Pushy Grannies and public transport.

When you picture your Granny--you picture a cute, old lady, who sends you spice cookies and since she is old she can say what every she wants and get away with it....99% of the time Grannies are as harmless as flies....right? Maybe in the USofA, but most defiantly not in Botswana (and perhaps the rest of Africa).

I would gather that Grannies in Botswana send their grandchildren mophane worms instead of spice cookies (but the thought is just the same), Grannies here are cute and old...but certainly not harmless as flies when it comes to public transportation. 

In America, we are taught to give up our seats on the bus for older people, pregnant women, disabled etc etc. We hold open doors and let elderly get on the bus/plane/train/etc before you. Thats just the right thing to do. Right???

In Botswana, oh the contrary.

Riding public transportation is like a fight to the death. Age and a gender play no role in this battle to the death. Hitching, buses and khombis (15 seater vans) are the primary form of transportation, and you cram as many people into the vehicle as possible. 

Just last week, I got elbowed by a Granny in her vain attempt to push me out of the way to get on the bus. ELBOWED. It took me so by surprise that she won the battle and took my seat. Fortunately, the khombi driver took pity on my and I uncomfortably perched on the edge of the seat for our ride out of Lehututu. 

There have been many occasions when I have to STAND for several hours on my bus ride back to Lehututu...Buses don’t follow capacity laws, they should--but they don’t. Picture a Grey Hound size bus...then picture that entirely full with 30 people standing in the isle as you speed across Botswana. Riding the bus is a pretty harrowing experience itself. Bus drivers go well over the speed limit--which isn’t that bad...until there is an obstruction in the road. Cows, goats, donkeys, sheep and other vehicles (at times people and donkey carts) frequent the road. Instead of breaking, bus drivers lay on the horn and at the very last minute break and swerve to miss the poor animal. Donkeys are the worst--its a giant game of chicken when a bus and a donkey face off. I prefer to sit in the back so I can’t see what lies ahead of us. 

Personal space is a Western concept--there is no concept of personal space, or at times being polite on the bus. The fuller the bus is...the worse it is. During my enjoyable standing experience last weekend on the bus a lady took my water out of my hands a drank it and shared it with her friends. At Christmas time, as I was taking a mint out of my bag and man helped himself to a mint as well. If you are a lucky one to get a seat, mothers will place their children in your lap as if you are a car seat. I flat out refuse to hold a child--one of my friend got peed on. By the end of all of my bus trips, I can’t take anything seriously...I am completely spent.

And hitch hiking...oh my. Thats another story. Hiking as its commonly called in Botswana is a fairly safe and common means of transport. (The Peace Corps does not recommend hitch hiking as a form of transport, but recognizes that it may be necessary at times) Just as with busses or khombis, drivers will cram as many people into the vehicle as possible. When a car pulls over...you and every other person rush to the driver in the attempts of securing a seat. When I say rush, its like Black Friday when the doors of Wal-Mart open...

I hitched into Medie for Christmas, it was about a 30K ride on a bumpy dirt road...I was lucky (I think) to be in the back seat (versus the truck bed). There were 3 other adults plus myself and 3 kids wedged into a spot that would comfortably accommodate 3 adults. Plus my camping back pack and other peoples groceries. I have to say, it was the worst ride so far in Botswana. But you know what...I got to Katy’s house...safe and sound! 

What have I learned in all of this? All is fair in love and war. There is no sense holding on to your American ideals when it comes to public transit. You have to develop a stance when queuing for your ride and pretend you are a line backer when getting on and off a bus. Oh, and wear close toed shoes...people well step on your toes.  But seriously, if you want to ride public transit in Botswana this is the one time when you really want to integrate (aka be like host country nationals) don’t make eye contact with people as you push them out of the way. 

Go Siame Bats....

As a few of you know, I have had a bat infestation the entire time I have been in Lehututu. Not only are bats bad for your health (lung disease, rabies, ebola to name a few) they are very loud! They lived in my bedroom in the rafters by my tin roof. Every once in a while, I would climb dangerously on to a chair that I put on my bed and doom them--in the vain attempts to kill them. While dooming I would usually scream profanities at them--not that it help, but I sure felt better. Every once in a while, a poor bat would venture down and I would pounce! Half the time I never caught the bat and ended up running around my house with a broom and a can of doom...every once in a while I was lucky! And that poor bat, well, I beat the crap out of it and then pretend I am the Incredible Hulk... Which is shocking, since I am not a violent person at all. Needless to say, my neighbors must think I am very strange with occasional outburst of profanity and Incredible Hulk like grrrring/waving of the arms.  

On Saturday morning a man shows up at my house with a ladder and a bucket of plaster to fill the holes between my tin roof and walls (how the bats enter). Which A-I am very please about but B-the bats are still there and I am damned to let a man seal the bats inside my house. After thinking for a bit, the man decides that my roof needs to come off and he will manually remove said bats. The man tells me that he will be back. About a half hour later he shows up with two men in tow, some beers and a box of chibuka (traditional beer). He proceeds to climb up a very rickety ladder onto my roof and removes a part of the tin. I was asked to climb up and bear witness to the bats nesting peacefully away in my rafters....

The two other men are on bat killing duty inside by bedroom. Which was quite an eventful experience--every once in a while, a bat would escape and the men would run around my tiny room chasing it with sticks....The idea of this is funny, but in reality, it was more funny--partly because these men were already intoxicated and pretending that they too were the Incredible Hulk. 

And I am bat free. (We hope) And my roof is back on! 

I tend to think that bats are smarter than we give them credit for--that night I could hear other bats flying straight into my new patched holes trying to enter the bat cave! Alas, I have foiled their plans of a blissful slumber....muah hahahah (take that!)

9 bats later (yes, there are only 7 in the picture but two are outside)

Peace Corps Week!

Its Peace Corps week! Don’t forget to send some love to your PCVs across the world! (Ahem, it is Girl Scout cookie time....)

Being a PCV (Peace Corps Volunteer) differs across the world, even vastly within each country. 

Here is a little look into my daily life! 

5:00-6:00 the wild life orchestra wakes me up--its actually an amazing thing to hear (just not when you are trying to sleep). The sounds of chickens, donkeys, cows and dogs echo around my village. I am trying to figure out what they are saying--they make beautiful crescendos and fade away. 

6:00-I check to see if I have water--the oh so precious water of life. If I have none, I usually grumble and go back to bed. If I have a good flow I decided I can go for a run. I have now mastered the art of guessing how soon my water will be out based on the flow. If the flow is mediocre I fill my bath tube while I put on my running clothes. 

7:00-Run is done, bathing has happened if there is water-if not...its baby wipes and baby powder to the rescue. I make coffee and eat oatmeal all while walking around in my delicates in the vain attempt not to sweat. It usually fails. Somewhere in this I look at my leftovers--no mold is a success so I don’t have make lunch. Depending on the mold status I will either keep it for dinner or throw it out. 

8:00-I walk 3K to school, which is about a 30-45 minute walk depending on how many people I run into on the way. I have no electricity, so I tote my computer/other electronics with me to charge. 

830-2:00-I hang out at school. I work the the guidance and counseling department, so if there are classes I help teach or plan lessons. I also get a lot of reading in... On Mondays I go to the clinic and help weigh babies. Its the cutest thing ever! Tiny babies don’t realize that I am not their mother...but kids about 3-5 years old are scared of me. Frankly I would be too! This strange white person trying to weigh them/measure them! 

Tuesdays and Thursdays I have a PACT club at school, so I go to school later and stay later. 

Somewhere in the afternoon, I walk the 3K back home again. Sweating all the way. Once I am home, I open up every door or window possible to air out my oven of a home and put on as little clothes as possible while still remaining decent. 

Dinner is usually a pasta based dish. My thought is that if there is mold, just heat the crap out of it to kill it...so far its worked. The produce man comes once a week to Lehututu. In his visits we get: tomatoes, potatoes, onions, occasionally bell peppers and carrots, apples, occasionally mangos and bananas. As you can tell, I have a very diverse diet! But I have to say, the mangos are TO DIE FOR. 

At about 8:00pm it is dark so that means its time for me to lay in my bed and read or watch movies on my computer. 

Night time in Lehututu can get exciting! The dogs on my compound bark at anything....and bats fly around my room. If they land on my mosquito net I spray them with doom and curse them...but I think they have learned to stay away until I am asleep. 

Now, you might wonder what I am actually working on!

As a Life Skills Volunteer, I am attempting to teach the kids at school this vague topic called “life skills” but, in reality, I try to focus on Peace Corps goals 2 and 3 (refer to previous blog post for PC goals) of cultural exchange. I think that if I could accomplish one thing in my service, it would be critical thinking. And if anyone has tips on teaching critical thinking, I would love to know. 

So,what is life really like? My day sounds pretty romantic--yes? In reality. Peace Corps is hard. Its really hard. At times I feel like I have a mood disorder. Kids and adults in your village make fun of you, ask you for money and things constantly. Your favorite student will come and talk to you, but in reality just want 10 Pula...you go from an instant high to a low in a matter of seconds. Its hot....you stress because you haven’t had water for a few days. Your heart breaks for the villagers who are starving, but you can’t give them money because thats not sustainable. Or for the drunk man passed out under the tree. 

There is a different concept/notion of caring in Botswana, I feel like most of my co-workers care about me, but it is expressed in different ways than in America. Thats been a hard adjustment. At times you feel like screaming--just listen to me and care! But you can’t...so you carry on in silence. Or other times, just want a hug or an affectionate touch--but thats not done here. 

I try to find a joy in every day, something small like the sunrise or sunset. My neighbors dogs running to greet me. A small kid being nice to me. The tuck shop woman's always warm greeting to me. My dinner or lunch not being molded. 

But you know what. I wouldn't change it for the world. It truly is the "toughest job you will ever love" 

Ms. Frizzle

There are times every once in a while that you are suddenly struck with a realization--as if a lightning bolt came out of the sky...or in the cartoons a light bulb goes off in your head. Today was one of those days. 

Growing up, I had never particularly valued my education. I valued my education, but I didn’t VALUE it. All my life I floated along, going from grade to grade, then college, then I worked, then I went back for a Masters on my own dime. My Masters was when I started to “get more bang for my buck” perhaps it was because I was older, doing something I loved or signing the student loan papers...But today was when the lighting bolt hit me. 

The storm has been brewing for a few weeks now...and the lighting struck today. 

I am placed at the Junior Secondary School--its like 8th, 9th and 10th grade rough equivalents in US schools--but its oh so different. The education system is taught in English. My students are coming from Setswana, Sekgalagadi and a few more languages spoken in their homes. Students start “learning” English in form 2. I do not mean to insult the teachers, but the students only have a loose grasp on English--there is no real comprehension. Teachers teach in “chalk and talk” where they write on the board and read it. The students do a so-so job of memorizing statements and then putting the pieces together on exams. 

Three weeks ago I walked into my first classroom. I have never taught students this age before. Frankly, I was anxious...but I walked in and I did it. And you know what--I freaken loved it. For those who don’t know, I teach Guidance and Counseling classes aka self awareness, safe sex, goal setting...all that good “life skills” stuff. Today, I was back in the classroom. What did we do, you might ask? We made paper airplanes. Yes, thats right, paper airplanes. We were talking about self awareness and the kids were having a hard time identifying their likes and dislikes. I have them put down their pens, we made paper airplanes---everyone had a blast and then we related that fun activity to our likes. Granted, I am sure the other teachers won’t appreciate the 40 new paper airplanes that are floating around school....Or the time three weeks ago when I taught the kids how to play “Kingdom, Wisdom, Condom” and the students ran around point at their crotch yelling condom....

(Ahem, Lighting bolt) So, This I Believe. Education--not just going to school. Education is participatory, inclusive and fun. Lessons are tied to an activity that encourages the students to act--more around--be engaged--push their minds. Classes are all infused together--so when a student learns about the government structure in Social Students he will think about that when writing his business plan in Business Studies--Or channel Langston Hughes from English class when doing an Art piece. 

This is my mission. When I teach, I want the students to feel my excitement. Most importantly, make the connection between our activity and the lesson. As a side note, I also try to channel Mrs. Frizzle (yes, from the Magic School Bus) when planning my lessons. 

So damn. I have been lucky. So lucky indeed to have an education, that has given me the power to think critically, grow, fail--get up again, freedom, dreams, and most of all understand the POWER that an education can have on a person. 

So a thank you, to all my inspirational teachers throughout the years:

Mrs. Taylor-1st grade and Mrs. Bullard, in the 3rd grade at Broadmoore Elementary (she was like our own Mrs Frizzle) and Mr. Hull--8th grade Louisiana History at L.J. Alleman Middle School. Now, Mr. Hull scared the crap out of me (and every other student) however, he taught us, and he taught us well. Still to this day, I could recite Louisiana history backwards and forwards and the plight of the Acadians coming down from Nova Scotia area (shocked and awed right??)

And of course-I have had some pretty awesome professors over the years. But that’s a later post...

New year, new challenge?

I think that we often forget how bless we are. And when I say "we" I mean, everyone reading this blog. Often we find things to complain about in our lives--traffic, weather, "living pay check to pay check," our friends, our family, the president, etc. We never really take time to think about how fortunate we are. When I live in America, I never feel overwhelmed/overcome with patriotic pride. Being an American is just something that I take for granted. The ability to vote and elect our own president, the ease of transportation, the ease and convenience of banking, going to the grocery store or talking on the phone. Looking at a bigger picture, living in a country where as frustrating at times our government system is, for the most part...it has its shit together. We have rights, civic responsibilities and access to services. Most of the world doesn't live like this.

In my American life, I was very connected to the news, world events, etc. Ever since I have been in Botswana, I haven't had regular access to...well anything. Come to find out, Egypt is still erupting in violent political protests, other countries in the Middle East are facing similar political conflicts. I have been blissfully ignorant.

I haven't been blissfully ignorant of how blessed I am.

Living in Botswana for the past 5 or so months, I am constantly reminded of how blessed I am. At times I get the impression just by "being an American" I have a leg up on things. Which is sad. My nationality shouldn't determine how fortunate I am, it shouldn't determine my fate....but it does. Not all Americans are as fortunate as I. Or as my family is. Or as my friends are.

When I took the Peace Corps oath (btw, very similar oath that the President takes), I took the oath to serve my country. The past few months, serving my country has taken on a new meaning for me. In my eyes serving my country isn't just acting on behalf of my country or defending my country. Don't get me wrong, my baby brother is a Marine and I am SO proud of him. To me, serving my country is comprised of many things, including sharing other cultures with my own. Rather, fitting that I joined the Peace Corps. The Peace Corps has three goals (see below) that governs their mission and every PCV throughout the world.

1. Helping the people of interested countries in meeting their need for trained men and women.
2. Helping promote a better understanding of Americans on the part of the peoples served.
3. Helping promote a better understanding of other peoples on the part of Americans.

In light of those goals. I challenge you to take the Peace Corps Challenge. Now, I am not challenging you to join the Peace Corps (but, if you do--thats great!). I am challenging you to track your current spending for a few weeks, then live like a Peace Corps Volunteer (PCV) and THEN donate your saved money to a charity. (If you really want to make me happy, tell me about your experience!)

As a Peace Corps Volunteer, I live like my village does, translation I live on about 8 US Dollars a day. 8 USD a day, is actually a rather comfortable living allowance for the majority world or  as it is more commonly known as "developing countries"

In starting this challenge, decided how long you want to live like a PCV--if you decide to live like a PCV for 2 weeks, monitor your NORMAL spending habits in the US (that includes groceries, electricity, cell phone bills, cable bills.....ANY BILL YOU HAVE) and total the budget. Now, as a PCV, I live off of 8USD a day, so, if you take the challenge for 2 weeks that means your budget will be: 112USD total (yes, total. As in you only have that amount of money...nothing more, no credit cards allowed). 

Just a brief glance into my Peace Corps life. I live in Lehututu--which is about 4 or 5 hours from the nearest bank (and ATM), grocery stores are sparsely stocked, the only vegetables in my village come once a week and consist of onion, potato, tomato and bell pepper, I don't have electricity, my water access is sporadic, I walk every where and I pay for internet access by the megabite and cell phone texting by the message. Get the picture?

For your challenge...I challenge you to live like me. You need the ATM? Walk around for 4 or 5 hours.....you want to charge your computer? I walk 45 minutes to school to charge, which means once your/my battery dies--no computer, electricity...out of the question--use natural light or candle light. And speaking of electricity, I don't have AC or heat, so turn it off. Bundle up, or bundle down depending on the season. Oh by the way, don't use your fridge either--I don't have one! Test the bounds of food security.  I don't have a car, I rely on hitch hiking, the khombi (tax/mini bus) or walking) if you want to get anywhere--hoof it, hitch it or take the bus...but remember to track every penny you spend.  So, you want to eat? There are no "fast food" options in Lehututu, so plan on cooking everything. And groceries in Lehututu are roughly the same price as they are in the US.   As you can tell, life is different. Very different. Can you take the challenge? I dare you.

No, I really dare you. There are many people living in your own community that live in utter poverty. Homeless and low income citizens are a marginalized population. A population not talked about in the US with compassion...it is a population of disgrace and stigma. But in the US, when looking at the rest of the world--we view tho
se populations with compassion. Don't forget about your neighbors, your own fellow Americans.

Please, take this challenge. Tell me your stories, if you don't have a charity in mind, I will gladly give you a list of my own favorite organizations.

And above all, remember that we (as Americans, by that right) are blessed. No matter how bleak life is in our eyes, there are millions of people our there who have it worse. Engraved on the Statue of Liberty is " Give me your tired, your poor/Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free/The wretched refuse of your teeming shore/Send these, the homeless, tempest-tossed, to me/I lift my lamp beside the golden door."  So please, lift your lamp to the homeless, tempest-tossed--your fellow Americans. 

Never forget what our forefathers, brothers, sisters and parents fought for. As Americans we hold certain truths...."to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness." Most of all, be thankful, give thanks and give back.

Just call me Miss Rice...

For Christmas, I went to Medie, Katy's village--our friend Amanda came down for Rwanda for the holidays. It was a wonderful holiday vacation, spent with wonderful friends-good conversation-lots of laughs and a few tears. It took me most of the day to get to Medie, on a hot cramped bus rides and an even more cramped hitch on a bumpy dirty road to get to Medie. But worth the journey! We made our Christmas tree--from tree branches in Katy's yard and decorated it with popcorn, flowers, local berries and topped it with a star!

 

We thought it would be a wonderful idea to kill our own chicken for Christmas dinner. We set out wandering around Medie to buy a "Setwsana Chicken" instead we got a "white chicken" which are tastier! On Christmas morning, Matilda was brought to our door step by village children! In typical IYFD fashion, we said good-bye to Matilda before her slaughter and thanked her for her sacrifice. 

Katy and Amanda saying thanks. We even fed her a wonderful last meal of dried fruit!

Warning...graphic image. Katy held Matilda down, and I had the honor of....making the cut and Amanda was in charge of documentation. Truthfully, its a little traumatic to make that cut. Matilda finally went limp and Katy let go....the next thing we know--Matilda jumps up, wings flapping and started to run around Katy's yard--with her neck half cut off! We were all in shock and little bit of panic...and yes, I think we each had tears in our eyes. Finally, we chased her down and well...had to do the deed again. 

After your chicken is dead, you then put the body in hot water then pull the feathers off, then proceed to de-bone said chicken. Also, I would like to take this opportunity to say...why are we single? Look at us, we can kill a chicken and we are educated (and very smart women) 

We, went even further and cooked over a fire! Motswana style! Most of the Motswana I encounter, don't think that Americans can light a fire--none the less cook over the fire.

I am a the Junior Secondary School in Lehututu, which is a boarding school that houses about 300 students. Our classrooms are large open rooms, with a chalk board and small desks; there are about 50 kids per class. The kids use a pit latrine and go to a stand pipe for water (when we have water). 

Three days a week, kids line up for assembly. This would never happen in America! They line up in rows, like little sardines, sing a religious song and say the Lords Prayer.

The Form 1 students are from Lehututu and from the settlements of Ukwi, Ncaang, Monong and Make. There are 101 Form 1 students, 60 of them are failing--receiving Ds and Es, possible grades are 0-100 (with 100 being the highest). Most of the Form 1 students have little English skills, or Setswana, students from the settlements speak primarily Sekgalagadi (there are many dialects of Sekgalagadi). There are not enough class rooms or teachers in school, so the Form 1s are stuck in the school hall for lessons. I have been teaching Guidance and Counseling classes to all three forms. The kids call me Miss Rice, also when I am walking through the village I hear Miss Rice over and over again.

Walking thru Oz...

A long last blog post...

It's been a quiet few weeks in Lehututu, it is the rainy season in the Kalahari, the bush is turning sage green and my village is filled with these little yellow flowers. It's like walking through Oz....

 Puppy love! These are my neighbors dogs who like to pay me daily visits! 

 This is my yard (I am the first yellow house) 

Oz...This is right outside my house, the entire village looks like this.