Hey everyone back in England and beyond!

So it’s now been over a week since I arrived in Clarens, South Africa and it’s been a lot to take in. I wake up with the stunning view of Mt Horeb every morning and more often than not at the weekend the eager faces of Tessa and Tonga (the two excitable but gorgeous border collies who belong to the family I stay with), before appreciating the fact that it gets light very quickly in winter, unlike England. The journey to the school is not a long one, but the socioeconomic difference between where I live – on the outskirts of Clarens in what can only be described as a gated and predominantly white area – and where most of the pupils live is vast. You drive on a main road through a hazy township of corrugated iron shacks or very small brick bungalows buzzing with children on their way to school and nonchalant chickens who are unaware of the irony they incur by wandering across the road! The odd cow or pigs are also a familiar sight, and today there were even sheep determined to walk in the middle of the road- this is as close as you will get to ‘dangerous’ animals you associate with South Africa in Clarens. However, if you are driving to the nearest town you may be lucky enough to see one or two buck, and on the way here from the airport I did spot the occasional ostrich.

I will admit that my Sesotho is awful and isn’t likely to improve anytime soon but I’m doing my best and can now confidently say ‘hello’ and ‘be quiet’. As seems to be a growing tradition amongst English arrivals in Clarens, the first word I was taught in Sesotho was mamina, which translates as snot. Charming. But sadly in frequent use haha. I’ve been able to find some familiar aspects that make my transition a bit more easy such as finding out that South Africans drive on the left hand side of the road, and as if in honour of my time in Cornwall the equivalent of ‘dreckly’ is ‘I’ll do it now’; if you want someone to do something immediately you have to say ‘now now’. The biggest cultural difference I’ve experienced so far is that everyone is very direct to others and there’s no British politeness or double meaning to what you say, which has created some comical anecdotes for those I work with. Sundays are also a very surreal experience the first time when you try to sing in a different language you’ve never read or experienced before, whilst jumping up and down or running around a room…

The school I’m volunteering at has been steadily growing since it opened and now caters for children up to the age of 14, though I’m mostly working with the UK equivalent of Year 5, 6 and 7/8. It’s a refreshing thing to be called Teacher Rosie rather than ‘Miss’ as it feels like there is still an acknowledgement of your status but there’s not so much of a barrier when building a relationship with the children. As it is, a lovely woman I work with acts almost as a parent in taking them to the dentist, giving them medicine, checking they are well etc.! As some of you may know I am awful with names but remember faces more easily, sadly this has been all too true since I’ve arrived and the lack of familiarity with common names hasn’t been helping me to remember them all but I feel I am beginning to get there (thank goodness!). So besides regretting my role in encouraging the children’s obsession with loom bands (meant as a healthier alternative to sugary sweets) I’m thoroughly enjoying my time there. The teachers are all welcome and more than willing to help you learn Sesotho phrases, local knowledge or even just the culture. Did I mention the children are extremely well behaved and hard working? What more could I want! 

            After my second week helping at a club run for children living in extreme poverty, or those who have been orphaned I’m beginning to get used to grabbing the children as they run in with big grins on their face and arms stretched wide in the expectation of a hug, or those a bit less forthcoming who still have a shy smile on their face as you hug them and ask how they are. It’s so very different from England it takes a few moments to take everything in at times, and that despite everything these children have been through their biggest concern as soon as you see them is to get the reassurance of a hug or to hold your hand. The nice thing is the language barrier becomes irrelevant.

            I’m hoping over the next few weeks to get used to the high altitude (1,800m) and feel less like I’m about to die every time I cycle to the school -- despite being a 10 minute ride away – so that I can go further afield with other cyclists I’ve met and see a bit more of the local area. Sadly without a car you are very restricted as to where you can go or what you can do especially as the nearest town is 24 miles away and everywhere in general is miles apart from anything else. Getting used to baking at high altitude would also be a nice thing as the first time I did it I had a mini identity crisis when half the biscuits came out burnt after only being in the oven for 5 minutes! Hopefully some pictures will follow shortly and capture the adventures of my sock-monkey.

Love and hugs to you all!