Walkabout

Yesterday was the first day of PST (Pre-Service Training). We stood in five separate lines (for 90+ PCVs (Peace Corps Volunteers) to hand in the rest of our paperwork and receive other documents. It was characteristic, but not bad. We spent most of the day getting an overview of the Peace Corps and South Africa, mostly focused on expectations, worries, and how to shape our outlook on development work. I'm impressed by how friendly and engaging everyone is. We're all excited to finally be here.
I'm also impressed by how many couples there are. I counted at least five total. Several of them are in their 30s/40s and resigned their jobs (as teachers) to come. We befriended one of these couples and had a lot of fun speaking with them. The husband is a math teacher and even though they are both fluent in Spanish they were called to South Africa because there is such a shortage of math teachers. The Peace Corps said he was the most qualified math teacher they'd ever had because so few math teachers apply.
One of the ladies at our table was in her 60s or 70s and is one of the spunkiest people I've ever met. She wanted to see what was going on in the Middle East a few years ago because she didn't agree with what the Bush administration is doing, so she flew to Kabul, Baghdad and Palestine so she could write about them in her blog as an independent journalist. When I mentioned that I was from Utah and that I'd lived in Ukraine for a couple years, she said "Oh, you did that Mormon thing, right? The walkabout?" I said "Uhhh, yeah." Then we discussed Michael Franti, whom she has met personally, commenting that he is amazing and a very dedicated parent. We talked about his movie and she apparently thought I was cool, because she held out her fist in order to give me the "bump." I admit I stared at it for a second, not comprehending that this woman from my Grandma's era knew or would perform such a "hip" form of nonverbal communication so effortlessly. Impressive.

Come Sail [and/or Fly] Away

Though flawed, Winston Churchill had a knack for inspirational phrases. For example: "To every man there comes in his lifetime that special moment when he is figuratively tapped on the shoulder to do a special thing unique to him and fitted to his talents. What a tragedy if that moment finds him unprepared or unqualified for the work which would be his finest hour."

I fear, however, that becoming a Primary Teacher Training Resource Volunteer in one of half-a-dozen languages is neither unique to me nor fitted to my talents. Nevertheless, as a younger version of myself used to say, I love a good challenge. Like waiting in line for a yet-unexperienced roller coaster, I find myself more excited than nervous, ready to let it take me to places many have loved, though some have not.

Yet I will sail my Argo with alacrity and vim to the port of Good Hope, looking for friendly faces in a sea of many colors: woven through with the golden filaments of ubuntu, that richest of fabrics and most youthful of fountains. Various pupils will then, hopefully, become mirrors of nature, reflecting about new light.