One of things that I have come to appreciate more and more since I've been in this country is how lucky I am to be living with a large Zulu family. It's quite amazing to be so intricately connected with my family here at my site. I have learned so much from them and they have been unbelievably kind to me as I continuously struggle to communicate with them in their native tongue. Being so connected with my family, I have had the opportunity to observe how a very traditional Zulu family behaves and reacts to a variety of situations. I have seen some of the most outrageous things I've ever seen in my life while living with my host family and I laugh on an almost daily basis.
Take today, for example. I laughed at one of my host brothers, the toddler Mlondi, because he stood outside my door at 6:45 in the morning and kept screaming my name to try to wake me up. I was laughing because he kind of reminded me of my newborn puppy who whines outside my door in an attempt to get my attention. Although he was successful, I didn't give him the satisfaction or attention - instead, I dug myself deeper beneath my covers in the hopes that the blanket would muffle his screams as held my breath in case he heard the cadence of my breath change haha. One of the most remarkable things to me day-after-day, however, is how children are treated and how they are expected to act in relations to others. That is what I want the rest of this blog entry upon: children in this society.
It is a gross understatement to say that children are treated differently in black South Africa than they are in the States. It is very much night and day. While children are pampered by a host of relatives in a typical, white American family, in my communities they are often considered the lowest rung on the ladder. I have seen babies stumble, topple and cry for their lives and no one pays them the slightest bit of attention. I also have witnessed older siblings purposely trip their toddler brothers just to get a good chuckle. And yes, I did laugh along. In my defense, you can't deny that it is pretty hilarious to watch anyone face-plate, regardless of age. And it's not like I did the tripping, right? AND it's not like they'll remember it… ever. Okay I'm digging myself a hole here. It's time to cut my losses and continue forward. Where was I? Oh yes. Adults interacting with children. Rather, adults not interacting with children; it is not an unfair statement to say that adults never play with their children. They are treated as subordinates by parents and other siblings because they are widely viewed as ignorant to the ways of this world, which means they must obey and respect the often oppressive commands of older siblings and family members in order to learn how the culture functions. In the schools I work in, it is common to see educators sending kids to fetch food, to pass notes from educator to educator, to fetch food for educators, to relay information to the office, etc. At home, children are ordered around to do all sorts of chores. That is the way children learn and that is the way it has always been done.
What's incredible about this system is that it actually works here. I couldn't imagine teachers sending kids from classroom to classroom in search of this or that in America - the kids would definitely learn to exploit that system real fast. Here though, it seems to work extremely well. They are treated, dare I say, like children; they're not given much responsibility, respect or trust in most instances. The Zulu culture is such an old culture that everyone obeys the cultural duties assigned to them out of reverence for the way things have always been done. It's an innate characteristic of life here.
What is new to life in rural South Africa, however, is the affect that phenomena like urbanization and the HIV/AIDS pandemic have on families. In both of my communities, child-headed households and orphaned children are sad and prevalent realities. You will never understand how truly heartbreaking it is to have a small child come to your door, asking for food because the one school meal they had at 10 am wasn't filling enough. It is a duty that no child should ever have to undertake. One of the families in my village consists of a Grade 6 learner, a Grade 4 learner, a Grade 2 learner and a toddler who has not yet entered school. Their parents and grandparents have all died (I strongly suspect their mother and father both passed from AIDS) so the Grade 6 learner (who is only 12-years-old) has become responsible for finding food, taking care of the younger siblings, cooking, cleaning and doing the laundry for her 3 younger brothers. Imagine that life for a moment. It is truly unfathomable. Yet, these circumstances are actualities in my communities. While I have been in my village, I have met some of the strongest children I've ever known. I'm not talking in a literal sense; they're not remarkably physically strong. I'm talking about children who have been hardened by their poverty and their culture. Even in my own household, it is not uncommon for my 14-year-old sister to be left with close to 20 of the neighborhood children while the adults attend a funeral or for my 6-year-old sister to be left in charge of Njongo, my 15-month-old host sister.
It's a different world. Seeing as children are not coddled (in any sense of the word), it's also very common to let your children run free and do whatever they want to do. I have seen my toddler brother running with a hatchet in hand and no one has said a word about it. Don't believe me? Here's photographic evidence:
I think if I had seen this when I first arrived in South Africa, I would have taken the hatchet from him. Instead, whether this is proof that I'm being hardened by this culture or something else is happening, I merely thought to myself: "Well he's going to have to learn to use that sooner or later. Better sooner than later, I suppose." I then rushed inside, grabbed my camera and snapped a few shots to post on this blog. As you can probably imagine, since there is little-to-no supervision for the tiniest of children, they manage to get hurt quite frequently. In other words, they become very resilient to physical pain and, because of that and the fact that adults won't pay them any attention anyways, it is very rare to see children crying over anything.
Like I've said, I have encountered some of the most durable children during my service with the Peace Corps. It's inspiring and causes me to think deeply about how I was raised. All I know is that I am extremely thankful for being raised by loving parents and always having food on my table. Those are gifts that not everyone in this world receives.
Please be sure to enjoy the pictures below that I've taken in the past month!
Umuntu umuntu ngabantu,
Mvelo Sigubudu
We are who we are because of others,
Chad Wolver
