A lifestyle of extremes

written 6/17
I am currently sitting on a couch that looks like the one in my mom's living room, typing a blog entry on my laptop while listening to music on itunes and finishing a Diet Coke and a cheeseburger I grilled on my George Foreman Grill. No, don't worry, I haven't gone back to America- I've just created my own little piece of America in Botswana. Gone are the fantasies of living in a hut eating exotic local foods and falling asleep to the sounds of the great outdoors. I have accepted this, and no longer feel guilty for living a life similar to my life in the United States. As long as I am living on a level similar to the local people and sticking to the Peace Corps budget, which I am, I won't worry about it.
Not to say that this isn't still an adventure or that everything is easy here. I haven't bathed properly in nearly a week because the water has been turned off in the evenings, which is generally when I would have free time to bathe. Morning baths have been ruled out entirely due to extreme cold. My counterpart and other volunteers in Mahalapye may have nice, insulated houses that keep the warmth in, but I do not. I can see my breath in the morning while I am still laying in bed, and by 7pm, I am curled up with multiple layers of clothing and a blanket. I am hoping that my house will be a little warmer once I get curtains, some area rugs, and draft stoppers, but getting those items is turning into an adventure all of its own. I have now been to the shopping area of town 4 times, and have yet to return with everything I went out to get. I would give almost anything for one trip to Walmart or Target. This makes me sound like a terrible Peace Corps volunteer, wanting to shop at big box stores over sustaining the local economy, but there really is not much local economy to support. Most of the grocery stores and large clothing stores are actually South African chains, and most of the small, independent shops are owned by foreigners, mainly Chinese people- hence the cringe-worthy name “China shops”. There are about a million China shops in Mahalapye, and each one is its own little permanent garage sale. You never know what you might find, or what kind of quality to expect. There is even a Costco-type outlet called Sefalana that I have been to twice. I'm not sure who owns it, but I don't imagine that it's too much better than anything other store of its type. It's actually a pretty useful store, especially for buying food in bulk, but it doesn't have any of the aforementioned warmth-keeping-in items. I think this weekend I will be heading to the fabric shop so I can make my own curtains, and then hitting every China shop in town in the hope of finding sheets, a comforter, and some area rugs. The whole Botswana shopping experience is made even more complicated when you add transportation to the mix. I could walk to the shopping part of town, but it would take about an hour. This is fine for going from home to the store, but unacceptable when attempting to carry 3 weeks worth of groceries or furniture on the way back home. The other options for getting home are either a taxi or combi. I do not like taking taxis here. I don't like how they forget to slow down when they pull over and nearly run me over, I don't like that they frequently refuse to take you as a passenger because they're not heading in the same direction (taxis here apparently run on set routes), and I don't like being overcharged because I don't look like a local. This leaves taking a combi, which I did for the first time yesterday. In case I haven't already explained combis, they are 12-15 seat white vans that run set routes around specific parts of town, but have no schedule. You are expected to know where they stop and just wait there until one shows up. Not knowing any of these things, I walked over to the bus rank, which is my least favorite part of town. It is packed with people and vendors, and while it looks exciting and more foreign than most other places in Botswana, it is actually a hotspot for theft and unwanted attention and marriage proposals from strangers ( I was only proposed to twice yesterday, and then asked for money immediately after refusing. It was a slow day.). I asked one of the vendors where I could pick up a combi to my ward, and was pointed in a general direction. When walking the streets of Mahalapye, I often feel that it is useful to get into New Yorker mode, and walk quickly and with purpose, whether I know where I'm going or not. I really couldn't look more like an outsider if I tried, but I can at least avoid looking like a lost, vulnerable outsider. Therefore, I walked in a straight line, keeping my eyes straight ahead, but my ears open- and thankfully heard a driver calling out the name of my ward. I was the first passenger in the combi, which meant that we had to wait until it filled up before we left, but it wasn't long before I was squished against a back window with my bags and we were on our way. I was expecting the usual stares and patronizing smiles and chuckles from my fellow passengers, but was pleasantly surprised that they seemed unimpressed with my presence, even when I asked how much to pay (the true sign of a newbie). The ride went along without incident, and I got off at the secondary school about a 3 minute walk from my house. Best of all, it only cost P2.50 (about 35 cents US). All in all, my first combi ride on my own went well. I think I'll be using it pretty often, although I definitely plan to limit shopping to a twice a month event once I'm all settled in. I'm perfectly happy to stay in my own little corner of town as much as possible.
Another chance for adventure has been the walk from my house to my clinic, which I did by myself for the first time yesterday. There are two ways to go, one using the tarred road and then a dirt road through a residential area, and one following a sandy road all the way there- it's just a matter of whether I want to turn left or right when I leave my house. Yesterday I decided to take the tarred road, thinking that it would be simple and that there would be more people around to ask for directions if I lost my way. I followed the road past the school and walked and walked until I got the familiar, unsettled feeling in the pit of my stomach telling me that I was walking too far. Against all New Yorker instincts, I pulled out the map my counterpart had drawn for me, and found that if I had walked even a little further, I would have missed my turn. I turned and continued down a dirt road and, deciding to assume I was going the right way, I took some time to appreciate my surroundings. For the first time in a long time, I felt like I was in Africa, the way I'd imagined it. There was no tarred road in sight, and I was surrounded by family compounds of small cement houses and round traditional huts. I passed old women with babies on their backs sweeping their dirt yards with straw brooms as Setswana music drifted through the air, full of drums and dance beats, probably from someone's car stereo. The reddish brown of the huts and dirt road was occasionally interrupted by palm trees and trees blooming with purple and red flowers as I meandered toward the clinic. At least 3 times, I approached women in their yards to make sure I was still going the right way, and received no strange stares, only directions given in rapid Setswana. Usually when I speak Setswana, I am laughed at and answered in English, so although I didn't necessarily understand everything these ladies said, I appreciated their total acceptance of the strange lekgoa wandering the dirt roads speaking halting Setswana, and got enough of their directions to make it to the clinic successfully.
This morning I decided to turn onto the sandy road to see which route I preferred. I'd taken it before, but didn't remember most of it because I'd been walking and talking with a coworker. I ended up making it to the clinic in less time than the first route took, but was disappointed in the lack of scenery. The white sand of the road reminded me of the beach, and it was a little depressing to know that the road wouldn't lead me out to the ocean. Most of the scenery was comprised of a fence on one side and bushes and family compounds on the other. I only had to ask directions once, at a 4 way intersection, and reached the clinic in no time. My one remarkable find on this route was a general store. This was a surprise, since my landlord's son had led me to believe that there weren't any in my ward, but I guess he just meant that there were none that were open at that time of the evening. General stores here usually have cold drinks, airtime, and some food essentials like bread, soup mix, rice, and canned goods. Their prices are usually a little high, but their convenience makes up for it. Either way, it's a pretty useful thing to have on the way from work to home, and although I like the scenery of the first route better, I think I'll be using the sandy route frequently, too.
One of the hardest parts about moving into my new place so far has been realizing that I'm going to have to adjust to living by myself again. I lived by myself for a year in New Paltz, and actually enjoyed it and missed it when I had to move back in with my family in the months before leaving for Botswana, so I thought I would slip back into life on my own easily and naturally. As usual, I was wrong. Yes, I appreciate having privacy again (although not too much privacy at the moment, since I don't have curtains yet), and I enjoy being able to spend my evenings however I like. And it is especially nice to have a place that is my own, where I don't have to constantly be on my guard and within cultural norms. But when I come home, I am alone, more alone than I've ever been. In New Paltz, I could stay out until 9 or 10pm with friends and then go to bed. I could spend hours talking to people on the phone or on the internet. If I needed something, I could get in my car at any time of the night and drive to the store where I would see people, often people I knew. And if I got really lonely or bored, I could always drive 3 hours and spend the weekend at my mom's. Here I have none of those things. Airtime is expensive, so I can't even call other volunteers in Botswana, and my family in the US can only afford to call once a week. I could get the internet, but it is very expensive, and I need to save money if I have any hope of traveling while I'm here. It's not safe to go out after dark, so by 6pm, I am in my house with the doors locked, and I won't see or probably even speak to another person until the morning. It's something I'm going to have to get used to, or I will go crazy here. Writing these blog entries is a coping mechanism, because I feel like I'm talking to someone. I have a feeling that I will do a lot of writing, reading and (if I ever get a light in the kitchen and if the water ever stays on past 4pm) cooking in the evenings here. I wish I could say that I'll do a lot of sleeping, too, but when I live alone, I tend to go to bed late. I'm a night person by nature, and I don't go to bed until either I'm literally falling asleep standing up or until whoever else I'm staying with goes to bed. If I try to go to bed too early, I lay there for hours agonizing over every creak and scratch that I hear- believe me, I've tried it. Maybe I'll try it again once I have my real bed set up, because even without sheets, it looks incredibly inviting- I haven't slept in a real bed in so long!!! At my homestay in Molepolole, I had a bed, but it had no real mattress- just wire mesh and a foam pad., and until I can find sheets and comforter, I have set up camp on a small couch in the spare bedroom of my new house. The spare bedroom faces out into the family compound, and I lose a lot of sleep to the noises of people coming and going and blasting car stereos. I know that there are other people living here and that the property is pretty secure, but hearing a lot of voices in the dark is unsettling when you live alone- yet another thing I'll have to get used to. More than once I've been annoyed by people making noise in the yard at night only to remember that it's only 8pm and that people have every right to be outside and talk on their own property!
Don't worry about me feeling too alone though- I've already found a few roommates, although they are quite a bit smaller than my roommates in the past have been. There is a resident African version of a ladybug who lives in the spare bedroom, 3 small brown cockroaches that were immediately squished and evacuated, spiders of various shapes and sizes lurking in corners of the kitchen that I haven't swept out yet, and an enormous grasshopper-type creature dwelling on the handle of my bathroom door that I nearly accidentally shook hands with earlier today. He's still there at this very moment, and as he is too large and spiky to squish or move, I feel it best to let him live there as long as he chooses. Maybe I'll train him to eat the cockroaches.
This week has been a bust as far as work at the clinic goes. I stopped by to check in on my way to town yesterday, and spent about 2 hours there observing and talking to people there this morning before I had to go home to wait for workers that never showed up. Tomorrow I am expecting the Peace Corps security officer to visit in the morning for a site inspection, and I am hoping that the workers that didn't show up today will show up tomorrow, so I don't think I'll be spending much time at the clinic tomorrow, either. I'm actually thankful for the breather between training and starting actual work, but I'm eager to live up to my title as a Peace Corps volunteer. It's frustrating to have been in Africa for over 2 months as volunteer without doing any real work. Everyone at home assumes that I'm doing amazing things as a Peace Corps volunteer, but the truth is that I haven't done anything at all yet. Until now, it's been all training and no doing, and really for the next two months, I'm not supposed to do much either. I'm supposed to be observing, helping with minor tasks, getting to know how my clinic works, and doing an assessment of community needs. Volunteers are supposed to learn how to integrate at training, and then spend time becoming a real community member and finding out what the community really needs and wants before jumping in and working on projects. This approach is actually what I like best about the way Peace Corps operates because it leads to more successful, sustainable projects, but it can be extremely frustrating for the volunteer who just wants to get to work. At least I'll be starting some form of work on Monday, and hopefully setting up a schedule with my counterpart. I always feel better when I have a schedule.
It is now officially that time of night when I am literally falling asleep writing, which means it may finally be time for bed. Hope you haven't been falling asleep reading this long entry!