I don't want to hear compliments right now. Right now I'd be very ungracious to those who would give them.
You think I'm strong. Thanks. You think I'm brave. Yeah, well, that's your opinion.
And this is anger and it's no ones' fault, except maybe my own.

I've been listening to my iPod a lot this week. In no particular order, except maybe the first one, are some of my most played.

"Different Names for the Same Thing"  Deathcab for Cutie
courtesy of Nicholas Bond
For whatever reason I've been starting all iPod sessions with this song.

"Samson"  Regina Spektor
gift of Hannah Montford
Just sweet and mournful

"Winter"  Tori Amos
added by Jodi Wiener
The infamous White Horses song.

"Heads Carolina"  Jo Dee Messina
courtesy of Nate Dempsey
Because sometimes you just want to get away from it all

"World on Fire"  Sarah McLachlin
gift of Elisabeth Flottman
Just beautiful

"Silver Lining"  Amanda Ghost
One of mine
Cuz you got to believe that it will end all right in the end

"Beds are Burning"  Midnight Oil
donated by Julie Shroeder
Gotta dance

Thanks to everyone who gave me a great Peace Corps soundtrack.

My family here and I are doing okay. We're sort of in an extended wake moment leading up to the funeral this coming Saturday. Their is laughter and tears and conversations of all types.

Hi.
My host-mother, my make (mah-gay) in siSwati, passed away on Monday.
I can say that I knew, my family knew, that this was coming, becasue it was. And all my apprehension for it was warrented? and yet looking back feels stupid. I don't know....
I said goodbye to her as I was leaving to work at the clinic in the morning. I knew she was to go see another doctor that day, but she was sitting up in her bed. Later that night, as I was reading in the family room after dinner, my host-father and others returned. I thought make was just staying the night.
With us in the morning, but no longer in the evening. I'm shocked. It, death, still shocks.
I came into the city and the Peace Corps office the day after. The staffers suggested just a short step away to talk about what to expect in the next couple of days.
I'll be going back on Thursday with a staffer so we as an organization can pay our respects. I plan on remaining there for a while.
My mother's family will be arriving from SA to discussion and prepare for the ceremony in the coming days. The funeral is to be held next weekend, the 29th.

I wouldn't have picked it. God.

My Swazi host mother's health has taken a dramatic turn for the worse.
She is 74, which is coincidently more than double the life expectancy in this country at the moment. She is a grandmother.
I didn't expect to...encounter such a situation again. I'm all a mishmash.
I'm part of the family, except I'm not. I'm leaving in 5 months. These people have been really really good to me and what they are owed, in all the senses emotionally, monetarily, physically, mentally, is coming to a climax for me and our relationship. These are questions that don't necessarily have answers, which, as usual, doesn't make things easy.
So, bluntly, I've got another mother dying on me. That is so bad to think but it's a bad situation. And I don't want to have to deal with this, and I feel bad for feeling so, but I got to deal with it and I am. I'm all a mishmash.
I've been in contact with my friends here and PC staff. I've got the support and the explicit and implicit "OK" to do what I feel I need to do for whatever comes. I can step away if needed.
From what I've seen, just a little, and heard, just a bit, Swazi grieving practices are intense by American standards. There can be vigils lasting days culminating in an all night, better not fall asleep, service right before the actual burial.
And I don't like funerals. But, I'll go. Should it come to that. But, I don't want it to come to that.

Who knew it would be Africa that I'd go to meet American movie actresses.
I just got back from talking with and discussing the challenges of HIV in Swaziland with Jurnee Smollett, a really interesting and passionate person working with Artists for a New South Africa. www.ansafrica.org
I had a really fun time just shootin the shit, you know, in that professional way.

I got drunk last night at a party.
There was a collective February birthday bash at a backpackers inside a gamepark.
I meant to get drunk and I did. It was fun.
I was not crazy or pukey drunk, just slow funny drunk.
I don't do this very often for reasons of security and propriety, but sometimes its just nice to just let go.
I ate enough food. I drank enough water. I eventually got myself to bed at the late hour of 10pm.
I woke up 2 hours later with a cloudy head but otherwise ok. I drank some more water. I went down for a little bit to hang with those still up and then went back to bed.
After a filling breakfast this morning I'm feeling fine.

Before I begin with the vacation story, let me say that these past couple vacation blogs has been brought to you by, My Third Time Caught in Town Because of the Rain This Month: Muddy Roads It Does a Blogging Good.
We ate breakfast in Stellenbosch as a partial eclipse of the sun gave the entire world that dim shadowy feeling. We packed up and drove out and we tried to keep to the outsides of the CT metropolis on our way to Cape Point.
So, contrary to popular belief, south of Cape Town, the Cape Point and Cape of Good Hope, is not where the Indian and Atlantic meet. This is not the most southernly tip of Africa. That's some bit east in a little known, and probably little visited, national park (it starts with an A). The Cape of Good Hope is the most southwesterly point, but such a moniker feels like it's trying too hard.
We drove along the coast towards the Capes. There was this wide expanse of a township close to the beach. Corregated metal shacks. Drifting sand dunes. Lots and lots of litter. Garbage crews on the beach trying to pick up said litter and dead seals.
The towns along the eastern side of the cape coast down felt really cramped, clausterphobically, to me.
The Table Mountain National Park extends south to include the Capes. It's a beauty stark. Low mottled colored scrub. The land stops and the sky and ocean take over. The day was overcast of robin eggshell blue.
We picked a good day to visit. It seemed like we had the place to ourselves when we entered and me made a short stop at a info center and then to what would have been a lonely beach if not for the catering crew setting up for some event.
I forgot to mention the lynx that we saw, or maybe I just saw as he was driving. A burst of movement in the scrub. A form bounding away, low to the ground.
As we drove up to the point we were met with baboons on the road. There were also park rangers with sticks to help keep the animals moving.
There we some small crowds at the point, but nothing like we had to wait in line to walk around.
And that's what we did, we walked around and took pictures. We read about the various lighthouses and atmospheric research being done.
In the interest of brevity we saw the Cape of Good Hope and then we drove to the airport to drop off the rental car. And we hopped a taxi to our hotel.
We went down to the V&A Waterfront Harbor and Mall that evening. I bought more books. We saw Australia and it was schlocky good at best.
The next day we explored the city. We saw some churches. We saw some museums. We walked through some souvenir markets. We saw some mosques. We walked in the blustry evening to another hotel's restaurant where we had an excellent meal.
We talked past, present, future stuff. We talked my mom. I almost started crying. The power in the hotel went out then we went back to our hotel to sleep.
Our last full day in Cape Town we walked up Table Mountain. We waited in line for the tram for an hour and half. While the wind at the base wasn't exactly strong apparently it was up at the top so much the cable cars weren't running. We decided to hoof-it. I wore flip flops; he had some other type of velcrowy sandals.
It tooks us 3.5 hours to get to the top (apparently he's old). There were a lot of switchbacks. There was never real rock climping, but the trail up would at times need a hand out front on the rock above. Great views of the city and the bay.
We we finally made it there were lots of people up there. In the past 3.5 hrs the winds had died down. We had lunch at a cafeteria on the top of the mountain, and while the food was good (I've had better and a hell of a lot worse) I don't know how I feel about such a thing. The packaged cookies were good though.
The ride down took 6.5 minutes.
We rested at the hotel and that evening we went back to the waterfront for a hurried meal and a very nice sunset cruise. It was a nice way to end the trip watching the sun play on the mountain and the city as it went down on the western horizon. We had come complimentary bubbly wine. No whales in the water like last time, but I saw a lone penguin.
We seperated in the Cape Town airport the next day. We were flying different flights to Jo'burg and then I would fly back into Swaziland he would hop the continent and then an ocean to the USA.
I took 23 vacation days. He's been pensioned so he had the time. It was lots of fun. I'm really happy and thankful for his visit.
My 600th day in Peace Corps fell right after returning to the Swaz. March, April, May, June, July are what I have left.
I've 17 vacation days I've got to use up before May 12th when I'm locked down until I leave. The first months were integration so the opposite would be...desintegration?
Well, here's to it, whatever comes.

We went to a mall in Bloemfontein. I bought a pair of shorts. I had a excellent sauted pumpkin and other veg with feta salad. We went for surf and turf  for dinner that night. We had another incident of me losing my father in the parking lot of the strip mall next to the restaurant. I get out of the car and head to the building door and then turn around and realize he's not behind me. I thought he knew where we were going. I knew where we were going. We both we present when the directions were given towards the restaurant. I don't believe I bolted from the car. Apparently he's getting old (duh) and I've yet to make that obvious super-liminal state more subliminal, as in kenetic body movements, as in slowing down for senior citizens.
But onwards. After Bloemfontein we headed into the Karoo desert and came to Graaf-Reinet. The third oldest town, at least for the Afrikaners, in SA. A beautiful town nestled against a mesa. It was warm and sunny. Finally. We walked around the town. I bought a book at a shop. We scheduled a guided sunset tour of the Valley of Desolation with sundowners.
Sundowners are drinks served as the sun sets.
So a lot of the rock formations are from two forces. Very very very old lava piping and strata that formed under sand that later became stone itself. Add millions of years of erosion and you have impressive scenery. The valley of Desolation was very big. It was hugged against the same mesa as the town. But it was cool to look down from above. All broken and fallen down pipes of igneous rock. Our guide was really knowledgeable and had a great personable air. It helped that it was only my father and I competing for her attention. We learned about local flaura, fauna, and history.
And then I stood up from my sundowner and my father's new digital camera, that had been in my lap, rolled off and down into a crevice. And in that moment I felt like the biggest ass for completely, cherry on the top of all the other shit I'd put him through so far, destroying our vacation.
After a lot of self hate and dread, and a little help and guidance from our guide, I managed to climb down close to the edge of the cliffside and wedge under the rocks to get the camera. Some scrapes but it worked still. Woah.
We had dinner in the old British garrison officer's club. I had delicious Karoo lamb. There is an indigenous plant, cousin to rosemarry?, that the sheep eat and get internally seasoned. We had some wine. And I had an excellent gingersnap cookie cage around ice cream. We walked home in the dark and I fell asleep on top of my bed covers, which he admonished me for doing so, "If you pay for a room its polite to sleep under the covers", the next morning.
He can admonish me to the cows come home for all I care. I probably deserve some, he couldn't make me feel worse about myself than what I was feeling the night previous, but I got the damn camera back and it wasn't broken, so a new day a new start on life, or vacation so to speak.
It didn't last long. I got a bit pissy again towards lunchtime. But we ate good in George, SA. Then we drove to Knysna, on the garden route. We stayed 2 nights at a B&B on, I shit you not, Pleasure Island. It was in this bay off the Indian Ocean. The water was cold despite it being low and relatively warm weather. We walked a bit and hung out at the beach a bit.
Stellenbosch, the inner town, is like Afrikaner heartdom. It has like there most beloved university. I have a sucker heart for such towns and environments. Actaully before we to Stellenbosch we saw this monument to the Afrikaner language.
An aside, my prejudices. To my ears Afrikaans is not a pretty language. Very gutteral sounding. As a people I can't completely get over the, "Apartheid-it's all your fault you evil people". But coming from the USA such righteous talk is embarrasing and icky to my heart and ears. Equally unsettling, and hurtful, is that I sometimes find myself more at ease when I'm surrounded by more European cultural stuff and, well, let's air all the dirty laundry, more Eurasian descenting looking people. I don't know how to, or if I can and/or should, fix these inner conflictions/ills, of my or society's making. I don't know what is the appropriate feelings to feel for this situation.
So after that confession I need another break.

Ok, so Father came to Africa. The trip was 3 weeks. We'd arrived at our second game park (game meaning animals, not amusement rides). End of first week.
We leave Swaziland heading south. Hot lowveld conditions. We stopped in Hluhluwe.
An aside. The above is pronounced hl as in "hu loo" except there really isn't much of (if any) vowel sound after the h. It is not "shloo".
What we saw of the actual town was a strip mall. Heading towards the coast. The B&B we stayed at was nice. The manager and/or owner was a very nice immigrant from Scotland. A grandmotherly figure.
We hung out at the pool that afternoon. I listened to East Coast Radio's top ten hits in the lounge as I drank gin and dry lemon. We had a hearty buffett dinner. And then my father joined me watching "Stardust" the movie. I get a slight kick and greater dread when he decides to join me watching movies that I pick. This one was fantasy. He does that fatherly non-judging thing that feels exactly like being judged.
Next day we were scheduled for another game drive. This time in the Hluhluwe National Game Reserve. Apparently one of the oldest, if not the oldest (memory again escaping me) reserves in SA. It was created and served as the personal hunting preserve for Shaka Zulu himself.
The day was overcast and cool to sometimes cold. It would rain a bit and we were in an open safari jeep. It was nice to have fleece blankets and ponchos. As my father said later and I agree with him, it was a shame not to have seen more animals, but it was rewarding to see the size of the place.
The park is one of the larger ones. Not Kruger size but not many are that so no comparison. The land in Hluhluwe is rolling hills with just a little plains. Kruger is supposedly just flat, and sometimes barren. We had lots of trees and scrub. The animals had lots of places to hide.
Hmmm, what did we see? Giraffe from a distance. Herds of buffalo. A zebra or two. One white rhino. Different kinds of DLCs. Interesting birds. Baboon scat.
We had a picnic lunch.
I was thinking of going to bed relatively early that night, relatively for having electricity but I got caught up watching some movie I can't remember. He watched too.
South along the coast the next day to Durban. Overcast and some rain still.
My father had this wierd, well I wouldn't say wierd if you knew him, but still it was a thing for most of the trip and it was for mosques. We saw a number of mosques for not being muslim. They were kinda cool, pretty. We never went in one, but he had to take pictures.
We stayed in a hotel downtown by the seashore in Durban. We had to walk down to the strand so he could touch the water. It was too cold to do much else. I was walking far ahead. I was not happy. We had fast food on from the joints along the boardwalk. It rained. He didn't understand what was up with me. I didn't understand what was up with me except at the crux he was the cause (or so it seemed at the time).
Then we got a taxi to go see this mosque, our first. It was some big one downtown. I had another fit. We got into the taxi. We went downtown and looked at this mosque from the corner across the street. We held the taxi while this was going on. He then took us 300 ft to an Indian Market. Touristy but smelled nice because of the spice stalls. Nothing I or he needed but it calmed me down so it was ok. The market had a twin that sold fish and meat. There was a Catholic church next door. We went checked it out too. We caught our taxi back to the hotel from there. We had really good Indian food for dinner.
Then we started heading west. Rain. Northeast of Lesotho. We saw the Drakensburg mountains a World Heritage Site. We drove through Golden Gate National Park, very pretty. Mesas. Rocky beauty.  It had cleared up. Huge puffy tower clouds in azure sky.
We wound up. We wound down. We finally saw baboons.
An aside. I would never want to meet a full grown male in a dark alley. Dangerous creatures.
We spent the night in Clarens. A B&B town. Prince Harry and Brad Pitt stayed in Clarens. I dubbed it the Aspen of SA. Pretty. Great views of the mesas. Lots of art galleries and restaurants. I had a really good chicken cordon bleu. I took a bath in the huge B&B tub.
This evening was January 20th, but unfortunately the satelite tv was on the blitz so we missed the inauguration. :(
We drove skirting north of Lesotho. I think I saw Maseru, the capital in the distance. Oh, but before that we ended up at a monostary or used to be a retreat or damn memory. Anyway the Anglican church took over from the Catholics. Its used as a retreat now. But we came for the rock art. The San people painted lots of places. Lots of places all over SA. Our guide was the caretakers son. Young guy who was told by his mother to show us around. He knew his stuff but in that, "Oh yeah, I've lived around it all my life and I'm a young man now so I can't show real interest in anything really." We saw the grave of some Lesotho prophetess who converted to Christianity. The original monks had a cave church. We drank bottled water from the local spring. Warm day. Interesting.
I think we spent the night in Bloemfontein. But I'm tired again. Until next time.