It's still raining!!! And the cold has arrived. Yes, I moved to Africa at the beginning of winter,and am just now realizing that I underpacked. For anyone out there planning on moving to Botswana, here are the things I wish I had brought: 3 more plain long sleeve shirts for layering, 2 pairs of leggings, more socks, sneakers, gloves, hand sanitizer, a hoodie, a rain jacket, more pajama pants, spices and seasoning, guitar chords and lyrics, a couple more very long skirts (ankle length), strap on waterproof sandals, and a scarf. I can get most of these things here of course, but I wish I'd packed them when I had them in the states.
My time is running out here at the cafe, so I'll make this quick. Everything is going well here. We spent the day in the capital doing immigration paperwork and banking stuff- very exciting. People have started to receive mail and packages, and it seems to take about 2 weeks for things to reach here from the US. I don't expect a lot of packages since it can get pretty expensive to ship things here, but since a few of you asked before I left, here's a list of care package ideas now that I'm here and know what I could use:
-stationary (to write you all letters!)
-American snacks
-taco seasoning (can't be found anywhere)
-hand sanitizer (expensive and here)
-mix cd's
-AA batteries (expensive here)
-books (surprise, surprise)
-photos/random fun things (keep it clean!)
I'm trying to save my pula, so I'll only be on the internet a couple days a week, but I'll try to update the blog whenever I can.
And...time is up!
Monday, April 26, 2010
Pula and a Baby Shower
(Written Saturday night)
Have I mentioned yet that April is supposed to be the beginning of the dry season in Botswana? Well it is, but you would never have known it in the last few days. It's rained almost every day since we arrived in Moleps, but it's usually been an afternoon shower that passes quickly. Yesterday was something different all together.
The skies had been cloudy for most of the day, but as I sat in the internet cafe after training, the skies grew prematurely dark. My time was up quickly, and as I walked out the door and looked around, my stomach dropped. It was't raining yet, but I could dark clouds looming over the ridge and lightening in the distance. I raced home, and as the skies turned eery colors and the wind picked up, I felt like Dorothy trying to outrun the twister. My host mother met me at the gate, and we ran inside the house and shut the door. I had reached home just in time. The wind howled and raindrops hit our tin roof like bullets. In a moment of impulse and sheer curiousity, I stuck my head out the door- and was immediately rewarded with a face full of wet sand picked up by the wind. I retreated back into the house, where my host mom and I were reduced to screaming at each other over the wind and rain. To get a feel for the noise level, imagine banging an old-fashioned metal garbage can with a drum stick- then multiply it by the size of your ceiling. We managed to make dinner, and went to bed on the early side. I was surprised at how easily I slept through all the noise, and only woke once for a defeated, sopping march to the flooded outhouse.
To my dismay, the rain had not ended when I woke up in the morning, and it did not stop all day. The walk to training was quite moist (I didn't bring rain gear since this is supposed to be the dry season!), and we had to hold our condom games and demonstrations inside the church instead of outdoors (a very uncomfortable situation for a practicing Catholic, let me tell you). After training, we decided to brave the rain again and walked to the lodge, where we met some current volunteers for drinks and discussion. I was excited to finally meet someone working in my program, and was thrilled to hear that she has had a very positive experience. Talking to the current volunteers has made me very excited for shadowing in a week and a half, and even more excited for site placement. I'm still struggling with a bit of homesickness, but with good news from the US (go Dad and Matthew!) and gearing up for the real thing here at training, I'm feeling pretty good.
After the lodge, I did some food shopping and walked home. I changed into dry clothes, talked to my American mom and brother on the phone, and at around dinnertime, headed out to a neighbor's baby shower. Baby showers are not really part of traditional Setswana culture at all, but a lot of people borrow the western tradition. Everyone brings a small gift wrapped in a nappy (cloth diaper)- mine was a pair of baby booties. The first hour was very much like an American baby shower. People arrived, gifts were opened, baby names were discussed, and everyone was a little bored. I felt a bit uncomfortable and out of place, and wanted to get home quickly. Then things started to get interesting. First there was a very open discussion and advice-giving session regarding the mom-to-be's situation. This child will be her fourth, and her second out of wedlock. The other women were strongly advising her not to have any more before marriage, and I was surprised but glad to hear that they included a discussion about HIV in their advice. Then food was served and eaten (traditional Setswana food, of course), and the dancing and drinking began. And these women, young and old, can DANCE. The music ranged from Kanye West to Rihanna to very traditional Setswana and African drum music, and after much urging, even I got up and danced. It's amazing how fast you can make friends when you're dancing- by the end of the night I was exhausted, but hated to leave. It is now 3am, and I'm quite sure they are still dancing and drinking the traditional Setswana beer. I hope to meet these women again when my Setswana is better.
That said, it is officially bedtime. Good night, all!
Have I mentioned yet that April is supposed to be the beginning of the dry season in Botswana? Well it is, but you would never have known it in the last few days. It's rained almost every day since we arrived in Moleps, but it's usually been an afternoon shower that passes quickly. Yesterday was something different all together.
The skies had been cloudy for most of the day, but as I sat in the internet cafe after training, the skies grew prematurely dark. My time was up quickly, and as I walked out the door and looked around, my stomach dropped. It was't raining yet, but I could dark clouds looming over the ridge and lightening in the distance. I raced home, and as the skies turned eery colors and the wind picked up, I felt like Dorothy trying to outrun the twister. My host mother met me at the gate, and we ran inside the house and shut the door. I had reached home just in time. The wind howled and raindrops hit our tin roof like bullets. In a moment of impulse and sheer curiousity, I stuck my head out the door- and was immediately rewarded with a face full of wet sand picked up by the wind. I retreated back into the house, where my host mom and I were reduced to screaming at each other over the wind and rain. To get a feel for the noise level, imagine banging an old-fashioned metal garbage can with a drum stick- then multiply it by the size of your ceiling. We managed to make dinner, and went to bed on the early side. I was surprised at how easily I slept through all the noise, and only woke once for a defeated, sopping march to the flooded outhouse.
To my dismay, the rain had not ended when I woke up in the morning, and it did not stop all day. The walk to training was quite moist (I didn't bring rain gear since this is supposed to be the dry season!), and we had to hold our condom games and demonstrations inside the church instead of outdoors (a very uncomfortable situation for a practicing Catholic, let me tell you). After training, we decided to brave the rain again and walked to the lodge, where we met some current volunteers for drinks and discussion. I was excited to finally meet someone working in my program, and was thrilled to hear that she has had a very positive experience. Talking to the current volunteers has made me very excited for shadowing in a week and a half, and even more excited for site placement. I'm still struggling with a bit of homesickness, but with good news from the US (go Dad and Matthew!) and gearing up for the real thing here at training, I'm feeling pretty good.
After the lodge, I did some food shopping and walked home. I changed into dry clothes, talked to my American mom and brother on the phone, and at around dinnertime, headed out to a neighbor's baby shower. Baby showers are not really part of traditional Setswana culture at all, but a lot of people borrow the western tradition. Everyone brings a small gift wrapped in a nappy (cloth diaper)- mine was a pair of baby booties. The first hour was very much like an American baby shower. People arrived, gifts were opened, baby names were discussed, and everyone was a little bored. I felt a bit uncomfortable and out of place, and wanted to get home quickly. Then things started to get interesting. First there was a very open discussion and advice-giving session regarding the mom-to-be's situation. This child will be her fourth, and her second out of wedlock. The other women were strongly advising her not to have any more before marriage, and I was surprised but glad to hear that they included a discussion about HIV in their advice. Then food was served and eaten (traditional Setswana food, of course), and the dancing and drinking began. And these women, young and old, can DANCE. The music ranged from Kanye West to Rihanna to very traditional Setswana and African drum music, and after much urging, even I got up and danced. It's amazing how fast you can make friends when you're dancing- by the end of the night I was exhausted, but hated to leave. It is now 3am, and I'm quite sure they are still dancing and drinking the traditional Setswana beer. I hope to meet these women again when my Setswana is better.
That said, it is officially bedtime. Good night, all!
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!).
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!).
Wednesday, April 21, 2010
Ba Lelwapa
And now for the long-awaited description of my new Batswana family and where I live:
My mom: Kelebogile
My host mom is pretty young, maybe in her 30's, and her name means 'thank you'. She's definitely not the overly motherly, cuddly type, but I think she likes me and is happy that I'm there. She loves to dance and to help me with my homework.
My brother: Blessing
My brother is 15 years old, and he didn't speak to me for the first day or so that I was here, but he seems to have warmed up pretty quickly. I wasn't sure what to expect from a teenage Motswana, but he's a lot of fun, has good taste in music and movies, and I haven't seen any evidence of the attitude problems of a typical American teenager.
My sister: Daphney
My sister was my partner in crime the first few days I was here. As the 2 daughters, we did everything together, and she helped me through all my chores, giggling all the while. She's away at school in Gaborone now, but while she was here,it was her personal mission to make me fluent in Setswana, and spent hours going through vocabulary with me.In return, I taught her "Miss Mary Mack", which she drove the family crazy with practicing over and over again. She was very intrigued by my hair, and mystified by my hair, which she loves to touch.
My grandmother: Nonofe
My grandmother is also in Gaborone now, but while she was here, she was very sweet to me, and very concerned about my family back in the US. Her greatest wish was to meet my American mom, and she made sure to remind me to call and email her. She is very traditional, and speaks about as much English as I speak Setswana. She had me take many pictures of her performing traditional Setswana chores (which I will post when I can), such as repairing the garden wall with a cement made of cow dung and mud. Yes, cow dung. Traditionally, floors and walls were also made of dung, but most new houses are made with regular cement. It doesn't smell, and generally you can't even tell what it is once it's dry.
When I was preparing to come to Botswana, I read that the traditional culture was disappearing, and was disappointed not to have the "real Peace Corps experience". I really shouldn't have worried. Yes, western culture is present. When I first arrived at my host house, there was a Red Hot Chili Pepper's music video playing, and yesterday I watched the new "Night Rider" series and Botswana's version of American Idol. However, people here seem to allow western culture to be present without having it take over and replace their own ways. They listen to American music, but start dancing when a Setswana song comes on. They watch American tv shows and movies, but go out of their way to watch a comedy filmed in Botswana. They make fun of me eating Kellogg's cornflakes for breakfast, and supply me with overflowing plates full of starchy Setswana food at every meal. Food is actually a pretty big issue for me with my host family right now. I really do like most of the food, but the portions are enormous! I've been putting my leftovers in the fridge for lunch the next day, which makes for some pretty funny scenes when I reheat them. Yesterday I made an awesome soup out of my chicken, noodles, and veggies, and my host mother was horrified. Apparently soup is not big in Botswana.
Speaking of food, it's time to get home for dinner. Good night!
My mom: Kelebogile
My host mom is pretty young, maybe in her 30's, and her name means 'thank you'. She's definitely not the overly motherly, cuddly type, but I think she likes me and is happy that I'm there. She loves to dance and to help me with my homework.
My brother: Blessing
My brother is 15 years old, and he didn't speak to me for the first day or so that I was here, but he seems to have warmed up pretty quickly. I wasn't sure what to expect from a teenage Motswana, but he's a lot of fun, has good taste in music and movies, and I haven't seen any evidence of the attitude problems of a typical American teenager.
My sister: Daphney
My sister was my partner in crime the first few days I was here. As the 2 daughters, we did everything together, and she helped me through all my chores, giggling all the while. She's away at school in Gaborone now, but while she was here,it was her personal mission to make me fluent in Setswana, and spent hours going through vocabulary with me.In return, I taught her "Miss Mary Mack", which she drove the family crazy with practicing over and over again. She was very intrigued by my hair, and mystified by my hair, which she loves to touch.
My grandmother: Nonofe
My grandmother is also in Gaborone now, but while she was here, she was very sweet to me, and very concerned about my family back in the US. Her greatest wish was to meet my American mom, and she made sure to remind me to call and email her. She is very traditional, and speaks about as much English as I speak Setswana. She had me take many pictures of her performing traditional Setswana chores (which I will post when I can), such as repairing the garden wall with a cement made of cow dung and mud. Yes, cow dung. Traditionally, floors and walls were also made of dung, but most new houses are made with regular cement. It doesn't smell, and generally you can't even tell what it is once it's dry.
When I was preparing to come to Botswana, I read that the traditional culture was disappearing, and was disappointed not to have the "real Peace Corps experience". I really shouldn't have worried. Yes, western culture is present. When I first arrived at my host house, there was a Red Hot Chili Pepper's music video playing, and yesterday I watched the new "Night Rider" series and Botswana's version of American Idol. However, people here seem to allow western culture to be present without having it take over and replace their own ways. They listen to American music, but start dancing when a Setswana song comes on. They watch American tv shows and movies, but go out of their way to watch a comedy filmed in Botswana. They make fun of me eating Kellogg's cornflakes for breakfast, and supply me with overflowing plates full of starchy Setswana food at every meal. Food is actually a pretty big issue for me with my host family right now. I really do like most of the food, but the portions are enormous! I've been putting my leftovers in the fridge for lunch the next day, which makes for some pretty funny scenes when I reheat them. Yesterday I made an awesome soup out of my chicken, noodles, and veggies, and my host mother was horrified. Apparently soup is not big in Botswana.
Speaking of food, it's time to get home for dinner. Good night!
Tuesday, April 20, 2010
A Tswanalyzed Day
For any future PCV's out there (or curious family members and friends, of course):
A Day in the Life of a Peace Corps trainee
3am- woken up from vivid (possibly malaria med induced) dream by a howling rooster. (Yes. Howling is the only word for the sound he was making)
5am- wake up, wash
- feed the chickens before they attack
- eat breakfast- Kellogg's cornflakes
- pack PBJ sandwich for lunch, using a spoon to cut the bread
- gather stuff for the day
- iron shirt and skirt and get dressed
7:30am - meet Joel and Hannah in front of my house and walk to training
8am- Setswana lessons
10am- tea break
10:30am- Intro to portfolio building and evaluation session
11:30am- Setswana lessons
12:30am- Lunch break- grapes and Doritos from the supermarket
1:30pm- break into groups for field trip to meet our kgosi's (chiefs)
1:40pm- hide from the rain under a tree with my language instructor waiting for the bus to come back for us because it was too full to make it in one trip
2pm- Meet my ward's kgosi, kgosana, and village development coordinator.
Discuss HIV/AIDS issues, cultural exchange
4:30pm- walk home from the kgotla
5pm- walk to the shopping center, meet up with other volunteers
use internet cafe
6:30pm- walk home, watch TV with host brother
7:30pm- eat dinner- spaghetti, chicken, spinach, carrots, onions, and beans- very excited to see veggies (not kidding)
8pm- do homework with the help of my host family
watch tv, play with the neighbor's 3 year old
9pm- bucket bath
9:30pm- practice Setswana flash cards
10:30pm- go to bed
A Day in the Life of a Peace Corps trainee
3am- woken up from vivid (possibly malaria med induced) dream by a howling rooster. (Yes. Howling is the only word for the sound he was making)
5am- wake up, wash
- feed the chickens before they attack
- eat breakfast- Kellogg's cornflakes
- pack PBJ sandwich for lunch, using a spoon to cut the bread
- gather stuff for the day
- iron shirt and skirt and get dressed
7:30am - meet Joel and Hannah in front of my house and walk to training
8am- Setswana lessons
10am- tea break
10:30am- Intro to portfolio building and evaluation session
11:30am- Setswana lessons
12:30am- Lunch break- grapes and Doritos from the supermarket
1:30pm- break into groups for field trip to meet our kgosi's (chiefs)
1:40pm- hide from the rain under a tree with my language instructor waiting for the bus to come back for us because it was too full to make it in one trip
2pm- Meet my ward's kgosi, kgosana, and village development coordinator.
Discuss HIV/AIDS issues, cultural exchange
4:30pm- walk home from the kgotla
5pm- walk to the shopping center, meet up with other volunteers
use internet cafe
6:30pm- walk home, watch TV with host brother
7:30pm- eat dinner- spaghetti, chicken, spinach, carrots, onions, and beans- very excited to see veggies (not kidding)
8pm- do homework with the help of my host family
watch tv, play with the neighbor's 3 year old
9pm- bucket bath
9:30pm- practice Setswana flash cards
10:30pm- go to bed
Monday, April 19, 2010
A nice, long entry
I've decided to write you all a nice long blog entry, prewritten in a notebook to avoid being rushed at the internet cafe. I've only been gone for a week, but it feels like it's been years since I've really spoken to anyone-maybe because I've had so much to say. It's amazing how much life can change in a week! If this was a vacation or a short trip, I wouldn't feel any compulsion to call everyone I know just to say hello, and homesickness would be a laughable idea. But this isn't a vacation. I will be living here for the next 26 months, with very little hope of going home to visit or having anyone visit me here. I'm doing fine right now, but every day, mostly at night, I get waves of anticipatory homesickness. You can say I knew what I was getting myself into when I applied, and of course I did. I just didn't know how long 26 months would seem at the end of the first week. I can't make any promises that I can do this, and I hope that if at some point I decide that it's too much and I need to come home, that everyone who supported me in coming here will understand and not be too disappointed in me. There is absolutely no way you can prepare for this experience, and no way of knowing how you will feel until you're here. It's a daily, and sometimes hourly, decision to stay. That said, I am still excited to be here, I want to do this, I will do my best, and I have every intention of seeing this through. I went through a lot to get here, and I don't plan on giving up that easily. Right now, my goal is to make it through training. 8 weeks? Now that I can do!
Today was my third day with my host family, and my first without speaking to an American. I think I can safely say that I am starting to adjust. Being in the same room as my host family is no longer awkward, and I finally know all of their names (I'll introduce them all in my next entry). And I am an expert at bucket bathing. For those who think a description is too much information, skip this paragraph- but I know I had no idea what it was before I got here.
First, you heat a metal bucket of water over the fire outside to the perfect temperature. Then you transfer the water to your own personal bucket and bring it inside along with a plastic basin large enough to stand in. I bath (or bath, which is the verb here) in my bedroom, but others bath in the hut or in separate bathroom if they have one. I gather my soap, shampoo, conditioner, cup, toothbrush and toothpaste, place my bucket inside the basin, and then step into the basin myself. I wash with the a washcloth and my cup, then use the cup to dump water over my head so I can wash my hair. Before I had my cup, I dunked my whole head in the bucket, but the pouring works a lot better. Once my hair washed, I brush my teeth with water from my water bottle using the basin as a sink. Then I brush my hair and take out my contacts while my hands are clean. I get dressed, drag the basin to the backyard to dump it, put it away in the hut, and that's the end of the bucket bath. This happens every night, and if my host mom has her way, every morning, too. The best part is that this only uses one bucket full of water,and I feel completely clean. Imagine how many buckets of water we use to bathe or shower every day in the US!
Tomorrow (Monday) starts our real training, with intensive Setswana lessons, cultural field trips, and classes on HIV biology and behavior change strategy. Maybe it;s a bit nerdy, but I can't wait to dive in. Last week was a lot of logistics, procedures, and policy. Maybe now that we'll be getting into useful, applicable training, things will start to fall into place. I'll keep you updated!
Today was my third day with my host family, and my first without speaking to an American. I think I can safely say that I am starting to adjust. Being in the same room as my host family is no longer awkward, and I finally know all of their names (I'll introduce them all in my next entry). And I am an expert at bucket bathing. For those who think a description is too much information, skip this paragraph- but I know I had no idea what it was before I got here.
First, you heat a metal bucket of water over the fire outside to the perfect temperature. Then you transfer the water to your own personal bucket and bring it inside along with a plastic basin large enough to stand in. I bath (or bath, which is the verb here) in my bedroom, but others bath in the hut or in separate bathroom if they have one. I gather my soap, shampoo, conditioner, cup, toothbrush and toothpaste, place my bucket inside the basin, and then step into the basin myself. I wash with the a washcloth and my cup, then use the cup to dump water over my head so I can wash my hair. Before I had my cup, I dunked my whole head in the bucket, but the pouring works a lot better. Once my hair washed, I brush my teeth with water from my water bottle using the basin as a sink. Then I brush my hair and take out my contacts while my hands are clean. I get dressed, drag the basin to the backyard to dump it, put it away in the hut, and that's the end of the bucket bath. This happens every night, and if my host mom has her way, every morning, too. The best part is that this only uses one bucket full of water,and I feel completely clean. Imagine how many buckets of water we use to bathe or shower every day in the US!
Tomorrow (Monday) starts our real training, with intensive Setswana lessons, cultural field trips, and classes on HIV biology and behavior change strategy. Maybe it;s a bit nerdy, but I can't wait to dive in. Last week was a lot of logistics, procedures, and policy. Maybe now that we'll be getting into useful, applicable training, things will start to fall into place. I'll keep you updated!
Saturday, April 17, 2010
A New BotsMama
I hav finally escaped from the lodge with its American amenities and large swimming pool into the village of Molepolole, where I use an outhouse and take bucket baths, but can walk to KFC. Go figure. I'm at an internet cafe and don't have much time left (and the connection is verrrry slow), but I'll try to run through the events of the last couple days. Wednesday was a full day of training, full of Setswana lessons and vaccines, and ending with a fancy dinner with the American ambassador to Botswana and the filming of a music video. Yes, that's right, our lodge was the filming location of Slyzer's newest music video. Slyzer, in case you were wondering, is one of the most popular musicians here. Every kid knows her name. It was crazy. Thursday was our last day of training at the lodge, and we of course ended it with a celebration in the hotel bar (don't worry, we didn't get too crazy). It's amazing how close we've gotten as a group in such a short time. It sounds weird,but now that we're all living apart with different families, I'll be looking forward to our long days of training classes together.
Yesterday was one of the strangest, most exciting days of my life. We checked out of the hotel early, and met in a hall in Molepolole, where the ceremoy to match us with our host families took place. There was a LOT of singing and praying and ululating (look it up), and at the end, we all had new Bots-mamas (and dads and siblings and grandparents and cousins and so forth). When I got to my new home, I was immediately integrated into the family,and cooked dinner and washed dishes with my new 12 year old sister. I was introduced to the concepts of bucket baths and using an outhouse, which I'll talk more about later. Everyone went to sleep early,and I was left in my new room wondering what the heck I've gotten myself into. However, everyone has been very nice and welcoming, and I am much more optimistic today. And Africa is beautiful. I'll post some photos when I can (which will most likely be in 2 months when I get my laptop back).
Ok, time is up. I'll try to get back on soon!
Yesterday was one of the strangest, most exciting days of my life. We checked out of the hotel early, and met in a hall in Molepolole, where the ceremoy to match us with our host families took place. There was a LOT of singing and praying and ululating (look it up), and at the end, we all had new Bots-mamas (and dads and siblings and grandparents and cousins and so forth). When I got to my new home, I was immediately integrated into the family,and cooked dinner and washed dishes with my new 12 year old sister. I was introduced to the concepts of bucket baths and using an outhouse, which I'll talk more about later. Everyone went to sleep early,and I was left in my new room wondering what the heck I've gotten myself into. However, everyone has been very nice and welcoming, and I am much more optimistic today. And Africa is beautiful. I'll post some photos when I can (which will most likely be in 2 months when I get my laptop back).
Ok, time is up. I'll try to get back on soon!
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