BDTJF: Part 1 - Introduction and Nightly Excursions

I recently spent the past 2 1/2 weeks down in what my good friend Tom Barker refers to as "Beautiful Downtown Jane Furse" aka "BDTJF". Jane Furse is a somewhat large rural shopping town in the Sekhukhune district of Limpopo. I unexpectedly ended up in the BDTJF area [temporarily] after being tasked to join one of Tsogang's project managers, Phil, to learn about and take part in some hands on field work. Our work was to be stripping old non-functional hand pumps, and installing new ones in rural villages.

I arrived in BDTJF on July 22. After spending the afternoon out in some rural areas while our team took out an old hand pump, I was dropped off at what would be my humble abode for the next 2 weeks. I was told before coming here to bring mostly everything that I would need to live comfortably. The house I would be living in was extremely bare, I was told. Preparing for the unknown, I brought my sleeping bag, 5 days worth of clothes, some Nat'l Geographic and Outside magazines to catch up on, my laptop, all the food I had stored at my Tzaneen residence, my stovetop/oven, cutlery, my journal and my guitar. I was glad a grabbed a roll of TP before I left as well, because otherwise, I would have been in a very awkward predicament those first few days.

The house I was to stay in was actually a very nice place... or it looked like it would be nice if it was taken care of by someone at some point. There was a big open space living area, red-orange tiles covering the floorspace throughout, a sizable kitchen, 3 bedrooms and 2 bathrooms. It also had spiderwebs everywhere as I realized when I first entered the door and spent the next minute wiping cobwebs from my face and hair, praying I had no 8-legged critters crawling amongst my cranial area. Though the house looked like it hadn't been lived in in quite sometime, it didn't take too long for me to settle in. There was electricity and running water, but no hot water. It was a step above camping, and I've lived in much dirtier environments, and much worse. My favourite part of the house was the bedroom I chose to stay in - a very small space with a single bed, but it smelled like the upstairs bedrooms in my Grandma's house, which made me feel very at home.

I had no idea until the second day that my living space was in such close proximity to two other PCVs who I hadn't seen since December. Tom and Jami are both NGO volunteers that came over with me last year. I got to check out their digs, see where each of them lived and worked, and began remembering what it was like to socialize with other people again. We even got to share a number of meals (pasta, instant pacakes and egg baked brunch, homemade potato leak soup, homemade Indian food etc.) and watch some DSTV that Tom recently acquired. That was certainly a strange experience. But familiar...?

I had a great time with both Tom and Jami, together and separately, and as a result, I often found myself out well past sundown. This is not ideal in most parts of South Africa, but the "not-idealness" is determined and decided by the individual on a case by case basis. The walk back from Tom's trailer-home-turned-"Love Shack" is about 20 minutes. The path goes up a dark dirt road, past some houses on the left and a primary school on the right. I then turn in to the private high school campus, walk up past Jami's place, and if I'm lucky, walk thru the gate, around the old hospital, down some more dark dirt paths, tripping on rocks and the uneven surface, and continue on to the phosphorescent globe lit grounds of Operation Hunger, whose property I was living on.

This journey "home" took on a new and exciting form each nite, until only a few nites in when I decided I had had enough excitement for a while.

The first nite out, not really knowing the area very well, I walked home with clenched fists and a constantly swiveling head, my ears sharp and my eyes narrowed to pick out any figures lurking in the shadows. There were none. The streets were empty and I realized I had been making myself more scared than necessary. It happens.

The gate behind Jami's residence is a large one, and "if I'm lucky" I walk thru it and go on straight home. However, I was only "lucky", once. When my luck is non-existent, I am forced to climb thru what Jami and I have dubbed the "Rabbit Hole", which is a small hole at the top corner of the fence, no bigger than 2 feet in diameter. The hole is about 6 feet up, and requires minimal strength to climb up to reach, but it requires masterful skill and agility to squeeze thru without getting your clothes (or skin) torn by the barbed wire above and below said hole.

I had seen Jami do it once in the daylight (I must say she surprised me - I didn't peg her as a climber) and had tried it once on my own. It wasn't too bad during the day. At nite it was a different story. There was no moon out the nites I went this route, and maneuvering one's body in the dark thru such a small opening proved a bit more difficult and ensnaring. Most of the times passing thru the Rabbit Hole I escaped unharmed, though I ended up ripping a hole in my jeans near my underside (free show for anyone watching me from behind) and I made a nice deep incision on my hand my last time thru. Stupid barbed wire. Anyway, it felt good to feel like a kid again. It was kinda like playing man-hunt, only I wasn't hiding from anyone and no one was looking for me. So, I guess it was actually only like man-hunt in the sense that it was dark outside.

The second nite going home, it was very chilly out, so I decided to jog up the dark street to cut some time off the trek and to warm my scantily clad body up (I only had a t-shirt and jeans on). I started jogging past the first few houses, with dogs behind fences barking their heads off and charging at me, stopping when the metal mesh prevented them from advancing any further. "Dogs are so silly" I thought to myself. "They know there's a fence there, why do they always run up as if they can get past it?"

It was at this point that I sensed something had gone awry. I looked to my left to watch another viciously barking dog run up to his fence, obviously annoyed at my presence. Only this time, there was no fence between his teeth and my cold bones.

The dog was running so fast that he left a trail of dust rising slowly in the electric light of the homes behind me, his big frame charging me like a dark curving bullet, obviously intent on sinking his teeth into something. Slightly panicked (or very panicked) and with nothing to defend myself against the oncoming attack which was only 3 feet behind me, I did the only thing I could think to do. I turned around and started barking and yelling at the beast in the most vicious tone I could muster up. To my surprise, the dog was caught off guard, put on his brakes and tripped a bit over himself, and backed off momentarily, obviously confused. But then to my dismay, the werewolf-esque black shadow resumed his attack, at which point I instinctively let my foot fly and kicked him in the face. Twice.

Thankfully, instead of shaking it off and pursuing me, tackling me to the ground and devouring my soul, the creature of the night ran off, back to where he came from, like a ghost from the darkness. He probably ran back to tell his friends that they wouldn't believe that a skinny white guy from suburban Long Island just scared the crap out of him and kicked him in the face. Twice.

My heart was beating hard and my lungs hurt from the cold air I was breathing too hard. Dizzy, exhausted, shaken, but relieved I rhetorically asked myself, "Why don't more people have guard cats?"

The last few times I walked home, I had no heart pounding incidents. I did however, have some interesting exchanges with some people I met on the way back, including a security guard who tried to make me pay him to walk thru the campus, and a bunch of students who were busy scarfing down cold french fries and asking me a thousand questions about where I'm from what I'm doing etc. But the most "South African" exchange I had on my way back went as follows:

The fourth or fifth nite, when I was about halfway up the dirt road, I saw two pairs of headlights coming down the lane. I have always been uneasy at the thought of close proximity drivebys due to past experiences in the US involving bottles being thrown at me (more than a few times) and for some reason, getting shot with a paint ball gun (thankfully, only once). I never feel right when a car passes close by - especially not at nite. To my relief, the first one passed by, like most usually do. I was keeping a close eye on the second pair of lights when all of a sudden, the car veered towards me, and as I side stepped getting hit and was about to throw a fist into the open passenger window, I saw it was actually a police car, patrolling the streets.

Jackasses almost ran me over.

The cops spoke English, and seeing that I obviously wasn't from the area, asked where I was from. "New York? Ah, it's too far." they would say.

Thanks for stating the obvious, guys. Next time try not mowing me down.

"What are you doing? Why are you walking alone around here?" they wanted to know.

I explained I was on my way home from a friend's place - walking because I had no other option, and I was alone because I don't have a Siamese twin. They didn't get the Siamese twin joke, and I didn't know the siPedi translation for it. The moment was lost.

Shame.

All joking aside, I was hoping they would get the hint and maybe give me a ride back to my place when I said, "I don't like walking around here at nite. But I don't have a car, so I have to walk. I wish I had someone to drive me back."

They didn't get the hint, and replied with characteristic cluelessness and carelessness, "Yes. Jane Furse is very very dangerous. You shouldn't be walking at nite." At which point they said goodbye and drove off.

It's no surprise people don't bother calling the cops here when there's a serious problem that needs to be dealt with.

Anyway, I got back safe after my passage thru the Rabbit hole. Shortly thereafter, I decided that enough was enough. No more walking around Jane Furst at nite for me.

Except for maybe next time if I have to. {Shakes head}