Who are we?

This blog is an agglomeration of the thoughts and experiences of two American girls who packed up and moved to South Africa on a whim. Caz from Fairfield, Connecticut and Mandy from Milwaukee, Wisconsin first met as roommates in 4127 on Semester at Sea in Fall of 2010.
In the interim, Caz returned to finish her Bachelor of Science with a double major in Biology (concentration in Microbiology) and Geography with a minor in Chemistry at the University of Miami in Florida, while Mandy took a hiatus to rediscover her real passion working with pregnant women, advocating for home birth and delivering babies outside of a hospital environment. We reconvened to follow both of our fields of study (read: hopes, dreams, asiprations, life goals, etc.) outside of the United States. Hello South Africa?

We are both here for at least a year and a half, though the more time we spend falling in love with South Africa, the more we'd like to think it'll be longer. We are both starting jobs in November/December: Caz working with infectious disease at a hospital clinic and Mandy beginning her training to become a certified midwife. Before then, we are both writing a book about our experiences leading up to this adventure as well as the multitude of serendipitous happenings that led us here.

As always, feel free to comment or ask questions. If you have an interest in a topic, let us know and we will surely oblige you (within reason). Enjoy!

Wednesday, October 30, 2013

The People God Listens To

Landing in Namibia was a bit of a test of faith. As we started the decent to our otherwise uneventful flight the pilot seemed to have forgotten he was flying a commercial airliner and not a 4 seater puddle jumper, letting the craft momentarily free fall into turbulence and banking a hard left as he lined up with the runway out in the vast open landscape of this southern African country. A hord of Norwegian teenagers screamed with giddy terror with ever turbulent bump, forcing me to pray to sweet baby Jesus that we wouldn't die. This is it, I always think, we're going down! As I look over to see how Caz is handling our impending doom I see that she is passed out in a coma completely unaware of the screaming kids or the fact  that we were being bounced around like rag dolls. But as it has happened everytime so far in my life, the plane landed. Bouncing down the runway we saw up close just how empty this land really feels. There is no one out here. 2 people for every square kilometer. Talk about few and far in between. 

That night we met our group, a lively and talkative convoy. We were the newcomers to a trip that had been going on already for about 10 days, so we walked into a well connected clan of travelers.

After dinner and introductions we hobbled our way back to our room anxious to actually get some sleep as the last 3 nights had been a fruitless venture for real rest with our SAS shenanigans. 

We were up early this morning. Jumped on a bus and headed for Botswana. We watched the shades of sienna and yellow grasses intermingle with massive unrestricted aloe trees that took over the landscape. The distant hills and mountains were captivating as was the sense of endless space and emptiness. It's food for the soul to see so much undeveloped land. 

Bouncing down the road in the back of a tour bus, giggling with Caz, made me incredibly nostalgic for middle school. Those early years in a grey hound bus with Mr. Eary's itinerary across the United States set me up for these adventures. I felt connected with my younger self; she always knew we would get here, trekking across Southern Africa on the look out for a tower of giraffe or a a business of mongoose. It feels right to be covered in African dust and sunburnt by the oven hot sun. I mean seriously though, I'm turning into a shriveled raisin. 

We came to the Namibian boarder with Botswana and filed through two immigration buildings. It's so satisfying to get stamped out or into another land. Like I'm getting away with something, who let me in this country?!

A few more hours and we would be in our camp of traditional bushmen huts. Caz and I couldn't stop laughing at the stupidest stuff in the back row of the bus, like naughty school kids. Something about the Corsican mint sequestering land from the chamomile in the garden at home and it starting a green revolution armed by Zimbabwean expats. Ahh the old empire rises again.

We finally got to the bushmen camp after a bumpy ride down a dirt road that bruised my tail bone and most certainly compressed my spine. The ride was so bumpy I couldn't even look at Caz without laughing because we looked ridiculous being bounced around like we were on a trampoline. We got there in one piece though, and were led to our huts, which were infact traditional grass homes. Could life be any cooler? I think not.

We spent the afternoon talking with our guides, who were both hysterical and informative. Both South African natives Tim and Arthur are an amazing tour team. It had been a hot hot dry day and we took it easy all afternoon. After dinner in the light of the setting sun I noticed a small group of about 9 traditional San bushmen had quietly gathered around a fire they started separate from our own. They were going to perform traditional healing and entertainment dances for us. I can't begin to try and pronounce, let alone spell, the names of the dances tht were performed but the stories behind them were intriguing an timeless. All based on animals the bushmen would encounter in the wild and one dance dedicated to roasting wild truffles. The drama was a sort of combination of acting and miming with the traditional shuffle of feet.

The women sang, clapped, and hummed simple but unique rhythms and melodies while the men performed their old old traditional dances. It's a culture and practice that's dying out as more and more bushmen grow up and want to live a more western lifestyle. Few stay to learn the old ways as the young men who performed for us do. 

As they stomped and shook and shuffled around to the sounds of the women's voices in front of the flames, under the vast open sky full of unpolluted stars I thought how lucky they were to have these ancient skills and knowledge and this way of life. 

These are the people that god listens to. 



They are one of the few ethnic groups who continue to live with and within their environment, not simply ontop of it as most of us do. They haven't lost touch as most people have. I wish I knew what my traditional tribal roots even are. 

A single little girl, maybe about 3 years old, continually joined in with the men dancing, eager to be apart of it all. What a gift to be raised this close to the earth. So few have that opportunity anymore. This was a beautiful experience. I cannot wait to see what the rest of G-Adventures has in store for us. Tomorrow it's off to Maun, then the Okavango delta. More to come! 

<3mandy

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