Despite the arrival of summer in Botswana, bureaucratic confusion and lack of resources holding up my projects, and the fact that I am still owed large amounts of money by the runaway t-shirt man and a neighbor who doesn't like to pay for his electricity, I am having a good week. I can't explain it. There's no reason for it. The fact of the matter is that as I was staring out of the combi window, squished in the back as usual, watching the everyday chaos that is the Mahalapye mall at the close of business hours, the thought came to me: I like it here. I didn't mean to think this, and I never expected to think it. The thought floated up from nowhere and popped into my head, and surprised as I was to find it there, I discovered that I agreed, and allowed the thought to stay. I have no idea how long this thought will stay with me. It's quite possible, and even probable, that it will disappear as quickly as it came. For now, though, it is here. Maybe it's the bright yellow flowers that have sprung up everywhere in the last week. Maybe I'm still riding a post-IST wave of positive thinking, although I don't remember thinking this positively at IST. More likely, I think it is that I'm allowing myself to feel more open here. For a long time, I was on my guard all time, preventing harassment, unwanted attention, and even possible crime by refusing to speak to anyone. For a while, it seemed that even saying 'hello' to man was an invitation for a proposal, and that every conversation with any local was a stressful lesson in cultural differences. I looked the other way when passing people, and cringed when I heard someone call out “Lesh!!” (my Setswana name is Lesego, and Lesh is the nickname). I still have days like that, but lately I have been better about ignoring rude people and being friendly to everyone else. I even smile at people now! While I have been better about being open and treating people like neighbors instead of enemies to be avoided, I have also begun to feel more accepted in my community. I'm not sure which came first, but I think they may go hand in hand. I feel like I belong, so I am treated like I belong.
Some hints that I am starting to fit in:
-Most of the combi drivers know me and know exactly where to drop me off. None of them have called me 'baby' in weeks, and instead, some have started to call me 'sister'.
-The bus callers no longer yell “Gabs! Gabs!” in my face when I pass them (since all white people are assumed to be going to Gabs), and the taxi drivers no longer fall over themselves to bring me to the nearest lodge.
-I no longer quite know what to do with myself in crowds of non-Peace Corps white people. When I see a tour bus stopped in front of the grocery store, my instinct is to turn around and walk away to avoid the awkwardness. This should be fun when I get back to New York.
-When someone yells “Lesh!!” from across the street, I no longer cringe and pretend I didn't hear. I turn around, smile, and greet the other person- and lately, I have even started recognizing some of these people who seem to know me so well! This one is a patient at the clinic, this one is a student at the school, this one sells oranges at the bus rank....someday, I may even know their names.
-In taxis and on combis, people no longer stare at me as I get in. I have no idea if I've really met all these people or if they're just used to seeing the white girl in town, but I appreciate the lack of attention.
-I know exactly when to avoid the grocery stores and the atms (late afternoons at the end of the month when everyone gets paid, in case you're wondering), but I'm no longer afraid of the chaos and the long lines. Over thirty minutes in line to use the outdoor atm? No problem. There's a curb to sit on, and I'm sure I'll find someone interesting to talk to.
-I know three different ways to get to my clinic from my house, and the positives and negatives of each route (Is it too windy for the sandy path? Do I mind pushing through throngs of schoolchildren today?).
-In the two weeks since IST, I have only been proposed to once. This may be a record.
-I know which store to go to for every item I want, and where the best prices are- even though I'll still end up just going to Spar to get everything so I don't have to wander around town and check all of my bags at each store.
-I know better than the post office workers how much a stamp costs.
-My Motswana accent is close to being perfected. I now communicate mostly through various forms of “Ah!”, which can be used to express any emotion, I no longer use contractions, and I begin almost every sentence with “Ga ke re...” (“isn't it”), even when speaking to other Americans. This may also be fun when I go back to New York.
-My favorite 'fitting in' moment so far: I enter the internet cafe, and to my surprise, there are two very non-Motswana teenagers talking to the lady at the desk, who is by now a friend of mine. It's obvious that they're American, and when the leave, they struggle with the Setswana words for 'thank you', and end up asking the lady how to say it. She looks at me in shared amusement, and we both start to laugh as she tells them to ask me. I am a mess, even by Peace Corps standards, with my hair in braids, wearing an outfit I wouldn't be caught dead in if I were in America, and these blonde haired, wide eyed kids look at me in confusion as I tell them:
“Ke a leboga!”
Thursday, September 23, 2010
Wednesday, September 15, 2010
Apologies and Updates
To be perfectly honest, I am slightly afraid to begin this entry. It's been so long since I wrote an entry, that I am afraid that either I will find that I have forgotten how to write and everyone will be disappointed, or that I will find that I have too much to write about and won't finish until morning. I'll try to keep a good pace without leaving anything out.
First, I feel that I should provide some reason for not writing for almost two months. Sadly, I have no good reason, but I'll try to explain anyway. I would love to say that I was too busy, but that's certainly not the case at all, although hopefully someday it will be. The truth of the matter is that I simply didn't have anything to say, at least not anything that I wanted to put onto a public website. I said in my last entry that I was starting to feel at home here and that life was beginning to feel ordinary. If I was living an ordinary life and nothing seemed momentous and important, then what could I possibly write about? I know it's hard to fathom that living in Africa as a Peace Corps volunteer can be boring and mundane, but I assure you that it can be, and often is. I went to the clinic in the mornings, puttered around, helping in various small ways, went home for lunch, and spent my afternoons and weekends getting to know my community resources, grocery shopping, and doing laundry. I was still on lockdown, so travel and adventure were out of the question, and being settled and comfortable in my house and community, nothing seemed extraordinary to me. Nothing to write home about, so to speak.
Let me also explain that while my living situation was becoming so settled, my emotions were still anything but. Yes, I got used to life here, but I'm still getting used to living so far from home. I've never been one to be homesick (well, at least not in the last 10 or 15 years, in case anyone who knew me back then is reading and wants to call me out on this). I'd go off on my adventures without looking back, and although I'd be happy to see my friends and family again, I was usually sorry to come home and would miss the place I'd left for weeks afterward. I still miss some of those places today. I think if you'd have asked some of my friends and family about their concerns regarding me joining the Peace Corps, at least a few would have said that there was a good chance I'd fall in love with my assigned country and never want to come home. I can say now with great confidence that they should no longer be concerned about that. I like Botswana, I like most of the people I've met, and I think I'm going to like my work here very much, but I have not fallen in love with it, and I don't think I ever will. That's been hard for me to accept, and I didn't know how to express that without the negativity. I also have been more homesick here than I ever expected to be, and that's difficult for me to say too, akin to admitting weakness. My family has gone through a lot of major changes since I left, and it's been tough to sit it out here without participating and with minimal communication. My family might be challenging sometimes, but they're probably what I miss the most. I have great friends here, but I've also found it tough to not be able to talk to my old friends whenever I want to- and even harder to miss their weddings! I miss being able to drive, I miss going to church, I miss being a youth minister at AYM, I miss being the Girls 4 cabin counselor at Camp Adventure, I miss mountains and lakes and the ocean, I miss real trees, and I miss speaking fluent, fast English and being understood. And daily hot showers. And having a kitchen table. And knowing what the heck is going on in the rest of the world.
Anyway, the point is that following my birthday, I had over a month where I walked the balance between not having anything to say and following the old rule: “if you don't have anything nice to say, don't say anything at all.” Hence the lack of blog-writing.
You might be adding up the time, and realizing that I haven't accounted for the last few weeks. Don't worry, I'm getting there. From August 25th to September 9th, I was in Gaborone for in-service training, along with all the volunteers in the Bots 9 group. We lived at a lodge for two weeks, spending our weekdays at lengthy training sessions on such topics as project management and volunteerism, and our nights and weekends generally re-living the college dorm experience, complete with 80's night and karaoke. Gaborone is a relatively small but modern city, with government buildings, large churches, many lodges, and several mall areas. Our lodge was walking distance from the Riverwalk Mall, which could be compared to just about any mall on Long Island. It has clothing stores, home goods stores, a book store, a few overpriced specialty shops, a movie theater, two enormous American-style grocery stores, and restaurants and a coffee shop- you can even get pizza there (which we did, of course, on the first day). We spent a lot of our time there, but I'll highlight some non-Riverwalk IST experiences. One night our lodge was overrun by poets of every southern African nationality, and we were invited to attend their poetry slam/open mic in the conference room. I'm not especially into poetry, especially spoken poetry, but having nothing better to do, I went with a few other volunteers. I am so glad I did. Although spoken poetry still feels a little awkward to me, these people were amazing performers, and they incorporated so much passion and music into their work that I felt lucky to be in the audience. A very talented Bots 8 volunteer performed an song, and at some point, she must have mentioned me to them, because before I knew it, I was up on the stage. I didn't have anything prepared (certainly nothing original) and I know it wasn't my best performance, but everyone was very supportive, and it felt great to be included in the group.
Another night, we heard that a local cafe/bar was having a salsa night, and since one of our volunteers had done a previous term of service in Mexico, and it happened to be his birthday, we decided to go. We spent an hour learning and practicing salsa in someone's hotel room, and were eager to get to the bar to try it for real. However, when we got there, they were cleaning up, and there was no music playing! Salsa night was canceled, but we were a determined group of people without a backup plan. After many rounds of negotiations, the bar was re-opened, another volunteer sped over with some salsa music, drinks were provided at a discounted price, and the dancing began. We were practically the only ones there, but we can make our own party, and it ended up being a pretty good night. Who'd have thought I'd learn to salsa in Botswana?
The best experience by far, though, was our day at Mokgolodi Game Reserve. About a half an hour outside of Gaborone, Mokgolodi contains all kinds of animals that are allowed to roam the reserve, including leopards, giraffes, rhinos, and wildebeest. Unfortunately, we arrived around midday, which is apparently naptime for most of the wild animals of Botswana. We did, however, get to see kudu, hippos, warthogs, baboons, and many, many impala. Not very impressive, you might think. We thought the same. Until we got to the hyenas and cheetahs, of course. The hyenas are kept in an enclosure, but they were lounging near the fence. There are some hyenas on the reserve that are allowed to roam freely, but these spotted hyenas were raised as pets until their owner got nervous when they appeared large enough to eat his small children. I don't blame him- hyenas are much larger in person than I'd imagined them to be! The cheetahs are also kept in an enclosure, but having paid extra and signed the required waiver, we were allowed inside with them. We had no idea what to expect as we went through the double gate in our safari jeep- it felt a little like being in Jurassic Park. We were told that these cheetahs were twin brothers, orphaned at a young age and rescued and kept by the reserve. They are now 14 years old, old men in the cheetah world, although still pretty active around feeding time or when taunted by impalas hanging around outside the enclosure. When we met the first one, though, he was napping on the side of the dirt path. Our guide got out first, walked over slowly, and then stooped down and began stroking the cheetah's head and rubbing and tussling it as if it were an oversized house cat. We held our breaths- until the purring started. Powerful purring, loud enough to be heard by everyone and to be picked up by the weak microphone on my camera's video recorder. Each of us took our turn, careful to follow the guides instructions to touch only the cheetah's head and to approach from behind him. The fur on his head was matted and a bit rough, but he leaned into each touch and seemed to thoroughly enjoy the experience. I longed to touch the rest of his fur, which looked much softer and shinier, but as I enjoy the use of both my arms, I didn't dare. We stayed with the first one for a long time, getting more and more comfortable with the idea that we were petting a cheetah, even through a scary but thrilling moment when the cheetah rolled over as a volunteer was petting him, and reached out his arm so that his paw was resting on the volunteer's arm. Eventually, though, it was time to move on and meet the other cat. This one, too, was napping, and barely noticed our arrival and consequent petting and photo-taking. He was darker in color than the other, with more prominent markings, and stretched out sleeping in the sun, he reminded me of a Calvin and Hobbes cartoon strip. As we took turns petting, I looked back through the brush to the other cheetah, and to my shock, he was no longer lounging, but walking straight toward us! Jealous of our attention to his brother, he sauntered past us and meaningfully plopped down next to his brother and stretched out lazily. Of course we set out petting and photographing both cats immediately until it was finally time to leave and finish our game drive. We met up with the rest of our group at the reserve's restaurant, where we learned never to order calamari in the desert, and then piled into the combi and headed back to the hotel and Riverwalk, where a bunch of us went out for Indian food. All in all, I would say that it was a very successful day. How many people can say that they have petted a live cheetah?
IST ended with a language exam (my score was intermediate high) and a counterpart workshop, where our counterparts and supervisors were invited to spend two days working with us to shape our plans for the rest of our service. Luckily, I have a wonderful counterpart, and we had already taken time to discuss all of these things, so everything went smoothly. Now I am back in Mahalapye, and slowly starting to figure out how to turn these plans into a reality. I have two major projects at the clinic that should be implemented within the month, and I'm pretty excited to have something concrete to do. The first is a baby care class, inspired by the events described in previous entries, which showed the difficulty of caring for a newborn with little education or support. The class will be held every Tuesday afternoon, and it will cover subjects such as nutrition for the pregnant or breastfeeding mother, forming a birth plan, caring for the newborn at home, and emergency care. It will be a 10 week course, and parents who attend each class will receive a certificate at the end. My counterpart is a midwife, and while I have been working on the structure and curriculum for the classes, she will be teaching the bulk of the material. She's as excited as I am, and is even talking about expanding the class to other clinics if it's successful at ours. The other project is not quite as far along yet, but I don't think it will be too difficult to plan and implement. Our clinic is a youth friendly clinic, but currently, it is youth friendly in name only. The nurses are trained to be sensitive to youth, but no special effort is made to reach out to that population. This new project will require that every Thursday afternoon will be reserved for youth only, giving young people the chance to utilize the clinic without being surrounded by crying babies and potentially critical older relatives and neighbors. We will have educational material available, extra efforts will be made to ensure privacy, HIV testing and counseling will be available, and we will hold games and activities to draw the youth in. I'm a little concerned that the hours (2-4:30pm) will be too restrictive for youth attending school, but we have a number of out of school youth in the area, and in Botswana, the definition of youth extends to 29 years, far past school age. We'll see how it works out and how well attended youth hours will actually be.
I'll try to update more frequently than once every couple months, but don't hold it against me if I don't. Maybe it will mean that I'm finally busy and doing something meaningful with my time here!
First, I feel that I should provide some reason for not writing for almost two months. Sadly, I have no good reason, but I'll try to explain anyway. I would love to say that I was too busy, but that's certainly not the case at all, although hopefully someday it will be. The truth of the matter is that I simply didn't have anything to say, at least not anything that I wanted to put onto a public website. I said in my last entry that I was starting to feel at home here and that life was beginning to feel ordinary. If I was living an ordinary life and nothing seemed momentous and important, then what could I possibly write about? I know it's hard to fathom that living in Africa as a Peace Corps volunteer can be boring and mundane, but I assure you that it can be, and often is. I went to the clinic in the mornings, puttered around, helping in various small ways, went home for lunch, and spent my afternoons and weekends getting to know my community resources, grocery shopping, and doing laundry. I was still on lockdown, so travel and adventure were out of the question, and being settled and comfortable in my house and community, nothing seemed extraordinary to me. Nothing to write home about, so to speak.
Let me also explain that while my living situation was becoming so settled, my emotions were still anything but. Yes, I got used to life here, but I'm still getting used to living so far from home. I've never been one to be homesick (well, at least not in the last 10 or 15 years, in case anyone who knew me back then is reading and wants to call me out on this). I'd go off on my adventures without looking back, and although I'd be happy to see my friends and family again, I was usually sorry to come home and would miss the place I'd left for weeks afterward. I still miss some of those places today. I think if you'd have asked some of my friends and family about their concerns regarding me joining the Peace Corps, at least a few would have said that there was a good chance I'd fall in love with my assigned country and never want to come home. I can say now with great confidence that they should no longer be concerned about that. I like Botswana, I like most of the people I've met, and I think I'm going to like my work here very much, but I have not fallen in love with it, and I don't think I ever will. That's been hard for me to accept, and I didn't know how to express that without the negativity. I also have been more homesick here than I ever expected to be, and that's difficult for me to say too, akin to admitting weakness. My family has gone through a lot of major changes since I left, and it's been tough to sit it out here without participating and with minimal communication. My family might be challenging sometimes, but they're probably what I miss the most. I have great friends here, but I've also found it tough to not be able to talk to my old friends whenever I want to- and even harder to miss their weddings! I miss being able to drive, I miss going to church, I miss being a youth minister at AYM, I miss being the Girls 4 cabin counselor at Camp Adventure, I miss mountains and lakes and the ocean, I miss real trees, and I miss speaking fluent, fast English and being understood. And daily hot showers. And having a kitchen table. And knowing what the heck is going on in the rest of the world.
Anyway, the point is that following my birthday, I had over a month where I walked the balance between not having anything to say and following the old rule: “if you don't have anything nice to say, don't say anything at all.” Hence the lack of blog-writing.
You might be adding up the time, and realizing that I haven't accounted for the last few weeks. Don't worry, I'm getting there. From August 25th to September 9th, I was in Gaborone for in-service training, along with all the volunteers in the Bots 9 group. We lived at a lodge for two weeks, spending our weekdays at lengthy training sessions on such topics as project management and volunteerism, and our nights and weekends generally re-living the college dorm experience, complete with 80's night and karaoke. Gaborone is a relatively small but modern city, with government buildings, large churches, many lodges, and several mall areas. Our lodge was walking distance from the Riverwalk Mall, which could be compared to just about any mall on Long Island. It has clothing stores, home goods stores, a book store, a few overpriced specialty shops, a movie theater, two enormous American-style grocery stores, and restaurants and a coffee shop- you can even get pizza there (which we did, of course, on the first day). We spent a lot of our time there, but I'll highlight some non-Riverwalk IST experiences. One night our lodge was overrun by poets of every southern African nationality, and we were invited to attend their poetry slam/open mic in the conference room. I'm not especially into poetry, especially spoken poetry, but having nothing better to do, I went with a few other volunteers. I am so glad I did. Although spoken poetry still feels a little awkward to me, these people were amazing performers, and they incorporated so much passion and music into their work that I felt lucky to be in the audience. A very talented Bots 8 volunteer performed an song, and at some point, she must have mentioned me to them, because before I knew it, I was up on the stage. I didn't have anything prepared (certainly nothing original) and I know it wasn't my best performance, but everyone was very supportive, and it felt great to be included in the group.
Another night, we heard that a local cafe/bar was having a salsa night, and since one of our volunteers had done a previous term of service in Mexico, and it happened to be his birthday, we decided to go. We spent an hour learning and practicing salsa in someone's hotel room, and were eager to get to the bar to try it for real. However, when we got there, they were cleaning up, and there was no music playing! Salsa night was canceled, but we were a determined group of people without a backup plan. After many rounds of negotiations, the bar was re-opened, another volunteer sped over with some salsa music, drinks were provided at a discounted price, and the dancing began. We were practically the only ones there, but we can make our own party, and it ended up being a pretty good night. Who'd have thought I'd learn to salsa in Botswana?
The best experience by far, though, was our day at Mokgolodi Game Reserve. About a half an hour outside of Gaborone, Mokgolodi contains all kinds of animals that are allowed to roam the reserve, including leopards, giraffes, rhinos, and wildebeest. Unfortunately, we arrived around midday, which is apparently naptime for most of the wild animals of Botswana. We did, however, get to see kudu, hippos, warthogs, baboons, and many, many impala. Not very impressive, you might think. We thought the same. Until we got to the hyenas and cheetahs, of course. The hyenas are kept in an enclosure, but they were lounging near the fence. There are some hyenas on the reserve that are allowed to roam freely, but these spotted hyenas were raised as pets until their owner got nervous when they appeared large enough to eat his small children. I don't blame him- hyenas are much larger in person than I'd imagined them to be! The cheetahs are also kept in an enclosure, but having paid extra and signed the required waiver, we were allowed inside with them. We had no idea what to expect as we went through the double gate in our safari jeep- it felt a little like being in Jurassic Park. We were told that these cheetahs were twin brothers, orphaned at a young age and rescued and kept by the reserve. They are now 14 years old, old men in the cheetah world, although still pretty active around feeding time or when taunted by impalas hanging around outside the enclosure. When we met the first one, though, he was napping on the side of the dirt path. Our guide got out first, walked over slowly, and then stooped down and began stroking the cheetah's head and rubbing and tussling it as if it were an oversized house cat. We held our breaths- until the purring started. Powerful purring, loud enough to be heard by everyone and to be picked up by the weak microphone on my camera's video recorder. Each of us took our turn, careful to follow the guides instructions to touch only the cheetah's head and to approach from behind him. The fur on his head was matted and a bit rough, but he leaned into each touch and seemed to thoroughly enjoy the experience. I longed to touch the rest of his fur, which looked much softer and shinier, but as I enjoy the use of both my arms, I didn't dare. We stayed with the first one for a long time, getting more and more comfortable with the idea that we were petting a cheetah, even through a scary but thrilling moment when the cheetah rolled over as a volunteer was petting him, and reached out his arm so that his paw was resting on the volunteer's arm. Eventually, though, it was time to move on and meet the other cat. This one, too, was napping, and barely noticed our arrival and consequent petting and photo-taking. He was darker in color than the other, with more prominent markings, and stretched out sleeping in the sun, he reminded me of a Calvin and Hobbes cartoon strip. As we took turns petting, I looked back through the brush to the other cheetah, and to my shock, he was no longer lounging, but walking straight toward us! Jealous of our attention to his brother, he sauntered past us and meaningfully plopped down next to his brother and stretched out lazily. Of course we set out petting and photographing both cats immediately until it was finally time to leave and finish our game drive. We met up with the rest of our group at the reserve's restaurant, where we learned never to order calamari in the desert, and then piled into the combi and headed back to the hotel and Riverwalk, where a bunch of us went out for Indian food. All in all, I would say that it was a very successful day. How many people can say that they have petted a live cheetah?
IST ended with a language exam (my score was intermediate high) and a counterpart workshop, where our counterparts and supervisors were invited to spend two days working with us to shape our plans for the rest of our service. Luckily, I have a wonderful counterpart, and we had already taken time to discuss all of these things, so everything went smoothly. Now I am back in Mahalapye, and slowly starting to figure out how to turn these plans into a reality. I have two major projects at the clinic that should be implemented within the month, and I'm pretty excited to have something concrete to do. The first is a baby care class, inspired by the events described in previous entries, which showed the difficulty of caring for a newborn with little education or support. The class will be held every Tuesday afternoon, and it will cover subjects such as nutrition for the pregnant or breastfeeding mother, forming a birth plan, caring for the newborn at home, and emergency care. It will be a 10 week course, and parents who attend each class will receive a certificate at the end. My counterpart is a midwife, and while I have been working on the structure and curriculum for the classes, she will be teaching the bulk of the material. She's as excited as I am, and is even talking about expanding the class to other clinics if it's successful at ours. The other project is not quite as far along yet, but I don't think it will be too difficult to plan and implement. Our clinic is a youth friendly clinic, but currently, it is youth friendly in name only. The nurses are trained to be sensitive to youth, but no special effort is made to reach out to that population. This new project will require that every Thursday afternoon will be reserved for youth only, giving young people the chance to utilize the clinic without being surrounded by crying babies and potentially critical older relatives and neighbors. We will have educational material available, extra efforts will be made to ensure privacy, HIV testing and counseling will be available, and we will hold games and activities to draw the youth in. I'm a little concerned that the hours (2-4:30pm) will be too restrictive for youth attending school, but we have a number of out of school youth in the area, and in Botswana, the definition of youth extends to 29 years, far past school age. We'll see how it works out and how well attended youth hours will actually be.
I'll try to update more frequently than once every couple months, but don't hold it against me if I don't. Maybe it will mean that I'm finally busy and doing something meaningful with my time here!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)