September 20, 2014

Tiro is away at a funeral this weekend, so our group was divided and sent to join different language clusters. I didn’t realize until today how incredibly lucky and fortunate I am to have been placed in two wonderful classes with two amazing teachers. Greene and tiro are incredible teachers and people. They understand people’s learning styles and are thorough when explaining the material. I have continued talking with Greene and am thankful that he continues to support me even though he is no longer my teacher. I joined a class today where everyone was on a different page. The ground rules hanging on the wall that were created for and by the class were completely disregarded. There were many uncomfortable dynamics, teacher to volunteer and volunteer to volunteer. It is unfortunate that individual learning is being jeopardized because of the group dynamic, but there is a level of individual responsibility that needs to be taken into consideration.

Four hours of Setswana in an uncomfortable group setting got the best of my positive attitude and I was slipping to the dark side. I went to Sara’s house to work on a group project and my worries quickly disappeared. Obviously being hungry is a large contributor to my mood. I’m always appreciative that Sara feeds me when I go to her house. Fully belly and I was ready to take on this project.

For our project we will be facilitating a training on classroom management. THe project is more about the process of facilitation rather than classroom management, so we had to create a session plan format for the ten minute presentation. It was a speedy and painless process and we spent the next few hours relaxing, chatting, and eating homemade popcorn (much better than throwing a bag in the microwave).

On my walk home I found a group of about 10 children standing outside my house playing with a ball. Before I could made it into the gate they asked if I wanted to play “Duck, Duck, Goose.” Of course I said yes. After throwing my bag inside, I came out and one of the little girls rushed inside the fence, grabbed my arm, and led me outside. Once in the street the children started dancing to their chant of “duck duck goose, duck duck goose” over and over again. It was one of the most adorable things I’ve seen in Botswana and my heart melted like it usually does around kids. “Duck duck goose” is now my official name among the children in my neighborhood and I often hear it being chanted and yelled as I walked home over the next couple of days. These are some of the same girls I asked if they liked to eat dirt, so it’s a good thing they don’t think I’m too weird to play with.

We played and laughed and ran around and I was immediately in a great mood. Our game was interrupted when my phone rang and I didn’t see them again after ending my conversation with my mom, but I reminded in a happy mood for the rest of the day.

I ate dinner in the living room with Princess and Onica when all of a sudden we hear an enormous boom then rumble, rumble, rumble. I was surprised to hear thunder in Botswana and soon enough the rain followed. At one point all the windows flashed a bright white simultaneously with the overwhelming boom of thunder, leading me to believe the lightning was just outside the safety of our living room walls. While discussing the thunderstorm Onica said, “We don’t touch water.” I stared at her with a strange, disbelieving expression. What does she mean they don’t touch water? No one goes outside at all when it’s raining? Oncia clarified that they grow up believing that if you use water in your house, for example take a bath, you run the risk of getting struck by lightening. I’m not so sure this is how lightening works, but I’m also not so sure I know enough about Botswana pluming to safely say her myth is true or false. Unless they have a tall metal pipe sticking hight above the roof that connects to the bathtub, we’re probably in the clear. However, I’m going to use getting struck by lightening as an excuse to get out of bathing.

I heard a whimper and quickly remembered the dog chained up outside. I asked my sisters if the dog would be ok. I got blank stares for a minute until I answered my own question with, “I guess?” The only response I got from my sisters was a shrug of their shoulders as they continued playing on their phones and watching television. Once in a while I would hear a bark or a faint whimper, a promising sign that he hasn’t been struck by lightening just yet.

September 19, 2014

Knowing our site placements almost makes it more difficult to continue with these never ending training days. Now that the end is in sight I just want to get into my new village and start establishing relationships and getting a feel for what I will be doing for the next two years. Today was just a total blur and I had no desire to pay attention to the few training sessions we had. My attention was quickly grabbed during the “STIs; Alcohol and Understanding and Avoiding HIV Infection” session.

Dr. Shava raced through slides about safe sex in a sarcastic, matter-of-fact manner. I always appreciate Dr. Shava’s presentations because he is honest and to the point, refusing to dwell on a topic when it is unnecessary. After the slides concluded, Dr. Shava braced the class by announcing that we would be watching a depressing video about five Peace Corps volunteers who contracted HIV during their service. The video was slightly outdated and it was difficult to connect with the volunteers who were placed in different parts of the world without the overall emphasis on HIV health work like the Botswana program. At the end of this sad video, Dr. Shava says, “If you’re life depends on it... and you must have sex... use a condom.” The manner in which he relayed this information sent the class into a fit of laughter. This perfectly sums up the aura and concentration of both trainees and facilitators throughout the day. And to make things even more exciting and riveting, we had to sit through another two hour session on administration policies before the day was done. 

September 18, 2014

How does anyone expect us to pay attention when we will be discovering our site placement at the end of the day? I was anxious and excited throughout Setswana, my mind racing in a million directions while my eyes glanced over at the map of Botswana wondering where I will be for the next two years.

In general, I had a challenging time concentrating all day. We had a session on job assignment introductions and Mpho, our program manager, admitted his frustration with facilitating a session on site announcement day. He recognized that he would not get our full attention and that he was also looking forward to the great revelation in just a few short hours.

I averaged 30 glances at my watch ever 15 minutes. We reviewed the Peace Corps core expectations and our progress thus far. With a half hour to go, I though the last session would drag on and on, but it was the quickest part of my day. They facilitated a guided imagery session where we closed our eyes and reflected on our live before arriving in Botswana, motivation and inspiration for joining the Peace Corps, what our journey has been so far, what our time in Botswana will be, and where we see ourselves in five and ten years. This was an overwhelming amount to think about. I didn’t get the chance to think about anything except what I was leaving behind - my loving family, rewarding job, kind friends, and a warm home with a fiance, dog, electricity, and running water. My eyes began to water, but I had to remind myself that these things will all be there when I get back. I continued to remind myself that I came here to help children and better understand new cultures. I am here for a reason and wouldn’t change that for the world.

We ended the session by writing letters to ourselves that we will open and read in a year. We dropped them in a folder on our way into the multipurpose hall to discover our sites, finally! We sat in two rows with papers taped underneath the chairs revealing a number to determine what order we would go in. Sara and Isaac had numbers 12 and 13 on both sides of me, and I had 43. By the time we reached the 30s, the excitement was slowly fading and I just wanted to sneak a peak at the list.

I nervously (and very patiently) sat through 42 site announcements before practically running to the front of the room for my envelope. Inside I read a paper allowed that said “the harder you work, the luckier you will get in...” And then I pulled out my second little paper reading “Magoriapitse!” Wherever that is. I was ushered to the giant map of Botswana where Tiro pointed far south near the South African border. The next station was to pick up a packet of materials before getting snacks from the back of the room. Of course I would be one of the unlucky volunteers whose information packets has been misplaced. I was completely left in the dark, as the only thing I know about Magoriapitse is that it is a small dot on the map. Mysteries can be fun.

September 16, 2014

We powered through verbs in the present, past, and future tense in Setswana followed by creating endless sentences to practice the varying tenses. I didn’t realize how far I’ve come in the past few weeks. I’m at the point where I can construct sound sentences, now I just need to start memorizing more of the nouns and verbs. I left class with my head spinning, knowing this is going to be the most intense part of my training for the last few weeks.

At the end of the day the schedule listed a treasure hunt. The sun was blazing down and I had lost all motivation to do anything that wasn’t sitting in an ice bath or taking a nap on a bed of ice. We quickly learned that the treasure hunt would consist of visiting key locations and stakeholders in Serowe as well as identifying various Setswana words. This would have been more appropriate at the end of week one or in week two of training. I understand that this is reflective of what we will be doing during our community needs assessment phase in the first three months of service; however, this could have been planned and executed differently to make it more applicable and effective. Not to mention, it would have been more desirable to complete in the morning out of the hot afternoon sun. My group discussed how we would be able to exert the least amount of energy and finish enough of the list to make it look as though we gave an honest effort. By the end we put in more energy than I anticipated. We spent the first hour at the college asking people in the library the various questions that needed answering. We then visited some friends in the IT department to get the rest of our answers. While visiting, the IT lady agreed to drive us around, so in 20 minutes we were able to get pictures of the majority of locations on our list, what took the other group two hours.

I ended the night with lots of homework, which is also a new concept to me. It is going to be an adjustment from having Greene as a teacher who rarely gave homework. I ate dinner while doing my homework and began clearing dishes. Mme Chiliwa asked me to clean dishes and while I was in the kitchen she started calling my name. She knew I was washing dishes because she asked me to and must have heard me, but she continued to call my name over and over without giving me 30 seconds to wipe soap off my hands. She literally called my name every five seconds until I finally just walked to the living room with soap all over my hands. She just wanted some water. And while she was asking for water she told me to rinse my hands off. 

September 15, 2014

Day one of our new language clusters. I am with three other women who all scored intermediate high and our teacher is Tiro, the woman who conducted my language exam. It is a relatively quite class and everyone is consistently on topic and focused. I’m sure we will become more talkative and relaxed once we get the chance to know each other, but everything is still new. Tiro explained that we wouldn’t be learning anything today and instead learn about each other. In the little Setswana we spoke during our introductions I could already tell I would be challenged by the group, in the best way possible.

I need to break the habit of coming home and reading in my room. Ever since receiving over 200 new books for my kindle, I’ve been consumed by reading instead of practicing my Setswana and visiting with my family. It will be my goal over the next few weeks to put down the books and enjoy Serowe while I can.

September 14, 2014

I went to bed frustrated that I spent the evening waiting by my phone for Sam to call when he never did. As a result, I had a less than wonderful dream about our wedding and being completed disempowered without any say in the occasion. Everything was planned, designed, and executed down to the last song being played and no one communicated with me. Because I wasn’t informed of the plans, none of my family or friends were at my wedding and I felt so lost. The subconscious works in mysterious ways. Sam and I will have to establish a more consistent schedule for communicating.

Sam called around 8am when I was walking with Lydia and her host sister to a soccer game. A less than ideal time, I had to ask him to call back which made my sadness grow. After saying goodbye, Sam continued to call back several times which made it obvious how difficult being apart has been for both of us. I tried not to dwell as I was surrounded by many volunteers and I didn’t want to get emotional. I enjoyed the game, looking forward to the next chance I would have to talk to Sam.

I have been incredibly diligent about wearing sunscreen, but I didn’t anticipate braiding my hair while at the soccer game exposing the base of my neck. I left the soccer field with an awkward, uncomfortable, horrible sunburn in a little triangle just under my hairline and above my tank top.

After the soccer game we made our way to a local hotel to eat pizza and use the internet. Obviously unable to enjoy pizza, and happy that I didn’t have to pay for overpriced food, I utilized my friend’s purchases to get on the internet.

September 13, 2014

The frustration of last night seemed to carry over into the morning because at 4:30am I woke up with the first words out of my mouth being, “Are you kidding me?” You know it’s bad when you start talking to yourself. My host dad and sister were busy yelling at each other, one from the bathroom and the other in the kitchen. The bathroom is right next to my bedroom. I finally got out of bed around 5:45am, hoping my presence would encourage everyone to speak softly. This had the opposite effect because Mme caught a glimpse of me and asked if I was ready to go to the funeral. I had forgotten that I agreed late last night to accompany Mme to a funeral at 6am this morning. 

I quickly jumped in the shower and raced out the door. We parked in what looked like the middle of the dirt road and started walking towards the crowd. People had been gathered, singing and praying since last night. This has carried over into the morning where people began giving speeches. The funeral was for a 20 year old girl who was beaten to death by her boyfriend. Following his crime, the boyfriend then took several pills with alcohol and now remains in a coma. The young girl was a relative of one of Mme Chiliwa’s good friends. Having worked at a shelter for people experiencing domestic violence, the young girl’s story touched my heart, knowing too well what her friends and family must be going through.

There were at least 150 people seated in chairs, on the ground, or standing along the back. Funerals in Botswana are open to the pubic and anyone can make an appearance. I was comparing funerals and cemeteries in Botswana to those in the United States when Mme says, “It’s not like the United States, you just put them out in the bush.” I’m always amazed by how blunt Batswana can be.

Already 20 minutes late for my language class, I strolled up to everyone having a relaxing conversation. This is usually expected of the first half hour of class, but the rest of the day turned out to be just as low key. As I settle in my chair, everyone says they know how I did on the language exam. I was nearly jumped out of my seat with excitement because I thought we would be getting this information tomorrow. Greene handed me a slip of paper with my name and “IH” written. I had no idea what “IH” meant until Sara translated it to “intermediate high.” My jaw dropped as I stared at the paper for several minutes, repeating “really?” over and over again. By the end of our 10 week training we are expected to be at intermediate low, but I’ve already scored two above that. There are 11 people who scored intermediate high, the highest level anyone obtained so far. I was delighted and overjoyed, ready to learn as much as I could over the next four weeks, but at the back of my mind I couldn’t deny the pang of sadness I was feeling knowing this would be the last time Greene’s language class would be together. We certainly are a talkative bunch and get sidetracked on a regular basis, but this has been a safe space for me and I will miss the relationships we have formed over the last five weeks.

Our language class ended early because another volunteer invited all Peace Corps staff and volunteers to a wedding. We met at the school and loaded up a bus to commute to the reception. In Botswana, two people will generally get married in a church and then hold two different receptions a week apart, one at the groom’s family and the other at the bride’s. Weddings are similar to funerals in that no invitation is required, anyone who wants to attend can just show up. It felt strange and uncomfortable walking into a stranger’s house with a large group of white people, but I was interested in learning what weddings were like. We arrived as soon as the bride and groom were headed to a new location to take pictures. During their absence, I wandered around observing the men preparing the meat and women preparing the vegetables, offering and denied the chance to help. As I wandered, I was consistently ushered and urged to go sit in the far corner of the property reserved for those not working. This group included old men and women, children, and now white people. I was happy to sit in the shade and people watch, and after yesterday’s frustration, I was just happy to be out of the house. 

Shortly after the bride and groom returned, food was served. The food line was crowded and overwhelming. I would turn my head for a second to find something new plopped onto my plate, some foods recognizable and others not so much. Regardless of my knowledge of what I was digesting, everything was delicious. Batswana sure know how to cook.

I loved all the dancing and singing at the wedding. Anytime the bride and groom came or left, they would turn it into a dance and a song. I din’t know what we were singing, but it was easy enough to join in the swaying back and forth to the music. The bridesmaids and groomsmen performed a pre-rehearsed dance along with other traditional dances. I’m not sure if we left too early to see all the traditional dances, but from what I saw it appeared to be more rocking back and forth accompanied by singing. I forgot how much I have missed dancing and was happy to let some of the stored up energy lose.

By the time I made it home I was exhausted and dirty with all the troubles from the morning forgotten. I welcomed a bath to removed the dirt caked onto my legs and feet. It isn’t often that I willingly take a bath, so this certainly has been a day to remember. 

September 12, 2014

We spent a large part of the morning debriefing our shadowing experience and explaining the site development process. It was reassuring to learn about the criteria Peace Corps considers “safe housing” and that safety is a high priority.

After lunch we presented on our practicum from Manonnye Primary School before being free for healthy outlets. Not knowing what to do, I figured I would at least sneak some time on the internet. Before I knew it, Mme was calling me saying she was outside. She opened the car door and started driving off with hardly a word of where we were going or what we were doing. If anyone saw the interaction they probably would have assumed I was being kidnapped. During our short drive she let me in on the purpose for our meeting which was to go to a tailor to have a skirt made for her nephew’s wedding at the end of the month. We would all be in matching fabric, so she was having a skirt made just for me. The fabric was absolutely beautiful and exactly something I would have chosen. It was blue with a green and purplish pattern. I felt like a princess and couldn’t wait to see how it turns out.

I opted to return home instead of going back to school and finding something to do for the next hour and a half. I immediately regretted that decision as we pulled up to the house and Mme asked me to make dinner for the family. I went inside and tried to come up with a million excuses as to why I couldn’t cook, but nothing came to mind. I started washing dishes and figured this would last until someone came home to help. People came home, but no one stopped to help. Mme gave me a few pointers here and there and Onica came to save my chicken from burning, but other than that I was on my own.

I don’t think my mom would ever believe that I made cooked spinach on my own free will, but there I was standing in the kitchen stirring a pot of green mush. I’m a decent cook in the United States, but I’m working with an entirely new set of ingredients in Botswana that I’m not familiar with. You would think I learned my lesson after almost burning the chicken, but it seems as though I didn’t because I almost burned the phaleshe as well. I saved it at the very end and dinner didn’t turn out half bad, if there was anyone around to enjoy it. My host parents were gone and my host sisters were hiding in their rooms. Onica said she would help me cook after she bathed, but she idled on the porch listening to music, went to bathe, and then went straight to her room. I was confused and didn’t know what was expected of me, so I just left food out for everyone and walked out of the house. During training we aren’t supposed to go out after dark, but I felt defeated and frustrated, so I walked just down the street to Sara’s house. 

Because I left the house without eating dinner, Sara fed me ice cream which was way better than anything I could have cooked. We talked in the kitchen and listened to music, venting about my cooking fiasco. By the time I returned home an hour later, Onica was dishing out everyone’s dinner which was an altered version of what I made, including pasta. Onica asked what I was eating for dinner, knowing I couldn’t eat pasta. I held up an apple and spoonful of peanut butter and walked defeated to my room to top off my ice cream dinner. 

September 11, 2014

I thought cramming 14 people into a combie on the way to Molapowabojang was too many. On the combie ride back to Lobatse I was sardine packed into the back row of a combie with three other people, 17 people total in the car. I could barley move and I was thankful this would be the shortest leg of the trip back to Serowe. 

The bus from Lobatse to Gaborone was fairly painless, but the ride from Gaborone to Serowe was an entirely different story. The bus was barley bigger than a combie, but was just as full and crammed. I weighed my options and decided on an isle seat. I would have liked control of the window, but every window seat had a raised floor and I would have had to sit with my knees nearly up to my chest. While we were waiting for the bus to fill up, endless vendors walked on and off the bus attempting to sell us any and everything they could think of. A man approached me trying to sell me a magazine. I said I had a book, but the man was relentless. He began asking my name and then for my number which I refused to provide. He was persistent saying he was single which I quickly responded with “I’m not,” pointing to my ring. He wait this was ok and that cheating was fine. “Not where I come from, it’s not.” Again, my response was not in his favor. He insisted I need a black man in my life. “No thank you,” was all I managed to muster up. I’m not sure if he ever got the message, but he finally left.

Everyone that sat next to me on the bus was fairly understanding that it was hot and opened teh window, except for the last hour of our drive. At the last formal stop, and older man crowded into the seat next to me and immediately closed the window. Within minutes he was nodding off, leaning heavily against my arm as I was turning into a ball of sweat. To my left I was being pushed off my seat by the older man and to my right was a young girl, sitting on her mother’s lap, kicking my thigh. My shirt was drenched in sweat and my world was slowly shrinking. I couldn’t wait to escape the bus.

Instead of heading straight home, I stopped by the library to use the internet and let everyone in the States know I safely arrived back in Serowe. As I was sitting on the library steps, children started looking over my shoulder at my technology and what I was doing. One girl finally got up the courage to touch my hair and before I realized what was happening, ten little hans were on my head, grabbing and petting whatever they could get ahold of. “It’s so soft” the girls kept repeating as I tried to protect my head from the invasion of personal space. I have a new understanding of how black people in the United States feel when white people constantly want to touch their hair.

September 10, 2014

Another slow start to the morning and I was beginning to wonder what I would do with myself every day if this were my schedule. I’m certainly someone that thrives on projects and a busy schedule. If I’m not constantly working on a new project, or multiple projects at the same time for that matter, I’m horribly unproductive in every aspect of my life. I attempted to stay busy while working on some of my training projects, but that only lasted so long and I resulted to reading for the next three hours.

I was anxious and excited to finally start the day at 1pm as we traveled to Molapowabojang Primary School to run Jessica’s English club. Jessica intended to use a classroom space to practice writing and journaling; however, we arrived to find all classrooms being used for practice exams and were forced to hold the English club outside. On the fly we had to completely alter our plans and play it by ear. We started by  singing songs in English that Jessica had previously taught the club. Without notice, Jessica turned to me and asked me to lead the next song. I quickly tapped into my inner camper and pulled “Baby Shark” from my days at science camp. The children had fun with it and were singing and dancing. We soon transitioned into playing games. Again, Jessica struggled to come up with ideas and I found myself being the little bird on her shoulder whispering ideas into her ear. Jessica had a difficult time holding the attention of the students and controlling the class. I struggled not to overstep my boundaries when a boy would smack his peers with a stick every time Jessica’s back was turned. I wanted to walk up to him, grab the stick, and throw it in the trash, but I didn’t have the rapport in the school and didn’t know how this action would be perceived. The students continued being disrespectful and not listening to Jessica, so I finally asked all the children if they could hear what was being said while Jessica attempted to explain the rules of a new game. Of course I did this in a gentle and friendly manner, but it was still frustrating to see the chaos of the class. This shadowing experience has given me great insight into what I would like to attempt in my future sit as well as providing me with the opportunity to observe the things that I would like to modify and alter to best fit the needs of my community. No two services look the same, so it is up to me to design and implement the Peace Corps experience that will be most conducive with who I am and what I have to offer.

With the same fitness group, we decided to mix up the workout videos and go for a walk down to the river. The river was completely dried up; however, I was reassured that it is full and flowing come rainy season. I figured we would get to the river, explore a little and then turn around. One of the women started leading our group out into the bush, away from the river, as the town slowly disappeared from view. We quickly lost track of the well traveled foot paths and were forging our way through thorny trees, dry grass, and large bushes. And the five wandering women were never seen from again. Until of course they emerged along the river farther down from the initial entry point. Happy the town once again returned into view, we climbed down into the empty riverbed and snaked our way through the empty channel. I love nature walks and exploring the outdoors. While the rest of the group was slowly, carefully treading through the sand, I was busy running up hills, touching the patterns in the sand, jumping from rock to rock, and looking for new and interesting wildlife. We managed to find a giant grasshopper hiding in the tree as well as a rabbit dashing across the ridge above us. There is nothing more inspiring and captivating than exploring the outdoors, genuinely connecting to nature.

September 9, 2014

Last night Jessica explained her schedule to me and my jaw dropped all the way to the floor. She usually wakes up briefly at 6am, but then will relax and sleep in until at least 8am, moseying into school at 12pm, and working for a few hours before returning home.  Jessica said we would be going in earlier than normal and I was thinking seven or eight in the morning. Mope, we would be going in at 10am. I slept in until 6:45am which was still the latest I’ve slept in for quite some time, and it felt wonderful.

When Jessica finally came out of her room she announced that there was no water. This is something I will have to get used to when living in the south. We made bacon, scrambled eggs with feta cheese, peppers, onions, and lots of spices. Minus the lack of water, it was almost like we were in the United States based on what we were eating.

A slow morning and we finally left for Chi Chi Junior Secondary School. Jessica showed me around while we waited to meet with the deputy headmaster, Rra Baadjie, to discuss her projects. We spent some time in the computer lab taking pictures in order to help promote and raise money for new computers and chairs. What first seemed like a complete and adequate computer lab suddenly changed once children came back from tea break. Of the nearly twenty computers in the room, only four of them actually worked, and while we were taking pictures another one stopped working. More than ten children were gathered around one computer, sharing seats, sitting on each other’s laps, and attempting to see the screen.

The meeting with Rra Baadjie was relaxing and brief. It was nice to see someone so involved and invested in the success of the children. Before Jessica’s PACT club we at lunch and enjoyed the chickens roaming across the campus. PACT, standing for peer approach to counseling by teens, is held during an hour long study period in school for children who want to learn about HIV, become more self confident, work on study skills, and promote healthy lifestyles. We started PACT by giving a pretest to gauge what the kids already know and think about HIV. We then played a guessing game where two teams stood in a line across from one another and passed a rock behind their back. The teams took turns guessing who had the rock when Jessica called “stop.” The second half of the game, Jessica announced that whoever had the rock would have AIDS for “pretend.” This was followed by a conversation about HIV and stigmas associated with the disease as well as debunking common myths. It was an enjoyable afternoon that continued to spark my excitement about getting to site and starting projects of my own.

I have never been complimented so much by middle school girls. I hardly made it five feet walking around without someone saying hi, introducing themselves, or calling me beautiful. I didn’t know how to respond. It didn’t occur to me until later that I should just say they are beautiful right back. Many middle school girls are self conscious about their changing bodies and every girl needs to be told she is beautiful. Girls should not have the notion that you have to be white or skinny to be beautiful. Everyone is beautiful just the way they are.

After PACT we walked home and got ready for her fitness group. This group of women gets together to workout using different videos Jessica has on her computer. We did a zumba workout where I was reminded how much I like to dance, but also of my lack of gracefulness. It was still nice to get up and move. We ended the night by making potato salad with chicken and a garden salad. The veggies are never going to get old.

September 8, 2014

No one should ever have to wake up at 4am. I was anxious about shadowing and meeting my host, so I didn’t go to bed the night before until well past 9pm only to wake up at 4:30am. I quickly finished my packing and sat outside to wait for my ride which would arrive between 5am and 5:45am. By the time my tea was cool enough where I could take a sip, I saw lights and heard honking on the other side of the gate. I quickly rushed outside and started my journey to Molapowabojang.

The first bus was from Serowe to Gaborone which made good time, arriving at 9:30am, usually over a four hour ride. The bus was overcrowded and jam packed with people sitting in every available seat as well as many standing. I was lucky to have a window seat, avoiding the hustle and bustle of people getting on and off the bus. I couldn’t imagine having to stand crammed for a four hour bus ride. Many other volunteers were also traveling to Gaborone before catching a bus to their next destination. I sat beside Jamie and chatted most of the ride, making the three and a half hours fly by.

I couldn’t wait to get off the bus and give my legs a stretch. I walked through the mall with other volunteers looking for a place to have lunch before parting ways. Jessica, the volunteer I would be shadowing for the next few days, arrived shortly after. She decided it would be easiest to meet me in Gaborone to have lunch, food shop for the week, and show me the bus system.

Jessica is part of Bots 14, the group that arrived before ours, and has been volunteering at site for about a year. She is also a life skills volunteer and works in tow different schools. I learned about her village, what she does in her down time, what projects she is working on, and what it’s like to be a volunteer. I learned all this over food shopping, so this will be an information loaded couple of days. 

After buying food we sat outside to enjoy lunch. I had a sausage, chips, and yogurt. I bought lots of fruit, salad, and yogurt to eat over the next couple of days and was reminded how excited I am to shop and cook for myself.Soon it was off to Lobatse where we would catch another ride to Molapowabojang. This second bus was the most painful of them all. We missed the first bus that was at the stop because it was too full, so we found two seats on the next bus that was slowly filling up. We ended up sitting in the hot, cramped bus for 45 minutes waiting for it to leave. There were several loud men walking up and down the aisles selling water, fruit, candy, and frozen pops. These men couldn’t just stand in one place, but instead insisted on walking up and down, passing each other and other passengers who were trying to get on the bus. With every pass I experienced a cold tingle from the water or frozen pops which was a welcomed, cold brush against my shoulder, but this was often accompanied by an elbow to the head or hip to the face.

In Lobatse we just needed to catch another short combie ride to Molapowabojang. A combie is a significantly smaller van that they manage to cram 14 people into, including the drive. While we waited inside the combie for it to fill up, Jessica bought us both a Cool Time, a guava nectar treat. The frozen guava nectar comes in a little plastic bag and you bite off the corner before sucking out the slushy juice. It was exactly what I needed and was a perfect treat to enjoy and cool off with, if I could ever get the package open.

On the ride to Molapowabojang we saw baboons hanging out on the side of the road, just to remind us we’re in Africa still. I was soaking up everything, enjoying the short drive. The land was no longer flat, but instead we weaved through hills and Botswana’s version of a mountain, a larger than average hill.

We were dropped at the post office and had a short, five minute walk from there. Jessica pointed out a chicken in a tree. At first glance I thought it was nesting in the tree, but upon further inspection I noticed the head was dangling upside down, soon realizing it was sitting dead in the tree. Jessica told me someone threw the chicken in the tree for no apparent reason. Unsure why someone would hurt an innocent chicken, we continued walking to Jessica’s little pink house.

Her house is in a larger compound with a few other homes. The woman who owns the compound owns chickens, so she gets free eggs as well as the protection of close neighbors to watch over her house. There are certainly perks to living in a compound like this, but I’m not sure how I would fare with neighbors constantly knowing what I was doing. Jessica’s front door enters into the kitchen with a fridge, stove, and small sink. To the right of the kitchen is a living room with a table and couch set. To the left of the kitchen, divided by a shower curtain as a door, is the bedroom and beyond the bedroom is the bathroom, again divided by a curtain. The front door is the only door in the house. Jessica was serious when she said there is a lack of privacy in her house. It was nice to get a sense of what living conditions may be like. I’m hoping to have more than one door.

We spent the rest of the afternoon exchanging movies, music, and books. I now have 200 more books to choose from when I’m reading my kindle. I should be set for the next two years. For dinner we had taco salad with ground beef, tomatoes, avocado, cheese, and fresh lettuce. It has been over four weeks since I’ve had fresh lettuce and it was just what I needed. I would have licked the bowl clean if I wasn’t distracted by Jessica smashing a cockroach just across the room.

September 7, 2014

Remember when I suggested that clothes washing should be an Olympic sport? That was when I was washing nine pairs of underwear. I just washed my entire reserve of clothing, with the help of Mme Chiliwa, and it still took us two hours. This is a four bucket process. You start by soaking the clothes in the first bucket with the most powered detergent. There is no washboard, instead you use the tops of your fingers as if they are a washboard. Gripping the material with your fist, you put your arm straight out, fingers facing up, and rub the nearby material against your arm and fingers, creating a human washboard. You do this several times while dunking the material in the water, being sure to pay extra attention to the collar and armpits. After wringing out the item of clothing, you throw it in the next bucket with slightly less detergent and repeat the process. Once again wringing out the material, you throw it into the third bucket of just water to remove the soap. And finally into the fourth bucket with fabric softener to make the clothes soft and static free. Last stop is the clothes line where everything sits out to dry.

We started with the light colors, slowly moving to darks, and then jeans. Luckily I had help or else the process would have taken me well over half the day. By the time I finished one shirt, Mme would be done with three. I’m sure I was slowing down the process, so Mme sent me to wring out clothes and hang them on the line, which I still managed to do wrong. I was hanging clothes the wrong direction and wasting clothespins before Mme came to correct my errors. Thank goodness I’m a quick learner or else I’m not sure I would survive two years in Africa.

After dumping out all the water we realized that the towel was left untouched. It is the bright pink towel the Peace Corps gave me that has never been washed. We decided to save it for the end, so the colors wouldn’t bleed, but we managed to forget it altogether. I refilled smaller buckets to finish this last one. When I submersed my hands in the warm water, the tops of the last joint of my fingers started to burn and sting like there were little ants biting my skin. From the earlier washing where I used my fingers as a washboard, I rubbed the skin raw. This is the last time I go a month without washing clothes, instead I will wash smaller, more manageable loads. I will never take my washing machine for granted again, ever.

Before this washing adventure, Mme made soft porridge for breakfast. I had already made hardboiled eggs at 6am when I woke up, but I’ve been wanting to try soft porridge for some time and decided to keep adding to my already full belly. Soft porridge is basically the same as the phaletshe with sorghum, but using less sorghum and more water to make it more oatmeal-like. The texture and consistency reminded me of my mom’s rice cereal from the States and it made me feel at home. After cooking for ten minutes, the dish is served and you can add ingredients to your liking. In the morning Mme suggested to add sugar, butter, and sometimes milk. She put my bowl together with butter and sugar, but then added a small dollop of the tangy mayo. That is probably the last thing I would have added, but too late now. I mixed it all together and gave it a taste. It was almost exactly like my mom’s rice cereal, minus the raisins. Even with the tangy mayo, it tasted quite good.

I have a love-hate relationship with Sundays. On one hand it is nice to have a slow, relaxing day to recuperate after the week, but it can also be boring sitting around without anything to do. After cleaning clothes I started to help Mme clean the car, but my dad called shortly after. With a lot of descriptive directions, my dad was able to locate my house from an internet map. It was nice being able to show him where I have been living the past month.

September 6, 2014

I’m done with my language exam! At this point it doesn’t matter how I did because it is done and I don’t have to stress about it anymore (until the next one in week nine). I was somewhat able to hold my own until the very end. I was answering questions about what my friends and family do, both in Botswana and the United States. I talked about my education and work experience. The last part of the exam I had to read a situation from a notecard and act it out in Setswana. I’m horrible, awkward, and uncomfortable in role playing situations, so I immediately got nervous and stumbled over my words when I just needed to repeat a good deal of what was previously said. It’s done and that’s what matters.

I sat in the hallway after the exam and soaked up the internet as much as possible. While sitting in the hallway, Znela showed us a message from her previous boyfriend whom she broke up with when deciding to join the Peace Corps. The message read, “I still miss you.” Soon enough Znela is crying and then Maureen is crying and then I’m crying. We all have significant others and I think the tears were a combination of missing our partners and relief that the exam is over. We were a blubber mess and had to grou hug it out. There has been such a build up of stress and tension, so sometimes it is healthier to just let it out. We later went to get lunch and deemed days like today “two ice cream kind of days.”

September 5, 2014

Halfway between the College of Education and my house is a little road that leads to a primary school. Every day I walk and talk with children who are quickly scurrying down the road to make it to class on time. Sometimes I’m asked for money, but most of the time I get shy smiles and little waves. After checking in at the college for morning announcements, I learned that the primary school I would be attending for the life skills practicum was the same school I pass every morning, Manonnye Primary School.

We checked in at the reception desk once arriving at Manonnye. The reception area was the same room as the computer lab with a little table off to one side. The room contains about ten computers and posters of the school’s mission, goals, workshops, and calendars which are posted around the room. We conducted our interview with the school head, asking about the school structure, daily activities, and goals and aspirations for the future, among others, before heading out for a tour of the grounds. 

The school and classroom structure is similar to the States. Referred to as standard one to seven, these levels correspond to grades one to seven in the States. In addition to the traditional math, science, English, and Setswana subjects, Manonnye has a class for religious and moral education for standards five and up.

Manonnye has a sound structure and set of goals. They designed a program called “Drop and Read” where all children practice their English reading on Tuesdays and Thursdays, in addition to the English class time. This has showed improvements in English abilities across the board. I was impressed by the school’s ability to recognize a problem and propose and implement a solution. Like many schools in the country, lack of resources is a serious problem. There are not enough classrooms, so one class is taught in the storage closet. There are not enough workbooks for the students or paper and ink to copy the few workbooks they do have. This will be an interesting obstacle to overcome when I find my site placement, as I’m sure I will run into similar difficulties.

We were paraded around the school, entering several classrooms where we were asked our names and where we are from. Many of the children were shy and covered their faces when prompted to speak. It was interesting to see the varying levels of self confidence among the students of all ages. Even the seventh graders were shy at times, hiding from us and the teacher.

We went out back to see the garden where we found several women banging five foot tall sticks into buckets. With great curiosity we approached and found them grinding millet which would be used to make phaletshe. There was another woman sitting on the ground sifting through the ground material and returning the larger pieces to the bucket to be ground further. It looked like a tiring, labor intensive process. Not only is phaletshe difficult to cook, but the millet is equally challenging to produce. I have a new appreciation for this basic food that is a staple in Batswana diets. Just beyond the women we found a fire pit where breakfast is cooked for the children in case of a power outage. The campus was quite spectacular and it was nice to know more about the school I pass every day.

When arriving back at school, my group quickly put together our presentation. We aren’t presenting for another wee, but it felt good to get it out of the way and not have to worry about it again. I worked with Margi on creating a daily activities schedule while Kylie and Katie created a community map, a visual record of the campus and the resources within.

After training, I briefly went to the bar to relax after a long week. Per usual, I chose not to drink, especially with the language exam bright and early the next morning. As soon as I got home, I whipped out my Setswana notebook and plopped on the couch. I started talking to Mme Chiliwa about how another volunteer decided to return to the United States today. We were led into an interesting conversation about culture differences and how some people just aren’t cut out to be in Africa. “This is not our home,” mme Chiliwa repeated, “This is not how we live.” It is a luxury to have running water and electricity, but not the true Batswana way. Mme commented that most people walk to the water spigot to fill up their bucket and then walk back. People don’t have to live with these amenities, but some are not fortunate enough to do so. “We should never forget where we come from.” Such powerful and meaningful works that probably dug deeper than Mme Chiliwa had initially intended.

September 4, 2014

This morning was the last Setswana session before our language exam. I’m both terrified and eager to get it over with. At this point, I know what I know and I can’t cram anything else into my brain. During class we practiced more conversations and used the rubric to discuss what level we predicted we are at. I’m guessing I’m at novice high, one level below intermediate low where we are expected to be by the end of training. Not guessing, but hoping I’m at that level. 

After Setswana we had a session on intercultural effectiveness and cognitive flexibility followed by shadowing logistics. During the cognitive flexibility session we distinguished the difference between describing, interpreting, and evaluating a situation. Americans generally operate with an interpretive lens - what I feel about what I see. Batswana are very descriptive and take things at face value. They tend not to dig deep into the meaning of a gesture, but instead go with the flow. The difference between these three perspectives is straightforward; however, the conversation became confusing once the facilitators put this information to practical use. The American facilitators encouraged us to take things at face value, be descriptive, because it is easier to succeed as a volunteer and get by in Botswana. On the contrary, we should be encouraging children in schools to think critically about their school work and daily lives, which I consider to be operating with an interpretive and evaluative perspective. I believe it is important to meet somewhere in the middle. I appreciate my interpretive and evaluative approach to situations and I know it is important to recognize my own bias as a result and how this will affect my work and ability to integrate into the community. My interpretation and evaluation of my surroundings is part of who I am, but I’m willing to accept that Batswana are more descriptive. I will incorporate this into how I interact with new people, while staying true to who I am.

We ended the day by playing traditional Setswana games. I watched a few people jump rope and others put smashed cans in a box with their feet while dodging a ball. I guess this is what they consider a traditional Botswana game. I chose to play ball wall with a few guys. It quickly brought me back to seventh and eighth grade when I played ball wall and dodgeball with all the boys in my class. It was nice to run around and bond with some of the other volunteers.

On my walk home from school I may have told some ten year old girls that I like to eat dirt. I asked if they went to school and what they learned. One girl confidently responded that she learned negatives in English. So I asked how she would respond if I asked “Do you like to eat dirt?” Her younger friend responded with “Yes!” We all laughed and exchanged shy glances. I’m convinced they think Americans eat dirt.

September 3, 2014

For half of the day we studied Setswana and practiced for our exam which will be on Saturday. It was nice to get a feel for how other teachers conduct the interview and the possible questions they may ask us. As helpful as the session was, one can only study for so long. After four hours of studying I was brain dead and ready for lunch. 

After lunch we had a session on sexual assault awareness before healthy outlets for the rest of the day. The sexual assault awareness session was the only structured, business session of the day, so I think we got off easy. 

For healthy outlets I went for a two mile run followed by an abs and arm workout. I probably should have started working out sooner because the lack of fitness was sure getting to me. By the time I made it eight laps around the track I was ready for a pint of Ben and Jerry’s and a Netflix marathon. The joys of working out and the ability to eat whatever you want afterwards. The run wasn’t hard necessarily, I’ve just lost my routine which will be difficult to get back. I always feel much better the days following a good workout, so it will be essential to my wellbeing to continue and sustain a workout schedule. 

Washing clothes by hand should be an Olympic sport. No one was home when I returned, so I decided to wash my underwear. Nine paris of underwear took me well over a half hour, I could only imagine how long one pair of jeans will take me. I haven’t washed any clothes since leaving Vermont, and as of today that is officially four weeks. Oh how the time flies. Needless to say, I smell really bad. I’ve re-worn everything in my closet more than three times, and there isn’t much in there to begin with. My host family said they would teach me to wash the last two weekends, but other things came up and life got busy. I couldn’t go another day without underwear, but I guess I can wait a few more days for the rest of my clothes since I already smell.

September 1, 2014

I never truly appreciated Labor Day until today because I get a free day to enjoy Botswana and relax. The Peace Corps arranged for our group to go on a game drive at a rhino sanctuary. I woke up at 5:45am and was anxiously waiting in the parking lot of the school by 6:30am.

The short drive was about twenty minutes before arriving at the sanctuary. We divided into three groups, each in a different truck. The bed of the truck held three rows of bench seats and I climbed into the first row, ensuring I was seated on the outside in order to get the clearest short. It was a chilly morning and on top of the tshirt, fleece sweater, and jacket, I was happy to have brought a blanket to drape over my legs. It was a brisk morning which brings out some animals like the leopards who want to hunt, but forces others into hiding to avoid the bitter cold.

We started our drive into the dry grass, trees, and bushes with thorn trees reaching into the side of the vehicle whenever our driver drifted too close to the edge of the pathway. The only way through the brush was through this narrow path as wide as our truck. We drove along the sanctuary fence before turning fast into the brush, getting lost in the trees. I’m glad someone knew where we were going because I was about to start leaving a trail of breadcrumbs to find my way back, but I imagine it is the same as the zoo where you can’t feed the animals. I would either get yelled at by our guide or the animals would eat the bread before I could find my way back, and besides, I didn’t have any bread.

Within a few minutes of driving through the brush, we pulled off to the side of the road where a man-made fence enclosed an adopted black rhino who was slowly being introduced to the wild. Our tour guide encouraged us to get out of the truck and approach the fence that safely divided us form the rhino. After a few minutes, the rhino slowly sauntered up to the food and began eating. The tour guide then let us touch his skin which was surprisingly soft. It was a beautiful, massive creature which moved with surprising ease.

After seeing the rhino we continued the drive when all of a sudden the bush cleared to reveal an expansive plain with giraffes and zebras out in the distance. The view in the morning light was breathtaking and I had the sinking reminder that we are truly in Arica. We slowly made our way towards the beautiful creatures, spotting an ostrich, springboks, and other gazelle-like creatures on our way.

The family of giraffes were elegant and magical creating a silhouette standing in front of the sun. And then they started to walk. They are the most silly, awkward creatures as soon as they move. Their heads bob up and down with each step and I was afraid they were going to trip over their own feet. With such a disproportionate body structure, I don’t know how they were able to run at all. With all their awkwardness, they are still my second favorite animal behind the elephant.

Farther along we saw more springboks, zebras at a distance, and herds of blue wildebeests. Talk about another silly looking animal. The wildebeest reminds me of the body of a cow, the striped neck of a zebra, the horns of a buffalo, and the mane of a horse. It was the most interesting looking creature I’ve ever seen.

Our final stop was at a bird blind where we were able to walk along a path and look out over a watering hole. There we found many birds sitting in the trees and along the water. We even saw a guinea fowl before it quickly scampered off.

It was a beyond wonderful morning and my excitement continued to grow knowing I would get to explore more of Botswana wildlife in just a few months. By the time we returned to the College of Education it wasn’t even noon. I went to Sara’s house to have lunch and study Setswana for the majority of the afternoon.

I really want my host sisters to like me, but I don’t know what I’m doing wrong. I get back from Sara’s and go into the kitchen, where my sisters are, to make tea. I offer to help, but they refuse. As soon as I leave the kitchen they closed the door and resumed their talking, singing, and laughing. I went back in shortly after to wash dishes and the talking discontinued. As soon as I left again it was the same drill and they resumed talking. I sat on the couch and continued to study Setswana, ready and available if they ever wanted to talk. Hopefully they’ll come around sooner or later.