My Valley experiences have begun...
On Saturday I drove the choir to perform at a High School Anniversary Function down in the Valley. I’d hoped my introduction to the Valley would have been with lots of volunteers on a food drop or something, but instead I found myself alone driving a combi-ful of teenagers up and down steep and winding mountain roads, across rivers and fords and through some of the most breathtakingly beautiful countryside I have ever seen in my entire life.
As you make the descent into the area called Kwa Ximba, you round a bend and the whole valley opens up before you, lush and green with rondavels and shacks dotted all over the hillsides. I was overwhelmed by the sheer size of the valleys and the fact that so many people live here in abject poverty. I was frustrated as I wanted to stop the van and take so many pictures, talk to people and get to see further into their lives here, but I couldn’t.
We passed people walking, people sitting at the side of the road, cows and goats just wandering along, and at one point a boy carrying a massive chicken. In the morning it was already hot but in the early evening for the return journey we passed so many people and especially children.
I think that’s when the reality of this place started to hit. Anywhere else and you might think these children were playing outside in the evening sunshine whilst their parents are at home. But the reality is that for the majority of these kids, this is it. There are no parents. There are children, older people and a few people aged in between, but the majority of those are dead, not at home. As we drove past, because the combi has ‘GGA’ written on it and many families in this valley are supported by the food drop programme, some children waved hello. I wanted to stop and talk to them, there is something particularly heartbreaking about younger children, who are perhaps under 10 years old, sitting by the side of the road. It’s the younger ones who get me every time. I think it’s their vulnerability and innocence which has probably already been abused.
It was a truly amazing introduction to the valleys in which I shall be spending a lot of time over the next few years. I am taking over the administration of the pre-schools. We have 5 in these valleys and that’s all I can tell you for the moment as I still need to meet with the current administrator before she leaves. Educating these children will give them the keys to get out of poverty and to live a life away from crime, giving them options other than becoming street children. It’s a hard job, but little by little lives are already being changed through it. There is always hope.
The choir had been invited to perform at this school function. Being the only white person in a group of probably 2500 Zulus it was an interesting place to be, but I’d been given a ‘VIP’ pass when I arrived, which meant lots of cool drinks, a delicious meal on a real plate (instead of throwaway cartons that everyone else got) and … most importantly of all in the valleys, use of the VIP toilet!
People stared at me, and then ignored me, which didn’t really bother me. However, the novelty had worn off by 3 hours in to the mammoth 5 hour speeches ceremony, ENTIRELY in Zulu. Having never been anywhere before where I couldn’t speak or understand the language, this really threw me. I was having a culture shock moment. I didn’t know if it was culturally inappropriate to eat whilst listening (no-one else was, but a lot of cans of fizzy drinks were being consumed), so I managed to sneakily eat my m&ms and then more daringly, a whole ham and philedelphia sandwich (nicely melted by the heat – delicious!) without anyone twitching. Result.
A mobile phone near me went off repeatedly and I was starting to get really irritated and also curious as to why no-one was reacting. Then I realised it was in a bag of one of my choir members that I was minding and so technically it was ME ringing! Yet no-one complained, thankfully.
I had the schedule and had calculated that the speeches would last 5 hours. I amused myself by recalculating the timings, given that we’d already started 3 hours later than scheduled and that several people who were down to speak hadn’t turned up. Then the former and founding principal of the school got up to speak, imagine the actor James Earl Jones and you’d not be far off this man for looks and speech, except it was in Zulu. He was extremely proud of his school, as was everyone throughout the day, and proceeded to talk about it for about an hour and a half (well over his allotted time of 25mins, as per the schedule, tsk tsk, anyone would think this is Africa! J) I mention him as it was about 40 minutes into his speech that I officially lost the will to live. I think I may have fallen asleep (again, culturally appropriate? I have no idea). I just wanted to see my people perform and then get out of there! I will never moan at long speech days and prize givings again.
Yet my (im)patience was rewarded when The Young Zulu Warriors did finally have their 5 (yes, after all that, 5mins, 2 songs!!!) on stage and it was SO worth it. They are AMAZING! Really powerful voices, strong harmonies and when the boys started dancing it was like being at a boy band concert as the entire female contingent of the school started screaming with delight. They’ll be touring the UK next June/July – you will NOT want to miss them!
The boys continued to delight their public as we set off home through the sea of people, treating them, and me, to a rendition of another song. Who needs a stereo when you’ve got an entire choir in a combi to entertain?!
