Ga ke na mathatha....most of the time.

(Written Thursday night)
And the ups and downs continue. They don't follow any kind of pattern at all, and the downs come when I least expect them- like now, at 7pm after a regular day of Setswana lessons and HIV lectures, even after a couple hours of downtime at the beautiful stadium with other PCV's. There's nothing wrong, but it's now that I'm feeling low, instead of yesterday, when it would have made sense. I guess it's just something I'll have to get used to.
I suppose I should explain my remark about yesterday. Before you all worry, nothing terrible happened, and I'm fine- it was just a tough day. I woke up not feeling well with my stomach doing flip-flops (a common ailment among the trainees lately), and was unprepared and forgetful all day, which can be a real confidence killer. By the end of the day, I had my heart set on doing my homework and going straight to bed. However, this is the Peace Corps, and nothing ever works out the way I plan. When I got home, my host mom met me at the door and informed that I was to bath immediately and then start cooking dinner for everyone. Saying no wasn't an option, as I knew they had all bee waiting all day to eat. I haven't cried here yet, but at that moment, I came pretty close. Not that making dinner is so terrible- it's just that doing it in a strange kitchen with no preparation and while not feeling well was not exactly in my plan for the night. I went into my room, collected myself, bathed, and faced my challenge in the kitchen. I ended up making some kind of beef/tomato stew with potatos, and while I could tell that my host family wasn't exactly impressed, I was triumphant. I ate about 2 bites, put the rest away for lunch, and although my stomach was still churning, I went to bed feeling proud.
I'm sure that most of you are not reading to hear about the exploits of my stomach or the emotional rollercoaster that is PST, so I'll throw in some interesting cultural experiences, too. As I mentioned before, on Monday, we split into groups to meet the kgosis (chiefs) of the wards we are staying in. I'd imagine that most of you have no idea what a kgosi is (I didn't before coming here), so I'll explain a bit. Botswana is divided into districts, and then further divided into wards, which are very small. While the national government runs as a democratic republic, the local wards are run by kgosis, who inherit their position from their fathers. Th position of kgosi is rather like a small town mayor and judge rolled into one. He settles local disputes, promotes village development,and maintains peace in the ward. If there is an issue too large to handle in the kgotla, the police are alerted and higher officials are called in. Kgosis are very highly respected, and they are now paid by the government for their work. A kgosi can also be a woman these days, but that generally only occurs when there is no male heir to take the position.
Back to the meeting. Our meeting was held at the kgotla, an outdoor community gathering place marked by a horseshoe of upright branches in front of the kgosi's house. We dressed our best (men wear jackets and women wear long skirts), and met the kgosi, the counselor, and the village development committee representative. Through interpreters, we spoke at length about the role of the kgosi and the VDC, HIV/AIDS issues in the community (including access to testing,stigma, contribution of alcoholism, etc),and development projects. I was very impressed with how willing everyone was to address some very difficult topics, and to hear how highly Peace Corps Volunteers are thought of in my ward. Other volunteers had different experiences, but I came away from our meeting feeling very optimistic (and relieved that I remembered all the cultural protocol!).