How Do I Obtain or Renew a Study Permit for a South African School?

September 15, 2014

I was astounded how much discussion my recent blog post about the scarcity of space at Johannesburg private schools spurred. While I was aware that this was beginning to pose a problem for expats in South Africa, I didn't know how dire the situation had already become.

But it also prompted questions of a more technical nature concerning attendance at South African schools, and I'd like to highlight one such question from my Facebook Page and some answers here. 

The QUESTION:

Does anyone have any experience of what is needed in terms of visas for children? We are trying to make our way to SA from the UK on a three year visa for voluntary/charitable work (a saga in itself) and I have been told by the embassy in London that our children need to have study visas issued here in the UK before we travel. Anyone know anything about this at all? 

The SHORT ANSWER is this: After enrolling your child in the school, the school will issue a letter to you that confirms that the child is enrolled, and the duration of the term. You will then submit this letter together with your other documents to Home Affairs to obtain the study permits, which are linked to the overall work permit allowing you or your spouse to work in South Africa.


However, as with every bureaucracy-related issue in South Africa, there are usually many answers, depending who you ask. The best advice usually comes from those who have recently dealt with the same issue, so I thought I'd post all the READER COMMENTS below:

You do need to have a confirmed school place and a letter from the school before you can apply for the study permit. My son didn't have a study permit when we arrived and has just applied for one as he was offered a school place. If you don't have a study permit, I think you need an 'accompanying' visa ( don't remember the terminology).
Yes, the school will issue a letter for the study permit. When our son started at AISJ in Jan '12, he did it on the basis of the study permit application filed in Joburg. We submitted the permit to the school in due course. More recently new children starting Grade 0 (local ovt school like Dainfern College )are given letters a couple of mths before the start of school. While my children received theirs before school started, I know of several who again started based on a copy of application given long processing times. While my son came on an 'accompanying permit', his current renewed visa has the school name and 'accompanying father' status on it. With rules becoming stricter by the day, its a good idea to contact relevant authorities just to be on the safe side.
This may be more than you want to know. We have just gone through the process to renew our boys' study permits. We are Americans, have been in South Africa 4 years and still under my husband's work permit. Our children are now 12 and 15 years old. The boys' study permits expire in December and we submitted the paperwork in July. Here is what we had to submit: a certified copy of our marriage certificate, certified copies of their unabridged birth certificates (which only means the parents names are on the birth certificates too in addition to the regular information), completed and signed medical certificates (a South African form is required), completed and signed radiological report if your child is over 12 years old (again another South African form), 3 months bank statements, proof of medical aid and a letter from their school. We were also told this time the school letter had to include the following information: the school has a vacancy and the pupil is not displacing a South African citizen, the student complies with the language requirements of the school and their academic record is acceptable, the school fees have been paid and that the school will keep the Department of Home Affairs informed if the pupil discontinues studying at that school. I hope this helps. Good luck on the move from the UK to South Africa...you will love it here!

It seems like the requirements are getting stricter and that what used to be a simple letter has become slightly more intricate, but otherwise the procedure is still the same.

The other part of the question is whether the study permits have to be issued by the embassy in your home country, or whether they can be obtained when in South Africa. In our days (2010-2012), we were able to enter the country on 3-month visitor visas while waiting for the study (and spouse) permits to be issued by Home Affairs. To make sure, I looked up the language on the Department of Home Affairs website:

Study permits must be applied for at any regional office of the Department of Home Affairs near the educational institution you will be studying at or at the nearest South African embassy, mission or consulate abroad... Study permits are valid for the duration of the course for which they are issued, alternatively 36 months for school and 24 months for other institutions.

This seems to confirm that it is possible to obtain the study permit once you are in South Africa. It might help to print out the respective language and bring it with you to show to immigration officers upon entry. At least that's what always worked for me during traffic stops, a whole other adventure. It could be that technically your children won't be allowed to study without the actual permit, meaning they'd have to wait with attending school until the permits are issued, but we've found that the school will be happy to let the children start if they know you'll eventually submit the correct documents for their files. Again, this might have gotten a bit stricter, but I doubt it: Once a school has enrolled your children, it will want to have them, including the school fees!

For your reference, check out the Home Affairs website with the complete listing of requirements for every type of temporary residence permit.

And now, getting back to the scarcity of available private school slots, apparently Johannesburg does not stand alone. Here the comment from Joyanne West, a private school headmaster in Cape Town in response to my article:

May I add that this situation is even worse in Cape Town where there are even fewer private schools. I had 140 applicants for 40 places....the first child was registered on the day of her birth and the 140th child was registered in her 3rd month! Parents from JBurg arrive in CT and cannot believe that there literally are NO spots available.

The only bright spot? Durban. Apparently, school space is not an issue there yet. And with its tropical climate and beautiful beaches, what's not to like about Colorful Durban?

Even though it pains me to say so in my role as the Joburg Expat: If you're an expat mulling over an assignment in South Africa, and if there is a choice of location, give Durban some serious consideration.
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A First World Problem: We Have No Time

September 10, 2014

I keep a file on my computer of miscellaneous pictures from our Joburg days. The other day, feeling nostalgic, I felt compelled to post this one on Facebook:



The caption read, Another thing I miss about #Joburg: Skoobs, a cappuccino served in a real mug (most often served with a pretty design on top), and people who have time to share said cappuccino. Come to think of it, that's the thing I miss most - people who have time.

The post went on to outperform all my other recent posts. Don't you love how Facebook screws you and tells you that for $10 it will show this post to all the people who like your page? Well, didn't those people hit LIKE for my page precisely because they WANT to see such posts? Why should I have to pay to reach them? But I guess you can't argue with a free service. Plus, how Facebooks is screwing us wasn't really what I wanted to write about...

The reason the post did so well was because a lot of people responded, mostly other former expat spouses like myself who are nostalgic for the long and leisurely coffee mornings while living in South Africa. Some argued that it was a matter of having domestic help and therefore time for such extravagant pleasures, and there is some truth in that.

But I think there is a bigger underlying theme: As a general rule, people in Africa have more time than people in the Western world. Which is why people in the Western world fall in love with Africa the minute they step on its shores. 

If you think about it, many of our First World Problems (or FWP) have to do with a lack of time. And, as the term suggests, most are self-imposed. It's easy to laugh about them, as in my recent post about coyote sightings and ungainly outhouses, or in this recent article about back to school shopping in the 1970s versus today. I just about cracked up at this opening paragraph:

Back to School, 2014:

1. Take five deep breaths and say a positive affirmation. School begins in two weeks. It is the middle of July. Don’t worry, you still have time to order BPA-free bento boxes and authentic Indian tiffins made with special stainless steel that did not involve any child-labor, sweat shops or animal cruelty. Remember, you have Amazon Prime. You can get the free two day shipping and you will have plenty of time to read reviews and make this very important decision because your kids are in summer “camp” which is actually just another word for school in the summer because OH MY GOD you were so tired that day you had to have them home all day with you and you couldn't go to your restorative flow class at yoga. And that was also the day something went terribly wrong with the homemade glitter cloud dough recipe that was supposed to go in their sensory bin and the very same day that they were out of soy milk at Starbucks and you had to immediately email corporate to let them know that duh, they should actually be selling almond milk and/ or coconut milk. Get with it Starbucks. Soy is so 90s. Ugh, but you digress. The tiffin. The bento boxes…

Go on, read the entire article, you'll laugh out loud. If you're a parent to school-age children, you'll totally see yourself in the 2014 version of it.

But it's not really a laughing matter, is it? Never since the beginning of time have we had so many gadgets at our disposal as today, gadgets for our entertainment but also our convenience that are meant to make our lives easier. And yet all they seem to do is make them more complicated. Just reading the above had me feeling out of breath:

The urgent need to research everything to death
The feeling that another parent is going to trump you with more research and better stuff
The idea that if we don't explore all the options we somehow fail our children
The rushing around to buy the perfect props for our kids
The obsessive need to then instantly communicate our trials and accomplishments with the world via Facebook and Instagram and God knows what else that thankfully isn't on my radar yet

About two years ago, in People who have Time and People who Don't, I wrote this:
Americans are busy. We have no time to spare. We fill every minute of our day with activity, and when that turns out not to be enough we find ways that allow us to do ten activities at once. We complain that we never have any time, and yet when we are faced with the prospect of an empty stretch of half a morning, we sign up for yoga lessons..

While on some level we all know this, and admit that overscheduling ourselves and our children isn't in anyone's best interest, we struggle to change our lives.

Until we arrive in Africa and have our eyes opened.

From all my conversations with returning expats, the biggest concern by far is not how their children will catch up in school or whether they'll make new friends or what the new job is going to be like. It is whether they can resist being sucked back into the rat race.

How can we live in the First World and have time?


You might also like: The Unannounced Playdate

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Expat 2.0: Remake, Refurbish, Improve

September 4, 2014

I recently came across an article which, on the surface, had nothing much to do with expats. Rather, it was about philosophy. However, as I've found is so often the case, life as an expat provides the perfect backdrop to the philosophical viewpoint discussed.

Every philosopher, so The Wisdom of the Exile went, could benefit from being sent into some form of exile at least once in their lives. They should be "exiled, displaced, deported - that should be part of their training... For when your old world goes down it also takes with it all your assumptions, commonplaces, prejudices and preconceived ideas."

Substitute "person" for philosopher, and "expat assignment" for exile, and there you have what has become my firm belief: Having lived as an expat at least once in your life will make you a more well-rounded person. Of this I have no doubt. To become such a person, you have to have an open mind. And to have an open mind, you have to be shown, again and again, that your preconceived notions about places and races and cultures are probably wrong. Or if not completely wrong, so at least very incomplete.

When you first arrive abroad and don't have the first clue as to how things work, you have to rely on helpful people around you to show you the ropes. You immediately accept that they know more than you, no matter what their level of education might be, and that you best listen and learn. If you don't, you probably won't have an enjoyable expat experience. You learn that what you thought you knew wasn't even close to being enough, you learn to be humble and listen, you learn to go with the flow and accept imperfection, you learn to find beauty in unexpected places.

If you never leave home, you "envelop yourself in an increasingly thicker veil of familiarity that blinds you to what's under your nose... Because everything has become so evident, you've stopped seeing anything." I'd say that is particularly true to those of us who've grown up in a comfortable Western middle class life. What an awakening it is when you first go out into the world and realize how pampered you've been, and how petty your First World Problems seem by comparison. But it works the other way too. Upon returning to the U.S. from South Africa, I noticed bits and pieces of American culture that never really stood out to me before, just because I hadn't been surrounded with them for a while. Had I not written about them quickly, while they were still fresh, they soon would have faded back into the commonplace.

"As an exile you learn that the world is a story that can be told in many different ways." Don't you think that's a beautiful sentence? This is what being an expat blogger comes down to: Essentially, you're retelling the same story in many different ways. The story is always about life, love, failure, perseverance, betrayal, and redemption. And expat life provides a treasure trove of different hooks into that same story, new paths springing up in front of you with each move you undertake. Without being uprooted from your old world and dumped into a new one, more or less stripped naked to the core, you might never get the chance to get to that new level of seeing things.

When you go abroad, you also get a tiny chance to reinvent yourself. Because nobody knows you there, nobody has pegged you to be anything other than what they see as they're getting to know you. "Selves can be re-made from scratch, reassembled and refurbished." Don't you love the idea of Refurbished You, You 2.0, or The Story of You 2nd Edition? As scary as it seems, as inconvenient as it appears, getting a chance to remake yourself into something new and better should be appreciated for the incredible gift it truly is.

When you remake yourself, just be sure to fit the pieces together correctly.

Quite apart from all this philosophy talk, and even if you have no desire to become a better person, never leaving home would be terribly boring, don't you think? It would be like being stuck at Level One of a video game, completing the same tasks over and over without any challenge. Of course no one lives their life like that. There are plenty of challenges along the way, no matter whether you leave or stay put. I don't want to belittle the rocky road many people find themselves on. But becoming an expat has a way of speeding up your life, of making it more flavorful, of helping you evolve faster, and of perhaps making some challenges go away altogether - if only because you find yourself redefining what constitutes a challenge and what doesn't.

And finally, as for that "increasingly thicker veil of familiarity" you might eventually suffocate under if you always stay in the same place - the same can be said of an increasingly thicker pile of "stuff." Most of my friends groan about garages and attics that have to be uncluttered from years of unfettered accumulation. They turn green with envy when I tell them I have none of that. "Exiles travel light," and so do expats. Part of it is necessity - you are forced to purge or your container won't close - but another part is the realization that stuff is not all that important.

We don't need stuff, we need friends. And memories.

So, even if it might not have made me into a better person, I can definitively say that my expat life so far has given me an uncluttered garage, plus friends and memories for a lifetime.

Who can ask for more?


Also check out:
Being an Expat Means...
The Expat Toilet
How to Be a Successful Expat


We don't need stuff, we need friends. Especially BFFs. (drawing by Sunshine)


Seychelles Mama
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The Last Word

September 1, 2014

The Problem with you, Mom, is that you always have to have the last word.

Excuse me? A teenager was accusing ME of having the last word, when there isn't a teenager in this family, or possibly the entire world, who doesn't ALWAYS have the last word?

I was sitting at the dinner table, surrounded by four glowering children, stunned at my recent and utter defeat at the hands of those very same children. I had lost this skirmish, I felt, if not the entire battle, with regards to giving my children helpful advice about their future life. I suck at debating and they had thoroughly trounced me.

The argument had started, ironically, with a discussion about debate as an extracurricular activity I felt it was important for them to engage in, so as to hone their debating skills should they ever need them in real life. One of them, I think it was Sunshine, mentioned they were going to sign up for book club after school, and instead of telling her how happy that made me and then shutting my mouth, I just couldn't help myself. I HAD to throw in a helpful reminder, otherwise known as nagging, to all the other kids.

I turned to my high school senior:

It's not too late for you to do some charity work or outreach, I let him know, ever so helpfully. For the college application, you know, which by the way you REALLY have to start working on this weekend.

Silence.

I couldn't stop.

I know you still have a few years, I said to the sophomore, and this would be a good time to start. I just saw an invitation to debate camp in the school newsletter.

More silence.

I really should have stopped there. There was no chance they didn't properly hear me and I had made my point. I could still shut my mouth and exit gracefully. But a little devil on my shoulder possessed me and I was going for the Holy Grail of motherhood, even though we mothers all know that it is absolutely and without question impossible to ever reach it. By this of course I mean two simple words: "Yes, Mother."

I addressed my 8th grader: You're not in high school yet, but this is a good time to start thinking about what extracurriculars you might pick when you are.

Nothing more, and you'd think she would have by now learned to take the cue from her brothers and respond to this with silence as well. But no. She is too much like me for that, and totally rose to the bait.

I'LL NEVER DO A STUPID OUTREACH THING JUST BECAUSE YOU SAY SO! DO YOU HEAR, NEVER! IT ISN'T ANY FUN! (Yes, she said it in all caps, just like that; except the word FUN was in even more all caps than the rest.)

Of course I couldn't let that stand on so many levels starting at Stupid and ending at Not Fun, let alone the yelling, and so a vicious debate ensued, with all three teenagers raining their arguments on me, one of which was the aforementioned admonishment about me having to have the last word, and therefore it all being my fault, delivered in a dead calm voice by Number Two.

What hurt so much was that he was absolutely right. My kids had made me look bad, and they knew that I knew. They had also shown me that debate, in fact, might not be the extracurricular activity they need any more practice in. They are plenty proficient.

Oh the times when my children were not yet debating me into the ground and consented instead
to be lined up in personalized bins for the Christmas photo shoot! Come to think of it, perhaps
the recent spate in debates about everything is a direct payback for silly photo shoots in their past.


I did indeed get the last words that day. I'm not proud of them. They were, shouted over my back as I was running out of the house: One day I will leave for WEEKS at a time and then you can see how you will get everything done by yourself. See how much FUN that is!

Like I said, I was not proud of them. My mother regularly said similar things to me and my brothers when we were growing up, and if there was one mistake of hers I had vowed I was never going to repeat, it was that one.

But what do you know, maybe it's not such a big mistake.

I returned that night (from Parent Night at school, I might add, so not anything really fun for me either), and I've never encountered such solicitous and helpful children. The dishwasher was emptied for me, someone offered to help me put new sheets on a bed, and somebody else grated cheese for dinner without prompting. I'm tempted to have the last word more often.

Maybe it can be my new Friday night routine.

What was your lowest parenting moment? Do share!
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I Can't Find a Spot for My Child at a South African School

August 26, 2014

You know that I'm a big advocate for South African schools. Here and here and here are just some examples of why I think sending our children to Dainfern College versus the American International School was absolutely the right decision.

However, just as my readers are starting to be convinced by those arguments and are inquiring at South African private schools for spots for their children, those schools are telling them more and more often that there is no space, and that the waiting list for a particular class is already 25 deep.

It seems there is an extreme shortage of private school spots in Johannesburg. I don't know how Cape Town fares in comparison. If you have a choice between those two cities, the school situation might be an important factor to consider. 

The good news is, this problem is not present at all grade levels. Anything from Grade Four upwards is not typically a problem, and especially high school (grades 8-12) is easy to get into. There are many more high schools than elementary schools, and because many South Africans send their children to a boarding school for high school, these spaces open up at the regular high schools so that they are quite happy to take on  new students. Even if you have, say, a 2nd grader with siblings in grade Four and Seven, then most likely the school will accommodate the 2nd grader because they like to fill the higher grades. However, if your oldest or only child is anywhere from grades 0-3, then most likely you will find it extremely difficult to secure a spot for them.

Even if you've decided to send your kids to the American International School, you might face the same problem. American nationals have preference, but from what I've heard the space there is limited as well, so don't assume that just because you're Americans that your children are automatically admitted. 

If you are currently in the process of thinking about an assignment in South Africa, you need to address the school question right away, before you do anything else. Make a list of schools, and contact them as soon as you can to see if they have space. The earlier you can enroll your child, or at least put him or her on the waitlist, the better your chance of securing a spot. 

I'm sorry that I don't have better news. I just wanted to make sure you understand how important it is to find a school in Johannesburg before you do anything else.

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Mt. Kili Madness

August 20, 2014

Next month, September, will mark my 2-year anniversary of having reached the summit of Kilimanjaro.

It will also be the 2-year anniversary of handing over the reins of Alexandra Baseball to my wonderful successors, the Irwin family, after I found out my own family was relocating to the United States.

Just like climbing Kili, being involved with a sports team in one of the most impoverished townships in South Africa is incredibly difficult and rewarding at the same time. In both cases progress is very slow. You take one step at a time. Often the route is not direct and you find yourself circling the summit instead. I'm thinking here of the time we wanted to start having league teams playing on our home field in Alexandra, so as to cut down on travel costs as well as building a better community in the league, but running into trouble when the grass was too long. While the township had a lawnmower, there was no petrol. If we wanted the grass mowed and a playable field, we had to go find our own petrol, as well as some spare parts and a driver. What should have been an easy path became obstructed and circuitous, but pole pole, slowly and one step at a time, we got there in the end. And seeing the joy and pride on the kids' faces for showing off their skill on their own home turf was reward enough.

Kind of like watching the sunrise at Stella Point.

Both Kilimanjaro and Alexandra have played a large role in my life. Wouldn't it be great to bring those two passions of mine together in one exciting cause?



Enter Mt. Kili Madness *. It involves a climb of Mount Kilimanjaro, and it involves township kids playing a sport. In fact, the sport will be played ON Mount Kilimanjaro, which is totally awesome. Though in this case it won't be baseball that's being played, but rather cricket, its close cousin.

If you're now pulling a face and telling me that you hate cricket (as those who don't actually know it are often wont to do), let me remind you that I used to be one of those cricket doubters but have since come around, mainly by watching my own son play it while in South Africa and learning to understand the game.

So next month, on September 20th, a very special expedition will set forth, along the Machame Route which I took, to conquer the summit of Kili, like so many others have done. But they will also set forth to accomplish something no other has done before: two teams will play the highest cricket match ever right up there in the crater. The previous world record for a cricket match at high altitude was set in 2009 at Everest Base Camp, and this one will be 600 meters higher.

I can't imagine a more glorious sight. It is bound to be a spectacular undertaking, but I also know how hard it will be.

Part of this group, which includes South African cricket legend Makhaya Ntini as well as some high-profile England players, will be two boys from the Alexandra Township Chiefs Cricket Club. As you can imagine, they'll need some support to help with equipment, travel expenses, vaccines, visas, and more. It is their dream to scale the heights of Kili and enter their name in the record books, but they are also striving for something bigger - being ambassadors for their community, campaigning against violence, and finding their place in the world.

You can become a sponsor of this dream for as little as $1, or maybe you have a company which you'd like to involve in a community outreach opportunity.


I have taken many pictures of exactly the same scene, except with baseball players in
the foreground. That's because the Chiefs and Alexandra Baseball share the same field.

Alexandra Township Chiefs vs Ambassadors from India, June 3, 2014.
(the Chiefs won the match by 10 runs)

Mural of Nelson Mandela House in Alexandra Township. Johannesburg is a
wonderful showcase of murals and graffiti, and Nelson Mandela features in many!

Raymond Lebokana, Captain of Alexandra Township Chiefs,
with Vikram Dayal, Captain of Ambassadors of Cricket

I know how scaling a mountain can help you fulfill your dreams. I always wanted to write a book but never quite got around to "just doing it," until I climbed Kilimanjaro. Going about it one step at a time until I stood on the top and accomplished the seemingly impossible spurred me on to do exactly the same as a writer. It helped in my case that the climb itself provided the story for Kilimanjaro Diaries, but it can help in many other ways too.

I'm so excited for those two boys and the entire expedition of Mt. Kili Madness. Check out their website here, and please help spread the word in your social network, so that this dream can get a boost. Every little bit helps, one step at a time.

Pole pole.

Skeen Primary School, winners of the Alexandra Township Junior LMS League.
It's pictures like this that make me want to write about Alexandra again and again -
so full of hope and  joy, so much potential, and yet so much to overcome.


* All photos courtesy of Aliya Bauer and/or the Alexandra Township Chiefs
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Your Child Will Need to Bring 48 Pencils

August 15, 2014

I can't tell you how happy I am that the kids are finally back in school. So far, they actually seem to be happy too. It's perfect bliss all around.

However, it didn't come without a price to pay, and that was back-to-school shopping.

Now I know that some mothers LOVE to go back to school shopping with their daughters, but I am not one of them. Maybe because I grew up in a place where the term back to school shopping isn't even part of the language. Or maybe I'm just a mean mom (more likely). In any case, I hate it.

By the way, this isn't about clothes. I could actually be talked into going clothes shopping. No, this is about school supplies. Which we already have overflowing drawers full of, but each year we seem to need more. We need, of course, exactly what the school supply list says we do. We also need matching binders and color-coded folders to go with those binders. And last year's binders absolutely won't do, because they are an inch and a half wide instead of an inch. Or vice versa.

You would think that I'd just order the supply pack from the PTO that comes in a tidy cardboard box, delivered to your classroom, and be done with it. No shopping necessary, you get everything in it that you need. But while I hate supply shopping, I'm also kind of cheap. Those supply packs always have way too much of everything in them. And things you don't have to buy new every year, like scissors. Although our family has a history of having them confiscated at airport security, so scissors we might in fact be in the market for again. What we do have lots and lots of is loose leaf paper - the boys are too lazy to take notes and can make do with about 25 sheets per year, it seems - and hundreds of pencils.


It is the pencils that send me over the edge this year. 48 Pencils, says Sunshine's list. Excuse me, 48? Per child? You could outfit a whole township school in South Africa with 48 pencils.  How in the world could one person possibly write so much as to need 48 pencils in 180 days?And then the girls enlighten me. The boys sit there and break them in half by bending them across their foreheads, they tell me. And they'll compete with each other as to how many they can break at a time. There you go, that makes perfect sense. One can see how you get through 48 pencils pretty quickly that way.

So as to avoid overpaying for a box with 48 pencils in it, my plan is to buy our own supplies sometime this summer. Of course "sometime this summer" to me means something else entirely than to the girls. In my mind it means the first week of August right before the start of school. To the girls it means the first week of June, right at the start of summer, which is when the nagging starts. When are we going to go back to school shopping? And, We absolutely have to go back to school shopping this week, Mom!!! 

We finally go supply shopping, just so the nagging stops. (This makes me reflect on the fact that nagging, in fact, DOES work, and I keep a mental note of it.) We go to Target. Target has o.k. binders and they are cheap, and Target has a whole lot of other stuff, but the locker shelves they have are all wrong. Too narrow and not high enough and Mom, the books aren't going to fit under it, no way. I am not surprised. Scoring all the supplies in one single shopping trip would have been a miracle akin to Jesus Walking On Water, and so I voluntarily head over to Office Max with them. I hand them $20 and drop them off at the door, and I go get a Grande Latte at Starbucks in the meantime, congratulating myself on the way I handled that. The locker shelf from Office Max is indeed perfect, and all is well.

Except then school starts. And Teacher X hands a supply list to the 8th grade kids that is nothing like what was on the pre-summer-break supply list. And Impatience comes home after the first day of school greeting me with We have to go get more school supplies NOW. I know from experience that it is better to go NOW NOW NOW than to argue. I'm not going to bore you with the details of our second shopping trip, because no sane person will understand how I possibly put up with all of that, but let me tell you we went to three (3!) stores to come up with the perfect 10-tab dividers for Impatience, who that day ensured that she'll be stuck with that blog name for another year at least. Not 8-tab dividers, not a combination of 2 5-tab dividers either, the (so I thought) smart suggestion by her brother earning withering looks, not the one single set of 10-tab dividers we finally dug out from under a disorderly strewn about pile left by the masses of previous shoppers, because They don't look nice, Mom. What we did find in those three stores is plenty more binders that were so much nicer and sturdier than the cheap Target ones, and I let myself be talked into getting those instead.

I skip the latte that day when we get home and go straight for the wine, over which I contemplate that I'm now left with a trunk full of binders to be returned to various stores, as well as a new list of supplies for the boys who are Very sorry we didn't tell you this yesterday.

Over dinner, I fill in Noisette about my shopping odyssey (he always loves to hear where all his money is going). I talk about how shopping early backfires, as evidenced by the wrong supply list, but how shopping late is also bad, because you compete with a bazillion other last-minute shoppers over an ever-dwindling stash of supplies. I talk about the good old days in South Africa and how they didn't give us such bothersome lists there, and instead let the kids bring whatever they felt they needed, so that you didn't end up buying a pack with way too much in it. But it turns out I'm totally deluded.

That's not true mom, chimes in Jabulani. They had those supply packs there as well.

Oh, but those were only for the disadvantaged children, weren't they, says Noisette.

No, they were for everybody, says Jabulani. Mom just never bought those for us because she didn't want to spend the money. WE were the disadvantaged children!
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Cold Winters, Gas Heaters, and Americans Freezing in the Dark

August 8, 2014

We're well into August and American kids are about to return to the classroom while it's still 95 degrees outside (that's hot, even for Fahrenheit), while my friends in Johannesburg are breathing a collective sigh of relief because the mercury is finally inching up again. The coldest months of June and July are finally over. Spring is almost in the air in South Africa.

Winters on the Highveld are cold. Not as cold as our Tennessee winters, to be sure. In fact, most people in other parts of the world would kill for a summer that was like a Joburg winter. Cold nights yes, but lovely dry and sunny days, warm but not hot. 

The problem, however, are those cold nights. And the fact that no South African house has any central heating. Nor does it have any double-paned windows or other insulation to speak of. There are gaps around your window frames and slits under your doors so wide that a small warthog could squeeze through. From the minute the sun goes down in the late afternoon until about 7:30 in the morning when it has reliably climbed over the horizon again without so much as a cloud in the sky to obscure it, you'll try everything to stay warm. You'll fire up the gas heater and nudge it ever so gently in your direction and away from your spouse, hoping he won't notice that the heat is now going elsewhere. While you're making a mental note that it's high time to order a new gas bottle, unless you've left it until too late and they are sold out everywhere. You'll make yourself the third cup of hot Rooibos tea in an effort to warm up from the inside. You'll busy yourself longer in the kitchen than strictly necessary and perhaps even get out the Christmas cookie recipes, just for an excuse to turn on the oven. But despite of all this you'll be shivering so badly by 8:30 pm that you'll give up and go to bed, where you'll huddle so close to your spouse that you're reminded of the days you were newly-weds. Or perhaps you've invested in an electric blanket and are happy as can be, watching TV shows that ran in the U.S. two seasons ago, except your only problem is that your fingers are freezing while channel flipping with the remote control. Though most likely you won't suffer long because the electricity will go off any minute, due to the strain on the power grid caused by all those electric blankets, and of course Medupi and Kusile (the two new power plants having been under construction for, oh, the last twenty years) still not having come online. All you can do is go to sleep really early, which is just as well because the infamous Hadedas will wake you up with their blood-curdling screech at 4:30, summer and winter alike. By the time the sun finally rises again, you'll be ready to worship it by sacrificing a small goat.

In short, you might very well be freezing in the dark during a typical Johannesburg winter.

The most welcome sight on a freezing Johannesburg winter morning

Which is the fate that apparently awaits us Americans here as well, if you are to believe the gloomy forecasts made by some people who reacted with outrage to President Obama's new emissions reduction goals for the year 2030. Climate change isn't really real, they say, and besides, even if it were, it's not worth doing anything about it if it means we'll be freezing in the dark.

It seems to me, with the United States using 25% of the world's energy (and having only something like 5% of its population) there is a long way to go before we ever freeze in the dark. We use so much energy it's ridiculous. We are energy hogs. That's because our energy, by and large, is very cheap. Yes, cheap. We still fill up our cars for less than half the price the rest of the world pays at the pump. We - and by that I mean mainly my oldest son - take half-hour hot showers because it doesn't cost that much at all. We not only expect access to electricity anywhere we go, we get upset if free Wifi doesn't come right with it, served straight up on a silver platter, password included, thank you very much.

I don't think anyone here is at risk of freezing in the dark anytime soon. You know where you're much more likely to freeze in the U.S.? In a typical shopping mall in the summer, where the air conditioning never fails to be set in arctic regions. 

When I am done with my shopping here in America, I so worship the lovely sunshine afterwards that I could sacrifice an entire bull.
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We Will No Longer Accept Money Out of Undergarments

July 31, 2014

I recently posted the following picture on my Facebook page, because I thought it was funny:


But then the post took on a life of its own. A South African living abroad took issue, thinking it might not even be from South Africa (which I admit may very well be true!) and made South Africa look bad. In response, many of my readers chimed in with their own views on such humor and whether it is demeaning or not. Most agreed that it helps, rather than hurts, to share humorous facts about a country, whether they are all that accurate or not. I for one like to draw in people with funny pictures on my Facebook page, in hopes that they then are encouraged to read the more serious stuff I've written about South Africa over the years.

More importantly, many readers chimed in with their own anecdotes, some of them involving undergarments, and some not.

One reader, an American currently living in South Africa, reported buying a newspaper just a few days before and her change being pulled out of a "Joburg bra," as she phrased it.

Another reader had spent long expat years in Mali and confessed to always keeping money in her bra. It was part of the cultural training, of sorts. She still finds it a very practical storage location when short of another place to put her cash.

Now I'm sure the sign above was probably not taking aim at bras, primarily, but OTHER undergarments. And I can see how somebody finally decided to put it up, if this was indeed a recurring issue at that store. But before we condemn people carrying stuff in their underwear, let's remember that some of these places are not sanitized Main Street USA but rather dangerous and ridden with pickpockets. Actually, those can be anywhere. When I was touring the Louvre last summer with my kids - apparently a haven for pickpockets - I confess I temporarily shoved my iPhone into an undergarment of mine while being pushed around in the throng of people wanting a glimpse of the Mona Lisa. And it was not my bra.

But lest you now accuse me of too much potty humor (guilty as charged!), here is a story that doesn't involve any undergarments at all.

One reader told me they had a handyman that worked for her family a few years back. One day, his car was stolen. Eventually after much drama he retrieved the stolen car but the tires were gone. Good employers that they were, they helped him replace the tires, after which he came up with an inventive new security system. It involved drilling a hole through his bedroom wall to the outside, and his plan was that each night he would tie one end of a string to the car parked outside, feed the string through the hole in the wall and tie the other end to his big toe. She says they worked hard to eventually talk him out of his plan and potentially losing a toe while he lay sleeping, and that thankfully to this day he still has his car AND his big toe.

With that I'll now leave you to contemplate your own stories of life in Africa or beyond. Do you have any to share? We'd love to hear them!
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You Know You've Been Away from Germany for Too Long When...

July 14, 2014

  1. You are alarmed when your car turns itself off at every red light.
  2. You wonder what to do with the gigantic hotel room key. It's an actual key! With a huge weight on it!
  3. You can't manage to squeeze your car into the tiny parking space.
  4. You are annoyed when it takes your waiter 15 minutes to acknowledge that you're there even though he can perfectly well see you sitting there craning your neck.
  5. You find yourself stopping at every bakery display and salivating over the bread rolls.
  6. You have to hunt for change before you can load up your grocery cart because you don't have a Euro coin for unlocking the cart.
  7. You are startled by the demarcation line, sometimes an outright chasm, down the middle of German hotel beds and wonder if Germany's low birth rate might have something to do with that.
  8. Even though you are for energy conservation, you feel like personally taking up Sarah Palin's battle cry  (or was it Michele Bachmann?) and replacing every light bulb in the bathroom with something that actually brightens up the room immediately after you flip the switch, not five minutes later.
  9. You've gotten spoiled by softer tissue fibers (aka toilet paper) on your bare cheeks than what the Germans are prepared to offer you.
  10. You watch a movie and are appalled when Brad Pitt talks to you in a strange and not nearly sexy enough voice.
  11. It's a warm summer day and you are happy for those poor folks to finally have some nice weather but then you are startled when everyone around you complains about the heat wave and "the terrible humidity."
  12. You politely stand in line waiting at the breakfast buffet but eventually realize that you'll have to whack somebody over the head  and muscle your way to the food if you want to eat. 
  13. You get post-traumatic stress disorder after grocery shopping and running the gauntlet of the checkout line where you have to bag your own groceries at lightning speed or be ostracized by the community of German grocery shoppers and checkout clerks.
  14. You have no clue whether it's called Der, Die, or Das iPad.
  15. You see a picture of Boris Becker and wonder how you could ever have had a crush on him.

The Divide of Infertility
Ginormous room key

Mouth watering bakery display
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