I don’t remember the last time I was this nervous. I sat in the matching ceremony visibly shaking. All the reassurance past Peace Corps volunteers tried to fill us with backfired and made me incredibly scared and nervous. What if my host family doesn’t speak a lick of English? What if I live an hour walk and get lost? What if they don’t understand that I’m gluten free? What if they don’t like me? We traveled over five hours north to Serowe and the nervousness was finally hitting me hard. I wasn’t sure my feet were going to hold me up when I greeted Mrs. Chiliwa who was standing in the middle holding a sign that read, “Welcome Refilwe Chiliwa.” Refilwe would be my new Setswana name meaning “we have been given a gift.” I was thankful for her reassuring hug which probably stopped me from falling over backwards.
Mrs. Chiliwa was very friendly and sat next to me, hugging me from time to time, playing with my hair, and putting her hand on mine. It is a good thing we had a few days to become familiar with the culture or else I would have been beyond scared with this challenge of personal space. Mrs. Chiliwa ushered me through the crowd holding my hand. I felt like a lost, confused kindergartener being picked up from my first day of school, not trusted to cross the street on my own. It was becoming apparent that Mrs. Chiliwa is a very outgoing woman with lots of friends. She informed me that she likes strong women and I should be a strong woman. I consider myself an emotionally strong person; however, I am very shy and I don’t know how this will be received by my new family.
We had a glass of tea before heading home where I informed Mrs. Chiliwa I could not eat the pastries being offered because I am gluten free. She appeared confused at first and continued asking what I could and couldn’t eat. Bread, pasta, and cookies are the main ones which I believe will be easy to navigate as I have so skillfully done most of my life. As we gathered my bags to head home Mrs. Chiliwa engaged in heated conversations with many Peace Corps staff. I later learned she was yelling at people because I am gluten free and no one told her. I knew it would be a difficult conversation to have, but I did not expect this reaction. I expected to have a detailed conversation about my diet; however, it didn’t even cross my mind that someone would be mad about my dietary restrictions. I slowly realized that it was not me that Mme Chiliwa was mad about, but instead the lack of communication with Peace Corps staff. She would have liked to know to provide me with a healthy and enjoyable experience.
The Chiliwa family were wonderful hosts. Princess and Onica, my new sisters, helped carry my belongings inside and set up my room. The girls cooked dinner and we all sat together eating dinner and watching tv, my new sisters, mom, and dad. I attempted to help cook dinner, wash dishes, or help in anyway possible, but everyone insisted that I rest today, help tomorrow. I’m going to have my work cut out for me the next 10 weeks, so I finally accepted that I would be quietly sitting in the living room twiddling my thumbs trying to think of something creative to say. Onica approached me right before dinner with a mug of water and a bucket to wash my hands before dinner. I felt like a queen in her throne, barley having to lift a finger. The girls brought my food, cleared my dishes, and later brought my mom, dad, and me a glass of soda. I expressed my gratitude while remaining quiet.
Most Batswana shower twice a day, once in the morning and again before you go to sleep. On the drive to the store Mrs. Chiliwa made it very clear that I should be doing the same. “It is all the dust. Botswana is a very dry place.” I wasn’t about to defy my new mother, so I begrudgingly complied. For a person who hardly showers every other day, this was going to be a substantial lifestyle change. I considered explaining that I sometimes shower every day, but wash my hair every other day, but that would still be a lie. I hardly ever shower once a day, so I decided to just leave that tidbit out of the conversation. Sam sometimes calls me a dirty hippie; I embrace it, conserving the planet one water drop at a time. I honestly thought my Setswana name was going to be dirty child. I’m just glad she named me before actually getting to know me. Another volunteer had the great idea to go into the bathroom and splash some water around in the tub, lightly rinsing off your arms and legs, to make it sound convincing. There is a good chance I will be doing this in the near future.
Mrs. Chiliwa was absent when I emerged from my bath, so I entered my room to settle in. She joined me shortly after, laying on the bed with me. We looked through pictures I brought and went through part of my Setswana notebook, practicing phrases. It was heartwarming to be welcomed into this home and family, and I felt truly at peace.
I press the power button on my computer. After the loud logon noise that would surely wake up my host sisters, my laptop made a slight noise, went black, and started to smell of burning electronics. If you aren’t familiar with how burning electronics smell, it is a mix between burning rubber and burning metal. Either way, when you see smoke coming from your laptop it isn’t good. I don’t know what compelled me to press the power button again, but I did. Immediately I regretted this decision. Once again the loud logon noise echoed through my room and there was an increased likelihood that my computer was about to spontaneously combust. Surprisingly and luckily the smell went away and my computer continued to work. I can only imagine the longterm, damaging effects this event had on my computer.
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