Entry 10.

We FINISHED the mural today!!!

But you don't get to see it yet. That harsh 90 degree angle doesn't do the artwork justice. You will have to wait until Monday when we install it in it's permanent home.

Instead, tonight I am going to tell you about Kitty Kitty. He is a gorgeous jet black cat with lime green eyes that has adopted Gary & Marnelle. Talk about a dog in a cat's body. He comes when called, begs at the table for scraps, and waits at the door to be let out. He even tolerates smushy baby-talk right in the face. This morning he welcomed me on the porch, very proud of the utterly decimated bird in the front yard. Ew.

Entry 9.

Ok, now I officially miss Avery. Spending my morning volunteering at the Butterfly House preschool program kicked me right back into mom-mode (in a good way). Back to wiping little noses, encouraging kids to share, building with legos and kicking a ball around in the sunshine. At home, Avery is obsessed with tracing her hands with her crayons. These kids liked taking turns: me tracing their hands and them tracing mine.

Just as graham crackers or goldfish are typical American preschool snacks, these kids look forward to porridge mixed with milk and sugar.
Serious cuteness. The only reason they sat long enough for a picture is because they all wanted to see themselves on the camera display afterwards!

As much as this morning reminded me of home, it also brought to light the harsh realities of this life. One of the sweetest little angels there was sold to strangers by her mother for 400 rand ($53), so that her mom could have money to buy booze. There has been many a day in my mothering career that I would hypothetically consider trading a screaming baby for a nice fruity cocktail, but to actually sell your child?! Fortunately, her grandparents got wind of the transaction and rescued the girl. Unfortunately, her grandfather passed away this week and her grandmother is not physically able to care for her.

Matt, can we adopt an adorable African toddler? Pleeeease!

As if entertaining 9 children for a couple hours wasn't enough work, we had a mural to finish. Aren't these colors downright delicious? Reminds me of something... hmm... jellybeans maybe? *wink* Can you tell I am going through Jelly Belly withdrawls?

Not entirely complete, but all the color is done! Tomorrow we finish it off with black.

Entry 8.

You know it is going to be a wonderful day, when your sunrise looks like this!
Still cold in the AM. Marnelle lent me her ratty gloves and they really helped. In case you haven't noticed, I've been faithfully representing Matt's favorite team - Go RAIDERS! Unfortunately, no one here cares about American football.

We are very close to having the color completed. Black outlines and fill will finish it off maybe tomorrow or Friday, at the latest. A photographer from the Paarl Post newspaper came today... it sounds like we may make next week's edition. I'm flattered they find this newsworthy!
Tonight was particularly special. Ursula invited us to her home to have dinner with her family. As a gesture of gratitude for all her help, I brought the food - KFC. Nothing says an American "thank you" like a bucket of fried chicken, mashed potatoes, and Coca-cola. Ursula lives in this 3 room home (living room, kitchen & 1 bedroom) with her 2 aunts, 1 uncle and 2 cousins. Don't you love the color of her house?
In general, Americans tend to define poverty by amount of monetary wealth or lack thereof. But rarely do we get a first-hand experience with the type of truly modest living that is common throughout Africa. I have heard it said that even the poorest American is wildly rich when compared to most of the world. But being a part of this community for only a week has deeply challenged my definition of "rich." In Ursula's neighborhood, everyone knows everyone. I don't even know my own neighbor's names. The entire community is in the streets talking, shuffling cards, and watching kids play tag. American suburb sidewalks are empty - everyone holed up alone in their oversized homes, playing in their privacy-fenced yards. Here they don't own much, but they are richer in relationship.

After dinner, we pushed the tables aside and began dancing!

What a blessing to be welcomed into this home and to share my time with people who have known sorrow, but remain joyful because they can rely on one another.

Hebrews 13:5

Keep your life free from the love of money and be content with what you have.

Entry 7.

Another day, painting away... Ursie doing a fine job.
These are my food center buddies, Rodney and Alicia. They run the operations of the place, making sure all the meals get to their proper locations. You can see the food supplies behind us... Rodney is the resident comedian and Alicia has been so gracious in lending us her space and her kind heart.

Each of these cookers makes enough soup to feed 1,000 children. That's some serious soup!
I clearly underestimated the quantity of jellybeans necessary to facilitate 192 square feet of art!
Can you tell what we're painting yet?!

I will leave you with a few more English/Afrikaans translations:

- french fries ( pomme fritz )

- an autobody shop ( a panelbeater centre )

- Firehouse & Fireman ( Fire apartment & Burningman )

Entry 6.

I am not going to lie to you. Winter in South Africa is cold. Not deep-fridgid Alaska or Montana cold, but definitely dipping-into-the-low-30's-at-night cold, easily-see-your-breathe-in-the-morning cold, wear-your-scarf-hat-and-gloves cold. And the difference between Montana and Paarl, is that there is no central heating here. None. So you do not simply go inside to warm yourself up. Even the radiant space heater that has been cranking in my flat ALL day is just barely keeping the chill off. As I write this at 10pm it's about 45 degrees outside and I am indoors wearing a long sleeve shirt, a sweatshirt, a scarf, a winter hat, jeans, socks and sneakers.

My fingers are almost popsicles. Must keep... typing... to keep... fingers... warm...

Other than fighting the nippy warehouse air all morning, it was a fairly successful mural day. With my trusty sidekick cranking out the green paint and myself working on endless skintone details, we powered through 8 hours of painting. It may not look much different from our last session, but cold air prolongs the drying time and the ability to re-coat colors quickly. Overall, I am satisfied with the progress.

Entry 5.

(click the photo to enlarge it!)

The neighborhood dogs finally roused me from my slumber at 11am this morning. Hey, it's Sunday - the day of rest - and I am on vacation! A bowl of yogurt and muesli got my engines running and then it was off to Cape Town to be a tourist. Driving through the city, I get a warm familiar feeling. The downtown buildings, waterfront shopping, winding scenic roads and sailboats in the bay are strikingly similar to San Diego. The steep grades and beautiful rows of urban homes that line the streets up to Table Mountain remind me very much of San Francisco. And then there's the mountains. They are what make this view unique. Seeing Table Mountain (the flattop one in the panorama above) and Cape Town stadium (where they held 17 World Cup games) in person is wonderful, as this landscape is an element in the mural. This area isn't technically the southernmost tip of Africa, but pretty darn close.

South African money is called Rand. 1 US dollar equals about 7.5 rand. I love that they've adorned their bills with native animals rather than famous faces. Great colors too! I think we should petition our government for bills with new hues. Wouldn't Lincoln look great in fuschia?!

The vendors at the market were incredibly friendly and pleasant to talk with. This is my new friend Jeff. He immigrated to South Africa from Kenya and was proud to share that he belongs to the same tribe as President Obama's father. In fact, he saw Obama in Kenya about 6 years ago. He was seriously rockin' the Members Only jacket.

Try before you buy.... VUVUZELA!!!

My last purchase... ready for chips and dip - zebra style.

Entry 4.

Today was über-productive! Ursula, my main helper, is a 20-yr-old gal who lives here in Paarl. Her first language is Afrikaans, but she does quite well with English. She is very interested in painting and one day dreams of attending college for an art degree. From 11am - 6pm we worked on the mural - 3 coats of white paint, a full sketch, and the beginning of color. It is difficult to see the faint blue sketch from this photo, but perhaps it will be more interesting to watch it unfold this way. Waiting for coats of paint to dry we jammed to American hip hop on the radio and she even began teaching me a "sequence" (organized dance moves). Somewhere between my San Mateo cheerleading days and present day I have lost my knack for gracefully executing a dance routine.

A quick South African culture lesson - there are three ethnic groups of people here : White Afrikaners (decedents of the Dutch settlers), Coloureds (mixed race, medium-toned skin with a lot of Malaysian heritage), and Blacks (dark black skin with indigenous African roots). While coloured is a term considered offensive in the U.S. it is simply a word used by the people here to identify themselves. For the most part each group lives in neighborhoods exclusively of their own ethnicity. White Afrikaners and Coloureds speak primarily Afrikaans. Blacks in the Cape Town area speak Xhosa (pronounced 'Kosa'). English is a second language for most.

The reason I explained that is because I am learning sometimes humorous differences between the Afrikaans language and English.

English (Afrikaans)

- I will give you a call ( I will give you a tinkle )

- an elevator ( a lift )

- a stoplight ( a robot )

- an extension cord ( a lead )

- You rained on my parade ( You pee pee on my battery )

Entry 3.

Tonight I don't feel much for long-winded writing. Instead I will show you my day in short phrased photos...

Gary and Marnelle Helling - my gracious hosts for the duration, standing on their front stoop.
This is the MCM food center. Out of this building they provide 3,000+ meals per day to impoverished school children and various soup kitchen locations throughout Paarl. It is also the only place with large space for indoor painting, so it's where we are building the mural.
Our mural operation inside the warehouse-type area of the food center. The mural is 6' x 32' - it is a total of 4 boards long, so this is just half the length.
My local paint squad from left: Ursula, Leedien, me of course, and Carmen. All excellent workers!
In only three days, I have done and seen so many new things. Some are encouraging and some much more heartbreaking. This afternoon I, for the first time, held the hand of a child with HIV. It's an acronym we as Americans think we are familiar with, yet I realized I had never actually met someone living with the disease. Bowy House is an orphanage/temporary home for HIV positive children or kids who have lost their parents to AIDs. It's a fairly small place, housing just 15 children at a time, but such an important and needed service in a community where 20% of the population is HIV positive.

This little guy was, hands down, the happiest baby I've ever met!
She fell asleep on me while we waited to feed them dinner.
South African's don't have a BBQ - they have a Braai (rhymes with FRY). Instead of using coal, they burn wood in the center bin until is becomes hot embers, which are then spread out under the grates for cooking. The sign above Gary's Braai is in the Afrikaans language and translates: "THIS IS MY BRAAI AND HERE I AM BOSS"
Can't argue that this is a grillin' mans dream come true!
We, of course, finished off our dinner with chocolate Buckeyes - fresh from OHIO!

Entry 2.

Another Unisom pill helps with the jetlag and I sleep a few hours at the hotel before my 5am wake-up call. A quick breakfast, shuttle to the Joburg airport, and hop on the 8am bound for Cape Town. Perhaps it was my charming good looks or a simple courtesy due to yesterday’s delays, but for some unexplained reason they upgrade me to business class. I’d like to imagine it was the former.

I have to admit I pre-judged my seat buddy. A rotund man in his mid-50s with thin wire glasses, a bushy beard, and wearing a rather dowdy looking sweater vest under his suit jacket. His eyes were the most unusual thing I’ve ever seen; deep chocolate brown center ringed first by an icy blue, then a deep blueish/purple. Upon being served an in-flight breakfast he asked to have my butter for his bread roll. I clearly wasn’t using it, but thought him odd nonetheless. I took him for a boring British professor. Half-right. Professor at one point, yes. British, no. He is the now head of the South African National Archives and definitely the least boring person I’ve encountered so far. He has held private meetings with Nelson Mandela twice, traveled all around the world acquiring S.A. artifacts, and is currently on his way to Cape Town to make a presentation to Parliament regarding a new Protection of Information Bill. We spend the remainder of the 2 hour flight talking all about South African history, culture, and people. Truly an educational God-send to a clueless chick from California.

Marnelle Helling (leader of the charitable ministry, long time family friend, and my hostess with the mostess) meets me past baggage claim. Walking outside we are greeted by a gorgeous, warm, sunny afternoon. It is the dead of winter here, after all, but apparently they are having unusually splendid weather. As we drive 45 minutes northeast to Paarl, I am surprised by how much the greenery looks similar to California. Eucalyptus trees and low shrub brush. If it weren’t for the wild horses running along the shoulder, the vendors selling fish along the highway, or the fact that we’re driving on the left side of the median, I could just as easily be cruising Hwy 8 East towards Santee. It’s a strange mix of 1st and 3rd world elements.

My private “flat” above the garage is very lovely. A full kitchen, bath, beds, couch and patio. Quickly I unpack and spend the rest of the mid-day hours purchasing additional mural supplies. Francisco gives me an official tour of all the Monte Christo Ministry locales and programs. The scope of this ministry is entirely larger than I imagined.

A bite to eat at La Romantica - the Helling’s favorite local eatery - gives Marnelle and I time to catch up on life. It’s been 10 years since we’ve talked in person, so there is much to say. The air is brisk and a light drizzle begins as I turn in for the night. Tomorrow we start the art.

Flying out of Joburg

Mountains surrounding Paarl

Farms outside Cape Town

Doesn't this look like San Diego?!

My private "flat"

Cutest little patio

Beautiful greenery

All the keys here are skeleton... feels like something from a fairy tale.

The adventure begins...

The last time I walked onto an aircraft via tarmack steps was in San Juan, Puerto Rico upon returning from the islands. This time, I’m departing Columbus, OH bound for Washington D.C. I must be the only passenger making a connection, seeing as though my bag is the sole piece of checked luggage. It’s rather comical to see my little red suitcase sitting all alone on the underbody conveyor. All the other unlucky souls are probably traveling for business or a short trip with their carry-on packages. But my bag and I are headed for an adventure. Makes me wonder if luggage chats to one another about their final destinations; their baggage tags cause for braggery. The gentleman across the aisle looks stuffy in his suit. I would never want to travel in anything but my jeans and sneakers.

At the Dulles airport I become hyper-aware of all the families traveling with screaming kids. Maybe because the last 21 months have programmed my ear to tune into such pleas or because I’m not too busy with my own wiggly toddler to notice. Either way, I relish in the fact that today that’s not me.

Nope. Today I am just Hayley again. Not responsible for anyone but myself. Free to spend my time dreaming, observing, doodling, and resting. I can’t honestly say that I miss Avery yet. Since her birth we have never spent even 24 hours apart from one another. I consider that a blessing. Yet somehow I think these next two weeks will vastly refresh my spirit, refocus my faith, and restore my passions.

Flight to Johannesburg, South Africa:

Delayed in Dulles. Board the plane an hour prior to departure. Two seater window all to myself. “Please take up your seats.” Nothing like an old man smacking his menthol phlegm in your ear. Amazing wingtip flex and engine wobble amidst the clouds. Looks as though the outer engine might just snap off. Taking a page from the husband’s travel log: rum, coke & Unisom. Fleeing the sun as it melts into the Atlantic. Full meal, full belly, fast asleep. Pit stop in Dakar for fuel and a sunrise. Also acquire a seat buddy - fortunately he’s quiet and smells nice. Another meal, another snooze, another sunset behind us. Arrive in the pitch black over a sea of amber stars. Closer to the ground I almost laugh out loud when the only thing I recognize is the glow of some golden arches. At least I know any craving for a BigMac won’t go unresolved. Flying for 17 hours over sea and land reminds me just how vast this world is. And how infinitely small I am.

After delays in both ports we finally arrive in Johannesburg nearly 2.5 hours late. I wait an additional hour for my checked luggage to appear. By now I’ve missed the last flight to Cape Town and am informed I will be spending the night in Joburg (as the locals call it). At this point I have no local currency, no cellphone, and I am alone. Fortunately everyone speaks english and the hotel room was provided compliments of my airline. A swanky place, I might add. Although the room is oddly missing a clock of any kind. I have to turn the t.v. to the weather channel just to know the time. Almost 11p. Better try and get some rest.

Airplane self-portrait

Good-bye USA

Hey-lo my leettle friends!

Drive up steps in Dakar

My swank hotel room in Joburg - complete with nude wall drawing!

Hotel Metcourt lobby

Made it to S. Africa - long day and tired.