Shake it up Botswana

"I'M NOT HONEST, BUT YOU'RE INTERESTING"   Peter Tosh

Let's be honest, even though I love my village and have had a great time here, Botswana itself is the most boring of all the African Countries, and maybe, just maybe, the most boring country in the world. 

 It's secret to boredom is that Botswana is the least multi-cultural country, it has one language, one culture, one way of dressing, one way of doing a wedding, and has seen nearly a half century of unbroken stability with no civil wars, no attempted coup, no heirarchy in tribes, and almost a total absence of corruption. There are no colorful markets, no coconuts falling on someone's head, people don't even complain here.   Instead of dancing the night away on holidays, they attend all night church services---wow, that should really liven the personality up!  It seems the only excitement is the weather, and the wildlife up north.

Batswana even learn to stand in line patiently for hours on end, and show no expression when I forge my way to the front with some lame excuse, because there's no way in hell I'm standing for hours in 100 degree heat to buy one lousy stamp. Einstein once said, “time moves at different speeds according to different things,” but boy oh boy, if Einstein ever came to Botswana, he may be a bit confused!  Botswana has one speed for everything---SLOW, and TIME means nothing here! They have even learned the art of pure suffocation--- no air, no life---pure and simple!

Come on Botswana, I do love you, but it's time for your mid-life crisis, to shake things up a bit, experiment on the fruits of some excitement in life before you have a nervous breakdown. Maybe you should ask for a divorce or something from the diamond industry and flirt with your Swazi sisters next door, or listen to real South African tunes instead of the one same song every day. Don't you even wonder what it would be like to wander around in colorful garb like all your neighbors do, or to talk openly about matters of the heart, but hey, that would mean you'd have to snap out of your shyness.

The Botswana Zebras (national soccer team) went to France I believe awhile ago, and they were so upset by the French food, that they only ate bread for days. This is why the Zebras will never win a world cup! Variety, my dear Zebras is the spice of life, and Botswana has no spice! Yet, I really do love it here in many ways, I've found much humor in it's idiosyncrasies, and yes, there's probably beauty in the simplicity and the boring, but dear Botswana---you definitely need the wind to nudge you in another direction!

No June Cleaver Here!

“My mother's on the phone again—I talk, but she won't listen—she said “just one minute honey!"---I think it's been a year.  

Awhile back I received a card in the mail, actually a very late Holiday card from the family.  It was one of those custom made photo cards. The card was delivered at school, where no sense of privacy exists, therefore, I was immediately swarmed by kids anticipating what on earth is gonna come out of the white envelope.  When the card appeared, after oohs and ahhs, pointing and grabbing, I slowly went through each color in the photos, what the writing said, and pointed out who was who. Telling them about each person like it was like sharing hope with them.  But then something happened---I pointed out who my mother was, and instantaneously, kids started smiling, and then screaming---Tshepo's mom is here, come look. Well, come and look they did, about 250 of them smothering me to see my mom.

When I left that day, I asked around to find out why the photo of my mom got such a strong reaction.  I was told two things---one, they learn in the Bible that any time a mom lives after the age of 70 is a gift because most people around these parts don't live long lives. The next is that most of these kids are orphans, their moms either are to poor, or have died of AIDS, so the novelty of even having a mom, let alone one who is about to turn 80, is a real thrill for them.  They know nothing of a June Cleaver, the quintessential mom during the post war era, who exemplified the idealized mom, dishing up moral guidance and comfort alongside her hearty and well balanced 5pm dinner.  (Secretly though, I always wondered what June would be like after a 6 pack!)

Maybe these kids don't get to sit around the dinner table hearing stories about their relatives, maybe they don't have that Cleaver clan that builds true identity, and maybe inside they are longing for a real family. I'm lucky now to have two mom's---my mother at home, and my new mom here in Botswana. I want to say that my mom here in Botswana has treated me no different than she treats her own kids. I have to do chores, she doesn't listen to me when she's on the phone, she tells me stories about her family in the past, she yelps at me when I do something wrong, and this has certainly helped form who I am as a Botswana PCV. There is no need for the actual genetic connection, our connection is just as intricate as if I really were born to this wonderful family.

Yet, it's funny that 50 years have gone by since the day of June Cleaver, but we still get hung up by own stereotype of "good" mother, and have our own pre-conceived notions of "good."  I've come to realize that each wonderfully unique woman in every culture and life circumstance can be a truly great mom in her own right.  Ultimately, aren't we all a combo of many factors---and while we may have certain proclivities, expressions, talents, or shortcomings, it's what makes us unique and complex. So for the kids in these villages who rarely have a family as we know it, I hope that they have some special mom figure in their life to say Happy Mothers Day to---and for me, I'm lucky to get to say to two mom's this year.

The Merciful Law of Karma

So, what is all this mumbo jumbo floating around in my head lately about karma.  Is Karma something that's always lurking in the shadows just waiting for you to make a mistake or do something bad, and when you have---it seems to wait for just that perfect time to get you back for what you did days, weeks, months, years, or lifetimes ago.

While I always ascribe to the Fortune Cookie School of Psychology, I have often wondered, does everything that goes around really come back around. And if so, will it come back to bite you in the ass? Is there such a thing as relationship karma? If karma is the concept of action vs. deed, a cycle of cause and effect, action vs. reaction that governs all life, if we sow good seeds, we will reap good seeds? Is karma the merciful law which is our teacher, our friend, or our foe? So many questions?

I'm thinking about this for a variety of reasons though. With the enormity of choices we make throughout our lives, I made one, that in the twinkling of an eye, I was transported around the world to another continent, a new land with new woods, and with strange people carrying things on their heads. Yet, before I came to this strange land, I thought my karma was in a bad coma, and now with less than 6 months til I depart, has my karma revived?  I never blamed 'karma' for anything, but maybe I needed to (en) lighten up a bit.  So now I wonder if the God's gonna give me good karma because I joined the PC and tried to do good deeds everyday?

The answer may be yes and no.  During my service, I badly sprained an ankle, and a wrist, lost one passport, and ate a forbidden orange. That's not so bad considering I had many thoughts of killing  people sitting on top of me in 105 heat on kombie rides, and I'm probably still being bit by past schtick!  On the other hand, I believe there was a purpose to be played out here, and at the ripe old age of not so young, I found out that friends come in all shapes and sizes, and my karma led me to friendships I soon won't forget, but in particular to a young boy named Lefika. I can go on and on about him, but from the onset, there was a recognition on a soul level, our frequencies matched, we've learned to trust, love, and share.  He's only 7, but a brilliant and wise one he is, and honestly, I don't know what my service would've been like without him. The power of his friendship gave me the gift of being my best self, and in doing so---please----maybe some good karma!

Desert Storm

I'm telling you, African storms are something else. It's mind blowing to the nth degree! The storms are events that I've never heard or seen anything like'em. A furious drum roll of thunder lasting well over 10 seconds, followed by terrifying streaks of lightening, howling desert winds that feel like the roof is gonna blow off, and yes, I scream and shout, or jump out of my skin at every flash and roll.  Even Keoki was startled at this one---he jumped right into bed with me and didn't move!  As if we need reminders that it is the end of rainy season, surprise surprise, the power is gone, and gone is the water too. What a wild few days its been. I run out in the torrential storm with my camera trying to catch a fantastic bolt of lightening, but as I stand around, shaking from the cold and soaked to the bone, the thunder rumbles, the lightening is coming, and instead of holding steadfast to take a photo, I'm scared out of my wits, and I run for cover.

Sitting here in the pitch dark with only the light remaining of my iphone is a strange feeling that I've gotten used to in almost 2 years. It makes me think of the things I don't have here and now, but really, all I need is an insanely good read, and a good blanket to hunker under.

Time has shot by like an arrow—roughly 6 more months to go, and when you are a PCV, I've found that you come across things that repulse you just as much as things entice you----like a scary storm. But in between the frantic weather, the sun shines, and I yelp for Lefika to come run with me into the bush so we can capture the rainbow that has appeared, and which reminds me what a wonderful beauty a thunderstorm can bring!

Walking Into A Dream

Sessreim Canyon

Something was pulling me, something very strong, something deep, something I couldn't escape. It was another trip to Namibia where the vast expanses of nothingness, where everywhere is in the middle of nowhere just captures my imagination and curiosity---I had to go! Starting out for a few days in Swakopmund, a quaint hamlet with the ambience of a tiny colonial German Village---a perfect little gem where I replenished on decent food, had a good haircut, gazed at the sea, and communed with some dolphins and coffee shops. But I really didn't come here for Swakopmund, as cute as it is—We ventured out on Namibia's roads where vanishing point shimmers and blends into the sky like a never ending illusion to wind up in my dream world of Sossusvlei.

Officially, Sossusvlei is the name of a large salt and clay pan located inside the Namib-Naukluft National Park. The towering dunes of Sossusvlei topped it pretty quickly. They are preposterously beautiful, and I was gasping in amazement at the lofty mountainous shapes and luxuriant widening landscapes changing colors in the rising and setting sun. We made the ascent of an arm of the Big Mama Dune, one of the highest dunes in the world---but we did not get to climb Big Daddy---the biggest in the world.  We ate under such clear constellations in the sky. We drove and hiked in the Namib Park where animals, such as Oryx and Ostrich wander the gently rolling landscape, and wild vistas are never out of reach. We communed with Cheetahs, posed for posterity at the universal landmark of the Tropic of Capricorn, and all too soon, we left the desert and my frothy cappuccinos behind as if it were a dream.

In a country overflowing with surreal scenery that pushes the boundaries of what you think the earth can look like, Sossusvlei is perhaps the most peculiar. Sand is piled at its greatest heights and trees that have been dead for centuries (I was told 900 years) still stand in a dried up marsh. They call it Dead Vlei.  Sessreim canyon is also other worldly, as was the sky that was so dark you can't even imagine and where shooting stars were occurring at an alarming rate---I got a lot of wishes in!

Namibia makes me wonder what it might have been like when life began, when exploration and discovery were firsts for all humankind, and with no assurance of a road sign or set destination,with no clue where, or if, the desert would end. I didn't want to leave it, I wanted to just hunker down to take it all in, and keep going and get lost in this surreal country called Namibia. It seems like each and every turn I take, whether it be hiking in Lesotho, a safari in Moremi, the Serengetti, South Luangwa, meandering through Cape Town, or just listening to the voices in my village, I become increasingly fascinated by the magic of Africa!

Big Mama Dune

Desert Camp

Kelly, Me, Maureen

Urinary Freedom

Way back, when I was in training in Kanye, I was walking to a kids party that a friend was having at her host home. On the way, I met three nicely dressed women who happened to be going my way to the same party. Walking and talking was pleasant enough until one woman just stopped in the middle of the path, paused our conversation, spread the legs, wizzed, and then just moved on like it was the most natural thing in the world. Well, in her world it is the most natural thing, but in my world it's a different story---I thought about the little spray that got on my leg for weeks on end!

Not that this is all bad or anything, but come on lady, there's a technique to peeing outside, you activate the glutes and quads, bend the knees, drop your ass like your name is Viola, get as low as you can so it doesn't spray, and above all, aim away from your feet, and please, not on my feet! I felt like I had just witnessed the human version of my cat peeing all over the place---a primal way of communicating. The lady even perked her face like my cat Alex does when he's peeing in front of someone. “Hey lady, would you do that in your mother's kitchen too?”

It's funny that first world countries like the USA tend to believe that third world countries have it bad when it comes to personal freedom, when they actually have far more freedom and liberty than we ever do. I mean, imagine the sense of independence that comes with just spreading the legs and letting things fly whenever and wherever you want. We, in the US, however, live in a policed society that enforces the belief that peeing in public is shameful, dirty, obscene, and disgusting, and that's really a shame because more often than not, peeing in public is out of necessity, not pleasure. You don't have to be a Law Grad to know that it's a bad thing when your government makes a human necessity punishable. If you think about it, it's really not a nuisance if nobody sees it---maybe we should be practicing pee respect, or start a pee anarchy.

Growing up, as most of us have, in a city, or those suburbs in Jersey, we just didn't learn about being in the wild, and consequently, we're not usually comfortable out in nature in the true sense of the word. But here in Africa, or at least Botswana, people just don't even care, they pee everywhere and anywhere, in the villages and in the city, and they don't necessarily turn away from you. It used to bother me a bit, but the other day walking home after our school function with my favorite police man, and he just stopped, unzipped his fly, and cooly took a pee---I just thought to myself how normal this has become since my days in Kanye. I've learned to act like I presume men do in a public bathroom---it's the no look policy.

 I can't tell you how many times I've peed in my pants here for one stupid reason or another, and I've also peed in the bush in times of necessity, but still, as used to things as I am, I have not mastered the urinary freedom that most Africans seem to possess.  Though my own personal philosophy on pee and liberty is that urinating is a biological necessity, as long as one behaves reasonably, no measly gender wall should stop someone from getting to where they need to pee so they can get on with their lives.

 I guess I have 6 more months to see how well I can drop my pants!

Month of Youth Against Aids

What have I been up to lately you ask----well these past weeks my counterpart and I have been hustling to hold an all day special event at our school to commemorate the Month of Youth Against Aids, with our central them being "With Safe Male Circumcision, we are driving towards ZERO by 2016." The day turned out to be a wonderful engaging and entertaining mix of HIV based activities with an emphasis on personal discipline arising from self-awareness.  The campaign urges youth to abstain, discourages multiple sex partners, and encourages safe male circumcision.  Our activities were all intertwined with a jaw dropping musical performance by Johnny Mokhali who is a famous South African Pop Musician.  How we landed him is beyond me, but his music and inspirational messages, not only made us dance the day away, but also touched each and every one of us.  For the first time since I"ve been here, I looked into these kids eyes and saw motivation and hope for the future. 

No one can lead our lives for us, so really it's up to each one of these kids to be responsible.  This is the generation that has the ability to break the cycle of stigma, gender roles, poverty, AIDS, and neglect that prevents youth from reaching their given potential.  

I for one was so moved by the events of this day, that I came home, sat on my porch with a glass of South African wine, watching an African rainbow after a brief thundershower, and thanked my lucky stars that I am here in Botswana and lending a small hand for change!