Bhisho

I went to an interview for a "Deputy Director" position in Social Development in Bhisho on Monday. (Now: I dare you to say Bhisho, pronouncing the first "haytch" without sounding as breathless as the pace of Bhisho isn't.) I got there at 10.45 for an 11.30 interview, mostly because I didn't have the foggiest where the interview was. I found it in just under 14 seconds, because I was told it's the "tallest building in Bhisho". There are only about 6 buildings, and this one was most certainly the tallest, and there was a half-full car park right outside it. Finding Room 138 was more of a challenge. When I got there, I met an exceptionally dapper-dressed young man, full of nervous energy, who had been waiting since 8.00 for his 8.30 interview. And two other waitees, both with resigned composures.
I was interviewed by a panel of 6 at 1.30. It was short and to the point. They didn't seem to want to know much about me. Which was good, cos I gush when I'm nervous. I thought they were hurrying the interview up to catch up time by brushing my attempts at finding out more about the actual job, but mom said they probably didn't know any more than I did. On chatting with some others in the "know", she is most certainly right. One of the labour relations / union representatives nodded knowingly and comfortingly throughout the interview. I liked her.
Now I'm playing another waiting game. I don't suspect I'll get it, mostly because I think these positions are all earmarked, and the advertising-interview process is a coverup. But now I can't stop thinking about the what ifs. If I get this position, the decision to take it has so many implications. Travel, money, security, stability, family life, stress, work ethic. It's so hard to STOP thinking about it until I hear something from them (or don't). Like just SHUT UP, brain. I'm playing with the possibilities of consulting. Of teaching. Of taking a break for a couple of months (thanks Dad, I hadn't thought about that option, and now it's my favourite). Of clinging to Mvula, for what it's worth. Of marketing myself out there in the big bad world.
I think this is what I need at the moment. Time to reassess where I am. To work out where I'll be "safe and happy".
Right now, I just want to get on the beach with a good book and an umbrella. The weather is marvellous (bring on winter in the Eastern Cape!) and we're off to Hamburg tomorrow for three days. Yay.

Nkosi

Tim suddenly started singing Nkosi Sikelel' in the car the other day. It was unprompted, and totally natural. He was not looking for a reaction out of me, I think he just likes it. His little voice, his accent, his (very) slight mispronounciations and his perfect pitch just melted my heart. I got pretty choked up. Then he said, "Mom, sing Sarah and Nuzo's song" (they sing it at school, and Sarah and Nuzo obviously take the lead). We then discussed how it's all of our song. It's Africa's song. It's Mom's song and Dad's song, and Matt's song, and even Ant's song. It's Matthew Mangold's song, it's Ali's song, it's Bryce's song, it's EVERYONE's song. They liked that.
Then this morning, Matt says to Gareth, "Sing your school song, Dad." Tim had been singing Nkosi Sikelel' again, so we assumed he meant that. Gareth says, no, that's the National Anthem, but we do sing it at school. So Matt says, "Sing the one about the eagle." So we did. I was amazed that I remember most of it. We sang it again and again. It was delightful.
Guess what I'm humming this morning? I am just so politically correct! http://www.anc.org.za/misc/nkosi.html

Where I'm at

I'm finally over a bad bout of brochitis, which I managed to get much worse than any of my boys did. For once, I "looked after myself" by going to the doctor (driving into town on a Sat because I didn't make time during the week), allowing him to prescribe me some anti-biotics, and actually taking them. It took way too long to get better, probably because I didn't let myself stay home from work.
Our programme has come to an end. Officially. Although, the work isn't actually finished. I'm still paying contractors, tidying up paperwork and preparing for the audit. This weekend I felt so strange, like it was the "end of an era". I think I'm feeling myself move on from Mvula, just waiting for the right time and the right opportunity.
I am expending a lot of emotional energy helping a friend get through a tough time in her life. I know I extend myself a little too much in this department, but I just want to help in whatever way I can. Helping her see what she's worth, that she is loved, that (at least) I'm there whenever she needs me, that she's NOT a bad person. And it's good, actually, to focus outside of your family every now and again. We're developing a really good friendship, and we both need it.
I'm on the up myself (although it probably doesn't seem like it, looking at what I've written above...) I think my drugs are kicking in. I'm starting to see the sun more than the clouds. I'm working on a scrapbook album about me, and what's good about me (remember fellow-challengers: ABC of me. Do it!) I'm starting to talk more freely about depression and how I'm learning to live with it, flow with it, make decisions with it in mind. It's good. And good for others to hear.
Mom's finally back from 10 days in Jhb & Durbs. I've missed her. Haven't had enough time to connect yet, perhaps this evening, as we wait for KATH TO ARRIVE. I'm so excited about seeing Kathr, I'm nearly bursting out of my skin. You know that feeling like your heart might pop out your chest if you don't reign it in.
We've been giving potty-training a second try, and it's working well. I think it's a subject for another (long, option-read) post. It's been SO interesting watching the different ways our boys are handling it, and so freeing to know that we can't actually control them and their responses. Only ours.
And lastly, and the opposite-of-leastly, my Gareth is so good to me. He's given me space and time to do the things I've needed to. Like rest. Like scrapbook. Like see friends. Like sleep. He's taken charge of the boys and has gallantly rolled with our rather unpredictable life. And reminded me daily that he loves me. I don't remember a time I was more in love with him than right now.

Excerpt from Email Emma

You know, I'm also on a "I am grateful" kick... Grateful to have 3 beautiful boys (seriously beautiful), the most amazing husband in the WHOLE world, grandparents to my boys who are so hands-on and uncomplicated, a Momsie who's a good friend and a hoot at that, a father who phones me often, and two beautiful, clever, darling sisters. You can't get it better.

Belated Birthday News

The boys had an Easter cake at school (chaos, but way easier for me).
And then the Bus cake Nana had made (and frozen) on Saturday. It was thoroughly yummy. They opened presents from Emma, Pops Granny and Sue. They got phone calls from Nana & Grandpa (in Cape Town), Emma, Pops, Kath, Ben and Shupiwe. They were pretty much beside themselves with delight. And slept for 3.5 hrs that afternoon. I was pretty much besides myself with delight.

Ant thought the whole thing a little tiresome.

All in a day's work

Well, a couple of days, and a bunch of years of pushing paper. Last week was a good one (workwise) for me... I got to go four of our projects. We've built a creche near Willowvale and a community hall and high school near Alice. It's so good to get out of the office, see the BEAUTIFUL country we live in and see how my work is making a difference.
The road near Willowvale:


The creche near Willowvale. I don't think these children have seen white people much. They clung to me and touched my hands and face and hair. It was LOVELY.


The community hall near Alice. It's beautiful. Really! I like the roller doors on the sides, which opens the hall wide to let air and light in, and extra people if necessary.


The high school near Alice. Here a very large, white, (obviously) beer-drinking, rugby-watching contractor told me about how when he raised the South African flag in the courtyard, the school kids broke out into the National Anthem (he said, "they even sang Die Stem"). Something is OK in this country.



And a beautiful country it is. So good to get out of this office.