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April 27, 2004, How to Make Zulu Beer, by Chris
Yesterday I learned the recipe for Zulu beer: 1 kg. whole wheat
flour, 5 kg. mealie meal (the cheapest possible), 5 litres King
Kong malt and 2 - 500 ml. packages of mnati powder. Mix together
and let ferment for 3-4 days. Five days is too long. We need to
make beer to share with the chief and the elders and the men from
the Dept. of Agriculture when they visit the site for the community
centre next week. Their visit is the last step in finalizing the
building site.
Yesterday was also very cold. Maybe a high of seven and a slow drizzle the
whole day. We met for six hours in our donated temporary office. For the
first time I noticed that the two small windows are broken. It had never
mattered before. I now understand why all the women “wear” blankets
as an extra skirt at this time of the year. They come in very handy when
you sit on a dirt floor or brittle plastic chairs for long periods of time.
I told them I am tough – I am from Canada.
It was quite a session. We worked through the list of orphans and most needy
families in the community in preparation for distributing clothing, shoes
and blankets next week. It is never easy to choose who will receive and who
will not in a place where almost everyone is needy and it gets so cold in
the winter. I give thanks once again for the team we work with. Always the
question comes back to what is best for the community – I sense no
favoritism, and so surprisingly no tribalism. The six Ndawana members of
the team come from three different tribes and yet they work together in the
best spirit of ubuntu (loosely translated as a global, time-irrelevant sense
of community). I have learned so much from them. They have so little and
yet give so much.
We also prepared for the community meeting on Sunday, designed different bracelets
for the AIDS beading project, discussed the ethics of filming a funeral for
our fundraising video, and marveled over the 2 cm. piece of glass that was
finally removed last week from Busisiwe’s foot. Busi is the team member
responsible for family literacy. Ten years ago she stepped on a broken bottle
while gathering wood and has suffered ever since. The South African medical
system’s response has been two aspirin every time she went to the clinic
for treatment.
In the middle of the meeting a soft knock at the door resulted in a request
to transport a dying woman in severe pain to the hospital; the same young
woman I had driven to Centocow with stomach pains only two months earlier.
After much discussion it was decided that I should phone for the ambulance
from Underberg. The team felt that my obviously white voice over the phone
lines provided the only hope that the ambulance would actually come. It worked.
45 minutes later as we sat with the beading women, the ambulance, with sirens
wailing and lights flashing, arrived at the bottle store. Yesterday my voice
helped a woman get transport to an ill-equipped understaffed hospital two
hours away. Tomorrow I hope my voice will help to provide a facility at Ndawana
where people can die in peace and dignity surrounded by their family.
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