despite World Egg Day being on the 15^th, the event did indeed occur on the 13^th as stated on my invitation.  In true African fashion, everything started at about 12:25 when it had been scheduled to start at 12:00.  That being said, I had a chat with the librarian during the intervening half hour, who expressed her frustration that so many things in South Africa start 30 minutes or more late.  Such comments were refreshing because it means that it is not just us Americans that are annoyed by the severe lack of punctuality.

Once things did get started, though, everything went off beautifully.  I, along, with the other two judges who had been selected from the community, had to devise a scoring system for the event, since the method of administering marks had not been made entirely explicit.  Our scores were 50% based on the presentation of the food and 50% on the actual taste.  I recommended that we have someone go buy flavorless crackers so as to help cleanse our palates in between tastings, and the crackers were duly purchased (very sophisticated, I know).  There were seven entrants who each had been asked to prepare one sweet dish and one savory dish.  It was great to get back into my food critic mode, hearkening back to my days writing for the university newspaper as the restaurant columnist.  All the food was good but some was more excellent than others and it was to such quality food that first, second, and third prizes were awarded with accompanying cash prizes of 1500 Rand, 1000 Rand, and 500 Rand.  Not a bad little payday for the winners and quite a boost to my ego to know that I had been entrusted with such important decisions.

Now on to the story responsible for the title.  I am currently staying in a cozy little house in the township that is being rented from one of the teachers at my schools.  Whenever the principals were working to find me accommodation before my arrival, this woman offered her house and even agreed to leave all of her furniture here, meaning I moved in already having two chairs, a couch, a microwave, hot plate, etc.  It’s been a pretty good deal.

This lady, however, also did not move out her clothes, which I found a bit odd, nor did she take down any of her family pictures.  To make things even weirder, since I have been here, she has randomly called me multiple times, telling me she needed to come to the house to pick up some of her clothes.  Whenever she did come, the way that she looked around at everything made it seem like she was gathering valuable information to pass on to the CIA in addition to picking up some shoes and dresses.  Such calls were always made randomly without any forewarning or scheduling, and when I was not at the house, this lady always seemed somewhat upset as if I should just sit around the house on weekends in case she wanted to come get more clothes and inspect the premises.

Well, it all came to a head on Thursday, when she asked to speak to me privately at school, and informed me that her current lodging was not working out and that I was going to need to move out so she could move back in to her house.  The reason given was that she had moved in with her boyfriend when she vacated this house, but now things are not good between them and the space where they are living is “too small for two people.”  Naturally, I was taken aback by this change of events and asked if she had spoken to my Peace Corps director who had initially helped arrange the housing.  The lady told me that she had spoken to him last week, which I later confirmed was an outright lie.   

Come to find out the boyfriend was only part of the reason (even so, if she knew I was going to be here for two years, I wonder was she really banking on living with her boyfriend the entire time?).  As it turns out, she had been complaining to one of my principals and other people that she did not like how I was keeping the house in regards to the cleanliness and how I had rearranged some of her things.  All of this, of course, was behind my back, and this lady never brought any of her concerns to my attention meaning there was no way I could have done anything to address them.  She, despite renting out the house, apparently still thought that everything should be kept and done the exact same as when she was living there (Also, for the record, the house may not have been up to this woman’s standards, but I did and do do regular cleaning on the weekends so that the house is by no means a pig sty).   To their credit, everyone else involved in this ordeal from other teachers to principals to Peace Corps staff have expressed how childish the behavior of this woman is.  

Regardless of people’s support, though, now after a month of living here, having situated myself, unpacked all of my things and having gotten to know the neighbors, I apparently am going to have to move again.  My Peace Corps director made a trip to my town today as a result of all this, and I have been assured that nothing will be happening soon and certainly not until another adequate location has been found and inspected by Peace Corps for its safety and suitability.

Even so, I find the whole thing quite annoying, and I am not relishing having to re-pack all of my things, especially when I thought such a task would not be required until the end of my service.  Oh well, such is life - especially Peace Corps life.

Okay, my venting is done, at least for today.  Let’s talk South African English:

cold drink - a soda such as Coca-Cola, Fanta, or Sprite.  I have yet to hear the word soda or pop to describe this type of beverage.

Example: Would you like a cold drink with your meal?