Good neighbors

Past both kitchen cages and the stone wall (when it rains the rust drips from the post-holes of what used to be another three feet of electric fence) there is Paul, who actually is a pretty good neighbor. He doesn't talk much, but since we're usually cooking dinner at the same time, we exchange a fair amount of cordial waves. The one time Vincent and I had him over for a drink, we learned that he's from Botswana, but went to University in Cape Town and never looked back. He's also about seven feet tall, which is pretty cool. Including him, I've now had a tonsky and lengthy conversation with Africans from every country touching South Africa, except for Mozambique, so I'm on the lookout.

I was mostly just along for the ride yesterday when we went out to the townships, because again this week only a handful of students showed up and Shep took the reins on most of it while Danielle and I filled in the gaps. The lesson was on grammar, and it accessed parts of my brain that haven't fired in many years. Explaining how to use the different forms of "to be," the rules of "these/those," how I ran yesterday but am running right now, and why, even though we're next to each other, I run while she runs. The exercise sheet might as well have been a time machine. But, as always, it was a good mental workout to find creative explanations for the students.