The Life of Pai

Whaat, No Porridge

2012-02-06T00:27:00.000-08:00

Take a good look at him! You may see him in your near future! His name is Phiri, he's great looking, intelligent, has a good sense of humor, has beautiful big eyes, he's humble, and he loves porridge. He's quite the catch—does anyone want him? Ok, this is not a dating ad—really, it isn't! I just want to rent him out for about a month, he's desperate for a taste of the real world.

Phiri has been super nice to me since coming to Mmathethe, and every time he sees me, he wants to talk about America. People, including him, are so confused, they don't know what to ask after the preliminary where do you live, the Obama thing, and what's it like. During my first week here, some of the teachers had a BBQ for me, and Phiri told me he wants to marry an American girl. You don't always hear that, or at least in the seriousness that he's saying it. So trying to stir him up a bit, I say “Phiri, you'd have to learn how to cook.” “Cook!” “Yeah, cook!” “Oh, and help with chores, change the kids diapers, go to their soccer games, give your wife flowers on your anniversary, and for god's sake---don't ever forget hers or her mother's birthday.” “Diapers!” “Yep, diapers Phiri.” His innocent puppy dog look and smile said everything—at least he didn't pee in his own pants! However, the inquiry didn't stop, and I told him how men and women, typically, have a more equal relationship—women are actually allowed to get their needs met Phiri. “Tshepo, what are you talking about?” N.E.E.D.S.---look it up in the dictionary Phiri!

In the coming weeks, Phiri was starved for more hands on info about the USA---it's streets, it's cities, it's schools, it's people. The schools expecially got to him----almost bigger than the relationship thing. Telling him that teachers actually have to teach their classes, that they don't hit kids with sticks, or hardly yell, and kids play at lunch time. They have personalities, laugh, do art, have fun with teaching. “Fun—what kind of fun?” “Phiri, just like the relationship thing—they interact!” Yet again, I see his ears are getting so big, they're starting to flop over. The confusion on his face is priceless, and I just want to shake him and ask him what he's thinking.

Lately, at lunch time, I've been hanging in the kitchen, waiting for yummy leftovers after the kids eat, and of course, no matter what we're doing, Phiri brings everything we're doing to the context of America. Oh no, please don't get me started on talking about food Phiri, I hate the food here! “You don't like porridge?” “Well, it's all you guys eat, night and day—I can take it in small doses, but this is ridiculous.” Still not getting it, he says, “You mean you don't eat porridge in America!” Phiri---brace yourself man---NO,--No Porridge!!! I thought the guy was gonna have a heart attack right then and there, so I try to ease his pain, telling him we can eat oatmeal, or cream of wheat is so desired, but people don't live on the stuff. He still doesn't get it, “but you don't eat maize, can you even get it there?” “Phiri, I hate to burst your American bubble, but again, NO Phiri, no maize, no soft porridge, NO, NO, NO!” Poor Phiri doesn't know what to do with himself, his dreams of America are cracking before my very eyes! But I soften things, telling him I'm sure that if we found real Africans there, we can find him some porridge! Aah, his ears relax!

I feel like packing his little bag, taking him to NYC, letting him off the leash, saying—go boy---just go and look at the beautiful people, go eat a pastrami sandwich, or better yet go to Candle Cafe and eat a real veggie meal---that'll really get ya! Go see Wall Street and the Statue of Liberty, go hang out in Greenwich Village, see a show, dance the night away in the city that never sleeps---GO Phiri, GO Man, make your head spin with a good dose of Americana, but be careful crossing the streets Phiri—there are cars instead of donkey carts, and lots and lots of people---then come back to me in a week with a report....that is, if you've managed to stay alive without your porridge!

When people have told me about other places in the world, or I see things on TV, it's not shocking to me, there's a sense about it. Yeah, it's hard not living in culinary heaven here, and sure, we all want our comfort foods, but when I tell my beautiful nieces about life here, even young Sofie, they get it! More and more I see that when you're shut out from the world, nothing makes sense the way it should, and things are just hard to comprehend. That's what's happening to Phiri, he's trying to comprehend something that doesn't exist in his world. But it's not like we're in Ethiopia or the Congo! We're in Botswana—there's TV, people watch soaps, they rent movies, watch the world news, there are big evolved cities, but still, something is missing, something deeply hard to grasp for most people. So, the American here in Mmathethe is trying to fill some of those gaps, and having a great time making that world real for them. But poor Phiri--if anyone does take him for a spell, please, please, please---find some maize for the guy!

Birthday Brownie Phantom

2012-01-30T05:56:00.000-08:00

"Birthday's are good for you---Statistics show that people who have the most live the longest." L. Lorenzoni

Birthdays are pretty special! Theyshould be celebrated, it's your day, it's the day you came out intothe world and said hey, this is pretty cool, I can't wait to walk,talk, lose money in the stock market, and see what life has in storefor me. Hopefully, the family you chose to come into loves youenough to celebrate who you are everyday, but especially on yourbirthday. This year, I'm spending my birthday a world away from thosethat really mean something to me, and in a world wherebirthdays aren't on top of everyones list of celebrations. Nevertheless, I chose to have a small celebration, a few days early, with some of my PCV buddies, but it just didn't seem right in many ways to make a bigdeal of it---first off, I'm in Africa where people don't have much,secondly, I'm a winter baby and it's hotter than hot here—I shouldbe waking up to making snow angels outside, and drinking hotcocoa---and lastly, 55 is a little scary---it means your goingtowards 60. YIKES...in dog years, I'm dead!

But this birthday is not about me,it's about a family that I call my own now. I recall a conversationwith them, telling me that not one of them have ever celebrated abirthday. NEVER! Not even young Kesego---mom didn't even know whenher birthday was! How can that be? How can you never have had aBirthday? Do you even know how old you are? Have you ever evenwanted just one birthday wish? The questions are burning inside me,so I start taking a little survey around, and sure enough, I gotsimilar answers, though some recall having small celebrations as achild, or for their own kids when they were young, but definitely,after a certain age, forget it! Granted, this was no huge sampling,but I do notice at school that no one ever talks of birthdays either. In fact, I told several people it was my birthday, and only oneperson faintly smiled about it. Gee thanks! Since I'm not gonna letgo of this non-birthday thing, I emailed home for someone to sendsomething I could easily bake and doesn't have bleeping bleep in it! Several weeks later, I received a wholesome brownie mix, and all Ineeded was an egg, water, and olive oil. I can handle this—what arelief! So with my egg in my side pocket, I hop on the kombie toKanye, telling my family we're having a birthday party for everyone. This went over really well...they just stared at me and my egg! Butthey're troopers---I know they'll love it!

The Brownie cake was easy to make, Iput the candles on, and with not too much emotion, except from moi,we all sing happy birthday in English, then in Setswana, and we blowout the candles---well, I blew out the candles---and we made awish—well, I made a wish. They didn't quite get it even thougheverything was explained before hand. Sadly, they really didn't evenknow how to make a wish in this context, and Kesego didn't have anyconcept of what a wish even was, though her eyes were as big assaucers looking at the candles. So I made the wish for them---thewish of more of life's celebrations for the family and the people ofAfrica!

This family, who never eats sweets,devoured the delicious natural brownies, and then we all played UNO,and laughed the night away---there's nothing like a sugar rush topump a family up! Morning came, and thinking there were somebrownies left over, Dad, who rarely is emotional, said “Tshepo,where's the food?” “What food papa?” “You know, the goodstuff from America.” “Ah, the brownies.” “Yeah those.” Ilooked around, and he was looking frantically---”Papa, I think wehad a Brownie Phantom in the middle of the night.” OMG, you shouldhave seen the look on his poor little face! You would've thought hiswife died—but uh oh, I think she is going to die—I think she'sthe Phantom! Watch out mom---your a dead duck! Then this ever soendearing, sweet, calm man whom I've grown to love, was taken over byAmerican Brownie Evil---he grabbed me on both arms, shaking me,“Tshepo—she couldn't have eaten those brownies, we have got tofind them.” Sorry papa, they're gone,” and still holding me, hesaid, “What are we going to do?” “Kill her papa!” Iseriously thought he was gonna cry! But instead of crying orkilling, Mr. Brownie Evil starts pacing, and was in deep thought likea trial lawyer— finally, he has the million dollar solution, andintently he says, ”I know, you can get your friend to send youmore---Yeah, that's what you'll do, right Tshep!” Sure enoughpapa! Case closed!

So there it is, a 60 something year oldman, possessed by a birthday brownie. How charming, how real! Seewhat a little dose of Americana does to people around here---it makesthem crazy for more, crazy for things they don't know about or have,it makes them crazy, crazy, crazy! Now I just hope mom runs for herlife when she wakes up!

Teen Club

2012-01-20T23:29:00.000-08:00

Before school break began, I started a teen club with about 20 kids. Initially I knew it would be ok, but only one or two kids actually spoke, the others just stared at me, and I wondered how long it would take to break the ice for things to evolve. Come on kids, it's been 2 weeks already, what's up! Nothing! But to my delight, school is back, and after the first few days, some kids come up to me asking about Teen Club. Ok, next Tuesday, 3pm, meet me in the computer lab, spread the word. Lo and behold, all of them show, except those who have been transferred, so we decide to invite some new students in. With my counterpart, Seo, at my side, we start planning our schedule of things we want to accomplish in the next 6 months—planting a garden, doing a talent show, a spelling bee, and of course, they want to learn Tai Chi. Not that I had any influence over that one!

Seo sees that things are under control, so she excuses herself, leaving me to continue on with 17 teenagers. Sure, no problem, I'm a seasoned Psychologist, I can handle anything---but the minute she left, things dramatically changed. I felt like I was in the scene of the Sound of Music, ok I'm dating myself, but does anyone remember the scene in the beginning of the movie when Julie Andrews is meeting the kids, then after telling her all the rules, the Captain leaves, and all the children come right up to her face, saying things, and ultimately leaving a frog in her pocket. Well, this is the same exact scene here when Seo leaves---17 darling teens are immediately in my face, they couldn't get close enough, and I hear voices, lots of voices.......”Do you know my name...I saw you on a Kombie...I saw you in Kanye...I saw you taking photos at the clinic...Why aren't you taking photos of me...I saw you talking to someone...I saw you walking....Why were you in Kanye...Do you remember I came to your house...did you like the choirs, I saw you there...what's your real name?” It went on and on and on, and my ears and my eyes are trying to follow who's asking what, but I can't breath because it's stifling hot, and I'm smothered by teens, smothered by their voices, smothered by their sweet curiosity, and smothered with the thought that if they put a snake in my pocket I'm going to faint! Hey kids, why didn't you say hi if you saw me? Blank! Yet once I get them to sit down and after I check my pockets, they wanted answers to each and every question. So with huge glued eyes, all questions are answered, and now, because of the explanation about the picture taking, they want to do a project for my correspondence class in NY! They really are great kids! Oh, they were so thrilled with my real name, that they demanded that I write it on each and everyone of their hands. This is too much!

With such command, I try ending the group, but one person asks nicely if she can touch my hair. American hair is a big deal here! Naively, I thought I heard ONE girl ask, and in a split second, 17 kids are in my hair, and then in a matter of minutes, I come out looking like one of the Little Rascals, with braids sticking up and flying all over the place. They are thrilled with their work of art! Finally, we call it quits for the day---they leave happy, but one girl stays behind. When all are safely gone, the girl gives me the sweetest look, though her eyes tell a story---and she simply says-- “I'm an orphan.” I put my arm around her shoulders, and the girl, and me and my hair walk out together. No words were needed---she knew I understood there was pain, and if needed, I would be there for her to talk to.

As life here evolves, there's going to be fun times, story times, and sad realistic times to come to terms with. The fun and games, the projects, won't take away some of these kids pain, but maybe for just a few moments, some of them can feel respected and empowered! And from there, who knows---but for the time being, that's all I can hope for!

Bad doggie

2012-01-20T23:28:00.001-08:00

What on earth did I get myself into now! Keoki somehow thought I needed him to protect me, and maybe he's right, but he's a nut case. Granted, he's still considered a puppy, but he doesn't understand English, and I don't understand Setswana, so we have a real problem here. Even when I imitate others telling Keoki to stop his shennegans, he still doesn't listen...I think it's my accent, because he just looks at me and laughs, and the villagers are also laughing at me, or just shaking their heads watching me try to deal with this dog. Keoki doesn't stop jumping on me to play, biting me, scratching me, following me to school, and screaming when I leave. He's hyper, destructive, untrainable, completely crazy, and becoming more popular than I am around here. This is not fair Keoki! Trying to calm him in the evening, he follows me for a long walk, then when we get home, I take a pair of pants he found, he takes one leg, I take the other, and we run around the yard, and he gets to pull as hard as his little heart wants while I swing him all around. He has boundless energy, and this dogggie bonding is causing quite the talk of the neighborhood. Because he's had a taste of being Americanized, he is completely ruined! I hate this dog! I mean it—I really hate him! Even when he pops his long face on my lap and looks at me with his big puppy eyes, I laugh, but I still hate him! Oh, did I mention when I hung my laundry out the other day, my neighbor woke me from a sound nap, telling me that Keoki has struck again. Whaaat---I go out to see my laundry all over the nice red African dirt. Did I mention that I HATE this dog!

Recently, Keoki has developed a shoe fetish. No joke! I've come home on 4 consecutive days to all sorts of shoes in my yard---black shoes, sandles, women's heels, kids school uniform shoes, big men's shoes---have I left anything out? He then digs holes in the yard to bury some of them, and the rest he likes to ferociously play with. The embarressment it's causing when someone walks by, looking, and says, “I think that's my shoe.” Oh God help me! Maybe I should just start a shoe store and sell them for flee market prices. Whatta ya think? I am completely beside myself here! So with the fact that I'll be going to a training for 10 days soon, I asked my neighbor if he would build Keoki a dog house. Well, my good intentions has made Keoki completely ticked off! He is so not happy with this house, and now he won't even set foot on the little area that he had been sleeping on. I just don't know how to handle this situation, so guilt ridden me, goes and spends even more of my measly salary on buying him some cow with lots of bones---this should surely lure him back to sanity. But no, he isn't going near the bones if they're near the house, and he starts glaring at me, “Why on earth have you ruined my perfect world?” Ok baby, I hate you, but here's your bones, and where on earth are you going to sleep tonight, or when it's storming, or freezing outside in our winter time you crazy dog. The Peace Corps then interrupts my day, asking me to come to Gaborone to pick up rent money because there's been some confusion with that---”Sorry, I have no money to get there, I've had some urgent things to deal with.” “Ok Lynn, is everything alright?” “Sure, I can work it out myself---see you next week at training.” They should only know why I have to postpone the rent money!

Anyway, back to Keoki---His sleeping patterns, the scratches and bites all over me are only half my problem---now he has a hussy girlfriend who comes to call on him daily around 6pm. The nerve of her! I sit him down---well--he doesn't really sit---but I have a long talk with him about him being to young to date, and getting girls pregnant. He listens to my schpeel, and off he goes on his hot date! The girlfriend is so ugly, that if they have puppies, I'll be the grandma of the ugliest dogs in Africa---I'm thrilled!

Keoki is just a dog, but maybe I should learn some lessons from him---he is African after all, and we do have our cultural differences to deal with! Maybe the lesson is to let him just be African, to not impose my values on him---let him have all the kids he wants out of wedlock like everyone else around here does--let him sleep in the rain and cold---let him run around barefoot, even though he has more shoes than anyone else around here---let him be unruly, because nobody has physical boundaries, or follows rules around here anyway! Maybe the lesson is for me to be free too, to give up rules and any scrupples---this sounds good to me—Ok Keoki, you win---and off I go throwing my shoes to the wind!

P.S. Marilyn, can you please send me my black shoes in my closet as soon as possible!

The Humans should be crazy

2012-01-20T23:28:00.000-08:00

Recently, I re-watched “The Gods must be Crazy,” which was filmed in Botswana. I'd forgotten what a a great and enlightening movie this was, where the bush people's lives are intertwined in a revelation into being impacted with new evils, which what we would refer to as mere trash. A coke bottle leads this movie away into which we learn concepts about a utopian society. The Bushman live in an area where any normal person would die from malnutrition, they live in complete isolation from the world, and do not have to deal with others. They don't punish children because children are well behaved, they use arrows to help hunt animals, and in general, they live in a peaceful world. This sounds so ideal that it makes me want to be transported there. Oh, in a way I am there—or near there anyway, maybe I'll hop the next Kombie and see for myself what utopia is really about!

It's funny how a coke bottle that got sent from the sky led them to think it was from the heavens itself, and suddenly an unfamiliar emotion came involved. Anger, jealousy, violence, all came from this new bottle, and the unbreakable bottle was ultimately referred to as an evil thing. The gods were crazy because they only sent rain and sunlight, and now the bottle was something different. The bottle, which they thought was a gift from the God's, turned into evil when the village was fighting over it's usage. There's a whole realm without knowledge of outer evils, and a realm in which we take for granted the precious things that we have. To other people, that bottle is mere trash, but this trash becomes someone elses treasure, and gives them a vision of the realm outside their comfort zone. Everything was peaceful until something of the unknown came into existence.

I write about this movie because in some ways I feel like that coke bottle. An unknown, a crazy human, having been dropped into this small village. Being the lone white person who talks different, acts different, eats different, and moves different from them, is causing this village some upheaval. Not to mean that it's a bad upheaval, but it's making the villagers look beyond the confines of what they know, to test reactions of feeling emotionally threatened or perceived envy, and testing their levels and layers of curiosity to a world outside of their own. Even though this wasn't part of the movie, the words to a very popular Paul Simon song comes flooding into my mind because it captures my feelings:

“A man walks down the street

It's a street in a strange world

Maybe it's the Third World

Maybe it's his first time around

He doesn't speak the language

He holds no currency

He's a foreign man

He is surrounded by the soOoOound,

soOoOound

Cattle in the Marketplace

Scatterlings and orphanages

He looks around, around

He sees angels in the architecture

Spinning in infinity

He says Amen! And Hallelujah!

I, too, vascillate between wanting to preserve old ways and moving forward, but no matter, in my mind, it's good in any society to have different feelings---it's good that human's are a little crazy, we can't just feel the same way about everything all the time. Botswana is a society that is based on high ideals, and it may still strive for the utopian what if everything was fine, no crime, and everyone lives peaceful lives. Yet, whether they want it or not, Botswana is also very much a developing country, but this small village has a strange coke bottle in it. Having now lived here for several months, I feel the strangeness from them, I feel it from me to them too, but I embrace those feelings, learn from them, grow from them, and laugh from them. Because of all the differences and feelings, I now have an empathy for the Batswana people, but most of all, I'm gonna try not to litter as best I can, with the knowledge that throwing something vertically in the air won't solve our problems.

African Skies

2012-01-17T23:03:00.000-08:00

"Last night I lay in bed looking up at the stars in the sky, and I thought to myself, where the heck in the ceiling!"

The incurable romantic in me can't stop being in awe of the African skies, so I decided that they deserve an entire blog post, even though it's hard to capture this in words. There have been many times in my life where I've looked up to a brilliant sky filled with stars---in the Rocky Mountains, North Carolina, and in Peru where I first saw the Southern Cross. The sun setting off the coast of California and west Florida, or behind the amazing Himalayas is equally as amazing as the stars, yet nothing seems to compare with the skies of Africa. Being on safari in Zambia over a year ago, I asked someone if it was my imagination, or if the skies here seem vastly different than anywhere else. The man instantly agreed with my perception, trying to explain it away with how the unspoiled endless plains are giving it that feel. No matter, it really doesn't need an explanation, it's simply magnificant, magical, mystical!

Each night as I clean up in the kitchen, through the window, I watch the sun go down amidst the trees, with one lone tall tree that somehow makes it's own statement of pure beauty. Night after night, I am amazed of the colors that light up the sky—night after night, it never looks the same, even though that one tree remains the same---night after night, it never ceases to stop me dead in my tracks. The sky then darkens, giving way to the Southern Cross and a million of it's brothers and sister stars. Some nights I look out to see a part of the sky looking as white as a glass of milk, hence the milky way I guess, and other nights, each star in this huge galaxy is clearly visible and radiates in a glow that seems to brighten the entire village, leaving distant reminders of the tech world that seems so irrelevant when you contemplate the universe. The stars seem close enough to touch them at times, and when the moon takes it's many shapes throughout the month, it seems to have it's own relationship with the stars. When the moon is full, the stars disappear, and it's the one night that it's the moons turn to shine and stand alone.

During the day, especially on safari, the unspoiled plains show the rays of sun all day long. It's incredible! Ok, is everyone reading this ready to come check it out, or at least put it on your bucket list? This evening, as Keoki and I were walking about the village, to my left, the sun was setting through some clouds showing bright shades of fire red and yellows, to my right the full moon was showing it's face, and in the not to far distance, there were huge, dramatic bolts of lightning. My eyes didn't know which way to look first, and it made me feel so far away from the life I once led. It just seems that no matter what's happening on the nature side, it's bigger, brighter, and more dramatic here than anywhere else on earth. One night during training, my mom asked me why I go outside. I told her that in my wildest dreams, I never thought I'd see anything like what's her backyard on a nightly basis—something so unique—so African. So like a good mom, she comes to check out what it was I was seeing. She agreed it was beautiful, how you can feel the presence in the skies, yet sadly, she said it was too bad that it's just taken for granted here, that most people can't even point out the Southern Cross, or even know what it is for that matter. What a shame that we all take for granted what's in our own backyards! With all this beauty around me, I feel incredibly fortunate to be experiencing this continent, and incurable romantic or not, for the next two years, I for one, will never stop looking towards the African skies.

Let's Pray

2012-01-14T12:36:00.000-08:00

Let's Pray!

Ok here—it's hard to stop laughing,or at least to be bemused by what happens on a daily basis in my newschool and town. On my first day of school, we have, supposedly, aone hour orientation for the new form 1 students. This meetingstarted around 9, or whenever someone shows, but one hour lasted til3pm, no lunch, no english! Why is it so long you ask? I thinkthey're praying, that's something that happens a lot around theseparts.

Day 2—with not much to do but wanderaround, I ask my friend Nani in the kitchen why there isn't lunch forthe kids today—no water in the village, no lunch. Poor babies---Isee some goats over yonder, let's get a couple and fry 'em up! Chuckle! But still, no food! Let's Pray!

Day 3—I go up to the day guard, whois a sweet old man, and I ask him if he could intercept the donkeycart to come and collect my overflowing garbage that hasn't beenpicked up in three weeks. No donkey carts come to the house, but Icome home to many donkeys in my yard, eating my weeds. Heydonkeys—either get out or take my garbage. They do neither! Mynew friend, Keoki the dog, sees that his master is distressed, so heturns into a farm boy, and lo and behold, he barks them away—but Istill have my garbage. So next morning, I tell the guard that onFriday, I'll wait at the house for them. Ok, it's Friday, one cartcomes to pick up the garbage: “Tsepho, can you make us breakfastsince we got your garbage?” “Uh, not a chance today, besides, Ipaid for this service, and breakfast isn't in the contract” “Well,we'll get breakfast next time.” Yeah right---whenever next timemay be! Five minutes later, another donkey cart pulls up. Boy, it'sreally my day for garbage pick up! I try to explain to them that oneother cart just came to pick the garbage up, and they are totallybaffled. Fun! At least they didn't ask for breakfast! When I get toschool, I'm asked why I don't have my own donkey cart, and then askedby another why I have garbage. Well, because I really don't likedonkeys, and secondly, I like to eat! Tsep—you should eatdifferent then. Sure, I'll eat porridge and cabbage everyday of mylife here like you do, and once in awhile I'll slaughter a cow forprotein---this will make everyone happy! Seriously, it will!

Back to day 3—walking around campuswith nothing to do, I see that only some classes have teachers inthem. “What's up?” “Well, we really don't know what we'redoing yet”--”Oh, why's that?” “I don't know.” “Whydon't you pick up where you left off last term?” “Uh, I don'tknow, maybe next week we'll know more.” Great, at least the kidsaren't destroying the classrooms—oops--there's nothing to destroy! So then my gun ho counterpart, who is always busy with kid problems,shows me our schedule so I can shadow her doing our Life Skillsclasses. This is getting me really excited—so I wait for our firstclass---uh, no counterpart. I find her later, and she politelystates someone needs to be adopted, and she has to deal with it. Hmm, in our country, the guidance counselor doesn't do adoptions. Next class, no counterpart—sorry Tsep, a student didn't have auniform and we had to deal with this crisis. OK! Finally on Day 4 Iget to observe a 20 minute Life Skills class, where the kids won'tspeak. Excellent! They probably didn't talk because they were inshock of actually seeing a teacher. Day 4 continues with some kidsfighting. Why doesn't someone stop this? Why doesn't anyone teachso they don't fight? “We're tired!” TIRED, you just had 7 weeksoff--”we're tired from last year still.” The police come for avisit to the school, but the fight has long ended, and they're justthere to check on something else. I see my police friends--”HeyTsepho, howzit.” “Great, how come you guys don't come to myhouse when I call you scared half to death?” “We're tired!” “Tsepho, I haven't had a day off in forever.” My oh my, ifeveryone's so tired, why don't they get some sleep, or go for adonkey cart ride to liven things up! OY! Let's Pray!

Day 5—Forget this school stuff, Iwander to the Post Office to play on the internet, on the waydaydreaming of having a cappuccino and reading the NY times in my oldbeloved Wildberries. Later on, I put daydreams aside, and go to alate afternoon teacher meeting. Boy, I can't wait to see how thisgoes! The meeting is held in a computer room with none that work,and we're all sitting behind these big archaic machines, so you canbarely even see who's across from you. At least the speakerstands---this is smart! Meeting starts with praying—then we'reasked to review and correct last meetings minutes. Teacher speakswanting to correct typos in minutes on page one—VP speaks—maybewe'll be here all day if we correct typos—let's pray. Going onwith the meeting agenda, someone starts to expand on a topic—VPsays, we'll be here all day if we keep talking—let's pray! VP asksfor help on a different topic—no response! Let's Pray! Ah, wehave a new subject this term, French, yay, maybe I'll sit in on thisclass—whaaat---no French teacher, and the students haven't beenbriefed about this, but maybe they'll find us one soon---yeah right,just like they'll find me a refrig soon! “How many students shouldwe put into the class?”—no response! Let's Pray!

As the meeting adjourns ,with a prayerof course, my counterpart tells me to have a great weekend and sayswe'll do lot's of work next week—yeah sure! Don't get me wronghere, the teachers are great, one is teaching me Setswana for free,one comes over my house to learn chi gong and meditation, and a fewwant me to try the traditional brew made around these parts. I'm nota big drinker, but sure, I'll try anything, the other day I tried amobane worm! Disgusting! What I found out this first real week ofschool is that there are rules--but who knows what they are, classesare taught or not, meetings happen but nobody tells you til the lastminute, or you're just magically supposed to know, and Africans knowno time. Things just happen when they happen, and you just have todeal with it! No wonder the Peace Corps stresses that patience isvirtue. But yay, it's Friday, and in the comfort of my new bugridden home, with my new crazy dog, my friend Leah stopping by totell me how happy she is that our friendship has time to get broad,and with the loudest crackling thunder in the background, I sit ingratitude for the humor around me--but I wonder if anyone knows aFrench teacher to import to us! Let's Pray!

P.S. I'll be in a Peace Corps trainingfrom Jan 22-31, (then I turn 55 years young on Feb. 1), so if youdon't see any new posts during that time, it's because I may not haveinternet! Thanks to everyone who has sent me stuff from thestates---but hey—it's causing a big garbage problem! Let's Pray!

Sisterly love!

2012-01-14T12:35:00.000-08:00

Family takes on different meanings at different times in ones life. We have our natural family, friend families, work families, and animal families. So here in Botswana, I am not surprised to have another family, actually two families, my host family, and my Peace Corps family...it's just par for the course. I grew up having just one brother who is tall, handsome, successful, quiet, and let's see what other good stuff I can say about him. Me, I was opposite...short, active, curious, and always in trouble...but successful too! Brothers do funny things to show their love and affection like hiding in your closet and pretending he's a ghost, or telling me that my bed is from Africa with snakes in it, or tickling me under the chin til I was tortured. Nice guy, ya gotta watch out for those nice quiet ones. He even taught my 3 nieces how to torture me under the chin. Even though those were childhood experiences, it's no wonder I check my bed here every night for snakes, well, it's not really a bed, but I am sleeping in Africa. Wouldn't it have been nice to have sisters, especially older ones who would show you the way. Not that I want to get rid of my brother, but hey! It was so much fun hanging out with my older girl cousins growing up in the old days, as well as watching my grandmother and her 3 sisters go at it all the time. There just didn't seem anything that could break that bond. Now in Africa, I seemed to have gotten my wish with 3 sisters I can call my own. Kesego is 6 and we have an established relationship...she rules the roost, and I turn into a 6 year old, pouting when I don't win a game. Peo, 23, is sometimes in her own internet world, but we've had some really good, long chats about life. She has even snapped at me a few times---makes me feel right at home. Joy, 36, the outgoing one, is living in the UK getting her Ph.D. She comes homes every so often, but most recently she was in China for several months doing an internship. Joy hated China, hated it's food, hated it's people, hated it's street life, hated everything. I'm here drooling over her descriptions of the food, the people who shove you all around, and it's vibrant street life. Gee Joy, ya couldn't have even brought me an egg roll for the new year! Joy is great though, and the minute she landed in Botswana, she called me to say hi! Now that's a nice sister--eggroll or not!

Recently, it was about 4 in the afternoon, when Joy and Mom came knocking on my door in Mmathethe, with a food basket, and telling me to get dressed we're going out a night on the town. Uh, what town? There's nothing around for at least 30 miles or so. What the hey---I ate my late lunch, packed an overnight bag just in case, fed crazy Keoki, and hopped in the car. "Where we going mom." "I don't know, we're just going like the birds do." Great, I love being a free spirit, going to nowhere in 500 degree heat. She was right, we wound up in the middle of nowhere to watch traditional dancers and singers bringing in the New Year. It was so beautiful out in the middle of nowheresville. Mom immediately noticed that so many were greeting me, so she said, "Tshepo, since you are the Mayor around here, can you get us some food." They only cook for the dancers, but I was served immediately! It feels good to have Mayor status in these parts! As soon as I got my plate, Joy shoved her hands in and ate everything. "Tshep, you better get something for mom." I get another plate, and Joy shoves her hands in and eats everything. I slap her vulture hands, embarrassed, I ask humbly for another plate. "Tshepo, you sure are hungry tonight." "Yes, I haven't eaten in days, I'm as starved as a vulture." "Well then, you can have anything you want sweetie." Joy is behind me laughing, and mom is just proud to have a daughter with clout around the food table! Joy is satiated now, sitting back on the chair, as I sit on the dirt, leaning up against her legs. She leans over and tells me that as much as misses African food, she misses the smell of the dirt more. I tilt my head back to watch her proudly sniffing and watching her native land. I guess no matter where you are, home never leaves you, and I sat wondering how many plates I'll stick my hands into whenever I get home.

That night, the 4 of us sisters sat huddled together, laughing about Joy being a pig, and talking about mom, family, our differences, and wondering why nobody in this town has a pool we can cool off in. Since it's so hot, we all fall asleep in the only semi-cool room in the house. I awoke before all with Joy's feet in my face, Kesego's head on my stomach, Peo dreaming of Facebook, and mom at the doorway just looking at this sight. She motioned for me to get up, and when I did, she gave me a heartfelt look, one of those right through your soul looks, and said to me, "Tshepo, you were meant to come here." Anxiously waiting for her to tell my why on earth I'm not in Asia where my heart is, she says, "We have been your family for many moons, now go wash your mouth and make us breakfast." Frankly, I didn't think she had it in her to talk like a far out Californian, but something in her knows that we were meant to find each other.

sister Joy enjoying birthday brownies from the USA

I don't know how my time here will play out, or what's in store, but maybe she's right---maybe this family and I are cosmically tied to one another in some way. What I do know is that I feel very loved by each and every one of them, especially my sisters, and I feel a sense of peace brewing in me---something I haven't felt in a very long time. It's funny though, last night when we got home, out of the blue, mom said, "wouldn't it nice if we were in Thailand." I popped up and started packing my bags! But no matter, whether in Thailand or Africa, I have 3 sisters and great family ties here in Africa that I have come to love----now only if I had that egg roll--life would be perfect!

The Hitch Hiker!

2012-01-02T10:35:00.000-08:00

Hitch hiking is a part of being in Botswana. Everyone does it, it's easy, it's fast, it's safe! Back in the 60's in the good old USA, hitching used to be cool, but nowadays it's sadly a dying form of transport. Late today, the hippie spirit in me, hitched a ride to Kanye, and was picked up by a really nice lady coming home from a days work. Of course everyone you meet wants to know what a white woman is doing here, how we like Botswana, and how many kids do you have. Women are respected for having children, and because of the low population in Botswana, even the President encourages women to have lots of babies, whether they are in or out of wedlock. Knowing this, (and being a little sick of women putting me down with their eyes when I tell them I have no children), I tell her I have a respectable 3 kids, Nikko, Simon, and Alex, who are currently living with their Aunt Marilyn. I had 4 children, one of them, Sasha, died a year ago from a bum kidney at the tender age of 14. The woman driving is pleased that I have children, sympathetic about my Sashi, yet doesn't think twice about them living with an aunt. Most children at a certain age here live with a relative due to schooling or other purposes. I am ever so pleased, if not amused, with my fabricated story to save face on this given day. It's actually an innocuous fabrication, she doesn't need to know that my children all have 4 legs and fir!

Inevitably, when talking with an African for any length of time, the American is always questioned about Obama. Some ask questions with confidence---”Do you know Obama?” “Yeah, he lives down the street from me, and Michelle is in my bookclub.” “Oh, isn't she just wonderful?” “Sure is, and don't you just love her hair!” Quizzically, others ask, as this woman did, “How do you think he's doing as President?” “Well, our economy is down the drain, our country is falling apart, and Obama has practiced for 3 years saying to foreign dignitaries “Hi, I'm not George Bush!” Yet others with more puzzled looks in their eyes, almost afraid of an answer, ask, “Do you like him?” “Sure I do, astrologically he's a Leo, and an Ox in Chinese Astrology, I should be a perfect match for him—but did you know he hates mayonaise.” “Huh!” “What sign are you?” “Huh!”

Africans have always had divergent views on Americans, and since Obama has Kenyan heritage, he has changed some of their views on America. Obama holds a special place in their hearts. In fact, this woman says that Obama has a King's status here in Africa, well, even more, he is revered like a God. Whew, that's big! When Obama came to Africa he said, “You can conquer disease, end conflicts, and make changes from the bottom up.” These are words they hold onto—this is also, in part, of why Peace Corps is here. When Michelle came to Botswana last April, this woman said she never saw someone so beautiful in her whole life—she is also our role model, our hero as women! Notably, the PCV's got to meet her—I wish I had been there then--what a thrill it was for them! Anyway, we went onto talk about people in Africa idolizing America even more because of the Obama's---she called the USA the land of opportunity with unimaginable wealth—a place where Africans, like herself, can only hope one day to see with their own eyes.

How does one really respond to something like this? Yeah, America is great in many ways, but lady, I left because our abundance is making me crazy, and ruining our children to an extent. Obama did break racial barriers in our country, which is a good thing, but I always thought there would be a woman President before a black President, and he's certainly not held in King or Godly status. You, as Africans, should be happy with your simplicity, embrace it, you are living where humankind began—nothing can strip that away! The Dali Lama would be proud of the simplicity here in Africa---Ok Tshepo, get a grip! As this woman went into a dream-like state and started swirving off the road, I call her back, “hey lady, he isn't that good looking.” Coming back onto the road, she replied, “Oh yes he is—in our eyes, not only is he good looking, he's everything!” I realized then, that Obama, is somehow their string of hope!

As we were approaching the gentle rolling hills of Kanye, she asks my name, asks me if I miss my kids, and thanks me for the conversation. Smiling, she said, “Tshepo, since you know Obama, I won't charge you for the ride.” Wow, this was a great hitch, ke a laboga! Thanks lady! I'll tell Michelle you said hi!

When I got home to my ever level headed mom in Kanye, I told her all about my hitch hiking experience with the nice lady swirving off the road. Agreeing that Obama was/is so popular, she too, couldn't help but jump on the Obama bandwagon, but she's to even keeled to revere him like a God. And so, for the next 2 hours, mom and I cooked my ever so favorite African foods, had a wonderful and heartfelt chat about politics, children, life---and as the bright stars came out over the African sky, mom said the family nightly prayer, asking God to forgive me for my sin today, but with humor, blessed my children anyway!

A Gardeners Soul

2011-12-30T10:51:00.000-08:00

“To dig one's spade into one's own earth—has life anything better to offer than this.” B. Nichols

“I wake up every morning, go outsideto touch my garden—to feel it's leaves—to smell it's flower's--to water and nurture—this is what makes me happy.” These are thewords of my good friend Leah!

The day I walked past her house andgarden, my mouth dropped in awe. Have I seen more beautiful, lushgardens before, absolutely, but there was something uniquely specialin this land—something spiritual from someone's soul that grabbedme into stillness. Moments later, the most beautiful woman came toopen the gate saying, “you are welcome.” She somehow got that Isaw “her being” through her garden. Taking a good look into hereyes, and without words, we began walking her land. Green beerbottles were used for borders, old tires were painted which gracedthe entrance way, and used for decoration around plants and trees,sticks and limbs of trees were carefully placed for seating or fordramatic backdrops for other greenery, and stones, both large andsmall, were situated in a fen-shui manner—some were painted, othersnot—but there in her garden was a poetic and mysterious feeling ofserenity and joy. The entire ambiance, and the nature of this womanwas pleasing to the eye, and pleasing to the soul—It was, indeed, apiece of heaven! Thanking her, I left as quietly and as in awe as Icame in.

Her name is Leah—biblical andbeautiful! In the weeks to come, we slowly became friends. Myadmiration for what she has created made her laugh at times, but asour friendship grew, she invited me into her humble home, whereagain, I was stopped by the magic in her creation of bringing natureinto one single room. Baskets and weavings from Zimbabwe, sticksthat she made into works of art, skeleton parts from animals—allfit into an assembly that a museum would be proud to display. It wason this day that Leah put her hands to her heart and said, “I havevery little, but I have my art, and my garden—nobody can take thataway, so I guess I have a lot!” Not yet knowing her story, I knewthat all her hurts were healed through her creation here.

Leah grew up in a family of 5 childrenwith loving parents. She did not attend a University, nor was sheencouraged to do something with her life. She did, however, receivelove from her family which has given her the inner fortitude tocombat whatever came her way. As a child, Leah would create thingswith rocks or painting—saying that she knew then that she had Godgiven talent. At 26 years of age, Leah married, having 4 children ofher own, though it was a brutal marriage, and a rough divorce. Shecame back to Mmathethe with nothing, and told me that her garden usedto be more beautiful, but having left for several years due to thedivorce, things fell apart. Now she is rebuilding her garden and hersoul. Looking at her, she seems to know who she is, what herrelation to the world is, and what to expect of it. Most otherswould have damaged psyche's from the stress, but not Leah—she hadher talent, and her garden, to pull her through the rough times!

Willingly, Leah tells me that Africa isin her soul, and that she's proud to be an African. I ask her whythat was, and looking up, she points and says, “there's art in ourskies,” “people come from all over the world to see our nature,and our animals—yes indeed, I am very proud to be an African.” Ithen asked her if she were to pick anywhere in the world to visit,where would that be—Paris. Of course an artists' mind would pickParis, even though she had never even heard of the Louvre, but withthat, Leah put her arm through mine, and we pretend to be walking thenarrow cobblestone streets of the left bank, sitting at a cafe havingan espresso and croissant, beeming at the sight of the Mona Lisa,watching people as we sit on the steps of Notre Dame, and walkingalong the Sienne—admiring the lined statues, and in the distance,admiring the strength of the Eifle Tower. I was her eyes for ourstroll through Paris, and her own eyes were filled with wonder for amoment in time. “But Tshepo, I will always come back to Africa!” “And you should Leah---to your own museum!”

After our trip to Paris, I took manyphotos of Leah's 3 daughters and 3 grandchildren who have beenvisiting for the holidays. Showing the photos to them on thecomputer was a thrill in itself. Somehow Africans go crazy forseeing photos! Later that afternoon, Leah called me, “Tshepo, lookoutside at the clouds—can you take a picture of them?” “SureLeah, I'd be glad to photograph any art you see.” I looked outsideto see huge cumulous clouds with bursts of sunshine in the vastskies, and through my lens, I sought to capture what Leah saw.

“Kiss of the sun for pardon,

Song of the birds for mirth.

You're closer to God's heart in a garden

Than anyplace else on earth.” D.F. Gurney

I Slept With WHO!

2011-12-30T10:25:00.001-08:00

Relationships are a funny thing—sometake the time to get to know the person—some don't care if theyknow 'em or not—some don't even do relationships. The Peace Corpswarns us about relationships because of the HIV, as well as manyother diseases and problems. Yet people fall in love, marry, or justhave an experience that they'll probably regret later on. Me, well,I am in the “pause” of menopause, yet I think I just had an“experience” in a relationship. You know, when it's New YearsEve, and it's stormy outside, your in a foreign country, a ruralvillage with more cows than people, things just get stirred. I'veonly known him for a week---Ok---don't jump out of your skin---don'tput me on the gossip circuit---don't start calling me names---justlet me explain! My porch is covered by an awning, and last week itwas windy and pouring, and the porch was flooded. At the time Ididn't have my wild beast Keoki so I didn't care. So on this stormynight, I kept opening my door to see if Keoki was getting wet. Why Ishould even care is beyond me—people in Africa don't bring in Lionand Cows when it's raining, or their dogs for that matter. It'saround 9pm and I've been up and down 3 times checking on him. Helooked so cold---so lonely--actually, he was sound asleep for thefirst time all day on the nice cardboard boxes I made for him. But Iwoke him up and asked if he wanted to come in to share a glass ofsome nice South African wine with me, to keep us warm, and tocelebrate the New Year coming in. His ears perked! Hey sure, I'vealready told all my friends about the meat and chicken your givingme, their sure to be envious of South African wine. In he comes,tale a waggin---let's make a toast Keoki since it's almost the NewYear---here's to a nice 2 year relationship and then we'll call itquits. Sounds good to me! He's so happy, and I bring him into myroom not knowing what to expect. A little leary about this, I setdown some card board for him and close the door because he'll rip upeverything I have, which is virtually nothing—but still—it's allthe nothing I have. He's ever so curious and through my mosquitonet, he starts biting my toes. How romantic boy! Somehow he weasleshis long nose under the net and climbs up on my bed, biting my arms,legs, blanket, whatever he can get a hold of. Hey, Keoki, your alittle aggressive here—after all it's our first night together,can't you be a little gentle? He finally settles and plops right atthe foot of my bed acting like he's king tut! An African dogsleeping with a Lekgoa! Wow! 10,9,8,...2,1—the ball has dropped,confetti is flying, people are kissing---and I'm sleeping with a dogin Africa! This is the weirdest New Years of my whole life!

At first it was comforting having a dogon my bed, then I looked at him and thought—what if he has topee—what if he wakes up in a strange bed, with a strange women anddecides to attack—what if he has a disease---what if he has agirlfriend---he's not even my type—he's so ugly! Yikes, what a BIGmistake I've made! Every move I make, he pops up---clearly, this isgonna be one of those long, regretful nights. I'm cracking thoughbecause I don't know what to do—his royal hyness looks so happy. The God's though are on my side, the rain stops, and I tell the dog I'm putting him back outside, but I'm now scared to openthe door because there are always people lurking around and it'slate. Getting him out of bed was not easy—I tell him that it'sbeen great, but my parents are coming home soon and he's got to getout fast, so 1,2,3, I open the door, and guess who won't budge. Finally I shove him out, he turns back to look at me through thebarred door...wondering if all white women are so fickle. See yaKeoki, I'll call ya sometime!

It's funny the things a Peace CorpsVolunteer will do under such lonely and strange circumstances! MyNew Years resolution: I resolve not to sleep with strangers!

Happy 2012 to everyone!

P.S. The South African wine wasdelicious!

Whole Foods

2011-12-28T00:52:00.001-08:00

When you're first starting out as a Peace Corps Volunteer, there's not much to do but integrate, read, and think--especially when your primary job is in the schools which have been out for 6 weeks on summer vacation. Oh sure, we have this community assessment to do, but guess what--anybody whose anybody in this small village is also away having good holiday cheer with their cows at the cattlepost, or at their lands plowing and praying for rain. So, which brings me to thinking about Whole Foods, affectionately known in the good old days as Mrs. Gooches. I wish they would have kept that name, it's so catchy! Anyway, going to Whole Foods was one of my favorite things to do, other than going to Asia of course, which tells ya how exciting my mid life was going! I went nearly everyday, knew everyone there, sometimes I would just go to look at the beautiful and delicious array of fruits and veggies, or chat with friends who frequent there. Fortunately, or unfortunately right now, in this current incarnation, I'm an organic health freak now living in a country that has the world's worst diet. They put margarine, colorings, preservatives in everything and anything, even freshly made bread. It makes me so sick that I can't even have a piece of bread, which is why I'm sitting here daydreaming about Whole Foods.

Going to the supermarket here--we'll call it Choppies--couldn't be more opposite from my Whole Foods experience---it's my least favorite thing to do. There is no market in my village, so I have to take the dreaded kombie ride to either one of two towns. No joke, the other day people were clammering and shoving me away to get on the kombie--you'd think they were running into Shea Stadium to see the Beatles. It was awful, so in an act of desperation, I put the hook of my umbrella around someone's neck so I can get in. Funny, the person could have cared less that I was trying to kill her for a dreaded kombie ride to the dreaded supermarket. Finally, I'm here, in my least favorite place in the world, and Whoa, people are shoving me around, sticking their hands and bodies over me, around me, through me, just to get freakin' can of preserverative ladened whatever. Come on people, how can you be so nice when talking in the villages, and you get in a kombie, or in a store in this case, and you turn into animals? I just don't get it! Onward to make my way to the veggie section, I close my eyes and pray that when I open them I'll be back in Whole Foods, where people are sane--they even say excuse me if bumped, they ask what you're making for dinner, they say hello, they are sooooo normal! My eyes open and reality hits--I'm still in this god foresaken Choppies---maybe if I click my heals 3 times, Santa Clause (if there was one here) will zap me to Whole Foods. Please Santa, it doesn't have to be as far as California, London will do just fine!

Groceries in hand, it is now time to check out, but this can be worse than actually getting your groceries. I compare this to the kombie rides because today, I'm in line and someone puts their groceries in my basket--just like handing over a kid to ya on the bus. Hey lady, whatta ya doing? She looks at me snarling at her, and says, "hold this, I'll be back later." Sure lady, whatever you say! I see that people just take things out they really don't want and put them on the check out stand to sit there probably til closing, so I think I'll put her stuff there too. It's finally my turn to check out, and I'm trying to get my stuff out as the checker is just staring at me--no hello, or how are you like they do at Whole Foods...just, let's get this over with! I forget to weigh an onion, so it's 10 minutes til someone comes back to tell us how much the onion is--you would think she's start ringing up the other items while we wait, but no, the common sense factor is turned off today---next item, the checker yells out "does anyone know how much this costs?" Of course nobody answers, and it's another 10 minutes finding the price of this. I look back at the people in the now longer line, and they all have the same expression on their faces as the checker---BLANK! Ok, this is really fun...I wish someone would start yelling or something---how can they be so crazy in the isles, and on the check out line, so, well, so nothing! Now the lady who put her groceries in my basket returns and shoves her way behind me, smiles at how neatly I threw her stuff on the counter. "Where'd ya go lady, Tokyo?" "Huh!" "Never mind."

It's finally over, but going outside of Choppies is also a fiasco with the so called Black Market selling potatoes and cabbage. Yum! I stop to take this all in and ask myself why on earth the PC didn't send me to Thailand with it's coconuts, vibrant markets, and gentle people I'll never know, but here I am resorting to fantasizing about Whole Foods coming to Botswana!

I wonder what my fellow PCV's have been thinking about this holiday season!

Keoki the Dog

2011-12-19T22:26:00.000-08:00

"If your dog thinks your the greatest person on earth, don't seek another opinion." J. Fiebig

They say that dog is man's best friend, and that statement couldn't be more true---feed it, love it, and wammo you have instant unconditional love! I have had dogs growing up, though my adult life has been filled with cats, who always have had the last word, and were nice enough to let me live in their house. When I came to Botswana, there was no way I wanted an animal to tie me down, besides, how fair would it be to keep and love for 2 years, then adios amigo! The other day I went to visit the family in Kanye, who were just given 2 new pups from a neighbor. Immediately, besides falling in love with the little devils, I grew a disdain at the lack of caring for animals, other than cows and goats, in this country. The poor creatures are starved for affection, someone to talk to, rub their ears, and feed them. These new pups live in a little fort outside, and mom gives it her yummy porridge. I come in play with them, talk to them, and when mom turns her back, I pour them milk, and find anything I can that doesn't look like porridge. Believe me pups, I ate the stuff for 2 months--now you're stuck with it the rest of your life, UGH! The pups are so happy at this moment, but I cannot take them. It would be unfair to domesticate them, besides this other crazy puppy, who was just left by someone around my neighborhood, has been hanging with a neighbor, though the dog has decided that he likes me better, and wisely has adopted me. The neighbor asks if I want her kid too...no thanks lady! Yeah I once threw it a steak bone once, yeah I talked to it, yeah I pet it, yeah, why wouldn't it want to adopt me. Now it was screaming at my gate, so the sucker I am, opened it and whalla...a pup is adopted. I really didn't think it would stay, but the next morning the dog is peering it's head through the barred gated door asking, "mom, what's for breakfast?" "Nothing, get out!" The tail wags more--"ok, do you want your eggs scrambled or sunny side up?" "Uh, how about soft boiled mom." "Sure doggie, soft boiled it is, and maybe I'll join you!" As we dine together, I realize that this pup needs a name, so I call him a good Hawaiin-Asian name, Keoki, that's good for an African dog don't ya think? I like it! He's skinny and scrawny, but has personality! But the neighbors are a bit confused! It's ok everyone, you'll get used to it!

So, I have a dog now---the God's obviously thought I needed one to guard me from my nightly intruders, so I'll love it in a detached way. Here is what detachment looks like---I hitch to Lobatse, about a 35 minutes drive in the back of a pickup truck, scrunched over, and holding on for dear life so I don't blow away. I run into another Volunteer who adopted two cats, and was shopping for cat food, so off we go to the store chatting about our new detachments.

Getting home was easier than going, and Keoki gets his first taste of real dog food, and the tale is whipping so hard out of happiness that it's giving me bruises on my legs. I make a bed out of cardboard boxes for him on the porch, and he is smiling away! Wow, a bed too! This is the life! It's dark now and the sky is almost white from the amount of sparkling stars. I lay in my bed hearing Keoki growling at someone---the someone's feet run away, and I peaked out the window thanking my new best friend. Tonight I slept like a puppy!

HOLIDAYS IN AFRICA

2011-12-19T21:12:00.000-08:00

"Blessed is the season which engages the whole world in a conspiracy of love!"

The holiday season is a time of gatherings, reflection, and hopefully a remembrance of others. It's a time to look back on the year and be thankful for what was received. This was a year of big change for me, and now being in Africa this season as a Peace Corps Volunteer, it definitely conjures up different images than I'm used to. I remember moving to California and it never feeling like the holidays because of the weather, though I always held onto the images of the falling leaves and the first snow fall. My aunt Eileen always made a point to call me when the snow fell because she knew the joy it brought to me. Since XMAS falls in summer here in Botswana, it's not the snowy dark wintry night, but sunshine and blooming flowers that grace the holiday season. Traditional customs differ than those I'm used to, and there won't be the smell of our baking cookies, nor our homemade mushroom and barley soup for all to share. The sight of brights lights around town, and sound of presents being open are only in my minds eye this season. Instead, African harmonies will be heard throughout the village a few days before XMAS, and reality will be about the poverty that surrounds me, the lack of visual decorations, as well as the love that's all around. It's a good time of year to become acquainted with new traditions, with that comes a realization that Africans hold an abundance of old wisdom, some of which I plan on soaking up. People use branches of trees for home decorations, and their customs include the slaughtering of cows and goats for their big holiday feast. How wonderful to be so connected to the natural resources in our backyards! Neighbors in the village all want to share their tradition of going to hear choirs sing and compete, and as we share stories, I can only hope that the cultural gaps keep adding richness to both our lives. So with a different set of eyes this year, I'll embrace the new world I'm living in.

The day after XMAS is known as Boxing Day, and it is celebrated as the day to relax---how great--give the men who killed the meat, and women who cooked it, a long day to kick back and digest the entire cow. Boxing day is actually a holiday! We should do this in the USA---just leave the leftovers out, watch a little football, and leave the wrappings from presents all over the living room because it's really the sweetest site! AAh, that sounds so good, but let's get back to Africa--I can't resort to sentiment right now or else I'll cry. Yup, the real reason to cry is not being able to watch football! How's that for sentiment! Ok Africa, I'm back---oh yeah, some of the kids around have asked about the holidays in America. Maybe I shouldn't tell them the truth, yet they are as starved for information, as much as I am starved for Chinese food. They say they wish they could be in the States so they too can get presents, but they may be better off not having the abundance we have. Yesterday a friend came over to tell me she is applying to Harvard and Yale next year so she can get a good education and come back to help people in Botswana. How awesome is that, and what a gift it was to hear it!

This year in Africa I have much to be grateful for and I hope that we all remember to give in some ways. I reflect on those I have lost this year, especially my soulful Sasha, my colleague Irwin, and those who are struggling with illness like my good buddy Jacques. I look to the star filled sky, to the red earth in the village, taking in all in, and I hold it that much more precious because they no longer can. This year I am ever so grateful to my family, Marilyn and the boys, my neighbors and friends for supporting my life altering decision. I am especially thankful for the love, humor, and acceptance of my host family, and for my new friends and students.

Happy Holidays to All!

Shirts off!

2011-12-13T13:43:00.000-08:00

School's out for the summer, which really should be holiday break, nonetheless, I'm enjoying doing what I want, and trying to lounge around on my piece of foam in the mornings. But mornings are when things happen in village life because it's so bloody hot during the day time that you can't even breathe. It's 8am and I hear donkey honks, and "Tshepo, wake up." I didn't know that donkeys can speak too! With my morning hair and PJ's, out I go to see that indeed, the garbage donkey's have finally got it down. The garbage is collected, and the two women driving the cart on this beautiful, suffocating day, asks if I remember them from the wedding attended last week. Sure, your what's his faces cousin--it's always a safe answer--everyone is a cousin to somebody here. The next thing I know the women are walking in my house telling me to make them a cup of tea. Hmm, I don't recall inviting you in, but I see I have no choice here. Do the donkeys want to come in for some tea too! I've never been anywhere before where people just do, and don't ask. "Hey Tshep--don't ya have any better tea than this?" "Nope, the Peace Corps doesn't give us tea, and by george, your not gonna get my good tea from China." As I turn to pour the tea, the two women remove their shirts and are sitting here in their bras, pouring half the bag of sugar in their tea. I don't even know your names and you're removing your clothes--gee how things go around here. Sitting here, it's hard not to be laughing my butt off, but no, I have to sit and chat about garbage collection with two shirtless, no-named women, for the next 20 minutes, and with donkeys peering through my door. Tea is finished, they put their shirts back on, and abruptly leave as they came. My day is off to a great start!

Nature walk

Hanging around the house the rest of the morning was fun, but someone named Wiseman was supposed to come and fix things around here. Of course he doesn't show, so I leave in this heat to go and find some people to talk to for this Community Assessment that's due soon. Taking the 20 minute walk to the clinic takes over an hour, but this time it's because I stop to admire some nature and talk to some with beautiful gardens. I tell them I once had a beautiful garden and they laugh in disbelief because my yard currently looks like the Munsters place. While walking around, I point out that the woman has a green thumb---well, you would've thought I was Jay Leno. She had never heard the expression before, called out her family and neighbors to come over so I can say it all over again. These people were in hysterics, and it's ten minutes of explaining what the term "green thumb" means. I'm glad to bring such laughter to these beautiful people.

Talking to nurses at the clinic and police was most interesting, but not as interesting as running into the local Vet who tells me that the biggest problem in the community is lumpy skin disease. After some inquiry, he is talking about the precious cows, but his "community" are the cows and goats. He shows me the only medicine in the clinic that they give to the animals with this disease, and I ask what happens when a dog comes in with something other than this lumpy thing--oh, we give all animals this medicine no matter what. No wonder why all the dogs look the same around here. Remind me not to go to him if I get sick! "So, Mr. Vet, where do the cows sit when they come to see you?" "Uh, they just stay outside." "Very good, I think I'll go outside too, see ya!"

Leaving the center of the village, an older woman stops me to ask what I'm doing. I tell her, and she insists I come in and talk with her and her grand daughter as well. Ok, as long as you don't take off your shirts. In a few minutes time, we discover that her and mom are good friends, and with that we are off to the races, chatting away about old times like I've been in the picture all these years. Got any good gossip for me? As we talk, she is chopping veggies into tiny pieces just like mom taught me, and then a streak of fear runs through me because she says something to the grand daughter in Setswana, and I just know it's about getting me something to eat. Please no, I can't take it--she comes out with a piece of fruit that is round, green, and hard. I look, I smile, I smell, with hopes she says to take it home so I can give it to the donkeys! Mmm, this looks delicious, what is it? An orange--oh, I should have guessed that myself, and at that she hands me a knife to carve it. Maybe we should pray before I eat so I don't break my teeth and have to see the Vet, who seems to be the only doc around here. He'll give me cow medicine when he sees the lump I just ate! The next thing I know, Mpho is inviting me for lunch tomorrow. No thanks, I have cows to talk to, but I'll be sure to stop by soon! Turning to wave as I leave the property, no bull, the grand daughter is taking off her shirt--at least she waited til I was gone!

Four hours later, my sweaty body is home, and I rip off my shirt just as I learned today. It really does feel good, but I'll put it back on as I'm not as free when a left over teacher comes to check me, and then 2 students come to play cards with me. Finally, some peace and quiet, and as I get ready to fall asleep under my mosquito net, I am comforted by the deep silence, when all of a sudden I hear the loudest MOOOOO I've ever heard---ah, just another passerby in the village coming to check me! Goodnight!

KOMBIE RIDE

2011-12-07T03:50:00.001-08:00

My mind and my senses are in overdrive since coming here, that I don't even know where to begin organizing my thoughts. My private journal is almost filled and all I ever feel like doing is writing. In a year from now things may not be so new, and I just imagine that these blog posts will be consumed with projects, along with the complexities, and layers of relationships formed with my students and village folks. For now though, everything is a story, take for example riding on a Kombie. A Kombie is a van of sorts, with torn, broken seats, and they are my only means of transport in and out of the village. Every time I get on one, I brace myself because they won't leave until it is full or overfull--meaning, it is 100+degrees and people are breathing or sneezing in your ear. They also have a superstition of wind, so if you open a window to breath, stares come in all forms. Sounds fun huh! Well it is in a way--lucky me got to spend the night in Gabs last week, our Capital, and where the Peace Corps office is. Besides getting a few great meals, my biggest thrill was being able to take a real shower, with real hot water, with real strong water pressure. It's funny how after only 3 months, a shower becomes a luxury! I'm clean for the first time in weeks, and now I have to go back to my dirt paths and cold water bucket baths. Off to the kombie--I get in, in one minute I get handed someone's huge bag, her phone, her wallet as she gets situated. They never ask if you would mind holding something, it's just given, and thank you afterwards is unheard of. One time I said God Bless You to someone who sneezed, and it started a conversation of the bible. I'll never say that again! I wouldn't mind holding things for others, but on this particularly hot and muggy day, I just want to enjoy being clean for about an hour or two. Woman gets situated, takes her stuff back, gives me a smile. They are piling on now, and someone hands me a kid--doesn't ask--in a split second I'm a mother--cootchy coo little one! Maybe I should just pass the kid around because in a second, I'm done with being a mom. The kid is looking at me like "do I know you?" Nope, but it looks like we better get to know each fast because mom is taking her sweet little time here, and probably likes not schlepping you around at the moment. Finally, mom takes kid back---adios buddy. Funny thing, she didn't even ask for the kid back, just took him, and plopped on the other side of me. We're finally off, packed in like sardines, and the combie driver is stopping every five minutes to let yet another on. I close my eyes to pretend I'm sleeping, but still more stuff is thrown on me--I definately have picked the right seat today! The kombie stops yet again, the driver gets off to schmooze with a buddy, gets back on, stops in 3 minutes, gets out to pee--why he didn't pee 3 minutes ago is beyond me, gets back on, stops again for something, and finally we are on the open road! YAY! I go to open a window, but oops, there is no handle on the window...I am sufficating and sweating bullets...now my shower is but a sweet memory! All of a sudden, I hear my name being called from the back, but my head is stuck between three people and I can't turn it to see who on earth knows me here. Then the poking begins, yes I know someone wants me, but what to do! Finally, my head gets to turn a bit, "Hey Tshepo, remember me!" Politely I say sure, even though I have the slightest idea who this person is, so with a half turned head I strike a conversation about the holidays, asking how to say holiday things in Setswana, and this makes Miss Whoever very happy! She gets off the kombie in nowheresville, leaving me to wonder where on earth she is walking to and where on earth she knew me from. I enjoy the last 40 minutes of my kombie ride in complete sweat and with coils from the seat stabbing my butt!

One day I'll take photos of a kombie, but for now it would cause so much commotion. Thank god I made it back to my sweet village of Mmathethe where I am greeted warmly. They all ask where I've been, like I've been gone for a month, and I tell them I was just having fun on a kombie ride!

A Summer's Eve Walk!

2011-11-30T07:59:00.001-08:00

Since it is a hot summer's night, come on and take a stroll with me around the neighborhood. As I walk around, my thinkings wander to what a good cook I used to be, and now with minimal ingredients to use, I have turned into a cooking dunce. But you see, walking in and out of the village's dirt paths, Batswana's primarily do their cooking in big iron pots outside behind a stick structure. The smell of goat, cow, chicken, and veggies or maize permeate through my senses. Since many homes have a good chunk of land and are not right on top of each other, I think about going from house to house and asking what's for dinner, hoping to be invited, or maybe they'll see how pathetic I am and offer to give me cooking lessons the Botswana way. Mom has tried with me, but somehow they seem to get it, and I don't! I can't even find the sticks they use so I can at least build my own stick fortress and pretend I am one of them. If I invite them over to my house, maybe I can offer them a bowl of coco puffs, what do ya think?

Now continuing along our walk, a beautiful woman stops to greet me, and tells me she is 75 years young because all she eats is the veggies and grains grown in her yard. She looks 50! After a few moments, she goes on her merry way leaving me to wonder if my coco puffs are considered vegetarian! I used to be vegetarian, but gave that up for mid-life crisis---maybe I should reconsider!

garbage truck

Ok onward down another path where I notice that there isn't a stick of garbage. Where on earth do they put it? My garbage, which I paid 3 months of pick-up, is over flowing. So, let's ask someone about this---"We don't have garbage," "How can you not have garbage?" "We thought Americans were supposed to be smart," "Sorry, not when it comes to garbage collection in a foreign country." "You see, we eat what we make, and we make what we have." Oh, I get it---maize, veggies, and cow--no garbage, no water bottles, no paper products--nothing but what you grow...how intelligent! No wonder they live til 100! Now why can't I do this---tomorrow I'm gonna find someone to plow my land and wait for someone to send me seeds from the USA so it's organic, and maybe I won't have to deal with the garbage men! I don't mean to divert from my walk, but the next morning the garbage truck comes! This is the best garbage truck I ever saw!

Let's turn left, this looks like a pretty path with traditional mud huts, and fun loving people. Yup, I picked the right path, a whole flock runs up to me, a flock of family that is, and they all know exactly who I am, and I can't recall anyone, but it's ok, they quickly remind me. Come, come meet my mama! Into the house I go, but not without admiring their yard and dwellings. I tell them how lovely things are, and it only took 2 minutes to fall in love with their home, the yard, and their souls. The family starts telling me the order of 5 children, how each structure surrounding was built facing the main home according to birth order, and so now I know what each cousin, uncle, and aunts all do---and, I'm supposed to remember all the names such as Nifelwe, Mmpho, Mmabelle. Yikes, I can barely pronounce my own African name correctly! All African names have meanings to them, for example, my name, Tshepo, means trust---so why can't I call everyone by their meanings, it would make things so much easier..."Yo, Confidence, I could use a little today! The family goes on to talk about many things, but most of all how growing up in Mmathethe there was hardly anything but land, and playing with each other was all they had besides their crops. Hmm, it looks like nothing has changed in 90 years! I defer questions about America because this is much more interesting. After a long and hearty conversation, the mama told me they would come fetch me on XMAS day to hear the family sing in a choir, and I get to share to their goat with them..YAY! (I better remember 40 of their names at least)! As I walk away and think about this interaction, I guess the term "nothing" is all relative--I bet they still had their sticks to make posts and their cauldron to cook in! Lucky them!

my friends on our walk

one of the family

Back on my route, I find my "Grandma's" home, and yes, a million relatives are all facing her house in order. So this is where the fam grew up! Tears welted in my eyes as mom's sister let me in to look. Mom's sister doesn't speak much english, but no words were needed as I meandered through the rooms, and scanned her belongings of 98 years. Reality is, I am in Mmathethe, yet walking into this house was like seeing my own grandma's home with all of her treasures, photos, and old furniture. You can almost hear the stories beckoning to be shouted out from the walls. Soaking this all in, and reflecting on my grandma's life stories, I now know why this grandma always wants to come back to Mmathethe---this is where her spirit is---this is where her tales are!

Hope you enjoyed our walk! The sun is setting and it's time to go home--wanna join me for dinner--we'll have a big bowl of coco puffs--I'll even slice a banana on top!

"Return to old watering holes for more water, friends and dreams are there to meet you!" African Proverb!

Celeb Status in Mmathethe

2011-11-24T01:18:00.001-08:00

view from my kitchen window

Have you ever wondered what it would be like to be a celebrity, even just for a few minutes? Well, if you have, I encourage you to join the Peace Corps, and ask to be placed in Africa, anywhere in Africa. I have been to many places in the world, and it seems the people of Africa are the most curious. So, let me relay some of the ways that curiosity is expressed. First off, let me tell you about my village of Mmathethe---it is quite rural, though growing, many people are very poor, and in my section of the village, very few have electricity, so out of respect, I am conscious of not turning on too many lights, besides, I don't want to attract even more attention to myself. It is an agriculture community, hence the cows, goats, donkeys, and chickens are as big a part of this community as it's people. It's a 5 minute walk down a path to my school with a small store across from the school, and all the roads are dirt, with the exception of a paved road that runs through which is a good thing. Some of my fellow PCV's have no paved road and either have to hitch, get the local ambulance to take them, or hitch on a small plane if they are far out of the way. On either side of the road is village life with dirt roads, or should I say paths that have been made into roads by donkey carts or cars. Unfortunately the village is spread out, so it takes me about 20 minutes to walk to the hub of town which consists of a Post Office, clinic, police, and a Kgotla which is where the Chief and the Elders of the village hang out, and where all functions take place, such as the Coronation that I went to here in Kanye. It takes 8 minutes if I hitch on a donkey cart! Speaking of which, the Leopard Chief was at our swearing in, and still, I have not seen a smile from the man! He also was not, to my dismay, in his leopard suit at our function! Ok, back to Mmathethe---everyday I walk down different paths to explore, and some of the houses are incredible because the people have used what is in the bush, and have made art in their gardens and homes. I absolutely love walking around this village and seeing that, as well as the traditional mud huts, and just how people are working so hard on a daily basis to keep things moving. The terrain of the village is flat and desert-like, but it has character! On my daily walks I am constantly greeted, some run up to me wanting to know who I am, some want a hand shake, some come hugging me telling me they are my cousins (mom grew up here and has a huge family), some want to touch my hair, the little kids have a bizillion questions and follow me around, and others just stare. The people at the Post Office where I use the internet, hover around me, staring, while I check my email, and one has invited me to a baby shower---she talks to me, but mostly stares and smiles. They all know why I'm living here, but they don't really get it! Each one will have a story, and I aim to hear every one of them! As I was walking a few days ago, one stopped and invited me to a wedding on the 17th, and I also have one on the 18th. Weddings are obviously not by invite only, anyone can show up and be totally accepted.

My house, as you see, is quite big--too big for me, but it is ok. I have 3 bedrooms (see pics in photo section), a bath, kitchen, dining room, and huge living room. It's not a well made house, and frankly, given all the mishaps in the house, I would have preferred a romantic mud hut! I'm not complaining though, I like having running water and the ability to read at night---it's just BIG! Nightly, I have visitors coming to "check" me. I am never lonely! If it's not a cow or a goat, it's a live person---sometimes though I prefer the animals. A chicken has adopted me, and has taken the liberty of walking in my house whenever he feels like it. Next thing I know, I'll be giving the chicken my second bedroom---the thing better lay eggs for me at least--I'm starved! My neighbors to the front are great, and I have a neighbor to the side who is a carpenter, and when I asked about my water problem, he looked at me and said "never saw that before!" Some help he's gonna be, but he's a good guy! Other neighbors have been equally great, but I reserve judgement on a few of them. The best thing of all is the view from my house at sunset---some nights the sky just lights up and it is simply awesome!

Now for the best part, my school and it's kids! I had no idea what to expect when I started school. I thought it would be like walking into any old school and kids would be kids. Not in Africa! I was startled to say the least at the reaction I got from teachers and kids alike. They form huge circles around me and I couldn't get out if I tried! They stare, some ask questions about America, they hysterically laugh when I say something, and they are groping to shake my hand or just touch me---simply put, I am a celebrity here! It's been 2 weeks now, and it hasn't let up...I have shaken 700+ hands on a daily basis--currently, I am teaching them to high five, it's easier. Individually, they will come running to me to tell me they love me, touch my hair some more, or just want to talk. Whenever I talk to someone, they go running to the closest friend and start clapping or acting like idiots because they got to talk to me. Passing a class in session is not an easy task because they all hang out the windows whispering "Mme Tshepo, can I shake your hand later?" Sure buddy! A teen club is already started (PACT CLUB), and it's nice because they are starting to get used to me, and are cool when they see me outside of the group now. I have let some in my home, but the next day it was all that they talked about. The teachers are welcoming, but they too, are curious, and all want to come stay with me in the states for a few weeks! I tell ya, anyone who wishes to visit here will be in for a real treat because the teachers are determined to show what it's like to really live here for a few days!

can anyone name me please

Besides all the fun, I look into each and everyone's eyes, kids and my neighbors alike, and I see twinkles in some, hardship and despair in others, sadness, as well as hope for a better a world. My school is a boarding school, so some are locals, some are far from their families, many are orphans desperately wanting to be loved and nurtured. When I taught some of them how to play Red Rover, Red Rover, you should have seen their excitement. They rarely get to play and have fun! They get whipped at school when they are naughty, they are poor, they recognize the issues of HIV, poverty, and Teen-age pregnancy. When fights start, they are not broken up--sometimes the younger kids are sent home early if they know a fight is going to happen. Many are suffering, and it's hard not to have your heart strings tugged at! I can only hope at the end of my two years here, I can go up to each and every one of them, and shake their hands in awe because they have been the ones who made the difference and succeeded!

Thunder, Lightning, and Criminals, Oh my!

2011-11-23T00:23:00.001-08:00

I promise that in my next post, I'll write about my home, village, school, and it's people--but I am currently having a set of "moments" that has lasted for 4 days. If Marilyn or Beth (two whom know how to really laugh), were with me at this very moment, they would be on my hard tiled floor with little grouting and ants creeping up, in absolute hysterics! The last few days begin with being woken at 2am to my garbage being tumbled, and someone jiggling both of my doors. I'm petrified--so stupid me does the logical thing and I take the crow bar from the front door, and now instead of the door being bolted--I'm ready to kill! I remind myself that I am first and foremost a New Yorker, and secondly, a Martial Artist. So what that I've softened in the 25 years in bleeping California, and my martial arts--well, I probably couldn't kill a frog, but I'm ready for action here! With crow bar in hand, I call the PC to tell them that I don't have the police number. They call police--police calls me--I explain to them which path to get to my house--"Ok Tsepho, we'll be there shortly to check it out, but it's probably just your cow friends!" "Yeah right, they coming over for that beer I promised!" Guess what, the police never show--they said they didn't have a vehicle that night. Guess who doesn't sleep!

It's now Friday, and I'm still alive... I go to school, tell people there what happened, they said I need to get a husband! I'd rather have a goat thank you! Then off to Kanye to be smothered with love from host family, but love lasts 2 minutes, as it's family reunion time, and mom immediately puts me to doing hard manual labor. Come on mom, I just want to cry on your shoulder and play on the internet! At least she feeds me because she notices the starved look to my face. I am constantly hungry here, the diet is bleeping horrid, and I crave anything filling without chemicals! Anyway, Sat. comes, they go to church, and pick me up at 1 for the first half the party, which is really church family, and it is an afternoon of eating, singing church songs, and hearing scripture--just what I'm about! I beg to go home after 3 hours to decorate for tonight. Mom has bought XMAS decorations that will undoubtedly last all of 5 minutes. Ok, the tree outside is decorated, we set up for tonight, the party which was supposed to start at 6, starts at 8, and we don't eat until 11. I'm starved yet again, and can't understand why I am always dished the smallest portions here...well, I'll show them! I go to sneak some food while backs are turned--I get caught--and get sent back to singing more Setswana church hymns! Joy to the World! The Xmas lights, after 2 hours are on the brink--I told ya so! The party ends at 3am, and at 6am I am woken by mom stating they are going to see their cows today, do I want to come. No thanks, I've had enough of cows, and I need to get back to my criminals! Before you leave, can you take down Xmas--I start singing the 12 days of Xmas--she gives me a furtive look, and off she goes to see her bleeping cows!

Walking down my dirt road back to my house, I am greeted by all, and told that a truck came to deliver bed and frig, now I'll never see them. I told them I wouldn't be here on Sat., but Africans have their own beat! The house looks good, no bugs, no snakes, no strange footprints. Mom gives me a care package of the cow barbequed last night, and after settling in, I eat it like a ravaged animal. Then the skies open up to the wildest thunder I have ever heard, and rain like I've never seen before---good, it'll wash the ants away! Here I am happy that there is real food in me when I go to the window to admire the fierce rains. While at the window, a crack of thunder comes with lightning, and I literally jump out of my skin. It feels like the entire house is going to collapse, and now I'm cracking up over my reaction, and the fact that it is also raining in my bedroom and in my dining room---just wonderful! I see all neighbors have put buckets outside to capture water, but no, I have to use my buckets to capture water inside the house! There is definately something wrong with this picture! More African thunder startles the heebeegeebees out of me, and I crawl under my only table, hit my head, and I am laughing my bleeping wounded head off because I just had mop in one hand, traditional broom attacking spiders in another hand, and regular broom in-between my legs getting ready for it to do some magic and fly me over the rainbow!

It's now Monday and my phone charger is dead, so I have no life line---not that anyone would come help me anyway, but still! I have also resorted to hanging my garbage bag from the curtain rods so ants don't attack it, but now I see ants crawling up the walls! A package is received from the good old US of A, and I am elated at the contents--just think, it's only been 2 and a half months, and it's orgasmic to see a Thai Spicy Noodle Soup! Wow, I am in heaven! I also see there is a 2012 calendar in the box, so clever me, who doesn't think to bring a hammer and nails, starts to screw a hook into paper plaster walls. The bleeping hook isn't gonna stay--my carpenter neighbor sees me and asks what I'm doing--well, what does it look like I'm doing---whatever it is, it doesn't look like it's working! Thanks buddy, whatta guy! Gorilla tape to the rescue! The calendar is up, good, now I can count off the days to whatever! It's 6:30pm and off to lock my gate when I am ferociously attacked by giant red ants, and a goat is staring me down ready to attack! This is good...I'm dancing like Lucy did stomping grapes in Italy, my neighbors are looking at me like I'm nuts, and I'm about to get rammed by a goat if I don't hurry! This was the culmination of 4 days of fun! Going to bed on my piece of foam, I'm thinking that my life here may cause consternation--even to the sages!

Ant Absurdity

2011-11-18T11:00:00.001-08:00

An ant on the move does more than a dozing ox!

I love old proverbs, and that one is fitting considering ants are my first big challenge as an official Peace Corps Volunteer. I joined the PC in part, because of my mid-life crisis, and now the crisis, or I should say lull, has not crossed my mind once since coming to Botswana. Why you ask? Well, it's because daily things like bucket baths, and now, chasing ants, consume your existence that you don't have time to think about any other reality. Actually, I don't know what to make of this ant problem, other than I am having recurring nightmares of ants and spiders crawling in and out of my body parts. Dreaming wouldn't bother me so much if I knew there wasn't a strong possibility of these instances actually occurring. You have to understand that bugs in Africa are different than anywhere else--they have major personality, thus, I really want to comprehend the purpose of these little annoying insects that are invading my sleep? It's 11pm, and I have made the epic mistake of opening my windows in 100 degree heat, and having tried everything to get them to take a vacation, I have resorted to chasing creatures on the wall and sweeping ants off the floor with a broom like a lunatic--some of them are even shrieking at me. Please, I wish they would at least shriek in English, this Setswana thing is becoming too much! Buddhists never kill bugs, so for the first time since being sent to Africa, I am glad I am not in Asia. Hmm, did I really just say that? So with brooms in hand, I now upgrade myself to ninja status in order to tackle these ants, spiders, and other green creatures--but wait, my thoughts stop me and I wonder if this is what the PC meant by us having challenges. People are easy compared to these bugs--maybe I'll run after the kids with the broomsticks and see what happens. We want behavior change, yes!

Ants and bugs are annoying, and yeah, we all hate them, but maybe something interesting can come of this--in some cultures ants are used for cuisine, medicine, and certain rituals. I hear they are social, collectively they work together as a social system, and they have the largest brain proportionate to it's size and are actually quite smart. Maybe I should study their social behavior and pass it to the kids of Mmathethe to emulate. We'll start an ant behaving club! Ants also began farming long before humans thought to raise their own crops, and they possess a secret chemical with antibiotic properties to inhibit mold growth. Gees, if people knew all this, then why not let the ants invade our lives. Hey, I may even hire them to help me with my organic garden at my new home. I'm supposed to be integrating into my community, instead I am making a pathetic attempt to understand the bugs and animals in and around my house. Did you know that goats discovered the coffee bean? Seriously, look it up! I was cooking an equally pathetic dinner last night when I looked out and saw about 5 goats on my land. I go to chase them away, and can't even figure how on earth they got in, but they ran out through a small whole in the fence. This is my life now, plugging ant holes, chasing animals off the property, and looking up facts about my new creature friends. What fun--and really, I have stories to tell about people too, but this is an immediate problem, and I just have to get it out of my system before I can continue on with my mid-life crisis. I've learned that these ants really do have a purpose--they work really hard at whatever they are doing, and that is what I will think about every time I take out my broom to sweep them away---that I am working really hard!

You are Welcome

2011-11-15T03:27:00.001-08:00

It's a new moon, a new home, a new regime!

Welcome to my new existance, and off to the real world, well, at least my new real world. Driving down to my new village of Mmathethe, there were open fields and rolling hills, and it felt like I was in a dream. When I woke and my eyes opened, I saw a rural village with dirt roads and many poorly structured homes. It startled me at first, yet I get to my house, which is nice, though with no stove, no frig, the wrong adapters, and my bed is a piece of foam. Welcome to the Peace Corps! As my counterpart leaves to find me a temporary stove and frig, I hear noises outside, and lo and behold, a herd of cows have come onto my property to greet me. Hey, thanks for coming over to see the new kid in town, I would offer you a cold beer, but the refrig hasn't gotten here yet. How about coming back on Sunday when things have settled and I'm lonely! It seems my destiny to be involved with cows! First lesson learned--lock the gate!

Everything is borrowed now, yet I can't cook because I have the wrong adapters to plug things in! But guess what, I have buckets to store water just in case and to do laundry, YAY! As things are settling, I look out the front of my house, which really should be the back of my house--they really messed this one up--but anyway, I see the sun setting into glorious colors of reds, oranges, and purple around some scattered clouds. My eyes are glued to this mesmerizing site, and now I could care less about not having what I need. It is unbelievable to me that I will get to see this on a nightly basis. Lesson two--take refuge in the beauty that surrounds you!

Night has fallen, a new moon is shining, and I eat an orange and a banana. It's so hot that hunger barely exists on this day. On Friday I went back to Kanye to get necessary things, such as locks for my doors, and adapters. I run into 3 other volunteers who either haven't left yet or came back because of non-livable conditions. I guess I shouldn't complain that I had the wrong adaptors. Went to see mom, who promptly put me to work, and told me that Kesego threw up all day when I left, and wouldn't eat. She was all over me for the few hours I was able to visit, and I gladly played and talked with her. Lesson three---never underestimate the power of attachment!

On Saturday, I ventured out into my community after chasing a bizillion ants out of my house. The village is made of dirt roads, paths, donkeys, cows, and goats, and I introduce myself to neighbors who are friendly and welcoming. All, especially the kids, have question after question for me, and I try to answer, but tell them we have 2 years to get to know each other. Some have started arguing about who is going to be my best friend. There is one small store near the school which is a 5 minute walk from my house. At least they carry some items there in case I get stuck. It's 1:30 now and I sit wondering about the rest of the day, not wanting to put all my stuff away, when 2 teachers, who couldn't wait until Monday, pop over to see me. At least it wasn't another set of cows coming over! We sat and talked, and like the little kids, they are filled with curiosity, as I am for them. I liked them, and when they leave, I am filled with the feeling that life is gonna be good here.

Darkness comes fast--there is a knock on my back door, which really should be my front door, I am scared and hide, then the knock goes to the front door, which really should be my back door--ok--enough already- I brave it out and ask who it is. It's my neighbor telling me she just came to check me and not to be scared. "How did you get in through all the locked fences?" "I jumped!" So much for feeling safe! Lesson 4--don't lock the gates--the cows, goats, donkeys, and kids will get in anyway!

As I lay down on my piece of foam, my mind wanders to the last few days and all it's activities. Finally I have time to meditate and take in the smells and ambiance of my new habitat. My eyes finally close to the sounds of animals, and two owls that inhabit my tree--all of whom are telling me that I am Welcome to Mmathethe!

I solemnly swear....

2011-11-09T10:25:00.000-08:00

The real thing is about to happen, it's off into the Posh Corps trenches! Wednesday we officially swear in as Peace Corps Volunteers! I solemnly swear to integrate into my village, to befriend the needy, to infuse life skills into my school, and to try and stay out of trouble. I get my big 3 bedroom house, gas, electric, and water. Just what I dreamed of when joining the Peace Corps! Where's my mud hut? It's become a part of my life filling buckets each day, doing laundry by hand, and chopping every which vegetable into the smallest pieces so they can cooked properly. The buckets have given me character! I'm so attached to the buckets that I've dreamed about them! So, I've made a vow that I am going to buy 3 buckets when I get to site on Thursday, and bring in water everyday even if I have it in my house. Isn't this part of what I came here for, character building. I'm actually more afraid of having a big house, what if I hear noises in the other bedrooms, at least if things were small, I wouldn't be so scared. Did I say I was scared, nah, not really, just because I'm going into a rough village, why should I be afraid! Pray for me please!

What have I learned in pre-service training? I've learned that Peace Corps Volunteers are expected to be many things to many people. They expect us to build sustainable projects, they expect us to build friendships, and give others a good dose of what Americana is like! Well, as far I know right now, I am an African named Tshepo, just in white skin. Yet, I realize people in my village will not see it that way yet! They'll follow me around, stare at me, laugh at me, call me names, and constantly badger me for money, or to take them back to good old America. That will be my reality for awhile, but boy am I gonna have fun with that! Our last days in Kanye equally reflects what has been learned. There have been many gatherings, the best one being from a gracious Indian family, inviting all of Bots 11 to their home to thank us for becoming volunteers. We witnessed them slaughtering two cows, a goat, and they had slaughtered chickens, all of which were barbecued for a feast fit for a king. The Indian family had also integrated in this culture, yet without giving up their beliefs. They are loved here! On Saturday, we held a thank you party for our host families with the Thanksgiving Theme, sharing skits of being Pilgrims, and watched skits the families put on about their traditions. We ate, sang songs in Setswana, we danced, and had games for the kids---we have been united! And of course our swearing in, how could I forget that, a day to be truly proud of! Yes, I teared up twice, once when singing the national anthem, and once when our Nate gave a speech!

Both Grandma and Kesego want to come live with me in Mmathethe---hey, I have the room so come on--I would love spending my days worrying where each has wandered off to! Kesego curled up in my lap tonight while I sat outside looking at the full moon and stars, and she quietly cried. Tonight mom prayed for my safety, and told me that we all make mistakes in relationships and in other parts of ours lives, and that it is only the strong who know how to forgive! All of these experiences, even the drudge of going to training daily, have become experiences imbedded in my mind. Yet, while there is sadness in leaving the family and friends made, there is equally a level of excitement and relief attached to moving on. The daily grind of training is no longer our stress, and now it's a time to reflect and digest what was.

Being a volunteer also means that there will be times when I will question myself, times that I'll understand myself, and times of comparison at significant points during service. A friend of mine has repeatedly told me that doing time lines for yourself is a great way to see the changes. So time line it will be! My bucket dreams will be replaced with eating Asian food, eating food without chemicals, drinking a cold Kombucha on a hot day, and missing my cats crawling all over me. All volunteers crave real food! Passing time will be an event in itself, staring at the walls may be a good thing to get used to, but from what I hear, there are lots of interesting things on the walls, like huge foreign spiders! It might become a Zen meditation of staring down the spiders so they don't eat you! Just think of the book I could write, Zen and the African Spider. Life will be what I make it in my village of Mmathethe! So ready or not, the second chapter will begin by listening for unheard melodies!

"Da Yoopers"

2011-11-07T09:19:00.000-08:00

Bots 11 is filled with characters, and actually, I'm not gonna write about the real character in the group, which is Brandon, but this story belongs to our nicest character in the group. We'll call him Adam. Now Adam is just a kid from Michigan with flair, intelligence, and wit, yet under his sweetness, there has to be a dark spot. We all have 'em Adam, so come on boy, show it to us! But wait, he's from where! MICHIGAN! Ah, a midwest boy with depth! I grew up thinking that there was New York, and well, there was New York. Little else existed except maybe we heard about Florida because the old folks left us for a month or two in the winter. Frankly, I live in California now, and still think that only New York exists! How's that for good reality testing? Ok, back to Adam being from middle America. I decide to look up a few facts about Michigan, and we'll see how this fits in with him: People from Michigan sit on their lakes when it's 30 below with their fishing poles: they don't talk for a week when U of M loses: a party store equals a place to buy beer and chips: they can quote Hoyle on Euchre: they may have even invented Euchre: there are 4 seasons in Michigan--mud, July 4th, winter mud, and mud: it's Michigan, not Michi--gun: they wear something called nukluks---sounds like one of our Setswana words!: when asked if they ever went to Europe, they reply no, but I've been to Ann Arbor: and lastly, deer season is an official holiday. Now how on earth did a boy from somewhere that has all these unique, if not bizarre, qualities get into the Peace Corps, and better yet, sent to Botswana. Well, let's examine this a bit---Botswana has animals, maybe his recruiter thought he can relate, but I sure hope he's not one of those who understands the true meaning of Michi-gun, and starts shooting the lion outside his front door---he's teaching us to play Euchre--now we all go around quoting Hoyle, but it shows the PC that he sure knows how to create a bonding situation---the places that we buy beer and chips from sure can look like a hokey place in Michigan---and Adam's newly shaved head can remind someone of a nukluk, whatever on earth that is! Botswana has some seasons too, hot and hotter, rain and hot, and cold and dry. I bet Adam can't wait to see some mud to make him feel right at home. He'll love the cold too, I'm sure he'll wear a sweatshirt and shorts, and laugh at the rest of us freezing our butts off in 30 degree nights. I have seen Adam quiet at times, I hope it wasn't because Michigun, ooops, Michigan lost again. Gee, what do ya think? From the looks of things, I think the boy will fit in fine here in Botswana! He may even learn a thing or two about HIV if he can put the deck of cards away!

Adam will be placed in a small out of the way village right on the cusp of the Kalahari. He'll be doing life skills with primary aged kids in a small school, and will, in all likelihood, be teaching them Euchre as his primary project because people from Michigan think that Euchre is life skills. Just make it sustainable Adam! He'll make the kids laugh, he'll help the kids create fishing poles out of reusable materials, and he'll sit telling them the meaning of "Da Yoopers," and singing the songs. But seriously folks, he'll make the kids feel like their worth a million bucks, just because he's Adam, our nicest Bots 11!

P.S. You can see Adam's picture in my Halloween Blog...he's the one dressed as a Tuck Shop! There are also photos of him in my pictures page! You can double click on a photo to enlarge it!

The Fabric of my Family

2011-11-04T05:15:00.000-07:00

Looking back on the past two months, brings into sharp focus how much personal lives are affected by one another. Being with this host family makes me almost want to freeze time so I can keep on enjoying the fruits of what has been here for me. When I first arrived here, I thought I was gonna get a family with 10 snotty nosed kids all over me running all around with shabby clothing, parents who didn't speak english, and living in a shack. I'm glad I had such "Peace Corps" expectations, because this family has surely exceeded all of my expectations and more. They are a family who is highly educated, religious, wise, loving, and with good humor. Actually, great humor! When my mom took me to yet another crusade tonight, I was putting a little blanket around me because I didn't want to change from my shorts and T and had to cover up. She started fixing it for me, stating, "if you do it your way, you'll attract ice to you." Ice, it's hotter than hell here! Her wisdom makes me smile! In all her attempts to get me to cook the African way, she says "Tshepo, a family who cooks together, eats together." Hey, I wouldn't have thought of it like that mom, that really makes me want to chop more cabbage! The other night, it was very late before dinner was started, and with mom barking out my duties for this cooking event, I start singing and doing The Twist with Kesego. Within two minutes, mom, with her wooden spoon in hand, joins in, and it takes an hour to finish cooking because of Chubby Checker! We were dancing, singing, and laughing when Dad walks in, looking at them like they've been taken over by American culture. This is life with my family! We are constantly laughing, and while people of Botswana are not so affectionate with each other, they are with me.

Noticeable and distinct gender differences exists in Botswana which can be a bit annoying. The man is the head and that's that! He is served dinner on a tray, and he doesn't expect to put his dish in the sink. The women do all the hard work, but I have made a joke of it with my dad here, who also has good humor. Mom had a cold a few weeks ago, and he was making motogo, soft porridge. I walked in the kitchen and almost yelled out for joy that he was cooking. He turns with his handsome smile, laughs, and says "this is the only thing I know how to cook." Needless to say, we had motogo for the next 5 meals. There was no way I was going to offer to help because I was enjoying the scene too much. He also said he'd do the dishes, and the next morning we found all dirty dishes put in the cabinet. He's pitiful! But a fun pitiful! This time, I told him that I would be the one praying for him! He took me seriously, and made me say their nightly prayer! I got a big applause!

My older sister, Peo, is 23, and we have had long chats about dating, men, and all of our cultural differences. Even though she has had other exposure by studying in England for several years, she still adhere's to tradition, and wouldn't think of bringing a boyfriend home to meet the family unless they got engaged. At that point, the families would start planning the wedding, and the uncles give the newlyweds 6 cows for a dowry. Cows are obviously very important here, just ask my cow friend who is still hovering in front of the cafe waiting for me to take him back to America for a better life! Back to Peo, who after so much badgering from me, says it's in her Botswana DNA to act the way she does. Her sister Joy who is living in England, but recently is doing an internship in China, is slightly more progressive, but still is accepting of her DNA as well.

My best friend Kesego is another story. She is such a slippery little devil, and I have grown to love her for that. Everyday gets richer with her. She has tried to teach me Setswana words, and in return I teach her English. Her English now is way better than my Setswana. But she doesn't give up on me. These days though, she is putting her hands over her ears when we tell her I'm leaving next week. That is heartbreaking to me! The other day, I was telling my friend Karla that I was going nuts trying to study for our test because Kesego doesn't leave me alone. Karla, who always has all the answers, slipped me a dvd of Looney Tunes. Wow, I'm gonna shove the kid in front of the TV computer, just like a good American would do to shut a kid up for a half hour while I study. It worked! She had never seen such a thing, her eyes were as big as saucers, and her hand and body gestures were a sight to see as Sylvester did his thing. Needless to say, no studying was done, I was also glued to Looney Tunes and Kesego's priceless expressions!

I have many other stories about my African family, and hope to have many more. As I get ready to leave for site next week, I realize God has blessed me, I hope, with sending me to a site that was my mom's hometown, and only a half hour away. Kanye is my shopping village, so I can see them once a week and spend the night. I don't know what the future has in store for me, but I will forever be grateful for their benevolence and will seek to emulate the kindheartedness bestowed on me. They've shown me that it is the simple things in life that bring pure joy, and that "I Am because We Are." Now as I walk through my village, I am greeted warmly by all, people and animals alike, and I laugh quietly at the road that was being built, brick by brick, for the past 2 months--opps--they ran out of bricks to finish. This is AFRICA!

BOO!

2011-10-31T08:17:00.000-07:00

Backward, turn backward

O time in your flight

make me a child again

Just for to--night! E. Akers Allen

Keeping our spirits up on halloween in the Peace Corps!

The New Day is Often Ridiculous

2011-10-30T05:27:00.000-07:00

The Dali Lama, along with a few other people in the world, wake up each day with a sense that it is a new beginning. I was not always one of those people, yet being in the Peace Corps is showing me that indeed, everyday is a new day. Only parts of days feel normal here, and that's usually when I am in the training center with my fellow Americans. Outside of that, anything can happen! Take today for instance. The PC gave us Saturday off, and all were thrilled because we have our final oral test next week, and we're still trying to soak in the realities of our site placements. My sister Joy is home from her studies in China for a few weeks, and asked if I wanted to go to a wedding with her. Well, I haven't received my invitation, so no thank you! It's ok Tshep, anyone could go to any wedding they want here, nobody gets an invite. Nah, that would mean I would have to try and find water for a bucket bath, so forget it! Instead, how's about dropping me off in town so I can do some errands? Here I go thinking I'm doing normal everyday things, but the unusual and ridiculous is right down the street. I go to the Post Office for the first time to mail a letter. The line is long, people are coughing and sneezing on me, it smells, like all the stores here do, of toxic cleaning stuff, and all I want to do is hold my breath. Forty-five minutes go by and this line is moving like a turtle. What on earth are they doing with each person? It's now 10:15, I'm two people away from the front, and with a line out the door, all the tellers go on their coffee break. Why not let two go at a time, this would be a logical thing to do, but no, there is little logic here in Botswana. Fifteen more minutes go by, the tellers come back with the same expression on their faces, and 5 people cut in front of me. What is this, you can't just barge in front of me when I have been here well over an hour. Who do they think they are, the Chinese? At the door, a goat is peering in, and I am hoping the goat doesn't need a stamp too! Another half hour passes, I am hot and mad, so I literally yell out that I just want to buy a stamp! This caused quite a commotion, but it worked--when the next teller opened, I had 20 Batswana's escort this crazy lady to the teller to get my one stamp for 6 pula. Whew, it's over, but now I have 3 goats staring me down as I try to meander to the bank which I have been avoiding also. I wonder what the goats thought of what occurred in there? Another hour in the bank, then I want to go the grocery store, but some cows are in my way, so I have to wait for the cows to decide if they are going to the Post, Bank, clothes shopping, or the grocery store! I wish I had my camera with me! Finally I get there, and wait another 40 minutes in line just to buy bottled water and 2 bananas. Maybe I should have started yelling there too! I run into 2 other Volunteers and ask if they want to do lunch at the only Cafe in town, but they declined stating they didn't want to wait hours to get food---hmmm I can certainly relate to that one! Now I find myself sitting on a curb, next to my new cow friend, when sister Joy passes me asking me why I'm sitting on the curb next to a cow. Well, he's my only friend today, and actually he's quite handsome, don't ya think? Joy wants to take me home because she thinks I have totally lost it, but really, I just want to stay with the cow because this feels like the only normal thing to do at the moment. Doesn't she know that not a shred of evidence exists in favor of the idea that life is serious! So I sit here with the cow, laughing at the fact that I vaguely remember the ease of going into Whole Foods and being greeted by everyone, 10 minutes in the bank, or in and out of the Post Office with no animals disturbing me. I took all that for granted, and now I have a cow sitting next to me, a goat across the way, and donkey carts intermingling with cars. These interchanges with my host family and on the streets are novel and funny, but will eventually and unfortunately become a part of the norm. Yet for now, I'm enjoying that everyday is a new beginning!

The Witch Lives On

2011-10-29T05:54:00.000-07:00

A few nights ago, my mom asked me if I wanted to go to a crusade. A crusade, what on earth are you talking about? "Come you will find out." As far as I knew, crusaders carried out the good deeds of the gospel, they were seen as an errand of mercy to right a terrible wrong. Great, what am I getting into here! When I got home from training I tried to hide from her, but this is an impossible task. She corners me, and I plead with her not to go, it sounded so, well, so not like what I'm about! She replied in her firm, but motherly way, "Tshepo, I invited you." You can't say no to that, and after all, I am here to learn about Botswana culture! I persisted though in finding out what I was getting into. She relented and said that I would be learning about a wicked witch. Oh boy, maybe she's taking me to some rendition of the Wizard of Oz, and they just call it a crusade. I loved that movie as a kid, so I'm game! It was a beautiful warm night and sitting outside under the stars, listening to my mom's gentle sweet voice singing hymns, I felt a sense of peace even though every single eye was on the only lekogoa at the crusade. But, wait, they aren't singing the songs I know from the Wizard of Oz, and the program I see says The Witch Lives on! Hmm, as far as I know, the wicked witch is dead! All of a sudden the hymns stop, and two Preachers come out, neither looking like the Scarecrow or the Tin Man. In loud gospel voices and gestures that I was only familiar with from TV, they began to preach, with me practically jumping out of my seat. At that moment, I realized how Dorothy felt knowing she wasn't in Kansas anymore.

The preacher talked about a husband gathering some people to lift the body of his deceased wife from the ground because he had forgot to ask her some questions before her death. He also needed some advice from her, and couldn't seem to figure things out on his own. This they deemed an act of witchcraft. There were quotes from the bible talking of witchcraft as a rebellious and loathsome practice, and those who practiced it were not tolerated. The preacher then spoke about letting the dead be dead, and if you need answers, just talk to God, and live in the moment. Ok, this isn't so bad, living in the moment is good advice, it even felt kind of good seeing how the powerful message affected those sitting under the stars on this night.

On the way home, mom innocently asked me if there was witchcraft in the United States. I didn't know what to say---Yeah mom, I joined the PC because my boss put a hex on me. Hey mama, can we engage in a conversation of how Harry Potter must be in a real predicament with salvation after leaving home early to learn wizardry and basically witchcraft, a condemned practice. At least he was a good wizard! But I couldn't do that because the people in this village don't have a true concept of Harry Potter, or the Salem Witch Trials, or how psychic phenomenon in different forms permeates other societies. They have somehow maintained an innocence from all that we know, and they hold on to what is preached to them, and try to live by what they hear. There's a lot to be said for that! After I got home, safe from the crusaders, I looked into my mom's eyes and saw how peaceful her soul is. She is someone who does live in the moment, is kind and compassionate to all that come her way, and that, of all things, should be appreciated and trusted. I learned tonight that no matter if you are religious or not, it never hurts to hear someone else's view, even if it isn't in a familiar forum. Still, as our Halloween approaches, my warped humor gets the better of me, and I wonder if the family wants to sit a spell and have some brew!

Ask not what your country can do...

2011-10-25T08:02:00.000-07:00

"What a time it was, it was a time of innocence, a time of confidences." Paul Simon

When President Kennedy was inaugurated, it was a time of new beginnings, and PCV's must have felt they were on the bandwagon of a new frontier. This past Saturday, all of Botswana's Peace Corps Volunteers, returned volunteers, and volunteers who never left the country, were invited to the American Embassy to celebrate it's 50th Anniversary. What a day it was, even the lovely Ambassador was there to cheer us on like a good politician would. Oh, and like a good schmoozer, the kind Ambassador told us that BOTS 11 "has it down." She meant our dancing, not the Peace Corps thing yet! Nonetheless, we were thrilled to get such a compliment! Music was played, speeches were made, local community crafts were auctioned, as we all ate and shared old and new experiences. We were shown homemade movies in black and white of the Peace Corps experience now and 50 years ago. It must have been such an inspiring venture during those times. They didn't have 2-3 month trainings as we do now, they were thrown into the trenches to do some magic, and magic they did! Some even became a part of history as they entered Africa shortly after appartheid. Could you just see our long haired men and women with their bandanas on making there way into Africa! What would my grandma have thought of them if she thinks I am a freak? They were filled with an incredible spirit of idealism, passion, emotion, and wonder that permeated the culture. Sitting up at night writing in their blogs, like I am right now when I should be studying my Setswana, was unheard of because they were not connected with high technology. They were truly free! Our oldest Bots 11 was in the PC 45 years ago and was heartfelt when speaking of the exotic nature of it all, and how to this day it has impacted his soul. Yet another returned volunteer who spoke, turned his backside to us showing us his torn jeans, stating some things never change, yet much has changed. His ripped pants really got a laugh when our esteemed director's young daughter was obviously drawn to the pants, and peered behind him while he was finishing his speech. She just got an education on what it means to be a "free spirit." One spoke of the dreaded inoculation line, lowering their trousers, and everyone rubbing the cherry left on their backside---what a great way for volunteers to bond!

While watching these clips, and hearing these speeches, my mind wanders sadly back to an era that has past and left in it's wake a yearning for what can never be again. A time when eating popsicles on your front porch on a hot summer night was a cool thing to do, watching My Favorite Martian or The Patty Duke Show, going to drive-in movies in your boyfriends mustang, and being in awe of 4 of the cutest guys singing and changing the world on the Ed Sullivan show. Can't you even recall the smell of PB&J sandwiches wrapped in wax paper and opening up your thermos of milk at lunch time? I was a little young to be entrenched in the real 60's hippie scene, but I remember the turbulence of the Vietnam War, the protests, the fear I felt when Martin Luther King Jr. was killed. All of these things, along with the beginning of the Peace Corps were ear marks of the sixties.

Our Peace Corps experience will be much different from those who served in the 60's, but President Kennedy's vision of promoting world peace and friendship lives on, and it made each and every one of us proud to be a part of something special on Saturday. So Happy Anniversary Peace Corps, thank you JFK, and thanks to the Peace Corps for providing such a unique experience for those who dare!

Interrogation of a Grandma

2011-10-23T07:38:00.000-07:00

There is an old italian proverb that says "if nothing is going well, call your grandma." Grandma's seem to have wisdom and pride, they provide you in abundance with cookies that you can't get in your own house, they'll even give you the cherry off their top of their sundae. You really do get your money's worth out of grandma's! I loved my grandmother who passed on at the ripe old age of 98, and now in Botswana, my grandmother of origin has been replaced with my new grandmother who is also 98. Not that my grandma is really replaceable, but when the Peace Corps gives you a new family, they mean it! When I first met my new grandmother, she scared the living day lights out of me. She looked so---well--- prehistoric, and would just sit there staring at me. Sometimes she would wander outside and watch this white stranger doing strange moves in her back yard. Was she thinking anything, or is the fact that she talks to herself a sign that she has lost it? Nobody in the family seems to mind her chatter, so I just let it be. Yet I am constantly chasing this woman when she wanders and I am the only one around. She definitely is a blood pressure raiser! What if I lose the old, scary woman! Would the family mind--well, it would be one less mouth to feed don't ya think!

A few weeks go by and I see in her eyes that there is still something there, so like a good Psychologist, it became my quest to find out what's inside her head, if anything. Grandma is sitting in her chair one night, so I decided to ask my mom if grandma was up to talking. She asked grandma, who rightfully said no, then gave me a penetrating stare! BOO! Ok grandma, I am scared---but I'll persist, asking questions about the old days with mom translating, and still, she would shake her head stating she doesn't remember. I don't believe it! This lady is definitely stubborn, but I am more stubborn and determined to get her to like me, so I start laughing, acting goofy, and trying to charm her with questions, and all of a sudden my goofiness must have paid off. She gave me the biggest smile and started talking about her children and grandchildren. The next night, the stare came back, she babbled something in Setswana, and mom said that grandma wanted me to "interrogate" her more. Gladly Grandma, it's fun talking to someone other than yourself, isn't it? For the next two weeks, every night, I asked all sorts of questions about the old days in Botswana, her family, her likes, dislikes, stories to be told---just like I used to ask my own grandma! There's nothing in the world like listening to grandma's tell old tales. It's like being glued to an old classic movie! My quest is conquered, I had formed that special bond with grandma, yet when I would come home from a long day at training, she would be sitting outside by the door, just waiting to stare at me! God I hate that stare---especially since I know there's someone home now. Over a week ago, grandma left to live with her other daughter for 2 months---it's 2 months here, and 2 months there. I was devastated! How could they do this me--take away my grandma? What about our bonding sessions? I was almost in tears, and when she left she just gave me that old knowing stare. There was such a void here. My astute mom saw how upset I was so she picked me up from training the other day to take me for a visit to grandma's. Off to grandma's, yay! You should have seen her light up, as I did, when we saw each other. She took my hand, held it, stared at me of course, and then we began to chat via translation---just like old times! The day is ending, I tell her I will come again to visit, and she turns to me and says "if I'm not dead yet," just like my own grandma used to do. This old woman then took my hand and told me that I am blessed! I'm not sure why she said that, but I sure am glad I have a grandma to go to when I need someone to talk to!

On a side note, it's funny that we got our site placements today, and I was placed in Grandma's home village! I guess the ties are stronger than I think! Now I can interrogate the elders of my new village and ask about my grandma! I can't wait!

Random Lifestyle Changes

2011-10-16T21:56:00.000-07:00

More often than not the daily challenges of being in the Peace Corps turns out to be a comedy if your not busy being frustrated, complaining, or blind. Nothing is easy about living in a foreign land, even if it does have many of the comforts of home, but sometimes you think you're getting the hang of things, and then again, maybe it's all an illusion. After sleeping like a baby under my mosquito net last night, I am left alone for the day and thrilled that I can do my laundry the way I want to, eat what I can make given what is in the house, and do my tai chi without Kesego trying to trip me with every move. I get up around 9, gather my things to do laundry and off I go to fetch the bizzillion buckets it takes to do this correctly. Here I go, let's get the phosphate contaminated soap that's available, get bucket number one to fill up, and throw in the filthy socks, shorts, and shirts I've been wearing for days in the north, and let's soak and scrub. I turn the water socket on, and guess who's lucky enough to have no water today? These socks are standing straight up on their own and beckoning for help, so I go to the water tank that is preserved here in case the water goes out like every other minute. I then make the clever decision to multi-task, so while things are soaking, breakfast is started. Ok, I'll make an omelette with the hunk of real cheddar found up north---this is something I know I can do well! The onions are diced, I'll dice some potato for home fries, then cut some cheese, scramble the eggs and walla, an omelette. Sounds easy, yes! Not! The onions and potato are simmering, and I go to scrub the duds in the bucket. Scrub, scrub, scrub until by arms hurt---but my menopausal mind forgets that I am also cooking---guess who is burning the family pan and her precious food. I try to resurrect this, and think I have it handled---go back to put the laundry in bucket number two for first rinse out. Yet again, forgetful me smells something burning---YIKES! The pan is getting worse, and the brother who doesn't live here walks in to greet all those that are not here today. He is soft spoken, says hello, and his nose is sniffing the burnt air. Inconspicuously, he watches me do my laundry, and I see he is puzzled, if not humored. The gas goes out on the stove and now I have half cooked burnt potatoes and onions. This is so much fun I can't tell ya! Ah, there is electric on the stove also, so let's fumble around until I can figure this out and get my burnt meal under way. The laundry pin bag has disappeared, so I ask Toy, the brother, and he looks around to find a few, but he is not helpful. Excellent, I'll just get on my hands and knees to search for dropped laundry pins---this day is going better than expected! I take my bucket with the rinsed clothes and forget about bucket number 3. With bucket number 2 in hand, another good decision is made as I pour the excess water on some plants that need watering in this 100 degree heat, but my mind is now concentrating on my food that I don't want to burn more than it has, and all the laundry spills out onto the red dirt we have here in Botswana. Lucy couldn't do it better I! Toy sees this, and says, "I don't think you're doing it right!" Thanks Toy, maybe I can watch you do it better. Off to re-rinse my filthy clothes, and while that is rinsing, I attend to my omelette which I finally can eat, but looks like my newly cleaned dirty clothes. My yummy food is being eaten as I ponder how I'm going to scour this pan before anyone else comes home, with nothing to scrub it with, and no water! I am just beside myself in laughter here, and trying to digest all this, just to look over and see that Toy pulled out the strange washing machine and is doing his laundry in a systematic, sane manner. Maybe I should ask him to clean the pan also, he seems to know how to do everything right! Finally, everything is under control, I have some time to do my tai chi, go outside forgetting how hot it is, and ouch---guess who scorches their feet---my feet look like the stupid pan now! So much for spiritual activity! The best part of my day is when sister Joy skypes from Beijing. Besides Kesego and Bao, the other sibling names are Joy, Toy, and Roy, but that's another story! It was great talking to her, and now I long for real chinese food or anything asian.

After today's fiasco, I was wondering if the road less traveled is traveled less for a reason! The things we take for granted at home are becoming more recognized as I make these little, but big, random lifestyle changes. Isn't that what this experience is all about---making changes. It's 6pm, my family walks in from their day out wherever, and asks, "Tshepo, what's for dinner?" How about I make you all an omelette!

Oh the Places We'll Go

2011-10-16T02:25:00.000-07:00

Amanda, me and cow hoof, Becki

For five days we all were dispersed throughout Botswana to shadow another volunteer. Yup, hands on experience is what we need, along with good advice and wisdom from those that are in the trenches. So off I go to venture way up north to a village called Gumare with one other Bots 11, and a prayer from mum at 4am to keep me safe. The bus rides in Botswana can get a bit hairy, but this day was fairly tame, except they know how to pack 'em in like sardines. Why they want to be on top of each other in this heat is beyond me. Besides being on top of each other, they sure like to chat and inquire about the only white person on a bus or on a street. Let's take the nice man sitting next to me who turns and says, "I am old." "Yes rra, I see that, I on the other hand am not as old as you, but I'm sure glad that you told me that." In a matter of minutes, I am privy to all details of his cattle post. Good, can I please get off the bus with you and eat some of your cow? I just keep imagining what this guy would look like with duck tape on his mouth as I start falling asleep! In Gumare, things are no different, our host volunteer took us to a school to meet with the Principal on a project he is doing. The man was very nice, though in the course of discussing things over with Todd, he stops mid stream to ask us where we were from---then back to his discussion with Todd---then back to telling us about his trip to Portland, Oregon---back to Todd---then he turns and starts singing to us---back to Todd---then to us about our life skills program---back to Todd---more singing---and finally I run out of there because if we stay here any longer, it will be Christmas and I couldn't bear hearing XMAS carols from a Principal in a school meeting. Even the dogs in a small town follow you around to talk! No joke! Walking home with Todd or Amanda in this little village takes triple time because you have to stop every 10 feet to chat with someone. It's all great fun when it's 110 degrees in the north! Besides all the chatter, a neighbor was nice enough to take us elephant searching. We found one that was killed for some reason a few nights ago, and were told that within 30 minutes of hearing of the dead elephant, all the towns people came to carve out the meat for dinner, mmm elephant meat, sounds good after eating cabbage for 4 weeks! Lucky us got to see the skeleton of the elephant, yet our elephant search ended at that because all the others' went on vacation for fear of getting axed themselves. We did however witness the most gorgeous sunset that gave way to a spectacular full moon. Many great moments were taken in this week, most of all with the children. We did two groups with them, and were taught how to dance the African way. Our African rhythm was a comedy to all: then in another group, these bright students told us what they thought of America, and I could write a book on that alone, although the best quote was Americans are a "do this, do this" nation, and how right they are: the village kids came out of the woodwork in 3 seconds flat when I was doing my Tai Chi in the yard---I am now known around town as the Karate Kid! I loved that one! Anyway, the other great thing was the hospitality of Todd and Amanda, their humor, their fabulous cooking of a Thai dish, veggie curries, homemade burritos and breads, all on our measly little salary. It felt so good to eat again!

After reflecting on my days here in Gumare, I wondered if kids ever get tired of explaining life to adults! These kids have nothing, yet they have great thoughts and ideas, and we really should listen more to them than anyone else, they actually get it! I love going places and I'm sorry to leave this blessed village where women sit outside making beautiful baskets, but home I must go. Sitting on the long 10 hour bus home, we share our week with others we picked up on the way, or whoever wants to listen. Finally, home sweet home! I walk into my house to hugs, laughter with Kesego, and mom in the kitchen bellowing "Tshepo, Tshepo, Tshepo," telling me she missed calling my name all week, and that I left a vacuum when I left---how heart warming for a weary traveler! She then told me she has a wonderful dinner ready---great---she learned how to make Thai food while I was gone, but no such luck, back to eating maize and cabbage with my hands! What a great way to end a perfect week, but maybe I should have tried that elephant meat!

For the Children of Gumare:
"You have brains in your head, You have feet in your shoes, You can steer yourself in any direction you choose."
Dr. Seuss

The Coronation

2011-10-09T06:17:00.000-07:00

On this warm Friday in October, 35 Peace Corps Trainees were lucky enough to get to witness a Coronation of a King, but really a Chief. It began at 7:30am at the local Kotla, an attractive place for meetings and gathering, and not the first time we have been there. It is a big deal with all the TV cameras, and dignitaries walking down the isle to their seats in the shaded area,---guess who got stuck in the hot sun for over 6 hours--I thought we were dignitaries too! Then, bigger than the Chief, in walked the President of Botswana. He reminds me a bit of Obama, thin, handsome, but a little shorter than Barrack. It was a thrill seeing a President, even if it wasn't your own, yet I sat there imagining, unrealistically, that it was Barrack Obama. It just felt good to do that! Shortly after everyone had their rightful places, and speeches, that we can't understand were underway, a little 3 or 4 year old girl dressed all in pink with a rainbow hat on came and stood right next to where I was seated. Her eyes seem to light up to me, and then it happened----the dreaded kid sneeze. It seems when young kids sneeze, it's big, and this was no exception. The kid obviously had good skills and covered her nose with her hand, which I was grateful for, but then, using her good skills, she wiped her hand on my skirt. Gee, this is going to fun morning! So, on we go with watching traditional dancing, hearing African choirs, more speeches, and then the kid strikes again. She has some wad of something in her mouth, has been leaning on me this entire time, even though I keep gently shoving her off of me, but now the drooling comes on me from the wad of whatever in the mouth. I hope she doesn't puke on me next! Don't get me wrong, I love kids, but snot and drool are not my thing on this hot day. Maybe I was getting heat stroke, but I look over a ways and see Marilyn! It's easy to spot a white person in this crowd, and there it was, her hair which always sticks out in a crowd, and I thought how nice it was for her to come visit me here in Botswana so soon after I left. I hope she bought me some falafel sandwich's---I'm starved for something normal! But no, this was just my imagination again, it was someone else with Marilyn's hair, and she didn't have a falafel sandwich for me. The sun sure does funny things to ya! Ok, so back to this odd reality, and the highlight of my day---- the Chief finally comes out, they sit him on the podium, and you just have to imagine this. We are on the side, but behind him, and his guards are around him, but they look like they are on safari, and some of the armed guards are taking pictures. You just have to love it! Could you imagine Barrack's CIA taking photos of him while he was swearing in as President! Then they wrapped the Chief in a leopard's skin that had been hunted down this year. I initially laughed to myself at this because it looked like nothing we would ever experience in our own country, except in a commercial starring Tony the Tiger--- and then I remembered I was in Africa, and the Leopard is a strong and mighty animal---a symbol beholding to a Chief! Between this Chief, the leopard suit, and the sun stroke, I am also blessed with someone leaning against one cheek, another practically sitting on my head, and the little girl in pink looks like she wants to come back over and pour her water all over me. With all this physical attention on me, I start having a hot flash, but nobody cares that I am sweating buckets on them, after all, we are one big happy family here in Botswana! Some of my fellow PC even comment on how well I am handling the conditions. Thanks guys! My brain somehow is still able to think even though it is squished in between two women, so I can't help to find some humor and wonder what if Obama wore a Cubs uniform to his swearing in, or better yet a Yankee uniform, the cubs are losers! Isn't baseball our national past time? How about putting a skinned bear on Barrack and watching him make his speech with this on. What would we think? We would probably think he was doing a Saturday Night Live Act! I just love being in a foreign land, witnessing foreign rituals, and with all due respect, I sit wondering what Jerry Seinfeld would think! It certainly makes our days void of anything dull!

President

Anyway, the festivities closed, the kind ladies finally moved, and the Chief in his leopard suit got into his new limo, which is really a pick up truck. The President, dressed in a suit, deferred any speech for tradition. But he did pass the Peace Corps section and waved at us howling at him. I guess in the end it all comes down to cultural differences, which is what we are here to learn. It doesn't matter that Barrack Obama didn't wear a Yankee Uniform, or Bush didn't wear a clown suit. It matters that a country is true to its' traditions and it is honored, no matter what it may appear to an outsider. Their traditions are a gift that has roots, and I for one am glad that some countries still hang on tight to what's true. It doesn't hurt either that it adds humor----after all, isn't laughter the key to a long life!

Not Your Typical Day

2011-10-04T11:42:00.000-07:00

Everyone keeps asking what is my day like here in Botswana. I didn't want to use my blog for these matters, but since you are all asking, here it goes. At 5:45am I awake to a harmony of roosters telling me to get up and take the dreaded bucket bath. Ok, early to bed, early to rise---I get it already! They don't have to be so loud and demanding do they? On this particular day though, I also awake to a donkey peering in my window. It kind of brought fond memories of my cats peering at me the same time of day to eat, so in all goodness, I'll invite the donkey in the house and let it choose what to eat for breakfast. Hmmm, maybe some left over cabbage so I don't have to take it for lunch! I'll even name the donkey Nikko because he talks and acts like my smart big mouth cat Nikko! He even has a nose like Nikko! I hear mom say "Tshepo, what are doing?" "Oh, I"m just feeding a donkey mom, it's all good!" "Do all Americans do this Tshepo," "Sure mom, we all have donkey's peering through our windows in the morning in America." This is, after all Africa, and anything goes, RIGHT? Grandma is watching like I am a freak of nature! After wondering if I'm in a bad dream, I meditate and pray that I don't get suckered in by the 5 new puppies on my way to Karla's house for 4 hours of language. NO, I cannot take a puppy home, besides, I am a cat person aren't I? On the 10 minute stroll down a dirt road, I am greeted by all that pass me, and the women in particular all stop, greet me in Setswana, and want to hear my progress with my language. They are thrilled that I know how to say how did you sleep, and thank you! Gee, I'm doing great according to their smiles, they don't realize that I'll probably flunk my language test this week because I only know how to speak to people on dirt roads. It's easy to romanticize being on a dirt road with beautiful purple trees surrounding you and looking out over the hills of our village. It's like the olden times, just like the Walton's walking to school! Dumela rra John Boy! So, after language we go off to the training center where I eat my left overs from the dinner last night that I made, while mom hovered over me to make sure I was cooking the African way. We are all getting used to what each other is eating, but today Alex had pizza from Gaborone, and she was kind enough to let us all have a communal bite! After my delicious whatever it was I ate, I'll poop up a storm because something does not agree with me here, but the PC insists that I eat in a culturally acceptable way, so I'll lose yet another 2 pounds in a day. After lunch and socializing, we sit for another 3 or so hours of "let's break into groups and discuss--------!" I come home by taxi to Kesego eagerly thinking that I am her playmate, so I dutifully play with her, do my tai chi, do any chores mom has for me, cut up whatever for dinner----my cutting is getting really good, even mom said so! Then I eat, then I poop, poop, poop from all the cabbage grown and eaten here, or whatever it is. I go outside for a quiet moment to watch the bright orange red sun set over the purple hillside, and for that one moment the world goes away for me to have a personal thought! But reality is waiting inside the home of this wonderful family, so in I go. I have tried to teach Kesego to massage my aching back from all the chores, but she has learned that it feels soooooo good, that she has cleverly turned the tables, curls up on me as the family watches the news, and being the sucker I am, I rub her back and she falls asleep on my lap! The family then says a little prayer to watch over us at night, I go into my room, do homework, read, play games on my i phone, go to sleep around 11 and dream that my whole class is speaking in Setswana, and I am speaking Thai! I wonder what the PC will do in my language test if I answer in Thai----will I still get points for speaking in another language? Before the night is over though, I sneak outside to look at the magnificant sky filled with a million stars which are as bright as the likes that you have ever seen. The southern cross reminds me that I am not on Waltons mountain, but it doesn't matter because it's in the stars where I will take refuge in to guide me in this amazing adventure! Goodnight/Boroko!

Life On Mars!

2011-10-03T11:17:00.000-07:00

"COMING TOGETHER IS A BEGINNING,
KEEPING TOGETHER IS PROGRESS,
WORKING TOGETHER IS SUCCESS!" H. Ford

They call us BOTS 11 because we are the 11th group of volunteers coming into Botswana. I like the name, and I don't think other countries would flow like BOTS does, i.e. Thai 37, eh, doesn't flow like Bots 11 does, but boy would I still love to be Thailand, or at least have some Pad Thai right now. My language teacher keeps reminding me not to put an Asian twang to Setswana, but I will never give up my Asian soul, and that is not understood here. It's been 3 weeks since I have left home, and over 2 weeks in Botswana. It's funny when you put an American in another country, or situation like let's say, the Peace Corps, strange things start to happen, and you start to wonder what it's all about. It's almost like living on Mars! If you think about it, in the past 20 years, socialization has changed dramatically, and people are trying to make sense of a world that makes no sense, especially to those in third world countries. As Americans, we have fully jumped on the tech bandwagon, we multi-task, take power naps, we power train, gulp down power drinks, and have power agenda's. It's excessive, it's fun, it's exciting, but something is also lost and misunderstood. For the people in Botswana, family is family, extended family come in and out of the home, most homes don't have our technology, they still take bucket baths, eat with their hands, they pray for rain in the Ktotla and it comes, weddings include everyone---even the white stranger, and the cows and donkeys that meander the streets may even be welcome in the Internet Cafe's. Now that makes for an interesting society! Seriously, when donkeys start emailing each other, we know we're in big trouble! I've already realized the things that I need to give up, things I need to put more effort into, and to not expect things to come at my feet. I suspect that there will be many tough lessons along the way. So, back to living on Mars---yesterday we had a diversity group where we discussed topics of being older, younger, married, abused, vegetarian, and a variety of other topics. Everyone talked about the positive and negative points, and at the end, we formed a trust circle and had to step in the middle if we answered yes to a number of personal questions. We did not strip and act like monkeys, nor did we break out in dance, but what did happen was it brought tears to some, reluctance to others, and still, we all learned a little more about each other. In the end, whether we feel we are living on Mars or not, there is a realization that we all don't have to be best friends, nor hang with those we have little in common with. The lesson learned is that we all will need each other in one form or another, and that our experiences will make us all stronger as we go out to try and meet our expectations at our sites, or just try to cope with everyday living that is different from our own. Wouldn't it be fun to revert back to our primal forms and restart a new creation to make things work well for our service here. I won't be surprised if that doesn't happen in some form, but for now, by accepting our differences and working together, maybe one day we'll feel close enough to take it all off and act like monkeys---I wonder what people on Mars would think of that!

The Spirit of Kesego!

2011-09-28T13:09:00.000-07:00

"If today I had a young mind to direct, to start the journey of life, and was faced with the duty of choosing between the natural way of my forefathers, and that of the present way of civilization, I would, for it's welfare, unhesitatingly, set that child's feet on the path of my forefather's---I would raise him to be an Indian." Brown, Jr.

Children are our only natural resource, we should implore to see through a child's eyes, hear through their ears, and feel through their hearts. The children of Africa know a world filled with hunger, malnutrition, disease, and poverty. Many of them become orphaned as a result of these realities, and thus become vulnerable targets for such things as sexual exploitation, or just plain lack of love and nurturing---And we all know where that can lead to! I have not yet been assigned to my final site for the two years, but a harsh reality lives in my present home stay, though it may not be drastic as I will potentially see in two months. Kesego is a six year old child who has stolen my heart. She lives here with my family who have adopted her of sorts from a family who has little means, and sounds somewhat dysfunctional to me. They took her in well over a year ago to give her the chance to experience being in a good school and a good family. I am told that she has 4 or 5 other siblings, and the times she has gone home for holidays, she has come back only to have to start from square one again. Now it is said that Kesego does not miss her siblings or her parents, and given a second chance in life, she is embracing it with all of her spirit. Kesego's eyes dance when she is engaged with. She is quick to learn, quick to play, quick to love, and with each day, she becomes increasingly more relaxed and silly: it helps when she is modeling a silly nut like myself! The children, at least in this home, and from what I can see in the neighborhood, are not raised with board games, computers, video games, or even educational blocks to play with. They play with what is natural around them, and they can make a game out of anything and everything. It is the way the Indians probably played, and our own grandparents of my generation. It is the natural way! Tonight for over an hour, Kesego was doing some traditional African dancing that she saw on the nightly news. Her rhythm was not that of a child, but of someone who has a soul that wants to be free to fly with the spirits. Everyone who knows me, knows that I have no rhythm when it comes to dancing, but Kesego made me feel that if I just closed my eyes, I could get into that African rhythm just like she does, and to let go like that of child is a feeling to behold. She is also following my lead when I do Tai Chi or Yoga, something so foreign to her, but it is natural, and she is a natural in doing it along side of me with the same spirit as her native African dancing. I have only 7 more weeks to learn from her, to see through her eyes, and feel through her heart. It is going to be the best 7 weeks because of a kid named KESEGO!

Family Fun Day

2011-09-25T12:14:00.000-07:00

Last night, mom asked me what time I wanted to get up tomorrow. It is my only day off and I asked if I can sleep in late, or at least lounge around until, let's say, Monday. Sure, no problem! Excellent, just what I need to rest up, get rid of this cold, and try to avoid any chores. I stay up late reading, and at 8:15, I hear "Tshepo, get up, we have many things to teach you today." So much for sleeping in and doing nothing on my day off. Up I am, brush my teeth, no bucket bath today thank god, and now I am off to gather my laundry. She told me that I can take 2 small items to learn how to hand wash, and the rest can go in the machine. Great, this is going to piece of cake, but why on earth did I have to wake up so early? Here's how the morning goes, she tells me to fill one big bucket, put water in another bucket, put a pail of water in yet another bucket, and get one bucket to leave empty, and oh, by the way, "Tshepo, don't spill any water, we don't waste water here." How on earth can you not spill a little water going from spout to bucket to bucket? I wonder if the Peace Corps really knows how to do your laundry correctly, and if they do, are they gonna purchase all these buckets for us! This is worse than the bucket bath, but apparently in Africa, everything is done in or with a bucket! What Fun! She shows me how to take a piece of clothing about 4 inches apart, and start rubbing, then go in and around til everything is scrubbed---aah, but don't forget the dirty parts under the armpits and around the neck---yes mama! This is really hard work, but she sees I am passing this skill, so she decides that we can do all of my laundry. Great, my only reprieve is that she walks away for a few minutes, telling me to keep scrubbing in the hot sun, so sneaky me, always trying to get out of something, gets Kesego to start scrubbing. This is good, I can sit and watch while my little 6 year old sister pays me back for playing with her endlessly. I hope mom stays away for the next day, but no chance, "Tshepo, you can't be tired already." No mom, Kesego wanted to help me, so I let her! After all the laundry is done, I learn how to hang the laundry so we don't have to iron anything. This really is a fun family day! Next chore sitting in the hot sun is learning how to wash spinach and cut it properly. She teaches me how to wash, cut the dead stuff off, how to roll several leaves, and cut into small pieces, rotate, and cut again. This is easy, why didn't I think of doing that a few nights ago (because it is so damn time consuming!) It's now 11:30, and I am chopping spinach and other greens, wondering why Peo, my other sister gets to play on the internet all morning. We then have to learn to make bread which is harder than doing laundry. I have no energy left, my muscles are sore from learning how to permagarden for two days, and while I watch her kneading the dough, I pray that someone in the family would knead on my aching back and legs. No such luck! Ok, the bread is made, the laundry is done, lunch is being cooked, and I'm ready to kick back and pretend I'm watching Sunday football, when I hear, "Tshepo, next weekend you will do a garden for us like the PC taught you, and I will evaluate your new skills learned today, then write you a recommendation." Please mom, I hope the recommendation is for the Peace Corps to send me on vacation!

On a side note, my friend Karla comes over to pay a visit with her mom late in the afternoon and I told her about my day, and asked what she did on Family Fun Day? Well, Karla slept in late and was then taken to a nature reserve to look at birds and exotic plants. Did you do any chores today Karla? Nope!

I Have No Life Skills!

2011-09-24T08:36:00.000-07:00

Every day something seems to happen to change you, and today is no different. Here I am, one week into my mid-life crisis fix in the Peace Corps, and each day has presented something new, if not challenging or funny. On this day, I was told by my host mother that I have no Life Skills. What are you talking about mom? I've lived 54 years, been around the block a few times, and your telling me I have no Life Skills, which by the way, is supposed to be my new job here in Botswana, teaching Life Skills. What am I going to do and how am I going to acquire the right skills necessary to live out this two years? The comment came about because I came home from a long day of training and was needless to say hungry. So my mom handed me some spinach from the refrigerator and told me I could make this for dinner. This is my first attempt at cooking here, and I looked at the spinach and asked what am I going to do with this? Here I go, I chop up a little garlic, find some oil, chopped the spinach, and let's cook. Boy, I can't wait for my bowl of spinach! A few minutes later, it's done, but I sneak some of their dinner, which I am not offered tonight, into my spinach to give it a little pizazz, not that maize is exciting, but it's something. I go hide in the back patio with my little sister Kesego, who is hysterically laughing at me trying to eat this god awful meal in front of me. They next thing I hear is my mom wanting to see my dinner, so I politely run away from her, Kesego runs after me, and mom is running after us! Somehow we managed to escape her seeing my food, and somehow I managed to throw it away after a few bites, still with Kesego in hysterics here. Not that it's ok to waste food, especially in Africa, but I was desperate to get out of this situation. I swear, I remember just over a week ago, what a good cook I was, I even loved spinach! But somehow the spinach isn't the same here, and any skills I had, have gone down the drain. Mom says she now has to give me lessons this weekend on how to chop veggies, and how to wash my clothes by hand. She wonders how I don't know how to do such things, and in a futile attempt to tell her how things were just over a week ago, she shakes her head and still thinks I am pitiful. So, tonight I sit, starving while they eat their traditional food with gusto. Living with this wonderful family is already changing the course of my life. Watching them do their daily routine, the hard work put in, even though they are well-to-do, the laughter, and their interactions with me and everyone who walks in the door, makes me want to get up each morning to see what going happen next!

The Infamous Bucket Bath

2011-09-19T13:08:00.000-07:00

Practically every Peace Corps Volunteer, at least in Africa, has to figure out how to manage a bucket bath or shower. It has the same amount of water in as let's say, a water balloon party, and if my memory serves me well, water balloons are an easier way get wet and a lot more fun! My first day of training started on Monday, so after not showering for a few days for a variety of reasons, I thought I would be very clever and take a real shower while the folks were at a church meeting on Sunday. Excellent, I see with my very eyes that there is a regular bath tub and a hand held shower spout. All my materials are waiting for them to leave and they will never know the difference if I took a real shower or a bucket shower. I feel like Lucy and Ethel up to bad tricks, though more often than not, the trick backfires on Lucy, and it is the same for me. I go to the bath, and lo and behold, no water. WHAAAT! My plan fails! When my host mom comes home, I ask her what's up with the water, and she tells me that we often don't have water on Sundays. Well, how about Mondays? Maybe? Sometimes we go without for a week! Great! I'll go to my first training day looking like Ethel, but mom assures me that she will wake up at 5am, put water in the bucket to heat up from the outside, and will wake me at 6am. OK, we're on! At 6am I get the wake up call and she said it will be ready soon, but reminds me she is going for her daily walk, and that I will be on my own. Well, I don't exactly need a mom to help me bath do I? I meditate and pray that my day goes well, hop up, and venture to see if there is water to take that real shower---No such luck, still no water! My mom had taught me exactly what to do--take my bucket that the PC gave me and put cold water in it, heat another bucket and pour a little at a time into the bathtub, pour the bucket filled with cold water so it isn't so hot, get in and do my thing. Not hard to take a bath in ankle deep water, but on this day I am a bit nervous about my first day of PC training, and getting bit by a mosquito last night. So I decide to cut corners to save time and try to pick up the big heated bucket to pour into bath tub not realizing it is so heavy. Of course the thing drops and half spills out all over my only towel and slippers, so now my bath is only toe deep. I save a little water to rinse over my head, but this is not funny, and now I am praying she doesn't walk in and see this, or better yet, try to plug the bucket in and get electrocuted. Yesterday, I watched mom give my 6 year old sister, Kesego, a bath in a little old fashioned steel bucket outside, and start to wonder why I can't fit in there too! It would be so nice to be scrubbed down and have my hair washed by someone, but no, I am an adult-- a Peace Corps Trainee, and I don't need a mom to bathe me! Finally it is over, my dirty feet are clean, my hair is washed, the floor is cleaned with my only towel, and I run to my room naked, with my bucket in front of my private parts. This Peace Corps thing is so much fun, and just think, I made it out of here without anyone in the family seeing the mess I made, and not looking like Ethel after all! I dried off with a hand towel, dressed up, only to find my new mom in the kitchen making me breakfast, packing me a lunch for my first day as a PCV, and asking how my bath went! It was a piece of cake mom, I can't wait to do it again tomorrow!

Let's do a skit

2011-09-17T09:04:00.000-07:00

After just a few orientation sessions, it seems that the Peace Corps loves having it's trainees do skits. This is probably a good thing to get us interacting and involved, and thank god we do them as a group because I am not an actress. My group had to do a skit on being a vegetarian and proper etiquette with our families. It started out that Nate was in the background reading out loud his journal about what to do if he is forced to eat meat. He then comes to the host family, and me, Chief Rafiki, who has been roasting a pig all day in his honor. After introductions and offerings of the pig, he politely tried the meat, though with a weird look on his face. The reason that I tell you about this skit, is that the god's must have been preparing me, because when I arrived at my real host family, my host mom brought me outside to tell that they have slaughtered a cow and was cooking it for me. She opened the cauldron over the open fire pit to show me what was in it. Innocently, I said, that's not the whole cow is it? She laughed and asked if it looked like the whole cow. Obviously not, but I think the other parts of the cow are cut up in her big outside freezer. Not knowing that I am an organic freak, I asked her if the cow was grass fed, and she assured me that it was raised in the fields, eating just grass! Wow, and I don't even have to pay the prices at Whole Foods for this. Sunday meal, after 5 hours of church, was maize and yes, grass fed beef, picked and slaughtered by the family itself! I did try it as a good and courteous PCV would and should do, and it was delicious! Better than anything at Whole Foods! I wonder if the cow had a name?

All is well here with a delightful host family of a mom, dad, 23 year old daughter, a 6 year old adopted daughter, and a grandmother. My fellow PCV's range in ages from 22-66, with 4 couples, 2 of which are both named John and Carol. People are from all parts of the country Florida, Maine, Kansas, Michigan, California, NY, and so forth. There are 2 clinical psychologists, some public health degrees, some teachers, a lawyer, and many fresh out of school, all making for an interesting mix. The staff seem really great, and I think this is going to be the great experience that I anticipated.

Top Ten Expectations!

2011-09-11T00:45:00.000-07:00

In two days I leave for an entire new life's experience, and getting ready for this has been a trying experience in itself. This past week was supposed to be for taking care of last minute things, spending some quiet time at home, and saying final goodbyes to close friends and family. It has been more than I anticipated, with absolutely no rest. Yet all the cards seem to line up perfectly for me to go on this adventure, and I couldn't be more ready. My bags are packed, the banks have been given a heads up on my departure, I quit my job, sold the car, and have been telling the cats for 3 months that all their needs will be met better than mine will be for the next 27 months! One day I hope I can put on resume that I made it through the Peace Corps Application Process and Packing!

Because of all my travel experience, learning a new language, tasting different foods, being under the southern hemisphere, and engaging in an entirely different focus of cultural interchanges does not seem daunting to me. Despite all the differences that will be encountered, I have found that we all have similarities that bind us, and being cognizant that a smile will go a long way when things get rough. What does seem odd to me is that the God's must have been crazy to send me to a conservative society, when all I wanted was to be in Asia to commune with the culture that I most identify with, and bum around in sleeveless shirts. Nevertheless, I'll embrace Africa and the lessons to be learned with an open heart and mind as I have embraced Asia. Because everyone says that this is supposed to be a life changing experience, I wanted to document my fun and/or noble expectations ahead of time, and let the future tell how my ideas and expectations of being a Peace Corps Volunteer come to fruition: Maybe it would be safer to go in with no expectations, but after much consideration, here are my top 10:

1) I expect that the BOTS 10 group will shave my head as an initiation to the Peace Corps!
2) I expect that my request to be vegetarian with my host family will be null and void!
3) I expect that we are going to start projects and clubs to help impoverished people improve their lives!
4) I expect that I will take small jaunts to Namibia to surf down the majestic dunes: lay on a beach in Mozambique or Madagascar during our winter time in Botswana: Go on a safari the Peace Corps way: and go to London to see Roger Federer try for an Olympic Gold!
5) I expect I will integrate into my community, and that none of the kids will climb through my bathroom window, or take a shirt hanging on my clothes line, or think it strange that this older white crazy lady is doing tai chi in their front yard!
6) I expect that I will be on time for all meetings and buses, and then will wait for hours for someone, or a bus, to show up!
7) I expect to make lasting friendships and relationships with my fellow PCV's and the people who live in my village, especially the kids!
8) I expect that if I see a snake or strange bug in my room, I will stand on my bed, scream, and pray that someone comes to rescue me!
9) I expect that I will miss everyone, my cats, organic vegges, and the 60 inch surround sound TV more than I think I will!
10) I expect that the Peace Corps may be the answer to this mid-life lull, and that a book will come out of me as I put life into a different perspective and let go of any stressors endured.

There it is, now I'm gonna buckle up and get ready for the ride under Botswana's skies!

"We may run, walk, stumble, drive, or fly, but let us never lose sight of the reason for the journey, or miss a chance to see a rainbow along the way." G. Gaither

Allow me some sentiment!

2011-08-27T17:59:00.000-07:00

Every ending invites new beginnings and goodbye's are not forever. After 21 years in one job and living in a small community, we've connected in such a way that those memories are a permanent part of who we are. In the months to come, I hope to take long moments to look back and reflect on the distance walked and all that we have shared. Leaving to go to a new and unknown habitat, I'll have new freedoms, new responsibilities, and a realization that the long walk is not yet ended, it will just be down a different road. So let me take this opportunity for some sentiment, as you, my friends, colleagues, neighbors, and family, have all witnessed the tears, even though I am so happy and curious for this new adventure. Without you all I would never have had the courage to step out of my life to walk down that different road, and I thank you for that. Everyone of you has been a true gift to me because you all made me a better person. It seems fitting to be leaving as the seasons are about to change, and so I wanted to share what one of my co-workers gave to me: it was this little character pin of a bear with the inscription:
THE PATH TO SUCCESS
"As a bear ventures through unknown territory, he is marking the way for many others to follow. Because he took steps in a different direction, a new path was created for future bears who will use that same trail for generations, placing their feet in the exact same spot every time they walk the course. Your adventurous vision has created a remarkable path that will be traveled for years to come. Thank you for setting a great example."

Well, thanks Jackie for that wonderful sentiment, and thanks to all of you for the lunches, parties, and morning farewell coffees! I hope to carry that bear with me and set new examples in Botswana!

"And the seasons they go round and round......" Joni Mitchell

What's in a name

2011-08-01T22:14:00.000-07:00

For those of you who are new in my life, I feel compelled to explain the name of Pai. After 4 years of visiting Southeast Asia, building new relationships, laughing at the communication gaps, riding on the back of their motor bikes, and adopting their ways, my friends gave me the name of Pai-lin...meaning beautiful lotus. They understood my love of Southeast Asia, and I gladly accepted the name and welcome anyone who wishes to call me Pai. Personally, I prefer that name, and now that I am about to start a new chapter in my life, it seems fitting to let go of Lynn.
In the book "The Life of Pi," he too changed his name, went on a metaphysical trek that explored life's mysteries, embraced all religions, and tried to integrate his circumstances into one meaning. Becoming a PCV is going to be an adventure similar to being on that lifeboat simply because we will be learning new survival skills, waking up each day to the unknown, and finding ways to fit in with a new culture and new friends.
This blog will be the story of my adventures in Botswana that will hopefully be a fun and interesting ride.
For future PC nominees, I know how it was to read the time lines from start to finish: mine was relatively easy: completed application on Dec. 25, 2010: interviewed on January 13, 2011: Medically cleared March 21: Invitation extended on June 2 for September departure. I was originally slated to leave in July to Asia, but that didn't work out for a variety of reasons, so Africa it is!