Friends in need, Friends indeed!

Two friends were walking throught the desert. During some point they had an argument, resulting in one friend slapping the other in the face. The one who was slapped was hurt, but without saying anything, wrote in the sand “today my best friend slapped me in the face.” They kept walking until they found an oasis where they decide to go bathing. The one who had been slapped got stuck in the mine and started drowning, but the friend saved him. After he recovered from the near drowning, he wrote on a stone “today my best friend saved my life.” The friend who slapped and saved his best friend, asked him “after I hurt you, you wrote in the sand and now you write on a stone—why?” The other friend replied, “when someone hurts us we should write it down in the sand where winds of forgiveness can erase it away, but when someone does sonething good for us, we must engrave it in stone where no wind can ever erase it.”

The moral of the story is not to value the things you have in life, but value who you have in life!

This leads me to talking about two special friends here in Mmathethe, and what they demonstrate about friendship on a daily basis. These two gals found each other early in primary school and have had a growing friendship since. In many ways they are complete opposites, but as they say---opposites attract, right. One is vulnerable, the other strong, one is shy, the other shyer, one lives without electricity or water, the other has both, one has an intact family, the other doesn't, both are highly intelligent, but one has to work harder in school. When one looks in the mirror and thinks she's ugly, the other tells her she's beautiful. When one got in trouble for not doing well in school, the other told her to try harder and see the good in everything. They both tell each other to respect life, not to fall into the traps of peer pressure, and both want to help find a cure for HIV. I've grown to love these two beautiful teens who fit together like a glove, and have shared their friendship with a stranger.

I know these two not by coincidence, one is my direct neighbor who came knocking on my door my first night in Mmathethe, scaring the heebeejeebees out of me, but in the softest of voices told me not to be frightened. The other came knocking at my door with her older sister after seeing me at our first assembly in school, thinking I could help her sister who works diligently with AIDS victims. I had not known then that these two kids were connected to each other until they both came over together a few weeks later to talk. They asked many questions about the States and about life. Instead of the typical “can you take me there,” they humbly took information in, and with wonder, just asked for more details. Through the coming weeks, I taught them how to play UNO, backgammon, other card games, and they have been here on Saturday nights glued to movies on my computer. When there was a fierce African thunderstorm, it was my porch they took refuge in. I've trusted these kids to take care of Keoki when I go to trainings or overnight to Kanye. When Kesego visits me, they tenderly teach her the games I have taught them. Innately, knowing that my birthday was spent so far away from home, these kids, who barely have anything, thought enough of our friendship to present me with a beautiful African basket---you bet the tears starting rolling down my cheeks. There are many stories of friendship with more depth and dimension, but these two understand the art of giving and receiving in a place where that is not always the case---and it is that which makes these two kids and their friendship special.

I've not always been a good friend....I've not always known the art of sharing....I've not always valued what was most important....but now, at the age of 55, being in the Peace Corps, and seeing these two kids together with their outlook on life and friendship, can show anyone that with a friend in hand you can see the light---with a friend in hand, everything will be alright!   

Tag, you're it!

About two or three nights a week, Keoki and I go for a walk through different parts of the village. During the long hot summer months, the early evening in this village is at it's best. People and cows are gathered at the watering hole, chattering away in Setswana and moo's, both are intermingled in harmony. Kids are playing, and women are outside cooking dinner in big black cauldrons. Before my walk though, I was putzing around the house and yard, and I couldn't help but notice this young boy in blue shorts walking back and forth outside my gate. His walk became slower when I was outside, and at one point, he sat on the ground, seemingly doing yoga stretches, and then doing his version of my tai chi moves. While I had never seen this kid before, he obviously has been watching me quite closely to be mimicking yoga and tai chi. When I call to him to come in, or to say hi, he just hides. I reckon he's having fun being a spy, and making contact with me would ruin everything! So, off I go on my walk, with spy boy following, keeping a safe distance, and being clever in picking his hiding spots when I would turn to see what he's up to. This adorable 7 or 8 year old definitely has my curiousity peaked.

At some point on my walk, a teacher stops to chat, and when done, I catch spy boy behind a big bush. I peak around one way, he peaks the other way, then I strattle around the bush and the spy doesn't know what to do. I start running around the bush every which way, but he is too quick for me, and I can't catch him. Even Keoki couldn't catch him. Unbeknownst to me, but really to no surprise, about a dozen kids are looking, laughing, and not knowing what to make of this situation. Frankly, I don't know what to make of it either, so at risk of once again seeming like the village idiot, I tell the kids that spy boy and I are playing tag. Tag---what's that? “Come on, you don't know what tag is!” “No mma!” Ok, I have my work cut out for me here. So on this brutally hot and humid night, I'm teaching 12 boundaryless kids how to play tag. With a lot of prompting, the kids, Keoki and I, are all running around the village tagging each other, and having the time of our lives...well, except for spy boy who is still behind the bush observing this craziness. He probably thinks I'm an alien and wants to capture me to send back to outer space. But on this night, I'm only caught by all my new little friends tagging me like I've never been tagged before! Believe me, if you ever want to see kids have a really good time, come to Africa and try teaching them something new. It'll be the most hysterical and rewarding thing you'll ever be involved in!

After reaching my tag limit, Keoki and I pant our way home with spy boy following at a distance. I went about my business, drinking a glass of cold juice, reading on my porch, watching the full moon show it's face through the trees, listening to sounds of the kids voices fill the village, and feeling blessed about many things. Seeing spy boy's face at the corner of my fence, I smile, as he is too, and I yell out, TAG, YOU'RE IT! Laughing hysterically, spy boy ran away into the night!

I don't know what spy boy is thinking, or what he's looking for, but something has caught this young boys eye. Hopefully, one day we'll become good friends, but for now, I'll enjoy his curiosity, and maybe tomorrow I'll do something really strange, just for kicks, to see spy boys reaction!

Whaat, No Porridge

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

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

Birthdays are pretty special! They should be celebrated, it's your day, it's the day you came out into the 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 store for me. Hopefully, the family you chose to come into loves you enough to celebrate who you are everyday, but especially on your birthday. This year, I'm spending my birthday a world away from those that really mean something to me, and in a world where birthdays 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 big deal 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 should be waking up to making snow angels outside, and drinking hot cocoa---and lastly, 55 is a little scary---it means your going towards 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 conversation with them, telling me that not one of them have ever celebrated a birthday. NEVER! Not even young Kesego---mom didn't even know when her birthday was! How can that be? How can you never have had a Birthday? Do you even know how old you are? Have you ever even wanted just one birthday wish? The questions are burning inside me, so I start taking a little survey around, and sure enough, I got similar answers, though some recall having small celebrations as a child, 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 one person faintly smiled about it. Gee thanks! Since I'm not gonna let go of this non-birthday thing, I emailed home for someone to send something I could easily bake and doesn't have bleeping bleep in it! Several weeks later, I received a wholesome brownie mix, and all I needed was an egg, water, and olive oil. I can handle this—what a relief! So with my egg in my side pocket, I hop on the kombie to Kanye, telling my family we're having a birthday party for everyone. This went over really well...they just stared at me and my egg! But they're troopers---I know they'll love it!

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

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 to pump a family up! Morning came, and thinking there were some brownies left over, Dad, who rarely is emotional, said “Tshepo, where's the food?” “What food papa?” “You know, the good stuff from America.” “Ah, the brownies.” “Yeah those.” I looked around, and he was looking frantically---”Papa, I think we had a Brownie Phantom in the middle of the night.” OMG, you should have seen the look on his poor little face! You would've thought his wife died—but uh oh, I think she is going to die—I think she's the Phantom! Watch out mom---your a dead duck! Then this ever so endearing, sweet, calm man whom I've grown to love, was taken over by American Brownie Evil---he grabbed me on both arms, shaking me, “Tshepo—she couldn't have eaten those brownies, we have got to find them.” Sorry papa, they're gone,” and still holding me, he said, “What are we going to do?” “Kill her papa!” I seriously thought he was gonna cry! But instead of crying or killing, Mr. Brownie Evil starts pacing, and was in deep thought like a trial lawyer— finally, he has the million dollar solution, and intently he says, ”I know, you can get your friend to send you more---Yeah, that's what you'll do, right Tshep!” Sure enough papa! Case closed!

So there it is, a 60 something year old man, possessed by a birthday brownie. How charming, how real! See what a little dose of Americana does to people around here---it makes them 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 her life when she wakes up!

Teen Club

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

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

 

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.