Trivial Pursuits

Nestled in what seems like the seemingly sleepy, residential neighborhood of Newton Park is an eclectic enclave that comes alive every Tuesday evening.  The Music Kitchen, a bar/restaurant/small concert venue, hosts a weekly Trivia Night regularly attended by a core group of raucous gray or balding men who seem to know all the answers.  The rest of the crowd is by far the most diverse I’ve seen in the city, and South Africa’s nickname of the Rainbow Nation seems to ring true as it looks like there are people of all races sitting together in the outdoor picnic bench booths.  Off to the side, one team can be found, looking slightly out of place, and that’s where we fall in: The Ex-Pat Hooligans.

Invited by two Fulbrighters who were friends with the previous interns, Tuesday night trivia at the Music Kitchen is apparently a weekly ritual, and as a mediocre trivia buff and natural competitor, I enjoy it a lot.  Our team as of recent is comprised of the Fulbrighters, Kelly and Ashley, the GRS interns (which, if you haven’t figured out are Claire and myself), and Kyle and Sarah, two South Africans who we refer to when there are culturally relevant questions.

As it turns out, I know nothing about current events and politics.  I perhaps should have stuck with journalism a little longer.  I do, however, have a decent knowledge of geography thanks to my awkward obsession with maps and a lot of free time on Sporcle, so that’s where my strengths lie.  There are often questions about classical music that make me regret not getting more into music history back when I called myself an “opera singer.”  One day, though, they’re gonna ask about Indian folk dances or West African membranophones, and I will go absolutely insane.  Name the drums in a doundoun set?  Doundounba, sangban, and kenkeni.  Duh.

It makes me nervous every time the scruffy MC Brendan asks a question that, as an American, you’re expected to know.  “What does NASCAR stand for?,” for instance.  Suddenly, everyone looks at you.  “That’s not my part of America, guys,” as I shrug off the question thinking that none of the old South African men could possibly get it right.  Of course they do.

It stands for the National Association for Stock Car Auto Racing, by the way.

There are also things very relevant to South Africans of which I have absolutely no interest or knowledge.  I knew that Oscar Pistorius was on trial, but I had zero idea why.  People gasped when I asked.  “He shot his freakin’ girlfriend on Valentine’s Day!,” Kelly yelled.   Shit.  That’s serious.

I’d like to think of trivia as a metaphor for this year.  There’s gonna be some stuff I know.  And that gets me happy and makes me feel comfortable.  One of the questions this past week was to name the 5 boroughs of New York.  I giddily wrote down the answers as I briefly reminisced about home.  Once the answers were announced, there was a collective grumble as most people couldn’t name all five, most replacing Staten Island with Long Island.

There are also going to be things that seem so obvious to everybody… except for me.

“Who did Bafana Bafana play in last week’s game?”

“I have zero clue what Bafana Bafana is,” I admitted, taking a sip of my Savanna Dry.  South African Kyle gives me an alarmed look and says, “It’s South Africa’s football team.  Never ask that ever again, or you’ll get killed.”

Lesson learned.

Really, the motto of this year is going to be balance.  You have to be able to acknowledge your strengths and use those to the fullest while also being able to secede and humbly ask for help when you have no idea what’s happening.  Hopefully, you won’t look too dumb.  Or get killed after asking what the national soccer team is called.

The Core

There were shipping containers everywhere.  They were a bunch of different colors, some with the remnants of their previous use still emblazoned on their exteriors, though many of them were painted over to match their new function.  On the streets of New Brighton, Zwide, Kwazakhele, Motherwell. and many of the other townships of Port Elizabeth, these shipping containers have been repurposed to house barber shops, beauty salons, spazas (small convenience stores), and other small businesses.  These makeshift stores lined nearly all of the main streets of the townships as we drove around this past Saturday morning.  Just as the world was waking up, we were taking an unexpected leisurely tour of many of the city’s townships, watching as many hard-working folks were setting up shop for the day.

That was just one of the sights that stuck out to me as Siya showed us around.  There were calculated lines of quaint homes, each with identical Tasol solar panels sticking out above their roofs.  On the contrary, there were small shacks made of scrap corrugated metal squares pieced together to make a semi-reliable structure; there were some homes made of mud and sticks.  There were long lines of people waiting outside of gas stations waiting to pay a few rand for electricity to power their homes that day.  I had a small fright as I watched a white man with a bulletproof vest and what looked like an AK-47 coming out of a money truck as he yelled at people to vacate the premises as his colleague refilled an Standard Bank ATM.  But there were also the dynamic hawkers who yelled out of bus windows to get passengers.  And there were children running around the streets without a care in the world.  This was their home.  This was normal.  I must not forget that.

After several hours of driving around running errands, and now with an extra staff member on hand, we all drove out to Addo, a small rural town about an hour away from the city that is famous for both its oranges and its elephant reserve.  Every Saturday for roughly the next two months, Grassroot Soccer is working with the citrus fruit company San Miguel to deliver the standard Skillz Core curriculum to the children of employees who work at their farm.  Skillz Core is the standard curriculum delivered to a younger audience, and it goes through all of the basic information about HIV for those who would have had little or no knowledge of it previously.

As we pull up into a dirt-road neighborhood tucked behind what seemed like miles of orange groves, we see a large field riddled with children running about and a man with a familiar yellow Grassroot Soccer t-shirt.  He, a San Miguel employee himself, was one of the handful of workers who were trained to be a GRS coach for this specific program.  Once we pulled up to the soccer pitch, the kids began staring in our direction, and almost immediately, Ntombi, one of the office’s CPCs, got the intervention started.

The day’s lesson was one of the earlier ones in the Skillz Core curriculum that was focused on the risk factors of contracting HIV.  The lesson was reinforced by a game called Risk Field in which teams of participants dribble a soccer ball around a set of cones that represent different risky behaviors such as unprotected sex or multiple concurrent partners.  If someone were to hit a cone, he or she would have to do a push-up as a consequence.  The game was played in three rounds: in the first, only the dribbler him/herself has to pay the consequence for the risky behavior; in the second try, the participant’s entire group of teammates has to do so; and in the final round, the entire community (the interns included) had to drop down and do a set of 3.  The goal of this practice is to determine the risk factors of getting HIV and to reinforce that individual actions have group repercussions.

For much of the time, Claire and I observed off the side as we watched Ntombi work her magic.  Since the entire practice is done in Xhosa, it’s fun trying to follow along with the lesson, and sometimes there are some English words that help us figure out what’s being discussed.  I vividly remember the participants repeating the word “condom” over and over again.  Eventually, being a natural with toddlers, Claire started playing around with the children who came along who were too young to be part of the intervention.  As a group, we all went and played some Ring Around the Roses, Claire taught them Duck-Duck-Goose, and I was awed by how well some of them sang and danced.  I have years of training under my belt, but sometimes, you just gotta have raw talent.

For me, it was the first time I saw a real intervention, and I loved seeing the participants, some of whom were very into it.  There was this one smarty-pants girl who knew all the answers, and there were some on the opposite end of the spectrum whose main concern was kicking around the soccer ball and socializing with their friends.  Regardless, all of these kids for this specific intervention came on their own volition (because it’s not through a school and on a Saturday), so I commend them for their willingness to spend their Saturday mornings learning about HIV and having a little fun in the process.

And that, my friends, is a typical Saturday.

Recap

So these are the posts I find a little boring, but I guess they have to be done.

I realized that I never fully recapped my arrival to South Africa, so I’m gonna have to backtrack these past two weeks or so to give you the full scoop on everything since I’ve arrived in Port Elizabeth.

The last logistical thing I wrote about (a few posts back) was about sitting in Johannesburg during my layover.  I eventually got on my flight to Port Elizabeth which, upon arriving early, was delayed in deplaning because, for whatever reason, there was a some kind of threat made on the plane.  This was the most information we received.  It was checked out by the police, and about an hour later, we were able to get off the plane.  A good to start to a year in South Africa, right?

I was picked up by Siya and Vuyisa, better known as VIP, the Programs Coordinator and a Community Projects Coordinator (CPC) respectively, and was greeted by Claire, my intern partner.   We were quickly whisked away to the office where we quickly met the rest of the staff and got a tour of the quaint office.  There’s Pumeza, our sweet and understanding Site Coordinator; Mandisa, VIP, Nowie, and Ntombi, all CPCs each with different personalities; Ngwenya, the office administrator; and of course, the ever rambunctious Siya, who is the point-person for all the programs.  There is also a research team that is part of the Utshintsho RCT trial also located in this office, and that makes it a little difficult to remember because there’s a lot of them coming in and out.  My personal favorites are Buli and Shuffle because with names like those, you can’t not like them.

The intern house, which is now called the Mandela Bay Mansion, is located in the South End neighborhood not too far from the office.  It’s in a small gated community for added protection, though there are still several locks on all the doors.  Since the first day, actually, we haven’t been able to properly get out of the front door because the gate key decided to stop working.

Regardless, the house is quite literally a mansion because there are only two of us living in a house made for four.  It always seems 10 degrees colder in the house than it is outside because there’s no insulation, which I hope is a good thing come time for the summer in a few months.  For right now, it’s moderately cold outside, hovering around the 60s which, in Rochester terms, is actually decently warm.  However, PE is known as the Windy City, and it has lived up to that nickname so far.  Sometimes the gusts are so strong that they knock out windows, which you can see a lot of walking around the office.  It was interesting to see some folks walking around in winter coats and scarves because in Rochester, this would be t-shirt weather.  Still, I guess since I was so abruptly taken away from the summer, I feel quite chilly, and I can’t wait for the warmer months to come.

The area around the intern house is very residential, so there isn’t much around, or if there is, we haven’t found anything yet.  Luckily, right around the corner is a small plaza that has a supermarket, SuperSpar, and a gym, the Virgin Active, for which Claire and I immediately got memberships.

Other than being thoroughly confused about work, Claire and I were also very confused about the city.  Think about it.  Not only are we in a new city, but that city just happens to be in a different country, on another continent, in the opposite hemisphere.  No big whoop.

Still, with Claire’s fantastic driving skills, we’ve made a few rounds about the city.  Because we didn’t have a lot of guidance, and the internet wasn’t helping too much, we made it to a lot of touristy areas including the historic Donkin Reserve, built by the first settlers who came to PE, that is located atop a hill in the city centre.  In the swanky looking park, there are two monuments: a pyramid dedicated to Sir Rufane Donkin’s wife Elizabeth, for whom the city is named, and a lighthouse which you can climb for 5 rand, or 50 cents.  We went up and had a beautiful view of the Nelson Mandela Bay, and took some pretty touristy shots with the large South African flag fluttering in the background.

We went to a fantastic brunch place, Vovo Telo, as suggested by former interns.  We also made it to the Boardwalk, a mall/casino area right near the beach, and St. George's Park.  We were also put in contact with a few folks who were friends with last year’s interns.  The other American duo, Kelly and Ashley, are on Fulbrights teaching English in a local township.  They’re a hilarious, spunky duo, and since they’ve been here since January, they’ve been showing us the ropes.  They’ve included us in their Tuesday Night Trivia team at the Music Kitchen, and we’ve also been introduced to this quaint little Thai restaurant along with another friend, a South African named Kyle.  Hopefully more adventures with them soon!

So as of now, we are still (quickly) learning the ropes, and I think we’ve managed that pretty well since we’ve been figuring things out on our own.  There’s so much more to see and do, and I hope to update you on as much as possible.

Utshintsho

In my first few days at the GRS Port Elizabeth office, I kept hearing the word “ocheencho” over and over again.  The staff members just kept rattling it back and forth during conversations, and I had zero idea what it was.  Eventually, I began putting together the pieces.

I had seen something labeled “Utshintsho” in the office, and I had no idea how to pronounce it.  I struggled as I sounded it out phonetically.  “Oot-sha-neet-show?”  For some reason, I added an extra vowel it there because my English-wired mind thought the word needed some more syllables.  Eventually, I figured out that the word I was hearing over and over again, “ocheencho,” was actually “utshintsho.”

Utshintsho is a Xhosa word that means “change” and it is the name of a pilot program happening within Grassroot Soccer in only two sites, here in PE and in Khayelitsha in Cape Town.  Utshintsho is a follow-up of the Generation Skillz program, a curriculum for high school aged participants that targets the four key drivers of the HIV epidemic in South Africa: multiple concurrent partners, drug and alcohol abuse, intergenerational and transactional sex, and gender based violence.  Utshintsho was developed for a randomized control trial that GRS is doing, and it is based on survey results taken at the end of Generation Skillz.  The new curriculum is delivered to those who have already participated in the standard Generation Skillz program, and it focuses on the areas in which the learners needed clarification.  The Utshintsho program heavily stresses gender inequality, and the participants are grouped in split-sex practices, each with their own lessons and emphases.  At the end of the program, GRS will analyze the results to see how effective the programs have been in educating participants and inspiring change in these communities.

This idea of utshintsho, or change, keeps resonating in my mind.  I even love the sound of the word.  It has a lot of power.  And now, at this beginning stage of my move to South Africa, nothing else explains it better than utshintsho.

Being transplanted into a new environment means a lot of feeling around and trying to get comfortable in a new space.  Within the new surroundings, you have to adapt and learn how to thrive.  It’s been an interesting transition so far, and it’s only been a little more than a week.  There are already things that I’ve had to get used to, some that are more difficult than others.  The cumbersome adapters you have to use to plug anything into the wall (did I tell you that South African plugs are MASSIVE?).  Don't even get me started with the whole driving on other side of the road business.  But what’s most refreshing, however, is to find similarities because that’s what puts you at ease.  Seeing some of your favorite comfort foods at the Spar (the local supermarket)?  A total win.  Paying for it with your ridiculous handful of rand coins?  A total hassle.

Transplantation is all about being flexible.  In the thick of everything, you have to be able to change yourself to fit into the system.  The challenge, really, is to not lose yourself in the process.  It really is a give-and-take when you are put in situations like this.

I’m glad that Utshintsho has become a motto for me, and I think it will guide me for the rest of my year here.  Acknowledging change makes you figure out what hasn’t changed at all.  It’s gonna be interesting to think about myself a year from now and being able to reflect on how I’ve changed and how I’ve grown, but I can only imagine how much of myself I will have retained.  You can take the kid out of New York, but you can never take New York out of the kid.

The Things I Miss about Summertime in New York in 5 Senses

For those who are unaware, since South Africa is below the equator, it's winter right now.  No, it's not like brutal Rochester winters with snow and freezing temperatures.  It's been around 60 or so degrees (Fahrenheit, of course) every day so far, and it's been pretty rainy.  I've seen a few folks in several layers, some wearing hats, and PE's Site Coordinator Pumeza has been wearing a pretty stylish red peacoat, even while in the office.

It's only been a few days, but there are a few things about New York in the summer that I've already begun to miss, especially since I felt like I was prematurely plucked from it.  So I broke them all down into the 5 senses.

Photo Courtesy of Vivienne Gucwa

The Smells:
-the hot piles of garbage piled on the curb and baking in the sun

-the body odor emanating from the sweaty man's armpit that is conveniently right in front of your face as you stand on the crowded subway

-the iced coffee on everyone's breath

-the slight tinge of chlorine after jumping in the fountain at Washington Square Park or the saltiness in your hair after spending a day at Rockaway Beach

The Sounds:

-the ice cream truck's jungle on repeat

-the click-clack of Hispanic men playing dominos outside of the bodega and the beat of salsa playing in the distance

-the illegal fireworks bursting though the night sky even though it's way past the 4th of July

-the guy whose headphones are playing so loudly that you can hear what he's listening to, but it just so happens to be your favorite summer jam, so you forgive him

-the impatient honks of taxi drivers in heat

The Tastes:

-the sweetness of a refreshing Arizona Icea Tea

-dollar pizza on St. Mark's

-anything (and I mean anything) at Smorgasburg

-a crisp, cold mimosa at your favorite brunch spot

-all of the glorious fried food at the frequent street fairs

The Touch (...more like The Feeling):

-the stickiness of sweat in all your orifices

-the coldness of an air-conditioned train car (and the dankness of one that isn't), or when someone opens the door as you pass by a store, and the cold air from the inside punches you in the face

-the warm breeze as the train pulls into the station

-the condensation on your cup as you grab a drink

The Sights:

-the sun setting over the Hudson, preferably during Manhattanhenge or when the sky looks liek cotton candy

-the bare shoulders of women in maxi dresses and men in bro tanks

-a crap-ton of tourists that you want to push out of your way

-the red, white, and blue lights of the Freedom Tower twinkling from Lower Manhattan

-children playing in sprinklers, whether the real ones in the park or the makeshift fire hydrant sprinklers on the street

-the smiles on everyone's faces because, as much as it may suck sometimes, nothing beats a New York summer.

Dokta Paul in the Hizo

I figure I could make good use of my 5 hour layover in Johannesburg, so here's my post about this past week's orientation.

The story of my internship in Africa begins in the woods of Hew Hampshire.  This seems wrong in many ways.  When I told friends and family that I would be camping for my Grassroot Soccer orientation, they looked at me with blank stares.  They had one of two things in mind (or if they were astute, both): how was camping in New England supposed to prepare you me for an internship in South Africa and/or how was I going to survive roughing it for a few days?  Their concerns were very valid.

As I boarded the Greyhound at 5AM, I obviously had some pre-departure nerves.  With my brand new hiking pack strapped to my back and a cheap sleeping bag in tow, I felt like I looked awkward and out of place.  Who the hell even has a sleeping bag in New York City?

After a long, slow trip through New England, I finally arrived to the Grassroot Soccer office in Norwich, Vermont, right on the other side of the Connecticut River from Hanover, New Hampshire, home to Dartmouth University.  It was great meeting GRS staff, especially David Harrison, our point-person for the past few months, the intern team's omniscient father figure, and our biggest cheerleader, who has fallen victim to my frantic e-mails for the past few weeks.  As I walked through the office, shaking hands and meeting all the new interns as they trickled in, the experience suddenly became real.  It wasn't just stories I'd heard from friends or read about in blogs.  It was happening to me.  It was my own story now.

From there, we set off on our 5 day orientation (it was more like 4, but who's really counting?).  We spent the first half in Harris Cabin, a lodge owned by Dartmouth that's a short ways away in the mountains.  This was the "roughing it" part that I was warned about.  First, we all had to carry everything we would be needing for the next few days up a short hike, and this included all food and supplies.  This proved to be a little more difficult than I was expecting, as I was exhausted from carrying all my stuff and two large jugs of drinking water up the path.  Once we got up though, we were greeted by the cabin which was spacious and charming, though it did lack electricity and potable running water, and you had to use an outhouse a few yards down a path in the back.  Putting a group of tired, smelly, twenty-somethings in the forest is a great recipe for success to make them bond.

Orientation was led by a handful of GRS staff members: Austin, the intern coordinator; Leah, the head of global partnerships in the Cape Town office; Hooter, the rambunctious coach trainer; and Bonisiwe, or Sista B, a former GRS coach from South Africa.  Their spirit, excitement, and knowledge really helped us be inspired.  Throughout time in Harris Cabin, we played a lot of games, got to know each other, and were introduced to some of the GRS curriculum activities.  It was much like summer camp... 2.0.  We really got a feel for the organization in those first two days and also for the outstanding individuals with whom we'd be working.  I was also surprisingly christened with the nickname "Doctor," which I will happily adopt for the next year.

The second portion of orientation was in Pierce Inn, an adorable bed and breakfast closer to town, and this is where we did a lot more of the logistical preparation.  After taking long awaited showers, we sat in on presentation after presentation about the organization's history, initiatives, and everything else under the sun that we'd have to know.  Though sitting through loads of Powerpoints was not the most fun, we always broke away every so often to do another GRS activity, play a game or two, circle up for a juggling sesh, or do an energizer.

What was probably the most fun was the intern welcome dinner in which we got to mingle with staff and board members.  Donning brand new yellow GRS shirts, we had great food and drink, and we were able to meet a whole bunch of people who play integral roles in the organization.  Other than chatting up at dinner with the chair of the board (who I didn't know was the chair of the board until after the fact) and thoroughly creeping on co-founder and former Survivor winner Ethan Zohn, the night was just fantastic.  It ended with an impromptu talent show around a campfire that started with the other interns egging me on to sing "Ave Maria."

A fantastic surprise during our time at Pierce's was a visit from Jessi Lee, a friend from school (and sister, according to Facebook) who had just returned from her internship in Cape Town.  It was great hearing about the experiences that she and other intern alum had while they were serving in their different sites throughout Africa.  It was also crazy to think about how many of the current GRS staff were former interns.

The days seemed to fly by so quickly, and before you even had time to think, it was time to depart.  Most of the group was leaving directly from Pierce's, taking the bus from Hanover to Boston, and flying out from there, traveling together all the way to Johannesburg where they would all separate into their respective sites.  I was one of only two people who were traveling solo, as I was taking the train back to New York City for the night and leaving out of JFK in the morning.  It was sad to think I wasn't going to travel with my new family, but I know that we'll be making several visits to each other's sites all year.

And alas, here I am now in the OR Tambo International Airport in Johannesburg waiting for my connecting flight to Port Elizabeth.  The 15-hour flight went by surprisingly quickly, it seemed.  I was asleep for most of it, which helped, and while I was awake, I chatted with the South African man seated next to me who gave me a lot of advice (though he did end up hogging up the arm rest and basically fell asleep on my shoulder).

I can't wait to make it to PE this afternoon and reunite with my fantastic site partner, Claire.  I've heard so many stories from past interns, and I can't wait to meet all of the staff on the ground!  Only a few more hours 'til I make it to my new home for the year!

What This Feels Like

His palms are sweaty, knees weak, arms are heavy, there's vomit on his sweater already, mom's spaghetti.

Wait.  Those are Eminem lyrics.  But I'm pretty sure it accurately describes what I'm feeling right now.

When I think about being a Grassroot Soccer intern for the next year, I am overcome with a slew of emotions ranging from extreme jitters to casual complacency.  It's very much a roller coaster ride - from the excitement of getting my site placement to the struggles of getting a visa (which I finally got two days before departure).  I can only imagine that from here on out, the antics will continue.

As a short introduction, my name is Paul.  I am a 22-year-old from the Bronx, New York and recent graduate of the University of Rochester where I studied World Music and Dance, anthropology, and Public Health.  This year, I will be a Programs Intern for Grassroot Soccer in Port Elizabeth, Eastern Cape, South Africa.  Grasroot Soccer is an outstanding organization that uses the power of soccer to educate, inspire, and mobilize communities to stop the spread of HIV.  As a Programs Intern, I will support local programs and staff to deliver effective interventions in the communities with which Grassroot Soccer work.  This entails being involved in a multitude of different projects and responsibilities and serving as a support system for the staff at that office.

I hope to keep up with a good amount of consistency as writing really helps me process things.  I also want to keep all of my friends, family, and supporters in the loop and updated about my progress throughout the year.  For friends new and old, I hope to share thoughts, feelings, experiences, and wisdom.  I want you to really know what this feels like.  And as of right now, it feels exhilarating.

I can't wait for you to follow me on my next global journey and for all of the crazy things about to come.

And to end with some more lines from "Lose Yourself":

"If you had one shot, one opportunity, to seize everything you ever wanted.  One moment.  Would you capture it or just let it slip?"