The Snake

Holy Crap! Is that a snake's trail that I woke up to, or is that a snake trail?  Several nights ago, after having gone to a BBQ with all the Senoir teachers, I got home and dumped out of my sandle all this sand thinking I would clean it up in the morning.  Morning came, I go into the bathroom where the sand was dumped, and yikes, I see this trail through the sand. Immediately I looked down into the toilet to make sure I wasn't sitting on any lurking snake heads, and then I called Keoki in to see what his assessment of the situation was. Keoki didn't seem disturbed at all by anything, so with Keoki by my side, and broom in hand, we went searching for the snake. Somehow I was really calm, I didn't start screaming or anything, but in my head, I'm ready to die! I know that's a contradiction, but compared to how I could have been, this was good! We didn't find anything, it was raining outside, cold, and I plodded my way to school with my camera and the snake pics. Everyone, except one, agreed that it was a snake. They then started spooking me, telling me the snake crawled in here and there and everywhere, and since I left the house, probably found a nice little nitch to snuggle up in. God, I hate these people right now! They are laughing at me, but really, African's are deathly afraid of snakes....and they should be!

The head of the school sent 3 of the grounds people over and the day guard, who sleeps all day, over to my house to inspect. At least the day guard has some excitement here! They walked home with me, only to laugh, showing me that my ant friends had built a road all night long. They promised me that's all it was. Whew! Seriously, I don't know what I would've done if it had been a snake. I can take seeing them outside if need be, not that I want to run into a black mamba in or outside, but there's something creepy about it being in your house.

Some people love snakes, some love spiders and all sorts of creepy crawling things. I wonder how those people would feel if one were, let's say, lying on their dresser draw, or better yet, having crawled in their pillow case! I find it hard to believe that they would just sit around and start talking to the thing. The last time I was in Thailand, I saw 3 snakes within a few hours, and the Thai told me that it was very good luck to see a snake. But this is not Thailand, the snakes here are not Buddhists, and these people not are talking about luck, they are talking about fear!  All I have to say is that I love animals, but some are better left far away from me, for the simple reason that reptiles have no sense of humor!  

Just Follow The Yellow Brick Road!

Just like people here have no sense of time, they also have no sense of giving directions. They just point and say “over there,” or “this or that side.” I don't even think their pointing is accurate.  My counterpart, Seo, who is a very smart lady, invited me to her sisters wedding in Kanye last weekend.   I asked her where in Kanye it was, her reply to me was “the other side.” The other side of what?  Needless to say, I did not go to the other side or any side of Kanye that day. This is how it is, but I'm going to divert for a moment--- on this day, walking 45 minutes in wind and heat, up to the primary school, I am greeted by a teacher who says how happy he is to see me, can I please help out today. “Help with what!” “It is cultural day and we don't know what to do.” “Well, how long have you known about this? Since January.  My, my, why didn't you plan for it?” “Because it was today.” Ok, I get it, it's the African time thing. The kids are all practicing the only dance in Botswana, because that is all they know.  So I go to my class, which has moved and combined with another class---the teacher got transferred, and the new teacher is overwhelmed, so I can't do my NY correspondence with this class anymore.  These kids are also practicing the one Botswana dance, and the teacher says, “can you help us with cultural day?” “So when did you know about cultural day?” “Since January.” “Why didn't you think about this even, let's say, last week?” “Uh, because it was today.” What on earth—do they all sit and practice the same lines just to get us Americans laughing or what!

Off I go to find a small class that will play correspondence with me. Ah, a teacher who is thrilled, Excellent!  I tell the class what the other class did, and attempt to show them the family tree booklet that the NY class did. Big Mistake! I was bombarded by 20 little people, squished up against the wall with nowhere to go, and with them pointing and going nuts over stick figure moms and dads. Teacher doesn't help out here, and I'm thinking about screaming, but no, I would just fit right in! Once I'm released, I ask her about this cultural thing. She says in a forlorn matter that they just have no idea what to do. Seriously, I have the slightest idea how these people function. So I throw out some ideas, and then I ask how on earth these kids walk home, I know there must be a short cut. The teacher points and says “over there, just follow the road.” “You mean, over there, just follow the yellow brick road.” “Huh, no, I mean over there.” Whatever happened to showing people the great and wonderful Wizard of Oz! What ever happened to humor!

Off I go to find the Yellow Brick Road, when the head of school stops me. She wants to post my family tree booklet on a wall, but has no idea where to put it.  I just look her straight in the eye and say, “how 'bout over there!” Good idea she says! Geez oh mighty, I wasn't even pointing or looking anywhere, and they have a concept of where over there is.  She then walks me to this room and says, “do you know what this is?” “Well, yeah, I think it's a library.” “You're right, now what can you do with it?” Whaaat? Is this like what can I do with cultural day?  She says, “don't you think the kids should be able to come in here and read?” Dare I ask how long this room has been here?  “At least 5 years!” “I've got it, maybe for cultural day, you should line up the kids and show them the world of books, whatta think!” By the way, since you are the head of this school, can you please tell me the short cut home. Sure, she pulls me outside, points, and says “that side, over there.” Excellent!

Here I go, skipping to the YBR, and knowing that I don't need courage or a heart because, hey, I left money, a house, my comfy life, to come “over here” to do good will!  I got it though, I NEED A BRAIN to figure out why I am “over here!” That's exactly what I'll ask for if I ever find OZ!  I'm walking along, and lo and behold, a fork in the path---they didn't tell me which way to go, and there's no scarecrow to help with a decision, I don't have my brain yet, and nobody is speaking english up here. I spin around and trust that this way is “over there.” It's getting a little spooky here, with fewer homes, blistering heat and wind, and over there seems to be nowhere.   If the wicked witch starts flying overhead, I'm in big trouble! I ask myself yet again, why I'm not in Thailand where people are organized, have vibrant markets, would laugh at following the YBR, even if they didn't know what it was!  But no, "I'm over here!"

 Finally, after one and a half hours of this so called short cut, I see the light---my white house with the green roof, with a floppy dog ear hanging over the porch...I run and run....Keoki I'm home, I'm “over there”---oh Keoki, there's no place like over there!

Ee, I'm So Tired!

(I may have written a blog post about this before, but it disappeared, so I wanted to re-write something similar)

How on earth am I gonna get across to those out there how the Batswana really are.  I guess we'll have to pick them apart layer by layer, like the cliche onion.  When I first got to Botswana, there was little time to actually get to know people, other than your host family.  At that point, and I continue to think this, that  my family is very normal, stable, a little too religious for my liking, but other than that, they are perfect, that is for Batswana's.  I put it that way because there is an inherent lack of communication style in them, and throughout this country, that can drive one crazy--but that layer I'll tackle at another time.  

So let's go out in the real world, the rural world, the working and non-working world. My friend Dee Dee and I sat up half the night a few weeks back, doubled over in hysterics because of three words—I'm so tired! We're not sure if people just say this just to say it, or it it's their diet of porridge and more porridge that weighs them down, the heat, or if they are just down right lazy or apathetic. We cannot figure this out! 

Nothing I'm about to say is an exaggeration....so here I go! Someone lifts up a pencil and says “I'm so tired,” We walk a quarter of a block, the person stops to say “I'm so tired,” After a 10 minute briefing with teachers, half of them say “I'm so tired.” During the holiday break, many classrooms were painted, including the library. Books were thrown everywhere, and while some students helped put them away, there was much to do. I offered to help out one morning, so I go in, put about 20 paperbacks in their rightful order, and the library guy asks me to take the new books, label them, and write the number in a ledger. Ok, this is easy! He comes back to check on me 5 minutes later, giving an exasperated sigh, saying, “this is such hard work, you must be so tired.” “Oh yes, I'm so tired I don't think I could do more than another five minutes.” “Oh dear, you better stop now and go rest...see what hard work this is!” “Yeah, I see, I think we both should take a nice long break!” Great idea! My 10 minute, good, excruciating hard working deed is complete, and I'm so proud of my time well spent!  Now off to the next task.  Since my morning work is completed at 7:50am, I go around school to find a class with no teacher in it. This takes about a minute. I go in, tell the kids to stand up to a little morning moving warm-up of an exercise called Coconut—-anything to remind me of Asia! The kids love it, and after it's done, I ask them if they're tired---I just can't resist! They all say, yes mma Tshepo! Oh, you poor little darlings, but guess what, we're gonna have class anyway!  One day, my counterpart asks me to sign in some 20 orphans, write their names down and take any extra belongings they have. Within 2 minutes, “Tsepho, ugh, this is such hard work, I'm so tired, we better take a break.” “What about the orphans standing here?” “We'll come back later.” Great, I wonder if later will ever come! I turn to look at the orphans and say, “see ya later, or never, we're tired.” They look at us like it's the most normal thing in the world.

Seriously, they sound so humorously pathetic, and I can't stop laughing, but I know it's not really funny, but ok, it is funny to my warped cultural adapting mind. Forrest Gump wouldn't get these folks running behind him across the USA!  No way baby!   I could just see my former driven boss Maureen, and my friend Dana here trying to get something done, it would drive them so totally bizzerk that they'd probably start a “let's not be tired” revolution throughout Botswana. The thing is, these people just say it constantly, and I wonder if it's just become a bad habit, because it typically doesn't always stop them from doing things, it just, well, delays things a bit. I feel like starting serious exercise classes, nutrition classes, or pick-me-up power yoga classes, but I know after one downward dog, I would hear “I'M SO TIRED.” 

The balance Act

When I used to think of Africa, my first thoughts were of children running around barefoot in shabby clothing, and women walking with anything and everything balanced on their heads. Both of those things have proven to be quite the fact. Sometimes when I go shopping, someone will undoubtedly assist this helpless American by carrying my stuff on their heads to my house. I just walk beside them in admiration that they can do this, and secretly, am thrilled that I'm not lugging these bags.

The other day, I was particularly overloaded with things to bring home having come from that 2 week misery in Moleps. It was hot, the kombie's were especially annoying and crowded, I couldn't imagine how on earth I was gonna drag everything for my walk home, and on this day nobody was helping out. So guess what smart me decides to do, yep—balance things on my non-African head.  How hard can it be, afterall, I saw it in the movies, and now I see it all around me in real life. So I throw my heavy day pack on my back, one other bag drooped over my shoulder, and one bag on my head. I make it about 3 inches before the bag slips off my lopsided posture. This draws a crowd, with laughter, and god only knows what they're saying in Setswana about the lekgoa trying to do something innately African. But all laughter aside, these people love me, and all start working on my posture, head position, and distribution of goods. Ok, I've got my first lesson in head balancing, and I think I've got it down. It's so funny that if done correctly, you don't even really feel the weight of what's on your head---so here I go to loud cheers and encouragement, telling me I can lean one hand on the side of the bag. But no, the competitive nature in me wants to do it the pure way, besides, I really only have one hand left here, and that's needed to schoo the little rascal kids away from me.  I make it further this time, so proud, and at the point where I get a little cocky, the bag gives way with no warning and down it goes. With laughs, oohs, aahs, and what not, I look down to broken eggs, squished bananas, sweat dripping from every inch of my body, and groceries all over the dirt path. This is definitely not one of my finest moments in cultural integration!

Someone looks at me and says “Tshepo, I think you need more practice---what are you going to do now?” And--”Tshepo, I don't think you should not have put the eggs on your head.” “Thanks buddy for the tip, I think I'm gonna go home, find a new bag, and come back for the goods that are still edible, but yeah, you think your so great because this and dancing are in your DNA and not mine.” “You watch—in two years, eggs and all, will be on my head with no problem, and somehow I'll learn to move my hips like you do!”

When I sat that night laughing and reflecting on my day, I thought that certainty about things brings about dullness and mediocrity---and even though I failed at my first attempt of head balancing, and lost my breakfast for the next several mornings, I'm so glad nothing in my life is certain around here!  

The meaning of Bliss

Left

      Right
              Left
                    Right

Time, with all it's exact measures, just keeps marching on.  In Africa, time is an amorphous and unstructured entity, but still the clocks and dates keep on going. This week marks six months of being in Botswana. There have been good times and times of struggles, but no bad times. The times of struggles haven't even been that bad, in fact, I call those moments my times of bliss because they are character building. The word bliss can mean so many things to different people. I have asked myself many times if I've found my bliss, and the initial response 6 months ago was no way. The craziness that takes over our lives, the business that caused me to say I can't handle this, the amount of media around---it all takes away from finding that bliss. But now, my bliss is when I look outside my window every night to watch the sunsets, or see a three quarter moon that looks orange hanging low in the sky with bright stars surrounding it. Bliss is being able to laugh when sitting in a Kombie with people hanging on top of you, dripping wet from the heat, and laughing at the thought of killing them. Bliss is when my 6 year old friend, Lefika, walks into my house at 7:30am to hand me a pomegranate off his tree, and telling me that he doesn't know what he's gonna do when I leave in 2 years. Bliss is walking around this beautiful village in the early evening and watching life happen. Bliss is having the time to meditate, reflect, do my tai chi and yoga without all the American distractions. Bliss is teaching a class about life, and seeing the trust because they know that I won't beat them with a stick. Bliss is feeling the love of my host family. Bliss is fighting off the bugs in the house and cows in the yard, and not having a second thought about it. Bliss is the comraderie of my fellow PCV's. Bliss is receiving packages from home. Bliss is finally having internet in my house!

All of these things, and many more, are making me even more real, honest, and genuine. I cry, I laugh, I question! I want those who are struggling to see that if they just find that glimmer of hope, that life can go on.

I look at people here in Mmathethe and wonder about their own bliss. Somehow, with all the hardships, and the daily struggles, they have a resilience in them, and I'm gonna call that resilience Bliss for right now. The may lack in some passion, but they also may never know another life, so let them find that bliss in the simplicity that is all around.

Six months passes, and I remind myself though, to never stop looking because bliss can disappear at a moments notice. Every new trial, new struggle, or new mountain, brings me back to where my bliss had disappeared to when at home. I will never have all the answers, and I don't want really want them. I just want to live, learn, and grow. I want my bliss to change and not be stagnent. And most of all, I want the kids of Mmathethe to find their own bliss in the midst of the daily struggles they endure.

P.S. Happy 13^th Birthday to my beautiful niece Sofie! I love you sweetie!

Ah, Veggie Curry!

…......Not! Good thought though! After being totally cooped up most of the week in the most boring, annoying, sub-basic, 2 week school ministry workshop, I come home for the weekend with thoughts of making veggie curry. You see, no matter what function you're at in Botswana, whether it's a wedding, conference, funeral, etc.....you eat the exact same thing for every single meal. This country only seems to have a few things they know how to make, so they mix and match to make you think otherwise.  It's by far the worst, most boring culinary country in the entire world!  So now, because of the intense heat, my high hopes of gettting my taste buds replenished are shot to hell---I get home to no electricity, no water, and no complaining, because many of my fellow PCV's live like this every day, so it's carrots, apples, and delicious almond butter from home. Next morning, still with no electricity, it's a 5am wake up call due to promising my teen club I would go on this “Say no to unwanted sex” 2K march.  Mind you, I don't really have to go since I'm supposed to be at this conference, but the kids begged me, and how do you say no to 30 brown eyes staring you down. We take a 20 minute drive at this god foresaken hour, and in the middle of nowhere, the kids are laughing at me. This is not an unusual thing, but this time it's because they notice that my shorts are on backwards, my shirt is inside out, and I have 2 different sneakers on. Ok, it was 5am afterall and pitch black inside---at least my teeth were brushed! All of us are hungry, but we march on with our signs and other teen clubs, when all of a sudden loud clapping thunder starts, and then it starts pouring like you can't even imagine. I've seen hard rain before, but this is God's rain, on the continent that started it all, and God makes a statement here to remind us all of something---maybe at least he could have reminded me to bring an umbrella or a rain coat---that would've been a nice thing to do! Drenched to the bone, I finally get home several hours later, the electricity is on, and I'm still thinking about that veggie curry, when I see that my entire kitchen, and the room next to it, is flooded from the bottom up, and my bedroom is flooded from the top down. FUN! Still no chance of that curry yet! I'm shoveling water into a bucket with my dust pan because here in Botswana, they don't have the good mops, good food, nothing but water coming up from nowhere, and all I have is a dust pan! Excellent! Thunder, lightning, and rain, are ferociously happening, Keoki is even a little rattled, but he's the only dog in Africa inside for the time being—lucky him! There's no plummer this side of the Atlantic ocean---not that it would matter if there was, they wouldn't come if called, for about another year. This guy, Wiseman, thought he fixed part of my roof, but all he did was tar it over, leaving me to deal with a dead, tarred pigeon in the process. Are you guys getting the picture here? Just think, all I wanted was some veggie curry and I get this!

It's now 3pm, things are as in control as there gonna be for the time being. I'm starved, so I get out all the ingredients, and whatta ya know—no electricity again because of the storm. It could be days before it comes back on, so it's more apples and almond butter for me, and fighting off the ugliest bugs I've ever seen in my life---they must be God's African bugs too! This is hard stuff here, having to deal with the elements, eating apples and whatever, feeling like a coal miner with my headlight on all night, and having a dog who's eating better than me. My only refuge is that my computer had been charged before the storm, so I'm watching Anthony Bourdain eating delicious veggie curries throughout Northern India. He's eating yummy street food, curries in palaces, Indian food that keeps coming for less than a dollar. Oh God, I'm going bonkers! I feel like jumping through the damn computer, right to India so I can have that curry! I want that curry so badly that I watch the episode 3 times! Then I watch his episode in Southern India two times! I must be crazy! Indian crazy! Seriously, if the electricity doesn't come on soon, I'm buying a plane ticket tomorrow to get some delicious spice in my life.

Sometimes you get a thought, a craving, or a song in your head that you just can't shed---but when your a PCV these things can get a little magnified! I love Anthony Bourdain, I would love to travel the world eating great food, walking through unique villages, and making money for it, but I'm in the Peace Corps, doing good deeds at 5am in the rain, dreaming of curry, and eating scraps of whatever is available. My veggie curry will have to wait for the time being, and in the scheme of things, at least 30 dripping wet kids, now know the meaning and spread the word of saying NO to UNWANTED SEX!  

The long night

There is a realization that my two years as a Peace Corps Volunteer is gonna be more about a dog, and a village, rather than about HIV, and Life Skills. Needless to say, Keoki and the village are getting under my skin, but in ways that I can't comprehend, nor am I gonna question yet. What I do know is that more and more, waves of deep peacefulness are streaming through me, and as much as that has been a foreign feeling in the past few years, I'm beginning to find it nourishing. Sitting on my porch, watching Keoki lying happily and proudly after herding cows out of the yard, he is blending into the red African dirt as dusk descends upon us. It's a sight I soon won't forget....and then night time comes. Sometimes I hate the night here, it's filled with bugs, strange noises, people out in the wee hours, and I worry that someone can just take or harm Keoki, or try to scare me. This isn't always the case obviously, but on this particular night, I didn't know whether to laugh or cry, so I did neither---instead I just froze. So much for the wave of peacefulness that was just felt a few hours ago!

The noises started, Keoki is barking his head off, cows are mooing, donkeys honking, bats are screaching and flying into my window, owls are doing their thing, the strange birds that habitat my roof are screaming, bugs are buzzing, and now every dog in the vicinity is barking. If I were to record the sounds, it would not make the top ten of meditation CD's.

I get up for one second, but all I see are stars, lots of them lighting up the sky, and for a moment, this calms me. Quickly though, back to bed because now peoples voices are around and that's what I hate most of all—especially when the footsteps are outside my window. My heart starts to beat hard and fast, I hear Keoki growling and barking right outside my bedroom window, and all of a sudden, I hear this horrible sound from him and then silence. This is when I completely stiffen up...I'm too scared to peak outside, so I just start talking to the gods. Then, I swear, I hear the roar of a lion. I know there is no wildlife like that in these parts, but what if a lion decided to take a vacation to Mmathethe to see what life is like here....you just never know! After all, my fellow PCV's voted me the most likely to adopt a lion! Soon after my mind has deceived me, Keoki is barking again, and I'm relieved he wasn't eaten by the visiting imaginary lion. The symphony of noises are getting louder though, and instead of enjoying the music, I'm getting more and more scared. At least on safari, you expect these noises, but not in a quiet, rural village. All of a sudden, the noises come inside, and I hear this swishing, russling type of noise right next to my bed. I totally freeze now... I just know it's a black mamba...I have to pee...I can't move...I want to call a friend at 2am now, but my phone is on my dresser...I tuck my mosquito net around me, and just start to pray that morning comes fast and I don't pee in my bed, or get killed by an African snake.

Are we having fun yet? Can meditation help in moments like these? Why can't I just enjoy the peace that was given to me earlier? I lay there, stiff as a board, just waiting for the roosters to start crowing. At some point though, the noises stop, exept for the strange noise next to my bed, and I fall asleep for a few hours. Groggy, and glad I made it through the night, I peak out of my mosquito net to find that it wasn't a black mamba afterall, but a two and half inch black ugly something lying on it's back with it's legs fighting to roll over. Ok, so I jumped to the worst possible scenerio, but with all the goings on during the night, it seemed fitting. After getting rid of the bug, I slowly open the back door to find Keoki, happily wagging his tail, and wondering when on earth he's gonna be served breakfast.

Man, what a crazy night! Was I being tested on how to stay calm in the midst of chaos, or was it just one of those things that stirs you into fear and uncertainty and you just have to wait it out? I don't have the answers for this either, but for now, my thoughts are that I would rather have a lion outside in the village vs. a black mamba next to my bed. This is Africa!