the end of chapter one

I am sitting on my bed in Cary, North Carolina, in a room that reeks of the past (in a nice way), surrounded by objects that send me back years and years to Girl Scout camp, to my days teaching drama at the YMCA, middle school, high school. None of these things remind me of South Africa, not specifically (except maybe my fracture boot, but that is a story we will come to in a bit). But it is now, now that I am stateside, that I will write about these last three months in South Africa. Better late than never, right?

I had to look back through old posts to remember what I have already documented. The play? Check. Frisbee Nationals? Check. Thanksgiving? Yes. But everything else is missing. I will do my best to fill things in now.

October marked the beginning of a big change in my South African experience. Perhaps this was partly because the play ended in late September, and all of a sudden, my time was free again. By this time, too, Sarah Scott had made the difficult choice to move back to the States. My roommate-- and dearest friend-- was leaving and I knew that things would be so different after she was gone. Thus far, much of our time had been spent together, in our mutual friend circles, sharing everything together. Perhaps for fear of being utterly alone once she left (which, of course, I would never be, but my melodramatic side was overbearing my logical side), or perhaps because the Ultimate Tournament at the beginning of October opened up new possibilities for me, I began negotiating my way into new friend circles as well as attempting to strengthen some ties that I had let slip.

I started playing Ultimate three days a week: on Wednesday evenings with the Prawn Bunnies on the beach, on Saturday mornings (when I could manage it with work usually conflicting) with the Bunnies, on Sunday at noon with some really incredible guys in Hillcrest (plus some Bunnies), and then again on Sunday at 3:30 with my old pre-Bunny team. Needless to say, I was spending lots of time with the Bunnies, which resulted in some absolutely incredible friendships and really fun times.

A short while after the October tournament, the Bunnies began talking about hosting our own Durban Ultimate tournament. Apparently, the guys had been talking about this for a while, but it had never really gotten off the ground. But this time, it did. We set a date (which later changed due to our own lack of coordination), and began organizing space, teams, logistics, etc. Some would later say that I organized the tournament by myself, which I argue is not true, as a core group of Bunnies brought the event together. And what a great event it was! We had 40 players participate from all over Durban and west to Pietermaritzburg. We divided the players in four teams, based on skill level and experience, in the hopes of creating teams of equal ability where players could meet new friends.

On December 5th between the hours of 8 and 8:30am our players arrived. The location was Thekwini Beach, also known as the kite surfing beach because it is the windiest place in Durban (how was I supposed to know? Whoops!). But we were lucky. The weather, which had been all kinds of awful for the past week, decided to give us our 6 hours of dry, still, beautiful weather. We played all day without rain, without wind. At 3pm, when we were finishing the day, the wind kicked up and the rain came. The weather had held out for our tournament.

Now, by December my foot was feeling good enough that I knew I could play in the tournament. But, in the first game of the day, I misjudged a jump over a player and slammed my foot into her. Since we were playing on sand, my bare foot felt the full impact of this collision: the same foot that I injured in September. In pain, I decided to play on, but by the end of the game, I could not put any weight on my foot. My big toe had jammed and the whole foot was swelling. Great. Really great. Will, another Bunny with a gimp, had his crutches with him, so he was generous enough to let me hobble around a bit with them, so that I could participate in team huddles and otherwise get around a little. By the end of the day, my big toe was purple. Our post-tournament party (and the ensuing obligatory Southern Comfort) helped me to put weight on my foot again, but I had to ask a friend to drive Manuel for me.

I suppose this is an apt enough segue into the story of my fracture boot.

After injuring the same foot a second time, I called home, just to tell Mom what had happened, and to garner that sympathy that Moms are so good at. As it turns out, December 5th was a terrible day for the Willises. I re-injured my foot and my little sister was in an automobile accident in Ghana where her bus was hit head on by an 18-wheeler. The accident was fatal for the truck driver, but my little sister and her friends seemed to be in one piece. However, my mother ordered “full body scans” for both my sister and I when we arrived back in the States. Upon receiving said x-rays and cat scans (for my sis), we learned that she was fine (no internal bleeding, etc), whereas I had a fracture. I figured that the fracture was on the toe. Well, I was wrong. As it turns out, I fractured one of the long bones in the middle of my foot. That swelling and pain from September? That was no soft tissue injury. That was a fracture. Probably should not have played all that Frisbee, huh?

I was given a super cool fracture boot to wear—the epitome of style—in order to isolate my foot’s movement, keeping it steady while the bone continued to heal. The only problem with said boot was that it was stylishly toe-less.—a real situation for the harsh Chicago winter that I was visiting. Somehow, I survived Chicago without frostbite, and I now wear regular tennis shoes. Well, regular tennis shoes with a graphite plate slid under the insole, again to keep the foot from moving.

The doctor says that I am allowed to play Frisbee again when I get back to South Africa, which is such great news. Except that I cannot play barefoot or on sand, and I must always wear the graphite plate. But at least I will be playing again, albeit with limited mobility.

But, heading back into October, where we began!

October also was the month that I spent in the maximum-security women’s prison.

I like that sentence. It sounds so… well, full of possible meanings. I am tempted to let the conversation rest at that, but realize that my mother probably needn’t be inundated with inquisitive emails and phone calls from worried friends and relatives. And so, out of respect for my mother, I will briefly recount why I went to prison.

I ventured into the Westville Prison to conduct drama workshops through the University of KwaZulu-Natal. (Whew!) There were nine university students who, in three groups, created three participatory plays with a total of 40 female inmates. These women could have been incarcerated for any reason, but we did not ask to explain their crimes to us. My group was comprised of thirteen women, led by myself and two other UKZN students. Our women wanted to discuss the issue of child abuse, and so that was the topic we engaged with in our play.

I will not detail the entire process here. (But if you, blog reader, are keen to know more of my experience, I have pages upon pages of journals that I am able to share with you.) Suffice it to say that I thoroughly enjoyed my time with the women of Westville. Together we made a 15-minute play comprised of song, dance, and dialogue that addressed an issue that the women felt passionately about. We performed for an audience of nearly 70 offenders and members of the prison staff, and engaged our audience in conversations about our themes. I learned a great deal from these incredible, honest, and intelligent women.

The beginning of November saw the end of classes for the year (and the completion of my master’s coursework, as well as the completion of Sarah’s dissertation!). Clearly, a trip to the mountains was necessary. Sarah and I joined with a group of friends and headed to the Drakensberg for the weekend. We camped in tents under the Southern Hemisphere sky and spent our days hiking and throwing a Frisbee. At night, we laughed together, and drank together, and I may or may not have gone streaking for the first time. Just saying.

November passed quickly, with lots of time spent helping Sarah get ready to leave South Africa. She left right before Thanksgiving, able to get back to the States and friends for the holiday. Suddenly, it was December; the month I was going to go home for a bit. But wasn’t January just yesterday? Didn’t I just get here?

Goodbyes were hard. Okay. I knew I was coming back, but a few dear friends were going to embark on their own awfully big adventures, and that is what made leaving difficult. And besides, I have always been a crier, so it was always going to be a scene.

Leslie Ann joined me in Johannesburg from Ghana. We spent a few nights in Joburg, under the lovely care of two Rotarians. We visited the Apartheid Museum and the Lion Park. We also broke the rental car. Oh yes! I may or may not have left the lights on all night? Either way, the car did not start the next day. It would not kick start with jumper cables nor with a rolling start. We had to tow it to a mechanic who charged the battery a bit. I phoned the rental agency and we were able to get a new car. And luckily with no charge, yet.

Despite the drama, my sister and I somehow made it home, after hours and hours on a plane. Two hours after we arrived in North Carolina, it snowed. From the middle of summer to the middle of winter, just like that.

I spent a full month at home, mostly in North Carolina with family, although I did take a week and go to Chicago for the new year, and drove a ridiculous two-day one-night road trip to Washington DC to see friends. Soon it is back to South Africa for another full year.

What will I do during that year, aside from playing in the ocean year round? Write my dissertation. Work. Travel. Play a lot of Frisbee. Make some art. Have a really lovely time.

I do not look forward to the plane ride. But I look forward to all the things that await me on the other side of the ocean.