Human Canvas

One of the volunteers from Norway came up with the fantastic idea to bring facepaints!

Mbali, a 3-year-old "Crechie" was so delicate and intentional while painting my face.

Mandla, 4-years-old, wanted to be Spiderman!

Snxello is a sweet 11-year-old who has cerebral palsy. His name is fun to say
because the "nx" comes out like a little click in the Zulu language.

I was literally covered in graffiti from head to toe.

Amanda "tricked" me and drew a beard on my face. It took more than a two hours
to scrub all the paint off my face, shoulders, neck, etc. Good clean fun.

Halala ngosuku lokuzalwa

Halala ngosuku lokuzalwa is Zulu for "Happy Birthday!" Each month the staff and volunteers throw a mass birthday party for all the children who have birthdays in that particular month. They decorate and have cake, pizza and games. The children constantly look forward to the party (and ask about it constantly, too).

Asanda, age 3

Cindy, age 7

Green Golden Acres

God's Golden Acre (aka GGA) is located in the province of Kwa Zulu-Natal in the Valley of 1000 Hills and provides a home for 70 children. Overall this is a happy place, and I have had a very positive experience here so far. The children seem happy, healthy and intelligent. Zulu is their first language, but that all speak English very well. Zulu, one of the eleven official languages of South Africa, is a beautiful language with a depth of sounds including all sorts of clicks, clacks and clocks.

Five of the seventy children living here have been diagnosed HIV positive. They take medication on a strict schedule, but other than that, you cannot tell any difference between them and the other children.

The rate for HIV/AIDS in this region is the highest in the world (estimated at 50 percent). It also has the most orphans as a result of the disease (two million). However, I don't think I've fully felt the magnitude of the AIDS crisis in this country firsthand.

The other volunteers stay here for much longer time commitments (usually six months to a year). Many are German, doing a required year of civil service. Others come from England, Norway, Ireland and the United States.

The scenery here is beautiful; the photos don't do it justice. The photo below was taken from the playground at GGA.

Out of Africa

I arrived in Africa aboard an "airbus" after a fifteen hour flight across the ocean. The airbus had some major airflow problems, which made sleeping nearly impossible.

At one point when everyone was asleep (or at least silent) I lifted the window shade expecting to only see the black of the Atlantic below, but to my amazement I found an endless horizon glittered with thousands, maybe millions, of silvery white pinpoints, like little granules of sugar sprinkled across the sky. Calling it a canvas of stars fails to describe the sight because there were so many more dimensions to this breathtaking view. I have never seen a starscape like this, not even in West Texas.

I finally drifted to sleep, thanks to the mesmerizing effect of the stars, the coolness of the window on my cheek and probably the 4:30am packing job from the night before.

After a harder than expected slumber, I staggered off the plane in "Joburg" (Johannesburg) only to gather my luggage, register my passport and pass through customs before getting on the third airplane within 24 hours.

I was either compromised by my luggage markings or the dazed look on my face because a luggage porter made a beeline for me, smack dab in the middle of the mass exodus occurring around me. Without a hint of hesitation, he assumed my luggage and informed me that the domestic terminal was "dis way."

We exchanged remarks somewhat successfully, even with his thick Zulu accent. When I told him I had a five hour layover he whisked me to a ticket counter (skipping a line of 15 other patrons), put my bags on the conveyor belt and gave me a ticket for a flight departing in 20 minutes.

After the comparatively shot plane ride to Durban, a handsome, quiet young German picked me up and dove me to God's Golden Acre. The landscape of Africa was still unknown to me, as night had fallen. Volker, the beautiful German boy, gave me an old skeleton key and directed me toward the girls' volunteer quarters. The room was the dirtiest bedroom I have ever seen, but did have a bit of rustic charm, especially with the mosquito nets.

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