The Girl Who Loves to Read

One year ago, we were at my mother's house in Maryland - our last stop before boarding a plane to come to Johannesburg. Quince would beg my mother to read to her, and my mother would oblige being the good grandmother that she is. Quince absolutely loved books and loved being read to, but she struggled with reading herself. Being the Tiger Mom that I am, I would insist that Quince read to my mother before my mother read to her, or that she read one page, my mother the next. Now of course I was worried. After all, Alexander was reading Harry Potter by the time he finished 1st Grade and here Quince was struggling with the most basic sentences. Maybe she was dyslexic, or had ADHD, or was a drug addict. Was it a huge mistake to even go to South Africa?

But our bags were packed, so I packed up my anxiety too, and off we went. One year later we don't have a drug addict on our hands, but rather a reading addict. She can't get enough. Big books, little books, books she's already read, on the sofa, at Alexander's sporting events, on geocaching expeditions, in the car, at dinner parties - it doesn't matter - she just needs to read.

The Secret (and Genius) Life of Plants

One of the highlights of our stay at Mopane Bush Lodge in July was the morning walk with the Lodge Manager, Andrew Rae, an incredibly knowledgable and personable ranger. He shared all kinds of facts and tidbits about the bushveld animal and plant life.

I was particularly struck by two stories he told us about plants. Near the Limpopo River live the Fever trees - just as Rudyard Kipling wrote about. Earlier in our trip we had gone to the Treetop Walk on the Limpopo River at Mapungubwe National Park and I noticed that there were these big, yellow barked trees each with one big black limb - how strange I thought. Turns out that the ground water near the Limpopo contains a lot of salt - but since these poor trees can't really rely on some factory filtering their water for them, they have no choice but to drink it up. Smart things that they are, they funnel all the salts into one sacrificial limb so the rest of the tree can enjoy pure non-salty water. Clever, huh?

The second even more amazing thing Andrew told us about are these acacia bushes with huge thorns. Apparently, the leaves of these bushes are especially delicious to giraffe and eland. You'd think the thorns would be all the defense the bushes would need, but the giraffe and eland use their long tongues to weave past the thorns to get at the tender delicious leaves. The wily acacia then employs its second defense. As soon as it senses its leaves are being devoured it emits a tannin into its leaves making them much less tasty. Within 5 minutes the giraffe is on its way. I think this is wonderous- but it doesn't end there. The bush also emits a chemical into the air which gets picked up by neighboring downwind acacias letting them know evil leaf eating beasts are about. By the time the unknowing giraffe wanders to a nearby acacia, the leaves are already filled with tannins. But giraffes are no dummies - they have learned to go upwind to find the next acacia. Oh cruel nature!!

Western Gender Training and the African Art of Humbleness

For most of my adult life, I have fought against my Western female training to underplay what it is I know. This downplaying does me no good and can be perceived in our male-culture workplaces (yes, still) as indicative of insecurity and incompetence. So, I've tried to rid my speech of phrases such as, "well I'm not sure, but I think. . ." or "I could be wrong, but. . ." or making sure I attribute some facts to the source because me saying it just doesn't hold enough credibility.

American men, on the other hand, I find are trained quite differently. They can hold forth on topics with the utmost confidence, never giving sources, and not even blinking an eye when they wade into territory they might not know that much about. In fact, this phenomenon is so well documented that it has been given a name by the great social scientist Carole Mitnick: Male Answer Syndrome.

But here I find myself in situations having to reincorporate these downplaying phrases into my speech. This is particularly true in work situations with people from certain black African cultures. I am in awe of their artistry in prefacing their comments to make sure they do not come across as arrogant or knowing more than the others in the room. One colleague - actually quite high up in the project I work for (Chief of Party to be exact) -- set out to answer a tricky question during a discussion. He began, "Please let me begin to answer this, and then I'll turn it over to my colleagues to answer correctly." Recently, working in a small group, we had the assignment to draw an eye (another story). Two of us quickly said we couldn't and the third graciously said, "Okay, I'll try. Fortunately, we have plenty of paper if I mess up." She then proceeded to draw a perfectly perfect eye.

I have a bit of a headstart over my American male counterparts in displaying the culturally appropriate humbleness, but I will never come close to the artform that my black African colleagues have mastered.