So yesterday I got a temporary roommate. Her name is Lorato and she is a 46-year-old nurse practitioner from the capital. As is typical in Botswana, I didn’t find out and agree to have her stay with me until 5 minutes before it happened. Sometimes it feels like no one plans for anything here. The crazy part was that she woke me up at 2am to cry to me and say that she can’t stay in such a rural, remote, and awful place. I did my best to cheer her up, but also stifle a laugh at first, as I came halfway around the world to live in this “awful place” and couldn’t be happier to be here. I love my village. I love the people, the scenery, even the goats that poop in my yard. Sure, some things are hard. There’s water shortages, no decent road, etc. but it occurred to me that suddenly it feels like home. And that’s a good feeling.

The only bad thing about having the Internet is that it allows me to go back to my old masochistic habits of reading things like biographies of current White House Fellows, about the Foreign Service exam and its abysmal passing rate, and how I need to retake the MCAT and this time get an awesome score to show that 3 years out of college really isn’t such a big deal. The future is scary people. Now I want to go back to my Internet-free life where I just focus on the here and now. On the bright side I found out today I got funding to send my HIV+ teens to Mahalapye to do Teen Club (a self-esteem workshop for kids living with HIV), so that’s a plus.

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!

When we were applying to join the Peace Corps we had an idea of what we would be doing.  Lately, however, I find myself being asked to do things I never would have expected.  For example… Making a movie:   Not … Continue reading →

English! English you are the real lightA light to lifeWe use you in every subject except Setswana

You are the real lightWe are taught English in every school,No matter it is a Tswana medium,A Portuguese medium or Afrikaans

You are the real lightEven students to go to senior schoolsTeachers look to their performance on EnglishYou are the chief of chiefsA real chief

English a success to life

By Ofinah K. Modo, form 2 student

[In English club I like to have writing workshops every now and then. Some of the students' work is cute, funny, and/or impressive, so I'm sharing it with you. Keep in mind that English is these students' second, third, or even fourth language. I am posting these exactly as written, including misspellings and other grammar/language mistakes.]

OK, so it’s Superbowl Sunday, about 1 hour before game time (Chicago time) and I’ve had some great plans to meet up with some ex-pat pilot friends of mine in the nearest city on Monday (tomorrow my time) night and watch a re-run of the Superbowl at their house.  An hour or so ago I got a … Continue reading »

So like I said in my last post; I went to Mmathethe this weekend for a PACT workshop. Myself and 2 other PCVs were asked by a Bots11 volunteer to come facilitate a workshop to help jump start the PACT (Peer Approach to Counselling Teens) club at their school. We went a full day from about 8:30-3:30pm.

So we facilitated sessions on active listening, public speaking, HIV/AIDS, condom demonstrations, team building, etc.

We pretty much just did the same as we did last weekend in Gabane.

(Students getting ready for an ice breaker, first thing in the morning)

(Students singing Bazooka bubble gum)

SOOOOOO sorry for the lack of pictures...

From here on out I think I should just say that this will no longer be a "picture a day" ha...I think its going to be more of "picture...when I get a chance to post."

But it's now February!! And this month is going to be CRAZY for me!! I have something going on every weekend until around mid-March.

On Friday, I headed to Mmathethe; a village about 2-3 hours away. On our way there we packed into a combi.

And since many of you have asked what a combi is...Im finally going to give you an answer.

A combi is a 16 (sometimes 18; and sometimes just 12--there may be 1 less row) passenger van. It usually consists of a driver and 2 passengers in the front; a row of 3-4; a row of 3-4; a row of 3-4; and a final row of 4.

Combis are used for public transport (except places that are farther away usually have bigger buses). In Gaborone, the combi's run to all the various "neighborhoods", including Tlokweng. It now costs P3.30 for a ride. It can be very tight, especially if you are carry groceries or bags. There's no organization as to where people should sit in regards to if they will be getting out 1st or last. So it always seems as though the people in the very back row...always seem to be getting out last. And that usually requires 3-4 people having to get out (to let that person out) and then back in.

There will also be times (lots actually) when the combi stops to let someone out. And then LITERALLY 2 ft later...someone asks to get out! haha drives me crazy sometimes! I dont get why that person just DIDNT get out when the person before them did!

The combi drivers are pretty crazy. They drive on the wrong side of the road, they go over islands in the middle of the road, and they usually speed (or sometimes...they crawl at a pace barely over walking speed).

I have had to carry hula hoops on a combi a couple of times. And after this one time in December...I swore I wouldnt do it again! ha I had 2 hula hoops with me and there was no room for them at the front; and of course the next spot open was for me to sit all the way in the back. So I had bring them all the way to the back with me (keep in mind I also have my BIG pack with me). They kept hitting people; and the person trying to fold down the chair...couldnt. Finally after like 3 stops (of me getting in and out)...they moved me to the front ha. And as I was getting out at my stop--the conductor muttered under his breath "freakin lekgoa." (Lekgoa is a term used here for "white" people. It literally means "vomit from the sea." nice, right?) haha whoops...dont think people were very happy with me!

And today on my way home; I had a "white" guy stop and get in. And you could tell it was probably his 1st time riding the combi. Because he got in; and then stood. He didnt realized there was a fold down seat to sit in. The whole time you could tell he was tense and constantly looking out the window to make sure he got off the right stop. It made my laugh and it also made my realize how far I have come!! I remember riding a combi for the 1st time and being terrified!! Now I ride them ALL the time. Some of the drivers/conductors(guys who take your money)even know my name now!

I have always wanted to get a picture of a "full" combi but usually people are staring at me. So on Friday, the 2 other PCVs blocked me while I finally took a photo! haha but we laughed and said that it really didnt do it justice.

Anyways, so this is how I get around! And yes...I most certainly miss having my own car and being able to drive!

In case you were wondering, I don’t actually live in a mud hut here in Africa. I live in a nice house, with two bedrooms, running water, and a solar panel for electricity. Never did I think I would have something as advanced as solar technology in the Peace Corps! Now it’s not all great. My roof is leaking, there are lots of bugs (and bats) living in my ceiling, the water can go out for days, and the electricity isn’t always reliable, but really I have nothing to complain about. The nurses from my clinic and I live in government housing on a compound near the clinic, while out neighbors live in more traditional round mud or concrete huts without electricity, and use communal stand pipes for water. At first I felt really terrible about this. I live at a much higher living standard than a lot of my neighbors, which makes me feel colonial and paternalistic. But once the power was out for 3 days, and I realized that I really do appreciate refrigeration, I got over that real fast.

These are the 5 top trips I want to do while in Peace Corps Botswana 1. See Victoria Falls 2. Camp on the Salt Pans 3. Go to tsodilo hills (cool rock paintings and the site of creation according to San “Bushman” people of Botswana) 4. Set foot in the 3 biggest and most famous National Parks in Botswana: Okavango, Chobe, and Kalahari. 5. See Cape Town, South Africa Other possibilities? Lesotho, Swaziland, Johannesburg and Durban (in South Africa), Mozambique, and Namibia. I just hope I have time for all of it!

The Five Things I Want to Accomplish before I leave Peace Corps Botswana (That are Non-Work Related) 1. Take a picture with a merkat on my head. 2. Pet a Cheetah 3. Go in a Shark Tank 4. Ride a camel 5. Ride in a traditional Okavango dug out canoe (and not be eaten by a crocodile) These adventures with animals actually aren’t as impossible as you might think. Let’s see if I can make it happen! The Shark Tank thing will have to happen in South Africa though…Love Peace Corps Botswana!

There is an adage in Setswana: Leina lebe seromo. It is the idea that a person's name will mould and shape his or her life.

Due to this cultural belief, parents name their children extremely literally. There are the nice ones you would expect, like Lesego, Masego (both meaning lucky), Lorato (love), and Neo, Mpho, Dineo, Dimpho ( all meaning gift/gifts). Another common name is variations of __me: Wame, Bame, Sesame, all basically meaning "mine." Sesame (pronounced say-SAH-may) literally means "something that is mine."

Here are some other Setswana names and meanings:

Mothusi - helper

Mothati - a strong person

Tebo - vision

Bokamoso - future

Thuto - education

Bontle - beautiful

Dikitso - information

Khumo - riches

Thuso - help

One of my favorite students is named Atlanang, meaning "hugs," which I've always found sweet.

A particularly funny name I heard came from a colleague. She has a daughter and a baby boy. Her daughter's name is Ao (pronounced ah-oh, but in one syllable, almost like "ow"), which isn't actually a word but rather a noise made when someone is shocked, surprised, or offended - "Ao! Rra, what kind of girl do you think I am?!" etc. I can imagine my friend finding out she is pregnant and exclaiming, "Ao!" and then deciding to just name her kid that. To top it off, her son's name is Bao, as if she was too tired by a second pregnancy to come up with a new name, so she just added a "B."

Names can even be taken to more literal extremes than the Ao/Bao incident. Many children are named Mosimanegape or Mosetsanagape - long names which mean "boy again" and "girl again" respectively. I've heard of someone being named Botlhoko (pain) and I assume his mother had a long, arduous birthing process.

My dear friend Lily's middle name is Kebatho, literally meaning "it's a person." When Lily was born, her father was upset to have a girl instead of a boy. Lily's mother, however, cherished her, and gave her the middle name Kebatho to remind her father and everyone that women are people, too.

In all my time in Botswana, my favorite name that I've heard is Serati, pronounced "say-RAH-tee." It means "something that I love," which seems like a very precious and thoughtful meaning, and it is a unique name here in Botswana. When I first heard it, I thought I had found my future daughter's own name, but I can only imagine how Americans would manage to mispronounce it.

All in all, names are generally given thoughtfully and with love here. It's a lovely sentiment to name your child after what you hope his or her future will bring.

...Unfortunately, I don't think it would ever work in the States - can you imagine meeting someone named "Education"?!

Hello everyone!  Sorry I haven’t written for a while.  Partly just very busy and partly about settling into a bit more of a daily routine that doesn’t have quite as many new exciting adventures as our first 4 months in Africa.   Our whole PC group just got together for a week of training and for the most … Continue reading »

Thursday December 22nd When people say a woman has gotten pregnant in Botswana they say, “She fell pregnant”. I don’t know why this is so funny to me, but I just imagine a girl literally falling over and then as she gets up to brush the dust from her skirt, suddenly noticing a huge pregnant belly. Like she couldn’t help it, and doesn’t know how it got there. This phrase just makes it seem accidental, or sinister. Of course, just like anywhere, pregnancies can be planned and unplanned here in Botswana. I give out 400 condoms every week at the clinic, so I know family planning is possible, if not actually happening.

Since my internet was too slow to attach some of the photos from Affirmations on Monday night, I wanted to do it now....As usual, we have a hard time taking anything too seriously.Half the group, with Tracy in a wheelchair because she broke her foot on the very first day of IST... how sad is that?! And Nate brought his guitar along to serenade his affirmation parner, whose song went something like .... "shaaaaannon, she'll punch you in the face if she has to". Don't let that give you the wrong impression though, Shannon is super awesome. But we are all still a little afraid of her.The other half the groupThis wasn't during affirmations, of course, but we spent all weekend enjoying the pool at Big5 Lodge and I was so excited about it I wanted to post a picture. The closest thing I have to a pool in Motokwe are the puddles of rainwater outside.... or my bathtub.... so I was in heaven.

It is so hot in Botswana…

…I walk around under an umbrella.

…the water coming out of my “cold” tap is boiling hot.

…makeup literally melts down my face.

…despite being a self-proclaimed sun worshiper, I haven’t laid out in over a year.

…I cuddle up next to ice packs after work.

…wet clothes on the line take less than an hour to dry.

…my friend and I were commenting one day that it didn’t seem very hot. We then found out the temperature was 98 degrees.

…the only time it’s cool enough to exercise is 4:30am.

…when strangers come onto my family compound, the dogs don't even care enough to move.

…drinking 5 liters of water per day still isn’t enough to keep me hydrated.

…cooking dinner on the stove is enough to make sweat drip down my face.

…I sleep naked!

So there is this thing called Passion Killing in Botswana. It refers to when a person (usually a man) kills his lover in a fit of passion after finding out she was cheating. There has been a rise in passion killings in recent years, maybe because cheating now means putting your partner at risk for HIV, and you have life threatening illness thrown in with all that heartbreak. The bad thing is that these men usually don’t get the normal sentencing time for killing someone. The culture seems to believe that the woman asked for it by being unfaithful (not counting that men are unfaithful with little to no repercussions). Someone asked me if we have passion killings in America, and I just said, no, we usually just call that murder. It makes me made that they have a special term for it, as if somehow these men were clouded by sexual lust and rage, and therefore should not be held as accountable for their own actions. BUT THEY STILL TOOK A HUMAN LIFE. It’s not romantic, it’s just an example of how gender roles are so messed up in this country.

Last of the training and on to work:  We have officially ended our community assessment period and are now supposed to start our work as Peace Corps Volunteers (PCV).  At the end of the two month assessment period the PC called us all back to review our assessments and agree on what projects we will … Continue reading »

There was one other time I've seen the SuperBowl in another country - when I was studying in the Netherlands. We watched the Superbowl at 4 AM, at a bar I think was called The Highlander. They blacked out the front window b/c it wasn't allowed to be open that late. There were a bunch of us American study Abroad students who went to watch the game.

This year, I traded for some Satellite TV airtime for Mexican food to watch the kick off at 1:30AM this Monday morning at my friend Gary's House. Gary is a pastor and Coordinator for Love Botswana Outreach Mission, started by a couple from Texas more than 20 years ago. He's also the only other person in Maun that I know who is a Lakers Fan.

I am from the Pacific Northwest. I am very familiar with umbrellas and their function. Umbrellas keep you dry when it's raining. Or at least that's what I thought... Perplexing Botswana Observation #983 is that umbrellas are for shielding you from the sun and NOT the rain.

Since it started getting ridiculously hot in October, I have seen my fair share of people walking around with umbrellas. They have acted as portable shade from the blazing hot sun. I thought to myself "genius!" and wondered if they could figure out portable air conditioners as well. It wasn't until a few days ago that I realized it was actually the only thing the umbrellas were used for. Yes, a few days ago, much to my merriment, it rained. I had a meeting in another village so I grabbed my umbrella and started walking towards the bus stop. Halfway down the road I realized that I was the only person with an umbrella. I'm usually the only person without one, choosing to enjoy the sunshine (like a true Seattlite), and now that it's raining, I am again alone. This seemed so strange to me. Either I have this backwards or they do, right? Well, no, we probably both have this right given where we come from. I lived in Seattle, where sunbreaks were a blessing and rain somewhat common and they are from Botswana where it rains in the summer when the sun is so hot that it scorches your skin. Obviously we have found our own very valuable uses for the umbrella. Even still, it baffles and humors me. I think I'm going to just carry an umbrella around all the time (or never?). Oh Botswana, you continue to surprise me!

For the first time, Botswana has a flyer to distribute to the public to inform them of Children's Rights.

Botswana adopted the UN Convention on a Rights of Children and then passed its own legislation called the Child Act in 2009. Imagine, Children have "modern" rights legally since 2009 in Botswana. Most citizens of Botswana still don't know what's in the Child Act, hence, the District Child Welfare Committee, of which I'm the Vice-Chair of, will be holding Child Welfare Day on February 16.

As part of the Committee, I've created a flyer, drafted directly from the Child's Act that can be distributed to the public. With globalization, and Botswana trying to be a forward thinking country, the Child Act was written in English. Also keep in mind, that the Act was passed in 2009, yet copies of it didn't start circulating until late last year, 2011 to Police, Social Welfare Officers etc. The flyer is meant to be easy to understand, hence, while working with various people in my office and the Social and Community Development Office with Local Government here, we were able to translate the flyer into Setswana.

We will be distributing the flyer to the public at Child Welfare Day.

Of course, this does not go without challenges. Literacy Rates in Maun are about 85%, further up in the delta, only 60%. However, hopefully this will be a breakthrough, that can be replicated across the Nation and form a benchmark for other districts.

I HAVE INTERNET IN MY HOUSE! It’s super slow and I have to go make myself a sandwich every time I want a page to load, but it’s here! Technology! Connection to the outside world! Hurray! Start expecting much more coherent and chronological blog posts! I’m so happy I could cry!

I live in a village with a post office now! Hooray! (Love) Letters and packages can be sent to me at:

Tija "Kamogelo" Danzig, PCVc/o Gabane Community Home-Based CarePO Box 853Gabane, Botswana

How sweet is that?! (The simple pleasures of a PCV... how wonderful it is!)

For me, the hardest thing about being here is that so much has changed at home in the past ten months. Life goes on, and even though I realized things would change at home when I came here, I never could have guessed to what extent things would change or how difficult that is sometimes. During the ten months that I've been here, things at home have changed in so many positive and negative ways. I have friends who have gotten married and friends who have had babies or are now pregnant. When I get home many of my friends will have boyfriends or girlfriends or even children whom I've never met. My best friend's son, who is like a nephew to me is growing and changing all of the time and will be in elementary school before I get home. My family has changed in so many ways already. My youngest brother is now in Middle School and has been dealing with the challenges of being a pre-teen, my two adult siblings are both moving to California, and my parents are going through a divorce, which in itself has brought a lot of changes. People I care about have dealt with illnesses and the loss of loved ones as well as other challenges. Sometimes thinking about going home to all of these changes after my service is overwhelming, and other times I feel badly for not being there when these changes are taking place. I often have to remind myself that even if I were there I wouldn't be able to "fix" things or stop these changes from happening because that is how life works; things change. My friends and family at home are not the only ones changing. I already feel like I've changed too. I remember the first time I ever felt like a "real" grown-up was when I started working at my job at a residential treatment center at home. I hadn't been out of college for very long at the time, but there I was, responsible for taking care of teenage girls who were dealing with some pretty severe emotional and behavioral challenges. I had to step up, and after working there for 2.5 years, I sort of began to feel older than my actual age in many ways. Being here in Botswana has made me feel even older. Yes, I know that I HAVE gotten older and that I'm 28 now, but in some ways I feel older than that . Again, I am working with teenagers and need to be the adult, but here it is more than that. It is seeing people much younger than me taking care of younger siblings because their parents have died, it is being by myself a lot and being more ok with that, and not really going out to clubs or parties like I honestly probably would be doing at home, and sometimes, it is feeling tired. I have a lot of time to think here, and I think A LOT. Sometimes that is hard because I think about the people I care about at home and worry about them. Other times, I'm really grateful for all of the time I have to reflect because that is not something I took a lot of time to do at home. I've learned that I like time to myself more than I ever thought I would have at home where I was always on the go. I've also learned that sometimes I'm really hard on myself, and even though this is something my friends and family at home often told me, I'm now seeing it for myself and am working on it. I cook more and take the time to take care of myself more than I ever did at home where I would have just scarfed down food on the way to work or at work. I'm speaking up for myself more, and overall feel more assertive than I ever have, which I think is a healthy thing for me. I think I've lost a bit of my idealism, which makes me a little sad, but at the same time maybe it is a good thing to have more realistic expectations here. I get a little overwhelmed in large groups of other Americans ( like at big trainings or gatherings with other PCVs) , which is so strange because I used to go out in large crowds all of the time at home and was never phased by this. Now I feel more content at smaller gatherings with a few good friends. I'm sure that there are more ways that I'm changing that I haven't even realized yet. I guess all that I can hope for is that my friends and family at home are patient with me when I do come back and accept me as I am, and I will try very hard to be patient and accepting of all of the changes at home as well. It will be interesting to see what else changes in the next 16 months.

Well, I did it. I packed up all of my things and moved down the A-10 to the village of Gabane. It was no small task to wade through the things I brought, things left by the previous volunteer, and things gifted along the way, but I did it. And saying goodbye to my Kums Kids? Lets just say that more than a few tears were shed during the week before I left. It was trying to say the least. But, in the light of a new day (and looking from a new horizon, literally), I have to say that it all has been worth it - a true blessing.

Today marks my tenth month living in Botswana and it has taken until now to feel settled and truly happy. It is almost ironic to me that it's taken being uprooted to feel settled but that has been the case.

As you are aware, nearly seven months ago, the NGO that I was assigned to for my primary project at my post in Kumakwane closed down. I spent a lot of time trying to get things sorted and staff poised to reopen the center. Despite my best efforts, motivation waned. When it looked as though there was nothing more that I could do, I started investing my time in other projects in the community and its surrounding areas. I integrated as much as I could and befriended a group of wonderful children. As time went on, Peace Corps decided it was in my best interest to reassign me to a new site. This meant moving from a community that I had grown to love and starting over after close to a year in country. I was skeptical but accepted my fate. On Monday morning, my things and my life moved to Gabane.

The NGO that I am now working for is called Gabane Community Home-Based Care and Early Childhood Education Center. The organization has many functions, all working towards helping the sick and vulnerable. Programs include everything from home-based care, ARV adherence, and health and wellness workshops to preschool/early childhood education, orphan care, and caregiver training and support. All staff at the NGO are volunteers, many of whom have been at the organization since it opened in 1997. These staff members have foregone having a salary in exchange for being able to feed the children and continue to support their HIV+ clients. That staff have been continually fighting to keep it afloat, overcoming a plethora of obstacles along the way. Needless to say, they are selfless, dedicated, willing, and motivated to help people. What's more, they are extremely excited about every idea that I have and truly understand that I am there to capacitate them (and not to do the work for them). As such, I am every bit as excited to teach them new skills and get them to "function at the next level" (as they so aptly put it).

For the past two days, I have been observing classrooms for the Early Childhood Education Program. This has given me an opportunity to watch them teach, to meet the children, and learn more about this aspect of the organization (which appears to be the cornerstone of future projects). Next week, I am meeting with the Executive Committee of the NGO and then going around to meet the partners, including staff from both the clinic and the health post, as well as members of the Ministry, our Kgosi (the village chief), and representatives from Pellegano Village Industries (an artist/artisan colony in the village that is helping support our organization). The following week, I will do ride alongs to observe the Home-Based Care Programs and meet the Support Group members. The staff and I agreed that it would be advantageous for me to see the many factions of the organization and how they function. The more I know, the more I can help.

In the past two days, however, I have already been able to start a number of beneficial projects, including: helping them brainstorm new fun and educational activities to incorporate into their lesson plans, developing a new monitoring and evaluation plan for the Early Childhood Education Program, digitizing reports and record keeping systems, teaching basic computer skills (including typing), and I set up email accounts for the organization and the main volunteer staff members. We are also planning on starting proposal writing sessions in the upcoming weeks. (In another vein, the women at the NGO are also pretty excited for me to help them make a picture wall to showcase their students and the work they are doing and also for me to do yoga with them!) There is a lot more to work on, which is something that is truly motivating and exciting to me. It looks like my next sixteen months are going to be busy!

I feel extremely blessed to be working with these women at the NGO. This is exactly what I had hoped to come into in joining the Peace Corps. This new site gives me the opportunity to help in so many different capacities - capacitating the staff to do their jobs better, assisting people living with HIV/AIDS and improving their quality of life, helping build curriculums and programs for orphans and vulnerable children, and then creating activities for children and youth to keep them active and healthy. And, on top of all that, I get to work with people that are motivated and passionate and care about their work. This is what I asked for during my first site placement interview. I told them that I didn't care what conditions I lived in - if I had water or electricity in my home - but that I wanted to work for a cause that I believed in and with people that were as dedicated to their mission as I would be. I can't imagine a better way to spend the rest of my time in Peace Corps.

In the end, I would never take back the time I spent in Kumakwane. Time spent with the Kums Kids and with the people from the village are among my most special memories. I was able to show Bokena how to hug, make goofy faces with Temogo, teach Elsie and Stompi Spanish, and paint Elijah's nails. I met Lovey and started a wonderful friendship (and stimulating book club). I had dogs that comforted me when I was homesick and adjusting to life in Botswana. And now? Now it's time for me to move forward and to do what I came here for - to help (even more). Finally, true contentment. ♥

And the new house isn't half bad either! See:

Thursday December 15th Sometimes it is just hard for me to get out there. Sometimes I just miss home so much that I just want to stay in my little cocoon of English I’ve made for myself in my new home. But I am a community volunteer, so I eventually push myself to go out for a walk around my village. I always end up getting cat called, and people continually ask me for money, but there is always one moment that makes it worth it. Today it was three ladies I met on the road who, once I greeted them in Setswana, all gave me big mama Botswana hugs. Sometimes a group of teenagers pull me into their pick up soccer game. Sometimes a little girl comes up to me and asks me to be her friend and to give her a piggy-back ride. These moments make me love Botswana, and make me so happy that I joined Peace Corps. I just have to take the good with the bad.

We did an activity the other night called "Affirmations", and it's something I think all large (or small) groups should do at some point. I learned it on the service trips that I did with St. Joe's University; we did them on each trip and although both experiences were very different, I thought they brought the group together in an incredible way. You put everyone's name in a hat, and pick an anonymous affirmation partner. All week (or however long you're together), you make an effort to spend extra time with that person and to notice all the wonderful traits about them. Find out what makes them happy, how hard they work, how they inspire people, what their best gifts are, how they contribute to the group. At the end of the week you sit with everyone in a circle and you "affirm" your partner in front of everyone, and tell them how fabulous they are. Our affirmations started out fun and lighthearted, but got pretty emotional towards the end. Bots 11 is such a mixed bag of experiences, education, backgrounds and passions. We work so well together, and I love the dynamic that has formed among the group. It made my heart so happy to spend the night telling everyone how much we love each other.

Mozambique has been at the top of the list of countries I wanted to travel to ever since I first got to Botswana. Volunteers from the previous group would return from trips and share stories and pictures of time spent relaxing on beautiful, tropic-like beaches and eating fresh seafood. I craved a vacation where I could sit on a nice beach with a cold drink, eat fresh seafood, and just relax.

The problem with a trip to Mozambique is that it is a bit tricky to sort out the logistics of getting there. Mozambique requires that all Americans get a visa before entering the country. To get this visa, I had to physically appear at the Mozambique Embassy and pay them for the privilege of entering their country. It was no small feat working out how to get down to the capital and it was quite costly.

Once the visa issues were sorted out, we began to work on the travel plans. Getting to Mozambique on my budget involves several buses and dozens of hours worth of bus travel. From my house to the town we wanted to go to in Mozambique, would mean 4 different buses and cover a distance of 1,900km (1,180mi) one way. I definitely looked forward to the destination, just not the journey.

The journey actually turned out to be for the most part uneventful. We had an 8 hour layover (if there is such a thing for bus travel) in Johannesburg. The bus depot there is not in a safe area so we jumped a bus to a suburb called Sandton. There is a big mall there and we figured we could find something there to keep entertained. I felt like a fish out of water in the mall. All around me were chic designer stores selling things for more than my monthly stipend and very well dressed people whisked by me with their shopping bags. So here I was, standing in one of the poshest areas of the city wearing a plain t shirt and my ragged, beat up, and stained khaki shorts. I was definitely out of my element.

After killing time at the mall, we got on our overnight bus to Maputo, the capital of Mozambique. The bus left at 10:00pm and would arrive in Maputo at 8:00 the next morning. I reclined the seat as far back as it would go, got comfortable, and then popped a sleeping pill. I managed to not only sleep the whole way there but the attendant had to wake me up when the bus got to the border. We had arrived just before the border opened and were waiting along with other buses, combis, and private vehicles. When the border opened it was a mad rush to get in line and a little chaotic.

We passed through the border without any hassles and continued into the city. We found our hostel, dropped our bags, and set out to explore the city. Maputo is a very large city that seems to be crumbling right before your eyes. All around there are architectural reminders of its time as a Portuguese colony but also of the country's brutal 16 year civil war.

We found a cool little food place in a back ally that served a dish with shrimp, rice, and salad for under $4. It was the first time I have had shrimp in two years and it was amazing. We also quickly discovered how little English the average Mozambican knows (if they knew any at all). The official language of the country is Portuguese and we were limited to very basic communication and hand gestures.

We went to bed early that night because we had to be up at 5:00 to catch the bus going north to Tofo. We had heard great things about Tofo. It has amazing beaches and is a place where you can find whale sharks. I was especially looking forward to maybe getting the chance to snorkel with a whale shark.

A shuttle came to pick us up the next morning to take us to the bus rank. We got on the bus going to Tofo, paid our fare, and waited while they packed every available inch of space with sacks of rice, various other goods, bags, and people. It was going to be a hot, crowded, and quite uncomfortable ride. I tried to nod off, but couldn't find a comfortable position. About an hour or so out of the capital, We suddenly came up on a large line of trucks and cars on the side of the road. The line stretched easily over a kilometer and people were milling all around the road. The driver drove down to the end of the line and then stopped to ask what was going on. As it turned out, there had been major floods in South Africa and that water had raged down the river into Mozambique. The flood waters had washed out a large section of the road and water was rushing through the gap. This road is the only way to get from the capital to cities in the north. We were pretty much stuck. The driver parked the bus and wandered off.

Rumors abounded. One was that the road was going to open by noon, another said 2pm. Yet another one was that the road would be knocked out for a month. We ended up sitting and waiting for the better part of 6 hours before the driver decided that we would head back to the capital. Our beach vacation to Tofo was off. Compounding our misery was that the driver had spent a large portion of our fares putting fuel in the bus and could not pay refunds for tickets. They offered to take us again for free the next day.

We limped back into the capital and tried to figure out our options. There was no way that they were going to fix a 10 meter stretch of road overnight and so we looked through a guidebook for other options. Maputo is in a large bay and does not really have good beaches (raw sewage is dumped directly in as well). I did not want to sit in the capital for the whole vacation. We learned from the guidebook that there is a small island at the mouth of the bay and is only a 3 hours ferry ride away. The guidebook talked about "pristine" beaches and made it out to be quite nice. We decided to give it a shot. It was too late in the night to make reservations anywhere and so we decided that we would just go out there and hope there was some kind of cheap accommodation.

We wanted to get to the docks early because the ferry could leave at any time between 7 and 8:30 based on the tides and winds. We all got up early again and looked for a taxi. There were five of us and to save money we asked the taxi driver if we could all just pile in. (This is not an uncommon occurrence in Botswana. If there is space in a vehicle, they cram people in). The driver didn't have a problem with it and we set off for the docks. While waiting at a traffic light, a police truck passed through the intersection in front of us. The officers caught sight of us and the truck lurched to a stop in the middle of the deserted intersection. Five police officers carrying machine guns got off and directed the taxi to pull over. A police officer approached us and asked to see everyone's passport. It is a law that all visitors must carry their passports at all times and this is commonly checked by police looking for fines or bribes.

The officer then told us that it was against the law to have so many people in a taxi and that he would have to arrest us all. We tried unsuccessfully to argue that the taxi driver should be the one fined or in trouble. Our taxi driver settled low in his seat and just stared down at the pedals. I had a feeling he knew exactly what was going on. The officer again told us to get out of car and that were going to be taken to jail. Someone mentioned that it should just be a fine and the officer then asked how much we were willing to give him as a "fine." One of us offered up some minuscule amount and he quickly raised it to 1,000 Metacais (about $40). He took the cash, got back in the truck with the others, and then they left. It was a total shakedown from start to finish and it was infuriating. (And I would be willing to bet the driver was in on it as well).

In hindsight we should have called his bluff to go to the station or mentioned that we were going to call the US Embassy but we didn't want to miss the ferry. There was only one ferry per day and some days it didn't run at all. Any delay because of the police could potentially mean getting stuck in the capital for a few more days.

Everything with the vacation seemed to be falling apart and now we had basically been robbed by the police. We got on the ferry and hoped the island would be worth seeing.

In Mookane clinic we have a doctor from the Congo, Dr. Citeya. He speaks French, English, and two Congolese languages. At first I was excited, thinking how great it will be to have an ally in my pursuit of learning Setswana as an outsider, but I now realize he really has no interest in learning Setswana. Bummer. The funny thing is, while we both technically speak English, it seems like it is impossible for him to understand me. I have changed my speaking patterns to be slow, and I’m careful to enunciate well, but every time I talk he can’t understand. He turns to my counterpart Ernest and waits for Ernest to say the same thing I just said. The thing is I can’t for the life of me understand why he understands Ernest better, since he will just repeat the same thing I just said. The whole thing is like an SNL skit. Too bad I don’t know French…

We are getting closer. The doctor in South Africa is keen to get started, but was concerned about Erto’s seemingly not trying to walk much, and wondered if there were other hidden problems. He wanted xrays. Cathrine took Erto to Lobatse for xrays. They wouldn’t do them and told her to go to the hospital in Gaborone. She went there on a Friday and they told her to come back and see a specific doctor on Monday. On Monday, that doctor said he wouldn’t do xrays that were going out of the country and that the doctor is SA could do them. Too bad they didn’t tell her that on Friday, right?Now mind you, each of these trips require Cathrine to pack up herself and her son, put him on her back and walk to the bus stop, which is about a mile away, if not a bit more. In Gabs she then has to take a khombi and try to get to the hospital at 7:30 when they open so she can stand in line and hope to see the doctor by noon. All this with little (well not so little, he will be 2 in April) Erto in tow. They don’t give appointments in the government clinics or hospitals –first come, first served. Each trip to Gabs costs P27, which adds up when you have no money.Well, Tshepang, the mother who had her own child treated by this physician and has been willing to help transport Cathrine and Erto to SA for treatment once it starts, scheduled xrays with a private doctor so that she could take the xrays herself on her trip to see the doctor this week. He now has the xrays, will see the nature of the problem and hopefully schedule treatment to begin. Then we just have to find housing for them during the 8 weeks so they don’t have to travel back and forth each week. That would be a nightmare.With any luck, treatment can start in February and be completed by his second birthday in April. Then, he will have to endure wearing a brace almost constantly for 6 months or so, but he will thereafter be running around just as nature intended. I can’t wait for the next step, pun intended. Thank you everyone who donated to his cause. There is a real need for physician training in Botswana so kids won’t have to travel out of the country and Tshepang and I are talking about how we might help the STEPS organization make the connections here so they can train some doctors in the treatment method.

I wrote part of this Saturday night, the 28th after what was both a typically eventful and uneventful week, in that those things that were supposed to happen didn’t but things that weren’t necessarily going to happen, of course did. Then today the 31st. I added to it….what a difference a week makes.We progress slowly on the closing out of the European Union Project and are still waiting for the mobile office to be delivered. They said the 27th but on closer interrogation I was able to wrestle the information that it would be DONE on the 26th and then they would have schedule delivery. I suggested that they schedule delivery assuming it would be done on the 26th so we might get it on the 30th or 31st. This was found to be a fine idea, but tonight, Saturday the 28th, I have no idea what will happen on Monday, or Tuesday or, god forbid, even further adrift from there. Meanwhile the contractor is finishing the latrines and the storage building just fine, but has to move the two large piles of sand he had brought to the site because they sit where the caravan needs to go. I lied to him and said the sand had to be moved before the 27th because of delivery. Didn’t do a lick of good, but I don’t envy his workers having to move a pile of sand from here to there in this heat. He asked me if they could just spread it around. Sure, just NOT WHERE THE CARVAN IS SUPPOSED TO GO. Have to say these things. I found out that the contractor paid the support group to move the dirt and sand. A fine idea which amounted to slave labor prices but they were happy for the money and it all actually got moved.Today, the 31st, I was there to witness the landing of the caravan. It was an all morning affair. We arrived by 10. The caravan, set smartly on a very large truck, drove by us happily around 11. Dudes, do you not know where you are going? Apparently not, as they called us and said, “heh, duh.” The chair of the committee commented that perhaps they wanted to parade it through the village first on our behalf. He cracks me up.Previously, we had arranged with “Fred” from the company that they would come straight off the road where we would dismantle the government fence temporarily so they had a straight shot into our gate and the property. Easy peesy. Fred wasn’t there and didn’t pass this on, but I didn’t clue into this because I was trying to let things unfold, let the group manage their new asset, etc., etc. and I really thought one of the guys was Fred. So they drive back past us again, turn around somewhere where a big rig can turn, drive by us one more time, and turn off onto a very uneven dirt road to come to the property. Thing is, it is not humanly or superhumanly possible to then turn this monster truck into the property without taking out a serious fence, which is ours. They tried twice, then decided if they couldn’t come in forwardly, they could back in, which as far as I am concerned is just plain stupid. Well, at this point, I watched for as long as it took for them to bring the back of the caravan very close to the fence pole and said, “ema fo” which as we know means “stop there,” but could also, with a slight change in pronunciation, sound like a shorter version of “eh motherf-ing fool.” I explained to them the real solution and we took the fence apart, they drove out and then back in lickety split. Then it took awhile to remove the trailer from the rig, but I now know how three skinny guys can do that. Quite a low tech but worthy system. While they were at that, two members of the group, a staff member from my office who arrived with pliers, per my plea, and the director of the local conservation group, put the fence back together. Well, kind of. Don’t look too closely.By this time, even with my sunscreen I had been in and out (but mostly in) the sun for about 4.5 hours and was thinking it was time for me to go. I did a quick happy dance for the benefit of the support groups members who all really wanted to do one themselves, but just didn’t dare, and headed back to the office.The water and electricity hook ups for the other group still haven’t happened, but at least now supposedly the village development committee and the local political representative are hot on it. But if we don’t have something by my party maybe I will just tell my three bouncers to not let any of those guys in. Meanwhile, we doggedly dig holes to put in the gumpoles for the shade garden. We can’t really occupy that office until we get the big smelly things out of the first room, and we can’t do that until we can put them in the ground and secure the cross poles and shade netting with wiring good and tight so no one makes off with any of it. And we have a fellow who is going to stay at the office as kind of security, but he can’t move in until the gumpoles are out and wants to have power and electricity too. So there you go.My party is threatening to become absolutely crazy. I am now planning for maybe 100 kids and some of them will be bringing parents because everyone sees it as a chance to get free food at my expense. We will be counting people at the gate and when I hit 100 kids I am locking everyone else out because the looks I will get when I don’t give everyone exactly the same amount of everything are going to kill me. The kids are already following me around, asking me questions I cannot understand, all I am pretty sure having to do with the party.I have explained that it is a kids only party from 10 to 2 and no meal will be served. They think this is crazy. I need to remind them it is called a cross cultural experience. I am showing them how I would do a kid’s party at home. Lots of games, jumping castle, prizes and sugar. No meat and cabbage salad, ok already?Then the party for my 15 year old friend follows. I have told her only 30 kids. She is inviting more and they think they will get to stay for the “adult” party. Sorry kids, I am counting up to 30 and then I am closing the gate and when it is time to leave, I am kicking you all out. They too think they should get a meal. I think they should eat what I give them and be happy about it.I heard tonight from a local source for three cakes and hope her prices are reasonable or I go to Lobatse and have a Rotarian bring them to Otse Saturday morning. The DJ fellow still hadn’t contacted me, but then, it is only less than a week away, so he must have plenty of time. Last night, my landllord’s son said he could do it with a cousin’s machine so that got solved. Up until this morning I still wasn’t sure how I would get the 100 chairs from the Village Development committee’s office up to my house. One of my nice Rotarian buddies first offered to hitch me to a trailer he had but then made a more serious offer not involving me or any livestock. Still, I approached the director of the home based care program who really isn’t too busy right now and he said he could do it. I had seen more beat up pick-up trucks owned by people in the village I don’t know than I thought was possible, when I didn’t have any options. Now that I have, it I don’t recall seeing any.The jumping castle will arrive the morning of the party and only then will we decide how many of the tree branches we need to trim away. Silly me, I was thinking to just trim up a bit this weekend….Thursday I go shopping to buy the food for the “adult” party and will buy for close to 150 people, in case everyone I invited and some I did not, show up. I have three bouncers to keep the riff raff and uninvited out, but if that turns out to be the village chief or some of my neighbors, they will have to let them in, right? People I have not invited know about the party, so it is anyone’s guess what will happen. If it decides to rain, I really don’t know who will come. I have hired one of the disability groups to do the cooking for me, so at least I don’t have to mess with it. I am hoping they serve the meal at a reasonable hour. As it turns out, this afternoon, the 31st, one of my friends who is well connected in the community asked me if she could bring a couple friends. Well, sure why not? Who? The chief and his wife. So I definitely need to make sure the bouncers don’t bounce him, which of course they never would do.I have somewhere between 6 and 10 Peace Corps volunteers coming for anywhere from just the party to two nights stay. My Motswana family is coming also – all 8 to 10 of them, and 4 or so Rotarians. These groups of people at least know they are going to be helping with the party. I will be holed up in my bedroom with my cats, sitting the whole thing out, if it gets too beyond belief.Early last week I thought of just officially canceling the adult party and unofficially having just my PC and Rotary friends and family over, but the problem is that someone would get wind of this and would come anyway and then what? Last week I was seriously thinking about cancelling everything, but that is a totally different story. Besides, it is going to be so much fun.I succumbed and bought the bolts for the toilet seat, though most of the guests will be using the pit latrine. I also succumbed and bought hair color so all the grey will be gone for at least a few weeks of my 50th year.I am going to have the girls help me write a little speech, welcoming everyone and explaining that this is an Americanized version of a party they would do, and that I am not related to Bill Gates even those we are both white, tall and goofy looking, and I can only do what I can do. It’s not a wedding after all: I am not killing a cow or goat for them. They dropped by tonight to pick some music, get an update, and help me pick what to wear for the party. We were in agreement: the short sexy dress was hands down the best. Thank god.Really, it will be fun. Oh, that just made me think of one of my Dad’s quotable quotes from our childhood during one of what we would call “ill-fated expeditions.” You are going to have fun dammit, whether you like it or not.” Ema fo.

So says the PC nurse who I saw Friday to pick up my medications. I lost another Kilo in two weeks and weigh roughly 141 lbs. I do eat a lot, or so I think, but it’s the walking and sweating, stupid. Alot of what I have lost is fat, but a lot of it is muscle, so I went and bought myself some protein powder and am now starting to drink it with the full fat milk. And it is yummers. I mean, I am fine with my weight, but it would be cool to show some muscle again. Ceci (my trainer at Praxis, not my cat) will not be happy if I come home all skin and bones. Sisi my cat is a fatso and thinks I am taunting her with my leanness. In fact, she just looked at turned her backside in my direction. Coincidence I am sure.

Last night I was woken up by unusual sounds, which I was pretty sure were baboons. Not as if they were outside my window, but out in the distance. Normal sounds of my every day life in Maun typically consists of cows moo-ing, dogs barking, roosters calling (well before dawn), donkeys (hee-haw-ing quite often as if coughing up a hair ball) and sometimes a gobble from the turkey and quacks from the ducks next door. So the sound of baboons caught my attention.

My flat is across the river from the Maun Educational Park, home of lots of plant eating animals, no elephants of course. Occasionally, I'll take a walk around the block by the river and see a giraffe eating the acacia along the opposite bank. When the floods were high, the baboons would escape the park (though i'm surprised most animals stay within it and it's not so high fence), and run around by the road and bridge just outside of the park. I would never see them in the centre of town - I think they know it's not safe for them there.

But having been to the educational park, and seeing the dozens and dozens of baboons, it's a surprise that I didn't hear them calling earlier. Until, just last night, I heard a chorus of baboons calling to each other.

Letswerewere: It’s a Zulu word that means foreigner but literally translates to “sexual jealousy”. It stems from the idea that foreigners will come and steal African women. Pretty weird.

Family Visit!

There is nothingbetter than seeing loved ones after you haven't for a really long time. Thefeeling that bubbles up inside you as you anticipate their arrival. Theecstatic joy you feel once you finally get to be in their presence again. Thisis just some of what I felt when my family stepped off the plane and began theirAfrican Adventure here in Botswana.

One of the toughest things about coming to Botswana was leaving all my family and friends for such a long time. Peace CorpsVolunteer service has periods of loneliness and homesickness. It's just a reality of living in a foreign country by yourself. There have been times I have felt morealone and homesick than I ever have in my life. Being able to have people whoknows, loves, and understands you come and spend some time with you is a gift ofso much relief, joy, and happiness. It had been over a year since I had seen myfamily and I was about to embark on 2 weeks of traveling in and around Botswanawith my entire intermediate family. Something that is a rarity now that us kidsare older. I couldn't have been any happier! I am pretty sure the people around methought I was crazy as I had to suppress my excitement and tears waiting forthem to come through the gate.

It was great to beable to show them around the country and show them a little bit of what Iexperience here in Botswana. They got tosee my village, meet all the people I work along side, try some of the foods Ieat, and see how I live day to day. This was awesome because now I have familymembers who have experienced a little bit of what I have over my time ofservice and this will breed an understanding that no words or pictures couldever do.

After spending a fewdays in my village, we headed out to experience all the wonderful things thecountry of Botswana has to offer. We spent a lot of time in the car driving allover the country but it was worth it. Guess all those family roads trips we hadgrowing up really paid off cause being in a car with my whole family for longhours at a time was no big deal. It was good to joke and laugh and just be around thefamily. We got to see everything from animals on safaris and boat cruises, tothe Salt Pans in Nata, to Victoria Falls, to petting cheetahs. It was a greattrip and something I will always cherish and remember.

If you want to hearmore about the details of our trip you can check out my post here.

Thanks for followingalong and I hope you enjoyed the countdown!

LOVE HIM OR HATE HIM?

I am not sure how it is in other countries, but young Batswana have a relatively good grasp on popular music in the states. Chris Brown is a favorite of many. Recently I attended a few baby showers. At one of them, a woman mentioned how she LOOOVEEDD Chris Brown. For the purposes of this story, let's call her Sarah. I told Sarah that I wasn't the biggest fan, that I like his music but I don't respect anyone who hits women. It is just how I feel. I have had this conversation with a few women in Botswana. A couple coworkers of mine at Shoshong Clinic said that they have forgiven him--that it is all in the past. Similarly, Sarah said the same thing. But she went a little further, saying that we don't know his side of the story...that we don't know what Rihanna may have done to deserve to be hit.

This conversation was interesting and illuminating to me in many respects. It first shed light on Botswana culture and pointed to something larger about women and the way we treat each other. Thirdly, it helped solidify my views on violence in general.

CULTURE IN BOTSWANA

In addition to the comment about Rihanna, Sarah briefly spoke about her experience. She said "Well, I've been hit, but then you just move on." I interpret that as her version of "grin and bear it." Maybe it is simply a survival mechanism, a way to keep going on. Maybe it's a source of pride--to be able to say you're strong and can move past hardships. Maybe asking for help is not viewed as being strong, or perhaps it's not really an option.

Although Botswana is a "second world," partially-developed country, relationships between men and women are still very traditional. Wives always serve their husbands. Traditionally, at the wedding ceremony, the married women give the new bride advice. Among the instructions of how to be a good wife, the older women tell their younger counterpart never to ask her husband where he has been or when he is coming home. She should also look the other way if he decides to take other partners. And she is instructed that her role is to serve her husband in any way--she needs to cook what he wants to eat and give him sex whenever he wants, regardless of her desires. Admittedly, some relationships of the youth are more equal, but this marriage advice is still given at most traditional weddings. Young educated women have told me that they just nod and keep their head down, but they have no plan to follow the advice. Personally, I hope that the advice changes when my generation becomes the elder women.

I do believe that a more equal view of women and men as partners decreases violence against women and leads to better economic standing for women, and therefore better economic conditions within the country. When children see their mothers as strong role models, they are empowered to do their best. Empowering women empowers the entire country. I hope for this reality for Botswana. That being said, I do not argue that western countries are perfect at this either.

HOW WE TREAT EACH OTHER

Although the US and other western countries have made significant strides on economic and social equality for women, are we any better at supporting each other? I am not so sure. Women should be made to feel supported, loved and validated (as should men). And sadly the worst violators of this are oftentimes other women. We see this with women who perform genital mutilation on their daughters, tell them to be subservient to their husbands, claim that other women "deserve" ill treatment because of bad behavior, call other women whores by judging their sexual choices, and oppose a woman's right to family planning and choosing when to have a baby.

When did we lose the ability to support and genuinely love other women? We need to bring that back. When all of our partners die and our children move away, we will only have each other.

If you want to be inspired about the power of female friendship, this is a great article

VIOLENCE

This third point may seem obvious, but this whole Chris Brown issue reminds me of something I recently decided: violence is NEVER okay. NEVER. Your girlfriend can scream at you all she wants. Your boyfriend can cheat on you. Your mother can yell at you. Your friend can break your possessions. We should not use violence to "solve" our problems.

As a student of international relations, I always studied wars as failed diplomacy, or even as other means of diplomacy. I never liked it, but I never really thought about war as a crime against humanity in itself. I never considered myself a pacifist. Well, I do now. I have begun to see the Earth and everything/everyone on it as parts of the same living system. We need to be kind to the Earth and kind to each other.

There are a couple quotes from Gandhi that underscore these points:

"However much I may sympathize with and admire worthy motives, I am an uncompromising opponent of violent methods even to serve the noblest of causes."

"Every murder or other injury, no matter for what cause, committed or inflicted on another is a crime against humanity."

To some extent, I think Volunteers all over the world have similar experiences. Location obviously plays a big role in dictating the work you do and the culture in which you immerse yourself, but we all share an uphill climb to enact change and a hope that what we do will be sustained after we’re [...]

January 25th So I’m in Gabs the capital right now for a training with other volunteers from my intake. We come together after the first 2.5 months at site for retraining and regrouping. It’s so nice to be with other Americans. We talk so fast, words blur together, after having no native English speakers around for 2 months. “Heydidyouseetheyhaveapool!Howisyoursite?It’ssogoodtoseeyouuuuuu!”  We hardly give ourselves time to breathe. But the best part was, after a gross guy on the bus tried to rub up against me for an hour on the way here, I saw some of my friends from pre-service training, and broke down. This has been a really hard few weeks; I saw cases of rape, babies getting diagnosed with HIV, and creepy married men getting my phone number from their cousins and calling me 6 times a day. It was so good to cry and commiserate with my fellow volunteers, who totally get it. I am so grateful I have them as a social network, and to be with them this week.

January 20th So there’s a group of adorable African children who have found me. They come to my house everyday to play. We color and sing songs. They ask for money a lot, which is kind of heartbreaking and at the same time exasperating. Every 5 minutes during an hour of coloring they will ask me. But they are cute, and drew a bunch of pictures, which I put on my wall, and they really liked that. Today it was getting dark, and I asked these two girls (ages 4 and 3) where their mother was. They took me to a shebeen (a moonshine bar worked out of someone’s house) where we found her dead drunk. I realize now that’s why they are at my house all the time. The mother also has a small baby that is breastfeeding, and is probably ingesting that home brew. This is really unfortunate, as these home distilleries never have a consistent proof, so this mother may get something super strong by accident, and then either get the baby drunk with her breast milk, or not give the kid food for a day. I don’t know what to do. I kind of made a rukus being there (the lekgoa at a shebeen! Always cause for excitement), so I got her to go home, but I think she just put the kids to bed and went back to drink more. I have no idea how to handle issues of child abandonment in my village. I want to get social workers involved, but as a white person coming in after hundreds of years of colonial imperialism I don’t think that’s really something that should come from me. For now, I’ll try to partner up with the Health Education Officers in my village. Until then, kids coloring at my house will have to continue.

Shark Cage Diving!

When I decided to goto Cape Town, South Africa with a group of other volunteers over New Years Evethere was one thing I wanted to do more than anything else on my to do list,and that was going shark cage diving!

I had planned ongoing with two other volunteers. We were booked and the night before I hadtrouble sleeping because I was soo excited! I got up and met the other twogirls while we waited on our ride. The van pulled up, but there was aproblem….my two friends' booking was messed up somehow and they weren't on thelist to go! I was really sad and didn't know what to do! Eventually after somecalls it was determined that they weren't going to be able to go. I crawledinto the van full of strangers and off we drove. This was the first time I wasgoing to do something thrilling andadventurous completely by myself (well I mean I did join the Peace Corps andmoved to Botswana for two years, but that's a little different). Now don't getme wrong. I love doing awesome/crazy things but I've always had a friend orfamily member right there with me. This time that wasn't going to happen. I wasstill really excited but not having someone to experience it with made me more nervous.

The trip to Gansbaiifrom Cape Town was a beautiful 2 hour drive through the mountains and winecountry. There were two groups from Italy and another couple from Sweden in my van. At least they all spoke English. Being my out going self I quickly made friends with them.

Once at the place wewere given some breakfast and then briefed on the cage and what was going tohappen when we got out on the boat. It was finally time to get on the boat! Theboat ride was pretty rocky out to the cage. I had stayed on the lower deck andgot a little motion sick but the views were gorgeous!

Once at the cage weall suited up while they chummed the water to attract the sharks. After a fewminutes some sharks started to come and it was time for some people to get inthe cage. I was part of the first 5 to go. The water wasn't too cold, which wasgood. We waiting a little bit and then next thing I know I hear "DiversDOWN!!!". This meant a shark wasnearby and I needed to dunk myself deep into the cage to see it. The adrenalinerush was ridiculous! I shoved myself down as fast as I could and there he was!A huge great white shark swimming right by the cage. I popped back up and itwas time to wait for another one. We got to be in the cage for 3 more sharks tocome by and then we had to get out to let some other people have a look.

Once back in theboat I decided to go up to the top deck to watch the sharks. The view from thetop was great because you could actually see the whole shark in the murkygreen-blue water! Man were they big!! (the sharks wereabout 3 meters long) I watched and tried to get some goodpictures as the sharks came up to the cage or tried to get the bait. A fewtimes they jumped out of the water and one time "Nemo" (as the guidescalled her because she had a damaged fin, which made her more aggressive)jumped out of the water and hit the corner of the cage with her tail. Wish Ihad been the guy in the cage then.

After everyone wentit was time for me to go again. This time I had the positioning down so I wasable to actually see the sharks better when I pushed myself down into the cage.At one point a shark jumped out of thewater with mouth wide open, teeth baring at the cage. That was pretty sweet.He/she was after the bait line which was being pulled back towards the boat andup over the cage. I wish I had gotten a picture of that!

After everyone wenttwice we all got out of our wet suits and headed back to shore. I made surethis time to sit up on the top deck, which helped tremendously and didn't getsea sick. Once back at shore we got some lunch and got to watch the highlight video.I talked to our guide a little bit. He had some great stories from doing thisfor 7 years. Pretty cool job, I would have to say. Then it was time to headback to Cape Town. I ended up sleeping most of the way back. Guess being out ona boat in a high adrenaline situation wears you out.

Check back in tomorrow for the number 1 moment of 2011!! And if you haven't already check out numbers 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, and 11 :)

So I have been at In-Service Training for about a week now; we are having a blast and I'm so happy to be surrounded by the many wonderful, enthusiastic and inspiring volunteers of our group. The Life Skills volunteers (there are about 28 or 29 of us) have been having training sessions on very specific and direct ways to infuse the "Life Skills" curriculum into the classrooms of the schools we work at. I'm grateful for all the training we've received and thankful that I finally have a clear idea of what I need to be doing when I get back to site. Now I just can't wait to get home and start all the initiatives that I've been brainstorming for the last few days.

I'll include a few pictures of the group, so you can see my new haircut and all the amazing people I get to spend my days with! A bunch of us all dolled up to go out on Saturday night. I'm glad that, even in Africa, I haven't lost my touch of being the collective hairdresser/makeup do-er/clothes borrower of our group. Makes me miss college! We are weird and wonderful.

I don't know why, but I love this picture. During the very important training sessions some of us get a little distracted by each other and, since all of us young ladies sit at the same table, we tend to find ways to occupy ourselves. Mostly this is done through making up quizzes for each other, writing each others' families Valentine's Day cards, or drawing maps of Botswana like the one above... with clearly only the most important things labeled. Please take note of the "lions and zebras" at the CKGR and the sushi in Namibia. Caitlin making friends with the staff at Big5 Lodge, where we're staying for IST.Me & Becky with our new hairs!

We'll be here for another week, so I'm sure I'll be able to post more. Unfortunately the internet is painfully slow sometimes. Tomorrow the official "in-service training" ends and a few of us will stay until Friday to do training for these videos from South Africa called "STEPS". Basically they are in English or Setswana, and they deal with topics like HIV/AIDS, sexual health and other sensitive areas. We will learn how to show them to groups of young kids/adults and facilitate safe, open discussions about the videos and the impact of their content. I feel like I'm going to go home to Motokwe at the end of the week with so many new tools, I need to remind myself not to get overwhelmed with planning like I can tend to do.

Also, I missed my sister's birthday about two weeks ago so I just want to give a shout out to the most amazing, affectionate and supportive best friend Laura!! HAPPY BIRTHDAY SISSY, I love you so so much and I am so sad I've missed so many of your birthdays over these last few years. I will make it up to you big time, I promise!

"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!

I've been talking so much about the daring do's of kids in New Xade that I forgot to mention a very important weekend, Chinese New Year! I happen to be in my friend Kelly's village over the holiday picking up supplies for the kiddies, so I stayed for dinner...

My first tomatoes (after investing over 100 US bucks and before the plants got trashed again last weekend)

Kelly Liu and I sharing Tsa Siu Bao that she, camilo, and Alison made by hand from scratch!

Kelly's Eggplant dish which I shamelessly devoured over the weekend

Kelly's Longlife noodle dish which I also devoured

Firework(s)! The "Golden Shower" (Try not to giggle)

Where to begin? For starters, I’m back in Moshupa and let me tell you Mozambique is a tough act to follow! There is something to be said about how nice is to be on a different continent and feel like I have a home to go to at the end of the vacation and there’s a sense of accomplishment and pride in that thought alone, but on the other hand returning to Moshupa means my vacation is over. Mozambique was a vacation with little to no sleep. We ate fresh coconut almost everyday and indulged in delicious and ripe mangoes. We went to the beach and markets, roamed the streets, drank the coffee, and spoke a little Spanish along the way.

The whole trip was just Britt and me. We alternated between taking and posing for pictures for the entirety of the trip with only a few documenting us together. There are, however, a few occasions where the self-timer came in handy and we were both included in the photo at least for documentation purposes. The trip started with a ride to Johannesburg, which was surprisingly longer than I anticipated. We crossed the border into South Africa and the landscape didn’t change too much. Along the way we saw some of the more interesting housing situations I’ve seen. There were these vast and smooth green, treeless hills with these really concentrated areas of shacks and shanties that just processed along the hills at a consistent density. Just beside the housing would be this very definitive, stark ending point as though the open expanse beyond that line was uninhabitable or just yet to be built on. I couldn’t understand why they wouldn’t want to spread out within that space or at least make a little elbowroom between shacks. Of course all the houses were made of mixed pieces of corrugated tin and scrap metal, making for some interesting textures, colors, and patterns, also in contrast to the smoothness of the greenery around it. I wish I had stopped and taken a photo of this because my words feel rather inadequate to really explain the whole setup.

Once in Johannesburg, we arranged to meet with a Couch Surfer, Alexandra, to pass a few hours of our layover. This was my first Couch Surfing experience and it turned out to be a great one. For those not familiar, through Couch Surfing you can arrange to meet with people in various cities around the world, either for coffee and lunch or even to sleep at their home on the couch/floor/extra bedroom, what have you. She was a GREAT host with a great love for her city. She drove us around in her cute little sedan, listening to some great music. I felt I was immediately in the company of a close friend, like old times in my former life. We went to a perfect restaurant where I enjoyed a delicious salad with roasted peppers and sweet balsamic dressing. I also indulged in a fancy fresh (and DELICIOUS) glass of carrot juice. If the visit had ended there I would have been equally as contented with my time in Johannesburg However we proceeded to 12 Decades, a hotel with 12 rooms, each room’s décor from a different decade. There were also some apartment units within and the communal space served as an art gallery. My favorite was accessing the roof for a spectacular view of the city just after sunset. We didn’t stay long enough to enjoy a full evening in Jo’burg/Jozi…but I will be returning. I’ve also heard even better things about Cape Town and Durban, so you can imagine these cities are quickly rising on my to see/to do lists.

On to Maputo: Upon arriving in the capital city, I was running on adrenaline and couldn’t nap, particularly knowing I only had two days in the city. SO what’s a girl to do? ON TO THE MARKETS! Oh, what a great market we found nestled in a quaint park with stalls upon stalls of textiles and carvings, key chains and bracelets, bags and shoes, spoons and bowls…I imagine this is where Anthropologie sends its buyers. Before even getting to the market, we wandered the city and began what would become a daily indulgence of espresso. Sidewalk cafes abound and I didn’t hesitate to reintegrate that into my day’s agenda.

Maputo went something like this: café to market, market to café, walking on sidewalks along the way! (Finally! Sidewalks!) We also saw the old train station designed by Gustav Eiffel, the same guy that designed the Eiffel Tower. So much of the architecture and layout of Maputo was so intriguing and just so different from anything I ever anticipated it being. We tended to stay on Communist Lane wherever we went, turning from Ho Chi Min Road to Vladimir Lenin Boulevard. Much of their architecture was art deco with some interesting textures and styles. Maputo proper was also filled with high-rise concrete apartment buildings, each unit draped with clean laundry on the balconies. In Maputo we stayed with another Couch Surfing find. He was a British ex-pat with a great apartment located right in the middle of the city. He has lived in Maputo for some years teaching English at one of the hotels there and tutoring in his home. We slept on his living room floor and his window seat. He introduced me to the Mozambican dark beer (Laurentina Preta), which we enjoyed one afternoon just siting in the market place at a little restaurant amongst fruit and vegetable vendors. We managed to incorporate mangoes and coconuts as well as espresso into our daily routine in Mozambique.

Then we took a fabulously lavish and luxurious 8-9 hour bus ride to Inhambane. By lavish and luxurious I mean being nestled in amongst toilet paper and bags of potatoes, feeling the sweat trickle down my legs, smelling the fragrant body odor of 40 different people (oh they don’t like the windows open too much either), and the incessant puttering bus engine masked by the Rihanna/Lil Wayne/Beyonce mix that played on repeat for the duration of the trip. People climbed out of the windows at bathroom breaks (because it was easier than accessing the door). While the trip was long, our destination was well worth it. This was the small town vibe we felt more accustomed to coming from our respective lifestyles in Botswana. It was funny to feel the need to get away from the city and the chaos of an urban center (including all of its amenities), whereas in the States and my other vacations I am chasing the next big city, writing off the back roads and the farmlands as merely a means to an end. In Mozambique, these “back roads” were really our only roads, and they gave us the opportunity to see the sporadic villages along the way with the thatched houses shaded by the tall trees. Inhambane was the situated bayside on this peninsula that juts out on the coast of Mozambique. We took the public transportation in a combi from Inbambane to Tofo (bayside to ocean access). You could tell that not many tourists used the public transport with a few people interesting in talking to us, inquiring about where we are from and all. I was really grateful for to feel relatively comfortable in using transport with the locals, knowing to anticipate little to no personal space in a vehicle and just going along for the ride. While I thought Botswana was bad in how they crammed people onto the buses and how vehicle was not considered full until there was literally no place to stand. Well Mozambique takes all. A vehicle is not full until there is literally no space left to sit, stand, squat, or lay, and the door does not have to be fully closed. We got some kind of close with the locals on these excursions.

The landscape and visual culture was so different, and such a welcome change. Mind you, they still had my absolute favorite food available in Southern Africa (probably all of Africa): maize cooked over an open fire, slightly charred and lightly salted. In Inhambane we found what we think is the greatest café in all of Southern Africa, where they sold hummus, falafel, milkshakes, and veggie burgers?!?! They also had olive oil there that was the most fragrant olive oil I’ve had in a long time. Needless to say, we went there on a couple different occasions. Well, it seems food is a huge component to my vacation.

Mostly I loved that it was comfortable for us to walk along the bay at night with streetlights and sidewalks. So many of the teenagers hang out at water when the tide comes in. They spend all evening swimming, playing music, and barbequing. It was a bit of a nuisance, having to hear all of that from our hostel, but in many ways I was grateful to see a healthy social scene with youth. In Botswana, recreation feels very limited and doesn’t cater much to the younger populations in rural areas, particularly considering it’s often alcohol related. (Not that that always stops them.) Also, Britt and I totally basked in the anonymity of Mozambique. Because it is such a touristy hotspot, they are accustomed to seeing foreigners, namely white folk. Passing people on the street and in the market, no one really cared. When we were asked to purchase things like cold drinks and chips, a simple “no, thank you” was sufficient. There was no badgering and begging. It wasn’t like we were ignored, and if we wanted to engage in conversation, they were fully receptive and actively engaging. We were just one of them in the city. Because they spoke Portuguese, I was able to get by just fine using my Spanish. Some spoke English, but it was a drastically smaller population than the number that speaks English in Botswana. I have missed feeling that reliance on using another language. Parts of my vacation in Mozambique felt like a pseudo-European experience with the cafes and the high-rise apartments, dense living, and bustling city life. I also found myself practicing my Spanish in my head in hypothetical conversations, particularly as I approached someone needing directions or negotiating prices at the market. In Madrid, I was always so nervous to have to go buy credit for my cell phone and would recite my number in Spanish over and over before entering the store. Here, it was similar, but not such an anxious nervous, but more so an excited nervous. I will say that I also felt like I understood more of the conversations on the bus and noise around me in Portuguese than I do with hearing the Setswana in Botswana. Anyway, I can’t tell you how great it felt to not feel like I had to be on my toes for every single interaction and passing stranger on the street. I could approach a conversation when I felt ready for it. This may sound silly, but sometimes it takes a bit of mental and emotional prep to initiate and maintain a conversation. That is something I miss from the States, the anonymity of a city and the ability to move about with no one even noticing. It seems I got a little taste of that familiar feeling (and convenience) in Mozambique and it was so refreshing. It seems I sometimes fail to be the persevering extrovert I desire to be. I’m getting to be ok with that, learning to navigate social settings and going with what makes me comfortable.

In many ways, it felt like Mozambique was the Peace Corps experience I anticipated when signing up. Truth is, I didn’t know much of anything about Southern Africa before this all started. I’m happy to have the insight and experiences that I have now and even being in Botswana gives me the chance to access theses places relatively easily. I am not entirely disappointed with my time in Botswana, but I am about to reach the one-year mark and I have a good understanding of my life here in terms of work and recreation. I am just going through a lull and experiencing frustration with the systematic side of things and feeling under-stimulated in some ways. Part of this is my own fault and I have to remind myself that not everyday is going to be a “come to Jesus moment”. I also think that maybe even with the visual stimulation and social atmosphere of Mozambique, there are probably some really pressing issues that would make Peace Corps service there equally as trying. That’s the nature of Peace Corps though; you agree to be flexible and to go wherever they send you. You make the most of it, discovering many things about yourself and the world around you. I am at least grateful for exposure and access to other countries if only for a quick glimpse. Botswana was actually in the African Futbol Cup, their first year to qualify. They played this past Saturday and I had a beautiful moment watching the game with Batswana at a local pub. I was standing with them as they sang their national anthem. It was so beautiful to see everyone so excited and passionate about the occasion. They lost miserably 6-1 to Guinea, but the first half proved to be a pretty interesting match. The 2nd half, not so much.

With the holidays over, it’s back to the usual with life here in Moshupa. I am in the process of looking for funding for a GLOW (Girls Leading Our World) Project. I’m still waiting on furniture in my new house, but hopefully that will all be resolved by the end of February. Fingers crossed. More later, my friends.

I take it back, these kids are driving me crazy. Though, like the thorn I stepped on yesterday afternoon, I have to admit, or is it "I hate to admit," it's not their fault, it's really mine. I've turned into Uncle Wilson from Dennis the Menace, "DENNNISSS!!" or is it, "CALLLLVVIINN!!" Either way, I'm a cranky old scrooge and every time the kids come to ask me for water for sweets for shit, I'm reminded of how little I have, which is pretty petty since I have so much... Luckily, kids have thick skin and no understanding of the english language, so within minutes, all is forgiven and the next day we can continue our *friendly* banter. 

I was left alone with one of the standard one classes, a group of 60 little ones. My head ached after half an hour when they realized that I'm not a normal teacher and that I dont have the guts to tell them to shut up. Screaming, crying, laughing, singing, some were even covering their ears to drown out the noise. Finally I took charge and told them all to "shhh!" and the kids, being kids imitated me, "shhhhh!" I pulled out a book and decided to read them out loud. Read to all 60 of them. Students were demanded patience as I read slowly in my best Ms. Lewis from the 2nd grade voice and rotated the book around the room for them to see pictures. Since they didn't understand my words, they turned it into a game. When the book came around to them, they would squeal, hop on the tables to get a better view and grab it with their itty bitty hands. By page 5 I was wrenching little fingers away from the pages, telling kids to sit down, and the headboys were out of their seats monitoring the kids behind me. 60 kids is hard to manage. After a point, things got so chaotic, kids were falling from their chairs and I had to be mean again. I grabbed one particular kid, the policewoman's son ironically who had spit on me the day before, and brought him outside to scold him. He babbled some english words at him, knowing he couldn't understand what I was saying, but hoping that my tone would convey my message, and ushered him back inside...

 

In joining the Peace Corps and coming to Botswana we have moved from the Northern to the Southern Hemisphere and from the Western to the Eastern Hemisphere. Continue reading →

One of the most beautiful views of Cape Town is said to be from Table Mountain. This was the only day with good visibility--the first day we got there, December 29th. But the lines to the top of the mountain were so long. So Sadi (middle), Thatie (right) and I decided to skip it and go to the mall instead.

On the 30th, a bunch of us went on a wine tour in Stellenbosch, about an hour outside of Cape Town. The views from the wineries were beautiful.

The Bots 10s who came on the wine tour! From left: Kristen, Becca, Jeremy, Tija, Todd, Patrick, Amanda and I

On the 31st (the day of Sadi, Charlie, Susan and my trip to Cape L'Agulhas) we also tried to whale watch. Although we saw no whales, we took lots of pictures. In this one, I am trying to get Sadi to take a photo of my jumping. Needless to say, her timing was a bit off.

To celebrate New Year's Eve, the group of us went to a huge party at the Cape Town Convention Center. This photo shows Sadi and I in our hostel before we left for the Convention Center.

On the morning of January 2nd, Sadi, Thatie and I toured Robben Island, where Nelson Mandela is imprisoned. This is a photo of me on the island. Unfortunately they don't allow you to just explore at your own pace, but they are changing that for future tours. It is such a beautiful place.

A recreation of Nelson Mandela's cell

Later on the 2nd, Sadi and I were exploring a bit of the city. There was a parade supposedly celebrating "colored" people (mixed black and white, according to South African history and society). The streets were packed. We wanted to visit the church in the background of this picture, but that unfortunately never happened.

On the 3rd, Susan and I went to the Kirstenbosch Botanical Garden. It was such a beautiful day. I would recommend it to anyone who visits Cape Town.

This plant is very cool. It is called a cycad and it has survived since the time of the dinosaurs!

A general view of a very small part of the garden

I thought this tree was really interesting. Its leaves are silver!

And then we flew back to Botswana on January 4th.

January 9th During the past month at my clinic I have seen…. 1) Two babies test positive to HIV. This is a brutal reminder tha

This is really an eye-opener for me. I don’t want 2 years of service to turn into a lifelong struggle. This volunteer is an amazing girl, and so strong and right to tell her story. Please read, and please, be generous. http://nogoingback-thereisonlyforward.blogspot.com

While I was in Kumakwane on Friday, we stopped to see the new puppies at the neighbors house...

HOW cute are they?!! They wouldnt stop moving haha so theyre not the greatest pictures.