This is perhaps the most delinquent I've been in posting to date. This time, though, the lapse is due less to forgetfulness and more to an uncertainty of where to begin. With the end of my fellowship quickly approaching, I've struggled to verbalize, well, anything. It's been a whirlwind of last minute travels, work projects, and departure prep. And in full disclosure, I also finally listened to the world and started watching Breaking Bad. With limited internet, Heisenberg won.
Past posts have shared ways I've grown individually and experienced travel, challenges, and the typical mishaps on my own. In these past months, though, I'm more struck by how others have influenced my view of this country and my humble place within it. Stepping outside of myself, I've learned much through the other PiAf fellows, my family, and my faith.
Through the Princeton in Africa fellows
A huge part of my fellowship year in South Africa has taken place outside of my bubble here. As I live my day to day between Pretoria and Johannesburg, there are over forty other fellows living days that are often vastly different from my own. Between the retreat in Tanzania, regional retreats across southern Africa, and solo trips I've taken to visit fellows at their posts, I've gotten to travel more than I had dreamed. I could never experience all of their placements personally, but these trips and their shared pictures and blogs have allowed me to catch a glimpse.
In these interactions, I start to see South Africa through their reaction to my stories, through their own experiences visiting the country, through their interests in and reactions to different South African figures, through my reaction to their perception of my day to day goings on. I see South Africa through the comparative lens of their experiences in countries across the continent, finding similarities in otherwise seemingly disparate communities, or digging into differences within the southern Africa region.
These are engaging minds that force me to think critically about my experience and the perceptions I've built and/or broken through. While they help me wrestle with my fellowship, I greedily collect snapshots of their own experiences. As I learn more, my literal travel wish list grows longer and the figurative list of assumptions I can count on shatters.
And, of course, I add new stories of adventure and customary humiliation to my fellowship year.
In March, PiAf hosted the annual retreat in Moshi, Tanzania, at the foot of Mount Kilimanjaro. (Several fellows endowed with more natural athleticism than myself climbed Kili the week before. I, instead, was part of the welcoming crew that handed them a much-deserved Kili-brand beer when they finally arrived.) About mid-way through the year for most fellows, the retreat was a much-needed chance to reconnect and hear about everyone's experiences. We gathered stories and advice to help us navigate the remainder of our fellowship, and shared missteps that made us feel a bit better about our own. I arrived a day early and spent my 25 birthday with two other fellows drinking milkshakes (never think an avocado milkshake is a good idea), perusing the local Moshi marketplace (I now own a pair of red pants covered in elephants I have yet to wear), and counting how many cries of "mzungu" (white person) I could excite.
In May, I traveled to Swaziland for the MTN Bushfire Music Festival with a group of fellows from South Africa, Lesotho, Botswana, and Uganda. We crashed with the Swazi fellow and spent the weekend eating great food, listening to music I understood 20 percent of the time, and, mostly, laughing. Very uncharacteristically, I avoided most humiliation during the trip.
Though I shy away from superlatives, my June trip to Rwanda was the best trip of the year. I spent four days in Kigali and Musanze with two fellows from Rwanda, a fellow from Uganda, and another from Kenya. As a region, East Africa is quite different from southern Africa. The trip was a whirlwind learning curve for me, and I trust it provided some entertainment for my friends.
Complete with white-knuckled motorcycle rides with second-degree burns (watch out for those exhaust pipes...), an ill-timed power-outage at the otherwise very powerful genocide museum, and a near death-by-crushing bus experience much more dramatic in the retelling, this trip was incredible from start to finish. Called "the land of a thousand hills," the views here don't disappoint; everywhere you look is breathtaking. We spent a lazy Saturday canoeing down a river through several different crops, as women and children tending to them watched us float sideways more than we had planned. Perhaps nothing was more beautiful, though, than the Volcanoes National Park, where we hiked the Dian Fossey trail that follows her original path through mountains by the border with the DRC. After frequent downpours the day before, the path had become literal mud pits along the way. An already rocky hike was now a battle between the mud's ability to suction your shoe, and your will to stay upright. Apparently endowed with a keen eye for weak links, the porter stayed close by to steady me as I hopped from log to muddy log, often incorrectly guessing their distances from each other, and repeatedly rescued the gaiters I repeatedly walked out of (a vain attempt to keep my fresh burn safe from the mud). Our excited and unexpected gorilla sighting was followed by broken apologies to the woman whose field I promptly and inexplicably threw up in, as the porter embarrassingly buried it with my walking stick. If there's ever been a man more deserving of a tip, I've yet to meet him. I could only escape my mishaps for so long.
Through my family
I've also gotten to experience South Africa through my family. My parents and grandpa visited for two weeks in April, and we had an incredible time. Perhaps the best way to get to know a place is to become a trip planner/travel guide for a country you're still just learning yourself. (This could make an interesting pitch for a Travel Planet TV show...)
We spent time exploring Johannesburg, including the must-see Apartheid museum, Constitution Hill, and dinner at Moyo with great food and ample face paint. We traveled to Cape Town and stayed at the Lodge in the Sky, an awesome AirBnB that sat between Lion's Head and Table Mountain, with a huge glass porch from which to admire both. In Cape Town, we made it to Robben's Island and the top of Table Mountain, and made our way through plenty of great food. My favorite experience in Cape Town, though, was undoubtedly the day trip we took around the peninsula. Highlights included watching seals show-off at the pier in Kalk Bay, checking under our car for rogue penguins after attempting to walk like them, stalking a congress of baboons - thanks, Grandfather, for that terminology - and slight personal panic when one jumped on my window and stared me down. We hiked to the lighthouse at Cape Point, jumped around with emus at the Cape of Good Hope, and ate our picnic at the side of the road as the sun set over the ocean. Picture me as a paranoid lookout for hungry baboons while trying to play it cool.
Our trip ended with a three-day safari at Pilanesberg National Park and Game Reserve in North West province, where we stayed in tents arguably nicer than my apartment in DC. The first day was replete with elephant sightings - including an adorable struggle to help a baby elephant out of a mud pit - giraffe, zebra, wildebeest, springbok, a couple jackals, and some lions lounging in the distance. The early highlight, though, came the second morning when we chanced upon the park's only female cheetah and her three cubs sprawled out in the middle of a field, playing and running around. It was incredible, as was the security afforded by the metal doors of the van we were in.
Arguably the best part of the safari, though, came on the third and final day. Our safari guide followed an anti-rhino poaching helicopter that seemed to be flying strangely low. Curious, we pulled up to the helicopter after it landed to see what was going on. Before long, someone from the group shouted to our van and asked if there was anyone inside that could help carry a rhino. I have never before appreciated the resemblance between my dad and my grandfather, nor have I seen either of them move so quickly. Before the words were out of his mouth, my dad had already shouted "are you kidding me?!" ripped back the van door. Both were halfway through the long grass before the rest of us registered what was happening. When the guide told the women to stay in the car, my dad scoffed and told my mom and I to follow with every camera. We did, of course. It's remarkable how fast my outlook of that morning changed as we walked through that long grass, surrounded by armed guards. Whereas five minutes earlier I was yearning to see some lions up close, I was now fervently praying for all cats to be lurking far, far away.
To keep the story short, we were able to assist in the rescue attempt for the baby rhino. It had been attacked the previous night by a male rhino that was interested in the baby rhino's mother, and the baby had simply been in the way. The baby had sustained several severe injuries from the male's horn. The team sedated both mother and baby, and decided the injuries were too severe to address in the field. He needed to be flown via helicopter to a veterinary hospital. As a group, we helped carry this huge baby rhino into a truck bed, and then again into a helicopter. Mom and I captured the footage while my dad and grandpa fought for a spot near the rhino to hoist it. The warnings not to drop the rhino were severe. So was the smell.
My favorite part, though, was my dad's reaction to the event. For the past three days, he'd repeatedly begged to be able to get out of the car in the park. For obvious good reason, the guides never let him. He even tried - and succeeded - in climbing through the passenger side window and filming the cheetahs from over the van roof. This time, though, he had not only gotten to get out of the van, but helped carry a rhino. His victory dance involved a lot of hips and was accompanied by a short "I got out of the car" jingle that will forever be associated with rhinos.
The new experiences were great fun and seeing my family again provided a much needed morale boost. But even more than that, seeing their reactions to encounters and aspects of life here reinvigorated my own appreciation, often in areas I hadn't even realized had started to lag. By seeing the country through their eyes, I was faced with questions I hadn't thought to ask about things they noticed but had escaped my own attention. Their visit provided a much-needed breather from work, reintroduction of "dad jokes" into my life, and geared me up for the remainder of my fellowship.
Through my faith
Finally, my faith has provided a constant lens I've tried to channel my experiences through. I teach seventh graders every Sunday morning, and it has quickly become one of my favorite parts of the week. After drilling me about my accent and my disappointing non-acquaintance with movie stars, we formed quick connections. I tailor the lessons to the topics they want to learn about. What church teachings are relevant to their lives this week? What do they have questions on? What doesn't make sense? Why? It's been so exciting and humbling to see how quickly they take to it and ask questions. They also don't let me get away with anything. If we're playing a game, they want me to go first. If we're doing skits, I have to have a role on each team's script. Shouts of "ma'am" echo from all corners of the room, as they all want to know one more thing about the United States, the White House bowling alley (I earned some cool points for that one), the different Catholic churches I've been to around the world, the reason Mary means a lot to us, why we read from the Gospels at Mass, what confirmation really is, etc. Being important in these students' lives and sharing with them the most important thing in mine - our shared Catholic faith - is humbling. And honestly, who doesn't love acting like a middle-schooler again and playing endless trivia games and rounds of hang-man with candy prizes?
I've had great reminders of my faith outside of church, as well. Uber drivers that pick me up on Sunday morning have asked to learn about what I believe, and why. I've had multiple ask if they could go to church, too, to see what it's about. I'm always surprised by the opportunities He creates to share our faith, and welcome the chance to explain a faith that people are sometimes surprised to see held by a twenty-something. Throughout these encounters, I try to make sure faith is the common thread through everything I do, and reminds me why I'm here in this fellowship in the first place.
Beyond the fellowship
It's hard to believe, but I just started my second to last week at work here. My last day is 3 July, and then I fly back to Michigan on 14 July. I've absolutely loved my time here, but I also feel unabashedly ready for what's next.
In August, I start a master's program in sustainable development at the University of Notre Dame. I hope to focus on food and water security to address hunger and malnutrition, especially in the face of climate change. I couldn't be more excited about this next step. It's taken a lot of prayer, informal interviews, and career events over the past few years here and in DC, but I'm confident this is the path I want to pursue. I'm excited by the quantitative nature of the courses and the practical application of this graduate degree. The summer between the two years will be spent in another international placement. Cheers to this next adventure!
As always, I'll end with an apology for the length. When I wait this long, too much has happened to reach a shorter word limit. I'm sure my brothers could make a charming abridged version that summarizes entire sections with "blah, blah, blah." To compensate, my next post will be composed entirely of photos and very concise captions.
Past posts have shared ways I've grown individually and experienced travel, challenges, and the typical mishaps on my own. In these past months, though, I'm more struck by how others have influenced my view of this country and my humble place within it. Stepping outside of myself, I've learned much through the other PiAf fellows, my family, and my faith.
Through the Princeton in Africa fellows
A huge part of my fellowship year in South Africa has taken place outside of my bubble here. As I live my day to day between Pretoria and Johannesburg, there are over forty other fellows living days that are often vastly different from my own. Between the retreat in Tanzania, regional retreats across southern Africa, and solo trips I've taken to visit fellows at their posts, I've gotten to travel more than I had dreamed. I could never experience all of their placements personally, but these trips and their shared pictures and blogs have allowed me to catch a glimpse.
In these interactions, I start to see South Africa through their reaction to my stories, through their own experiences visiting the country, through their interests in and reactions to different South African figures, through my reaction to their perception of my day to day goings on. I see South Africa through the comparative lens of their experiences in countries across the continent, finding similarities in otherwise seemingly disparate communities, or digging into differences within the southern Africa region.
These are engaging minds that force me to think critically about my experience and the perceptions I've built and/or broken through. While they help me wrestle with my fellowship, I greedily collect snapshots of their own experiences. As I learn more, my literal travel wish list grows longer and the figurative list of assumptions I can count on shatters.
And, of course, I add new stories of adventure and customary humiliation to my fellowship year.
In March, PiAf hosted the annual retreat in Moshi, Tanzania, at the foot of Mount Kilimanjaro. (Several fellows endowed with more natural athleticism than myself climbed Kili the week before. I, instead, was part of the welcoming crew that handed them a much-deserved Kili-brand beer when they finally arrived.) About mid-way through the year for most fellows, the retreat was a much-needed chance to reconnect and hear about everyone's experiences. We gathered stories and advice to help us navigate the remainder of our fellowship, and shared missteps that made us feel a bit better about our own. I arrived a day early and spent my 25 birthday with two other fellows drinking milkshakes (never think an avocado milkshake is a good idea), perusing the local Moshi marketplace (I now own a pair of red pants covered in elephants I have yet to wear), and counting how many cries of "mzungu" (white person) I could excite.
In May, I traveled to Swaziland for the MTN Bushfire Music Festival with a group of fellows from South Africa, Lesotho, Botswana, and Uganda. We crashed with the Swazi fellow and spent the weekend eating great food, listening to music I understood 20 percent of the time, and, mostly, laughing. Very uncharacteristically, I avoided most humiliation during the trip.
Though I shy away from superlatives, my June trip to Rwanda was the best trip of the year. I spent four days in Kigali and Musanze with two fellows from Rwanda, a fellow from Uganda, and another from Kenya. As a region, East Africa is quite different from southern Africa. The trip was a whirlwind learning curve for me, and I trust it provided some entertainment for my friends.
Complete with white-knuckled motorcycle rides with second-degree burns (watch out for those exhaust pipes...), an ill-timed power-outage at the otherwise very powerful genocide museum, and a near death-by-crushing bus experience much more dramatic in the retelling, this trip was incredible from start to finish. Called "the land of a thousand hills," the views here don't disappoint; everywhere you look is breathtaking. We spent a lazy Saturday canoeing down a river through several different crops, as women and children tending to them watched us float sideways more than we had planned. Perhaps nothing was more beautiful, though, than the Volcanoes National Park, where we hiked the Dian Fossey trail that follows her original path through mountains by the border with the DRC. After frequent downpours the day before, the path had become literal mud pits along the way. An already rocky hike was now a battle between the mud's ability to suction your shoe, and your will to stay upright. Apparently endowed with a keen eye for weak links, the porter stayed close by to steady me as I hopped from log to muddy log, often incorrectly guessing their distances from each other, and repeatedly rescued the gaiters I repeatedly walked out of (a vain attempt to keep my fresh burn safe from the mud). Our excited and unexpected gorilla sighting was followed by broken apologies to the woman whose field I promptly and inexplicably threw up in, as the porter embarrassingly buried it with my walking stick. If there's ever been a man more deserving of a tip, I've yet to meet him. I could only escape my mishaps for so long.
Through my family
I've also gotten to experience South Africa through my family. My parents and grandpa visited for two weeks in April, and we had an incredible time. Perhaps the best way to get to know a place is to become a trip planner/travel guide for a country you're still just learning yourself. (This could make an interesting pitch for a Travel Planet TV show...)
We spent time exploring Johannesburg, including the must-see Apartheid museum, Constitution Hill, and dinner at Moyo with great food and ample face paint. We traveled to Cape Town and stayed at the Lodge in the Sky, an awesome AirBnB that sat between Lion's Head and Table Mountain, with a huge glass porch from which to admire both. In Cape Town, we made it to Robben's Island and the top of Table Mountain, and made our way through plenty of great food. My favorite experience in Cape Town, though, was undoubtedly the day trip we took around the peninsula. Highlights included watching seals show-off at the pier in Kalk Bay, checking under our car for rogue penguins after attempting to walk like them, stalking a congress of baboons - thanks, Grandfather, for that terminology - and slight personal panic when one jumped on my window and stared me down. We hiked to the lighthouse at Cape Point, jumped around with emus at the Cape of Good Hope, and ate our picnic at the side of the road as the sun set over the ocean. Picture me as a paranoid lookout for hungry baboons while trying to play it cool.
Our trip ended with a three-day safari at Pilanesberg National Park and Game Reserve in North West province, where we stayed in tents arguably nicer than my apartment in DC. The first day was replete with elephant sightings - including an adorable struggle to help a baby elephant out of a mud pit - giraffe, zebra, wildebeest, springbok, a couple jackals, and some lions lounging in the distance. The early highlight, though, came the second morning when we chanced upon the park's only female cheetah and her three cubs sprawled out in the middle of a field, playing and running around. It was incredible, as was the security afforded by the metal doors of the van we were in.
Arguably the best part of the safari, though, came on the third and final day. Our safari guide followed an anti-rhino poaching helicopter that seemed to be flying strangely low. Curious, we pulled up to the helicopter after it landed to see what was going on. Before long, someone from the group shouted to our van and asked if there was anyone inside that could help carry a rhino. I have never before appreciated the resemblance between my dad and my grandfather, nor have I seen either of them move so quickly. Before the words were out of his mouth, my dad had already shouted "are you kidding me?!" ripped back the van door. Both were halfway through the long grass before the rest of us registered what was happening. When the guide told the women to stay in the car, my dad scoffed and told my mom and I to follow with every camera. We did, of course. It's remarkable how fast my outlook of that morning changed as we walked through that long grass, surrounded by armed guards. Whereas five minutes earlier I was yearning to see some lions up close, I was now fervently praying for all cats to be lurking far, far away.
To keep the story short, we were able to assist in the rescue attempt for the baby rhino. It had been attacked the previous night by a male rhino that was interested in the baby rhino's mother, and the baby had simply been in the way. The baby had sustained several severe injuries from the male's horn. The team sedated both mother and baby, and decided the injuries were too severe to address in the field. He needed to be flown via helicopter to a veterinary hospital. As a group, we helped carry this huge baby rhino into a truck bed, and then again into a helicopter. Mom and I captured the footage while my dad and grandpa fought for a spot near the rhino to hoist it. The warnings not to drop the rhino were severe. So was the smell.
My favorite part, though, was my dad's reaction to the event. For the past three days, he'd repeatedly begged to be able to get out of the car in the park. For obvious good reason, the guides never let him. He even tried - and succeeded - in climbing through the passenger side window and filming the cheetahs from over the van roof. This time, though, he had not only gotten to get out of the van, but helped carry a rhino. His victory dance involved a lot of hips and was accompanied by a short "I got out of the car" jingle that will forever be associated with rhinos.
The new experiences were great fun and seeing my family again provided a much needed morale boost. But even more than that, seeing their reactions to encounters and aspects of life here reinvigorated my own appreciation, often in areas I hadn't even realized had started to lag. By seeing the country through their eyes, I was faced with questions I hadn't thought to ask about things they noticed but had escaped my own attention. Their visit provided a much-needed breather from work, reintroduction of "dad jokes" into my life, and geared me up for the remainder of my fellowship.
Through my faith
Finally, my faith has provided a constant lens I've tried to channel my experiences through. I teach seventh graders every Sunday morning, and it has quickly become one of my favorite parts of the week. After drilling me about my accent and my disappointing non-acquaintance with movie stars, we formed quick connections. I tailor the lessons to the topics they want to learn about. What church teachings are relevant to their lives this week? What do they have questions on? What doesn't make sense? Why? It's been so exciting and humbling to see how quickly they take to it and ask questions. They also don't let me get away with anything. If we're playing a game, they want me to go first. If we're doing skits, I have to have a role on each team's script. Shouts of "ma'am" echo from all corners of the room, as they all want to know one more thing about the United States, the White House bowling alley (I earned some cool points for that one), the different Catholic churches I've been to around the world, the reason Mary means a lot to us, why we read from the Gospels at Mass, what confirmation really is, etc. Being important in these students' lives and sharing with them the most important thing in mine - our shared Catholic faith - is humbling. And honestly, who doesn't love acting like a middle-schooler again and playing endless trivia games and rounds of hang-man with candy prizes?
I've had great reminders of my faith outside of church, as well. Uber drivers that pick me up on Sunday morning have asked to learn about what I believe, and why. I've had multiple ask if they could go to church, too, to see what it's about. I'm always surprised by the opportunities He creates to share our faith, and welcome the chance to explain a faith that people are sometimes surprised to see held by a twenty-something. Throughout these encounters, I try to make sure faith is the common thread through everything I do, and reminds me why I'm here in this fellowship in the first place.
Beyond the fellowship
It's hard to believe, but I just started my second to last week at work here. My last day is 3 July, and then I fly back to Michigan on 14 July. I've absolutely loved my time here, but I also feel unabashedly ready for what's next.
In August, I start a master's program in sustainable development at the University of Notre Dame. I hope to focus on food and water security to address hunger and malnutrition, especially in the face of climate change. I couldn't be more excited about this next step. It's taken a lot of prayer, informal interviews, and career events over the past few years here and in DC, but I'm confident this is the path I want to pursue. I'm excited by the quantitative nature of the courses and the practical application of this graduate degree. The summer between the two years will be spent in another international placement. Cheers to this next adventure!
As always, I'll end with an apology for the length. When I wait this long, too much has happened to reach a shorter word limit. I'm sure my brothers could make a charming abridged version that summarizes entire sections with "blah, blah, blah." To compensate, my next post will be composed entirely of photos and very concise captions.