My transition to Tshabo was one that involved very few adjustments, much to my surprise. I’ve grown up and have lived in a big city for most of my life, so I was preparing myself for some massive crisis to fall upon me when thrown into a rural environment. On my third night, some version of this crisis did manifest itself in, perhaps, a more embarrassing way than I thought it would. Earlier that day, my and my partner Katharine’s Mama had fussed at us about our use of the all-purpose-bucket she had designated for our use. We had already adjusted to using it to brush our teeth, but peeing and defecating in it we simply could not bring ourselves to feel comfortable with doing. “You must use the bucket when it gets dark!” our Mama exclaimed, scolding us for our tendency to venture out into the dark nights together to use the loo. Apparently there were many inconspicuous dangers inherent in village life that were far from obvious. For example, our first night in Tshabo our Mama warned Katherine and I that we had to make sure to close our window every night in case someone in the village didn’t like us and decided to torch our room with us in it; I was waiting for her to crack a smile in jest, but that smile never came. Going to the loo in the dark was on the list of things we were not to do, with no questions asked. To be honest, peeing in the bucket did not bother me so much; I rather enjoyed the opportunity to use the bucket, which seemed like the safe and comfortable alternative to trying to avoid blood-hungry spiders, giant mutant roaches, and other terrors of the night. However, I knew that Katherine didn’t really appreciate the whole peeing in the bucket concept so I felt pressed to find a solution that would leave all parties feeling contented.
This opportunity came late one night – and by “late” I mean around 11pm or so since adjusting to Tshabo completely shifted our conception of an appropriate bedtime. Everyone was fast asleep: our 50-odd-year old Mama and her slightly mentally handicapped sister-in-law (who we called Sisi) that Mama was left to take care of when her husband died of lung cancer in 2001; our eight-year old bhuti, Soso, and our feverish four-year old sisi, Bukho; and last but not least, ourselves, down for a pleasant night of sleep after a packed and productive village day. I was having one of those odd dreams in which you find yourself on a toilet and know what’s going to happen next so I immediately woke myself up and knew I was on a mission. I quietly slipped out of bed, grabbed the bucket, and crept out of the door so as not to awake Katharine. I thought I was in the clear as I pulled the door shut so I scurried down the hallway heading for the living room where I planned to conduct my business, but all of a sudden a ruckus broke out. As I ran down the hallway with my bucket I saw a light turn on in Sisi’s room followed by her exasperatedly screaming “Uya phi?!” (“Where are you going?!”). Given that I had no clue how to say “I have to pee!” in Xhosa, I knew I didn’t have time to explain what was going on, especially to this woman who, unlike our Mama, spoke no English.
All of a sudden Sisi started chasing after me down the hall while still yelling, Mama’s three dogs that sleep outside started howling at the top of their lungs, and our feverish sisi, Bukho, who awoke from the commotion started bawling. Amidst the chaos one thing was clear; I was in quite a pickle. I stood in the living room with my legs crossed and bouncing up and down, bladder near explosion, while attempting to explain to Sisi in Xhosa that I actually never intended to go outside, but just to move to the living room where I would not disturb Katherine. However, Sisi, who probably assumed that I was attempting to sneak outside use the bathroom, proceeded to tell some narrative of what she thought was going on to my Mama who was still in bed in her own bedroom with our sisi and bhuti. I started to realize my efforts were futile and so I did what any normal person would do at that point: I pulled down my pants and peed in the bucket, lights on in the middle of the living room, in front of Sisi and all. As if the situation was not bad enough, during what felt like the 10 minutes that I was squatting over the bucket, the largest living roach that I’ve ever seen in my life casually sauntered past my foot and into the kitchen. Throughout all of the chaos, I was not so embarrassed that I wound up urinating in front of Sisi, but rather that I did not have the chance to explain myself to anyone, and that I would thus be perceived as the disobedient guest. As my little sisi stopped crying, the dogs stopped barking, and everyone made their way back to bed, all that I could manage to shout out was a pathetic sounding “Sorry!”, walk back to my room, and shamefully climb back into bed.
The main road of Tshabo. All of the houses are pretty much off the side of this road to the right, and to the left are rolling hills with grazing cows and goats and such.
My darling bhuti (brother) and sisi (sister)!
One of our older sisis, who is currently studying Journalism at university, took me and my roommate to the center of the village in order to register for municipal elections.
Some of our many inkhukus (chicken in Xhosa - pronounced IN-CUCKOO) and lil chickadees.
The biggest rainbow I've ever seen!
The loo. My bathroom for the past week. I've spared you the view of what's down the hole.
My adorable sisi in her Sunday best!
So the Sunday we went to church in the village was pretty much the hottest day of my life. I didn't get to check the weather but I'm pretty sure it was ten billion degrees. Anyway, our Mama arranged for a transport to get us to the two-hour long service but not back in hopes that we would perhaps find a taxi along the road... but that transport never came and we wound up walking about a mile uphill and then another mile or too in the scorching heat back home. Our bhuti noticed that our sisi was getting so tired from walking and decided to carry her on his back for part of the way, a sacrifice that seems small but I can testify that in this heat it was a big one to make. I'm so glad I was able to capture this moment as a token of the bond between siblings, whether biological or simply in spirit, like these two were.
Here's our sisi and bhuti with their Mama. Our Mama's husband died from Lung Cancer in 2001. She has 3 kids who are older but she is now taking care of her granddaughter (our sisi) who is 4 years old and her great nephew (our bhuti) who is 8
Our backyard in Tshabo.
Beautiful sunset.
Another epic sunset.
