Preparation isn't Everything

10/13/10
I was prepared. I'd made signs and invitations in English and Setswana. I'd given a presentation to my clinic staff. I'd spent hours on a friend's computer doing research, and knew all of the effects and side effects of pregnancy and all the possible complications and warning signs. I had handouts on nutrition and the do's and do not's of pregnancy, and had 20 copies of each made (no small feat in Botswana). I had information on gestational diabetes, high blood pressure, and fetal alcohol syndrome, and knew all of my stages of fetal development. I had a notebook, a binder, a sign in sheet, and name tags. I knew women who were very excited about the class, and some who wanted to come even though they already had kids. The clinic staff was enthusiastic and telling everyone who came in about the class, and I was slightly worried that we would have more attendees than would be manageable.
I should have known.
I knew that no one would be there exactly at 2pm. Nothing starts on time in Botswana, so I waited patiently and without concern as the time passed and 2:30 came and went. By 3pm, however, I was slightly concerned. By 3:15, I had given up, and had put everything away and was chatting with one of the nurses about the heat and telling her stories about snow in New York, when a young woman showed up at the door, asking where the 'workshop' was. And that was it. One person. Weeks of preparation for an project that everyone thought was needed and useful, from my clinic staff to Peace Corps staff to local people on the street, and only one person turned up.
I could be disappointed. I could be negative and let this color my whole Peace Corps experience, and let myself spin back down into feeling useless and homesick. I could give up the whole project. In fact, if I thought that the lack of attendance showed that there was no interest or need for the project, the only responsible thing to do would be to give up the project. I can't teach something that people don't feel the need to know. But I honestly don't think that's the case here. My counterpart has been a nurse in Botswana for years, and she saw the need to teach new mothers how to have healthy pregnancies and births and how to care for their newborns before I even brought up the project idea. And I've never been met with anything less than enthusiasm when discussing the class with local women. Clearly, I will not be giving up on this so easily.
But why didn't anyone show up, if people seemed so enthusiastic? I was a little stumped at first, but after talking to my clinic staff and the one woman who did show up, I'm kicking myself for not seeing the obvious. We wanted to hold the class in the afternoon because that is when the clinic is the least busy, and we could put all our focus into the class. This makes sense until you realize that there must be a reason that people come to the clinics in the mornings and not the afternoons. Botswana is a morning oriented country. Work starts at 7:30am here. Everything opens at 7:30am. People are up with the sun, and generally have the majority of their chores for the day finished by noon. Afternoons are for relaxing, even at work. Lunch hour ends at 2pm, but not a lot gets done between then end of lunch and the end of the work day. I didn't really understand this before, and I still don't really understand it now, but that's the way life is here, and I'm not going to change it. If you want to do something serious in Botswana, the afternoon is not the time to do it. The most obvious reason however, is one that I should have seen immediately. We were asking pregnant women to walk to the clinic in the midday sun of the African summer! Walking around at 2pm in the full sun is uncomfortable enough, and I try to avoid doing it- I can't imagine doing it while pregnant. I wouldn't have come, either.
Every meeting in Botswana ends with a 'way forward', so I'll wrap up this entry with our 'way forward'. Our new strategy: captive audience. Our first class has been rescheduled for next Tuesday at 7:30am, when the clinic opens to long lines and crowds of people. All pregnant women who are waiting to be seen for regular checkups will be redirected to the class before being seen. This would never, ever fly in the US, and in fact would probably cause considerable outrage by ladies waiting to be seen who have other things to do with their day, but here in Botswana, this plan has serious potential. People here are used to waiting, and I have yet to see an outraged Motswana. And this is not my plan, but the plan of the midwife, who is co-teaching the class and who is responsible for seeing all pre-natal visits. Let's hope it works!
In other news, I had a fantastic time camping out in the salt pans at the beginning of the month, and will try to post some pictures. It's so liberating to finally be able to travel and see the rest of Botswana (and other Peace Corps volunteers)! It definitely makes sticking it out at site easier when you have something to look forward to. Although right now, my most anticipated events tend to be the times of day when I have running water. Now that it's summer and every day is over 90 degrees, my water seems to be on vacation. Since coming back from the pans, I haven't had an entire day with running water yet. It's especially fun when you've walked at least 6 or 7 miles, have been working and running errands all day, you have no clean clothes left, and you walk in your door in desperate need of a bath due to smelliness and sweatiness, turn on the water, and......nothing. It's my favorite part of the Peace Corps. My new favorite hobbies include collecting water in containers of all shapes and sizes, and turning the faucet on and off, whether the water is on or not. Either I turn it on and off in the pathetic hope that this will somehow make the water flow, or I am turning it on and off to admire the gush of water on the rare occasion that it's on. I am picturing my return to America being very much like the scene in Castaway when Tom Hanks spends his first night in civilization turning the lights on and off. Only I will be standing at the kitchen sink, joyfully splashing in the overabundance of running water. And showering. I anticipate setting a full week aside for showering.
On that happy thought, I'll end this entry, and hope for water when I get home!