The Walls of Africa

This is my city.  A strange configuration of walls, potholes, and pedestrians.  I have tried for almost six months to get my brain around the walls, and I am still struggling.  As I discussed with a friend here recently (a friend who was just telling me how safe he feels here), there is a strange dichotomy that happens somewhere between feeling safe because you have walls, and feeling unsafe because you need to have walls.

Everyone has different things that make them feel safe; I have never felt safer than living in NYC among the masses.  Even when I'd return home to the Bronx by myself at 3 or 4 am, I felt secure in knowing that human life constantly surrounded me.  But when we moved to what suddenly felt like rural Connecticut (actually a small city, but just a stark shift from NYC), I was sure I was about to be abducted by aliens or a serial killer at any moment. I've come to learn that safety in numbers works for me, though not for all people.

I am coming to realize the walls of my new African city do not work for me.  I should feel safe.  There are millions of people, surely sharing the same kind qualities I have found in many strangers here.  But they are all hiding behind the isolation of walls.  And the walls speak clearly in the place of missing people.  To some they say "I'll protect you." But to not quite settled foreigners like me they often say, "Be afraid.  There are things you need protection from." The walls leave me with an uneasy feeling that I need to be on guard.

The walls add an extra element in getting to know, and feeling like one should trust, people in this country. It's also fascinating to see that many people here happily live their lives like, what I consider, caged animals.  Many local friends drive their SUVs in and out of walls, but otherwise rarely leave their comforts.  They go from gate to gate, wall to wall, never quite at ease beyond them, and they live life with that as a normality.

This is not intended to be commentary on the racial complexities of a place like Africa. Just a this-has-been-my-experience moment... I cannot tell you how often I have been walking my baby among the likes of fifteen Shona pedestrians, only to have an SUV driven by a white person pull up beside me and ask if everything is okay, and if we need a ride.  I recognize the friendliness in this gesture. But the experience also gives me a strange impression of who feels safe beyond walls, or rather maybe, of who has the option of being behind walls. Like I said, I'm not making commentary, so please, no angry emails! Just trying to still wrap my head around what the walls mean to me, and what they mean to others.  Six months here and still uneasy...

Meet the walls of my neighborhood. 

 

 Though every household has different looking walls, there are a number of common features. Most wallls are 6 to 12 feet tall. These concrete walls pictured above are common, with (hard to see) electric fencing running across the top of the fence line and across the black moving gate. Most gates have security signs indicating which security team responds to security breaches.  The one above, Safeguard, is one of the most common.

 

Most often gates over a driveway are solid so outsiders cannot see in, so the two pictured above are a little less common in that way. (I have pictured a lot with see-through gates just for the purpose of showing what's on the other side.) The white box in front of the 41 is a floating buzzer.  Cars drive up, open their window and ring the buzzer. Most people have a control panel inside of a communal room in their home that they can push a button on to open the gate.  We also have remote control key-chains to open the gate from outside of the walls.

The walls surround a property, not just border the front of it. Between neighbors walls almost always butt up to each other, but there is usually a good amount of space between the walls and the roads outside of them. Many walls, like above, are overgrown with ivy.

Here the walls still exist, this time within overgrown shrubbery surrounding it.  This is done often to prevent painting maintenance.

Dogs in this country are most often used as security.  (Even when we have walked around with a small cocker spaniel puppy, we find people were afraid.)  Dogs are not cute cuddly things as often here.  It is hard to see, but on the top of the green wall, above the security sign are broken glass bottles that have been glued along the top of the wall.  Very popular.

Here is another example in which the wall goes up about 6 feet, then iron bars with spikes on the top finish it off.  The neighbor has razor wire running around the perimeter of their property. 

Ditches for water drainage during the rainy season are almost always found in front of walls.  You can see the driveway (far left) is a little raised with a pipe running under it.

The hole in the wall is a mailbox.  Mailboxes are made of small holes in the wall that are big enough for a rolled-up paper to go inside, but not large enough for hands to fit through.  You must be on the inside of the wall to open the mailbox... so be sure before you put that love letter in your neighbor's box!

Some entry ways are very unique. Pegs (pictured left) or large rocks (pictured right) are often put along the front edge of properties to deter foot traffic and car-parking.  This makes pushing a stroller doubley hard!

 

When walls break apart, if the owner cannot immediately get it fixed, they are often secured with over-night guards, or shored-up with random objects until a permanent fix can be made.

 

Many walls have businesses behind them, too.  These are often hard to find, unless they are nursery schools. Almost all nursery schools have paintings on the walls to designate themselves.

 

Guard huts just outside the walls can be found in some neighborhoods.  In these neighborhoods, houses each pay a monthly rate (our friends' is $15 a month) and pool to get a night guard on the street. Night guards sit in these huts, watching for anything dangerous. What they are supposed to do then is a bit of a mystery, as most are not paid well enough to risk their lives, and there are few people to call for help.  The guard booth above is on a street close to ours... It used to be a normal three sided shed, but this past month someone took it over and made it into a 3' x 3' home by putting up bamboo posts and something over the hole in the side.  Whatever works for shelter.

More examples...

 

Well, It's Africa...

I've had many people ask me why I chose the name I did for this blog.

Well, actually, that's a lie.  Not a single one of my over five thousand readers have ever bothered.... Seriously.  But I'll answer the question anyway, just in case you're wondering.

There are a number of sayings here in Africa that are used to mean the same thing. "Well, It's Africa," "T.I.A. This is Africa!" and "You're in Africa!" These are all sayings usually heard at the most irritating, unfortunate time.

You've just had to stand in a five foot long visa line for eight hours. "Well, It's Africa!"

You have just found out that the forms you need from a bureaucratic office cannot be given to you until you drive home and bring the employees back some paper to print them on (common). "T.I.A!"

Your car has just broken down 3 hours from town a day after you've bought it. "You're in Africa!"

As though you need to be reminded.  Though the sayings should keep things lighthearted or add a little perspective, the frustrating part of hearing these sayings is that they are often used by people who are making dismissive excuses instead of choosing to help make things right.

So I have chosen to tackle the subject of infrastructure over the next month... and never is the T.I.A. topic more pertinent than when it comes to frustrations with infrastructure.  Last week our house got hit by lightening and took out our internet for days.  The day it was fixed our borehole pump broke, leaving us with no water beyond a small backup tank.  (Oh, why do I wait so long to do the dishes?!)  I won't mention our oven, front gate, electric fence, toilet, guest bath tub, kitchen sink, generator, or light fixtures, plural. All of which broke last week.  What would a week be without at least four hours of quality time with repairmen? Welcome to Africa, land of twisty ties, gum, and bricks... they can repair almost anything. For a day.

I am finally online again and will post again soon... Sorry for the delayed blog post but, Well, It's Africa....

Trashy Town

I suppose we have been surprised by a few little things in Africa.   And by little things, I mostly mean flies. They are everywhere. Worse than ever. I am sure to do a blog post on them at some point, but the other shock is quite related...

I will concede that it's absolutely unfair to judge my African experience according solely to the standards I've been raised with.  But it has been hard, and just plain shocking, to come from the US to a more natural environment like Africa and find twenty times the garbage.  I romanticized the natural beauty of Africa before arriving, I will admit.  And although the continent has delivered above and beyond when it comes to beautiful scenery, I was surprised to find that that landscape was littered with piles of trash and heavy doses of strewn-about litter. The experience has reminded me greatly of my transition of moving from Iowa to the Bronx.  This (previous) country bumpkin needed acclimation and desensitization to get used to the litter found in everyday life.  Who knew that moving to Africa would be an even more challenging transition in the exact same way. Garbage has been a huge disappointment.

But the trash problem makes sense.  There are few resources for garbage collection outside of city limits; many villages are still working on water and power, let alone luxuries like garbage removal. I can't help but think that when you have more pressing things to worry about, it would be so very easy to pile up refuse.  And having so little, I can imagine it being hard to permanently burn or bury anything at all.  Education and proper resources seem to be crucial to this problem, which makes it impossible to judge too harshly.

Here's how we deal with our personal garbage: Our "rubbish bin," as it's called, is set just outside of our gate by the gardener every morning.  Ninety-five percent of the time, it's brought back in at the end of the day, being relocated to avoid the inevitable stray dog or wild critter that would tear it apart.  The garbage truck comes once every week or two, on an unnamed day only it knows, to pick up the one waiting bag we often have. Like all of the neighborhood households here, in addition to the rubbish bin, we have a compost pile, a burn pile, and a random place that large junk like broken toilets and barbed wire is tossed into to live for all eternity. (These piles are usually found next to staff's cottage, where their children play.) There are a few city dumps you can pay to dump large items.  They are notorious for their stench and vermin.  Unlike American landfills that follow a strict covering regimen daily to deter these problems, the landfills here see few guidelines.

A few months ago our neighborhood had a large litter clean-up at the end of one of our streets.  Volunteers picked up over 30 bags of trash in one tiny half block, improving the littered field exponentially. And the volunteers, "almost entirely foreign" my local volunteering friend told me, should have been proud. It was beautiful.

For a week.

Driving past it now is heartbreaking; it looks the same as it ever did.  No wonder knowing locals did not show up in flocks to what most describe as "a toilet."

Here are some examples of how trash is disposed here:

Just next to a village north of the city.  Garbage, a burnt out car, and stray dogs make the struggle of life a little more visible.

Apologies for the bad photography.  Being discreet instead of gawking is tough if you slow the car down too much! Ahead on the right: another garbage pile on a side of the road.  But random litter finds its home on practically every meter, as well.

Two stripped cars spend the rest of their days sitting in the sun.  Children eventually play in these tetanus shots, adopting them as playground equipment.

This litter pile sits next to the entrance of a village. 

On the road next to our home. 

Jonas has a book called Trashy Town that I think of every time we're outside of our own walls. "Dump it in. Smash it down. Drive around the Trashy Town!"  Oh, Beautiful Africa.  This is not what I want for you!

Rocky Roads

A number of challenges abound for countries in Africa.  My guess is that one of the biggest is infrastructure.  I was never so aware of infrastructure until I moved to Africa.  It's not a sexy exciting topic for most people, but its presence causes implications that feel like help or hindrance on a daily basis. Where I live infrastructure is a constant, conscious thought.  (This blog post is coming on the heels of a 25 hour power outage, and a few hours later, a 10 hour outage. Ugg.  I just want to use my toaster one of these days.)

Though the roads are not our biggest infrastructure challenge, they do provide some good entertainment, so I am starting there.  The roads in our country vary.  Some highly traveled roads are not so bad.  Then there is the typical city road:  (Filmed this a few blocks from our house.)

It can be tricky looking out for the millions of pedestrians lining the roads when the potholes require swerving every few meters at low speeds.  It makes city travel slow at best. Asphalt or gravel attempts to fill potholes, though appreciated, wash out after just one powerful rain. Many roads have not been repaired in decades.  And those that have, have been done in the most entertaining way...

How to Repair a City Street, Africa Style

1. Steal bricks from nearby homes and fences being built. 

 

2. Find a crappy road full of car eating potholes. (easy) 

  

3. Make a cardboard sign.  "FIXING ROAD, DONATIONS WANTED."

4. Spend two weeks standing next to sign.  Occasionally sort of fix the road while collecting donations.

5. If enough money is received from grateful neighbors, finish placing bricks in potholes and move on.  If enough money is not received from grateful neighbors, take bricks out of the road.  Return to step 2.  Repeat.

 

This method, though humorous, is an ingenious way that self motivated people in our city create jobs for themselves.  In a country with 85% unemployment, this is genius. 

Potholes and sinking sides are not the only challenges with roads.  Rarely is debris cleared unless by nearby property owners. Knocked over signs and roadway lights (as pictured below) are left to rot, un-repaired, on the side of roads.  One street down from us there is a three block stretch with five downed utility/light poles alone.  They slowly become a part of the scenery.

On a positive note, hydrants can be found near roadsides around the city.  Here, one sits at the end of our close.

African Ingenuity

There are oodles of things I love about living in Africa since our move here in August.  But one of my favorites is the ingenuity I find surrounding me every day.   Though Africa is seen as being behind on a number of 21st Century topics, when it comes to reducing and reusing, there is no greener place!  Perhaps it's the architectural designer in me, or maybe just my fascination with human creativity, but I am constantly captivated with the ways people here are affected by limited resources and a challenged infrastructure.  That said, now that I am thoroughly tired of the previous two weeks of flora talk, I've decided over the next month to cover some of the infrastructure I have encountered thus far in my time in Africa.

Please note, as I've said before, I am not naming my country on this blog, but rather am just referring to Africa.  Please keep in mind that my experiences are very limited to one place and time, and do not represent the continent as a whole.  These are just the observations of lil' ol' me and my family as we navigate living on a truly spectacular new continent.

The Shona version of Hanson's Mmm Bop aside, of course, here are just a few wonderful examples of African ingenuity that have crossed our little one's path this week alone:

Our gardener's soda bottle sprinkler, made with Jonas

Swings found all over southern Africa prove to be a great reuse of an abundant resource: used tires

 Toy tractors and cars made from tin cans and reused tires, sold at a local market

 

Soccer balls made out of plastic bags- found everywhere!

 A play area, made with some boards and metal

An old car turned playscape: gutted with tires flattened

 

Gotta love environmentally friendly graffiti!  Here (at Domboshawa) someone has carried rocks up a (very large) hill to spell out their message.

For some really good African innovation, check out this website: http://blog.africageographic.com/safari-blog/funny/11-of-the-most-african-inventions-ever-made/

Random Pieces

-There are two common phrases here that drive this type A personality crazy. "Just now" and "Now now." They sound the same to me, but here they mean completely different things.
 Just now means soon.  Whenever. Maybe I'll get to it. Perhaps....
 Now now is now, for reals.  I think.   At least, my intentions are good.

 It is unfortunate to hear these sayings from your hired help, a repairman, or (most especially) your three year old. Just found this on a South African's facebook page (Great page- check it out) 

Absolutely true.

-Speaking of strange linguistic differences... "Math" is always plural in Africa. For example, people may say they are good at "maths", that it is "maths class," or that they have to do their "maths homework."

-Washcloths are not standard in most hotels in southern Africa.

-Though fitted sheets are standard, over (flat) sheets are not so common here.  We have never had them in a hotel room, and many (but not all) of our friends do not have them in their homes.

-Much to our three year old's happiness, strawberries can indeed be found in southern Africa. But unlike in the US, they are always packaged in bubble wrap!

  

-Though you can find many raw vegetables and fruits being sold on almost every street in our city, one of the only things you'll find cooked on the side of the road is corn:

(Bad picture) Just realized you can't see any corn in it... But here are five men eating grilled corn behind a stove that sits on the curb.