Vac work report

There will come a time when being a woman engineer isn't the big deal it is today.  It's not even that much of a thing anymore, but for as long as there are times when I find myself in a boardroom and I'm an outlier in all possible ways, I'll ride the wave and let myself be a big deal to those who think I am.

Varsity asks for a 6 week blow by blow analysis of the experience we gained during vacation, to assess whether we are being exposed to the industry in the way they see adequate.  Well...

I get a bus early in the morning before half the township is awake, to be shipped off to some or other suburb by bus, and report for duty.  On some days I am armed with a hard hat and dusty safety shoes peering out of my bag- causing it to weigh a fifth of my weight  - what with the pap and chicken I have for lunch. I sit on the bus and read (oh yes, another weight contributor), and notice the side-eyes I get from people as they wonder where in the world I could be going with these things... and because I look like I am fourteen, it doesn't help much.

I arrive at work when now a quarter of the township I left behind is awake. On a good day the sun isn't too harsh, and the rain has allowed me to settle at my desk before showering the land. I make some tea and sit down to do calculations for the following 8 hours.  How dedicated am I?  Sometimes the calculations are easy, and other times they have you taking coffee break after toilet break after kalahari.com break.  And everytime you return to the work you remember why you were on it in the first place.

Then maybe, there will be a site meeting. So I hop into some or other old white man's car for a lift- and we are off. We arrive and I make like a transformer and take my pumps off to replace with the boots and tuck my hair into a pony tail to accommodate the hat.

I get to be told I'm pretty by the construction workers on site.  Those are self-esteem booster days.  Good for the heart.

Apart from being the one who undoubtedly woke up the earliest (and will get home the latest tonight), I am the only one with cocoa-coloured skin and a bit of boobs on my chest, I have the highest year of birth on my ID and I am the only one here fighting something oestrogen has decided not to tolerate for the week. Some of the people sitting around the table think I'm there to take minutes, others ask-and the incredulity on their faces is worth Instagramming. Some already know why I'm there-and think I am taking chances trying to join them in this industry, and the rest welcome you and help you learn everything they know. God bless them. The whole lot.

A walk about the site will then take place, with our noses held high as we inspect the work that has been done, almost like a mother-in-law swiping her finger behind a cupboard to make sure her daughter-in-law is cleaning for her son. With the hard hat on my head and the boots weighing down on my tiny feet as we pace through the muddy site, my handbag holds a dead cellphone and some Vaseline. And my bus tag and skafthin.

Then I hop on the car that gave me a lift earlier, and ask all sorts of questions about what was being spoken about at the meeting- because I promise, University is sometimes just a Durability Test. To see if you can endure and persevere and die and rise again...and keep going.

Then I nod off in the car and wake up with a jolt and wonder how unprofessional it is to be falling asleep right now. On a scale of 1 to 10. Where 1 is 'Oh sleep, child' and 10 is 'You have some nerve'.

All in a days work.

Adequate?

Ntsako