Time--its irrelevant until its over

Time is a weird thing...I think it is weirder in the Peace Corps life than it is in my every day life. I say every day life, like I am not living a real life here. My life here is very much real--I work, I have (had) friends, I am a person here just as much as I am in America...That could be part of the problem...My life is split into two Botswana and America.

I digress....

All of a sudden it is August 1st. (WHATT??!?!?!??!)

I can no longer tell people I have been in Botswana “2 1/2 years” since its almost 3 years.

It seems like I have just moved to Gaborone. Nope. That was almost 10 months ago.

I feel like I have nothing to show for it. That is a complete lie.

I feel like a child. When in fact, I am an almost 29 year old woman who has done some pretty amazing things in these short years.

A brief recap on the past 10 months:

• The Leadership Program (that crazy one I stayed on to run) opened its doors! It was a fighting up hill battle all the way and only took about six months to do. But I did it! We opened our doors in April and we have 32 enrolled youth. It has been unbelievable seeing them change and grow. Each of the participants are coming into their own. Sometimes I look at them and don’t want to leave....
• It is August! Which means, all of my close friends have left Gaborone...It was very bitter-sweet seeing them off over the past few months. But this also means, my time here is almost done! December 11th. I will blink and it will be here. 
• Some really amazing projects have just fallen in my lap! In Lehututu is seemed so hard to get things started, one of the benefits of being at such a connect organization is that people see us out! Lucky me I get to help coordinate! 
• The other projects that I am coordinating are swimming along! I am keeping busy which is what I wanted! 
• I went from missing “the village” everyday, to not at all. Not to say that I don’t miss it, I very much do...That life seems so removed from me. That chapter of life where all the really hard aspects are just a cool story--hey remember that time I lived without furniture for 18 months? Or electricity for two years....
• I went on a rhino capture for conservation--of course, I have I can’t find the pictures that I uploaded from a friends camera of the trip, the pictures magically disappeared in my iPhoto...It was one of those unreal experiences. I am so glad that I had the opportunity to go on it! Perhaps if I ever get the photos I can write a blog about it. 

All along, I have said once I graduate, I will start the job hunt. Well, now that I have some initials behind my name and I have 4 1/2 months left--it is that time. Job hunting seems very overwhelming and scary! When I pull up job servers to look...this feeling of panic comes over me. Where do I want to live? What do I want to do? AHHHH....so, usually, I don’t get very far. I am very sure that there have been points in my life where I felt like I had no direction. The world is my oyster right now. Everything I own is packed in my parents basement or will be on my back. Picking that one direction...seems toooooo much right now. 

With that being said, I am in the middle of a book that I need to finish....

Commencement Speech

Dumela, Hola, Salam or simply hello. I cannot express how happy I am to be here today, I traveled through three continents over three days to be here today. 

It seems like just yesterday I was sitting in Scriber Gym surrounded by a group of strong, intelligent and passionate women soon to be scattered around the globe. I can only speak for my experience in the Peace Corps, but I suspect my words will ring true to my sisters sitting here today.

(part of) Cohort 8! 

I have wanted to join Peace Corps since my freshman year of college, I vividly remem

ber meeting a recruiter and deciding that I wanted to one day become a Peace Corps Volunteer, however, I cannot at this time articulate why my reasons why. I suspect it is because Peace Corps has changed me.

I am in the process of completing my third year as a PCV in Botswana. I chose to extend my service for an addition year, for I felt like my time in Botswana wasn’t done. I have been blessed to see both beautiful and complex sides of Botswana. Botswana is a world of dichotomies, a clash between traditional culture and modernity. Which couldn’t be truer about my Peace Corps service. As 21^st Century PCVs, gone are the days of only communicating by snail mail and yearly phone calls home. We live and work in communities racing towards Westernization. Balancing my service straddling two worlds at times was harder than learning Setswana or navigating cultural differences.

My first two years were spent in a small village in the middle of the Kalahari, hours away from grocery stores, banks or anything the western world would consider as civilization. My house was little more than a glorified hut, I didn’t have electricity and water was scarce.  There were weeks where I only ate potatoes and onions because that was the only available food and there were weeks where I feasted on the freshest mangos, avocados and care package goodies.

I arrived in Lehututu late on a Friday afternoon; my belongings were brought in my students and piled into the middle of my house. One by one I was greeted by villagers and dusk settled in. My house was getting darker by the moment, my candles were still buried in my pile of belongings. As the darkness settled in, a strange feeling came over me. It took me a while to realize what it was—it was silence. The defining silence of the village forced me to confront my thoughts and be okay with silence. My generation of America is never unplugged or silent; the ability to sit on the porch and watch the world go by is lost art.

At some point in time, every volunteer dreams of the accomplishments they will achieve during their service. Early on I decided that I wasn’t going to be the volunteer who put in a 1000 pit latrines, start a preschool or a coffee exchange. I decided that I would be here for relationships. Being placed at a school, the best thing I could do was be a role model for my students. Over time, my relationships with the students grew, students would stop by my house just to say hello or ask for advice. My students didn’t just learn from me, I learned from them as well.

The parents 

One day, I was having a particularly bad day—one of those “why did I give up my life in America days” as I was walking to school and wallowing in self pity a student came up to me. She had been looking for me. Talking was the last thing that I wanted to do, however I listened to her. She had just been diagnosed with HIV, which she had contracted while at school. She didn’t know what to do and she needed my help. I was humbled that she trusted me, however I felt ashamed. While I was felling sorry for myself about meaningless matters, while her life was forever changed. In helping her navigate her new diagnosis, she taught me a new meaning strength and acceptance.

In Botswana, I am the third sex, an outsider. As an outsider I have freedoms that other Batswana and women don’t posses. I have the power to speak, when others feel they must remain silent. As a woman some traditional cultural norms didn’t apply to me with my status in the village. As hard as I tried to integrate and not be treated as a guest, I often sat at the head table with the tribal chief or was served before other women. With this power comes responsibility. I was conscious of using my voice and actions with care.

 In Botswana, I learned about forgiveness, forgiveness for myself and others. I have learned even more, that things are not always what they appear. I have learned patience, humility and how to ask for help. I have learned about love and heart break how to survive through it all. Through it all, I have learned about me. Peace Corps’ slogan is “ the toughest job you will ever love” the Marines say that bootcamp is to break you down then build you back up. My service in the Peace Corps was very similar, through failures and success, through tears and laughters, through 9 hour bus rides in 100 degree heat and learning how to find joy in the small things. I am a stronger woman because of it.

Poet Mary Oliver said “don’t worry things take the time they take. How many roads did St. Augustine walk before be became St Augustine.” Things in Peace Corps take the time they take, while a hard pill to swallow, we are strong because of it. We have all walked many roads in our services—through the twist turns and bumps in the road we have grown, blossomed and spread our wings.

Through is all, none of us would be here without our families. Our real family, our cohort family and our Peace Corps family.  

It is customary to end speeches in Botswana by shouting “pula”

PULA!

Cha-cha-cha-changes

I haven’t written a blog post in months, mainly because I felt like I haven’t done anything for months. However, that is a complete lie. A lot has happened in the past few months and my lack of posting is due to the fact that I am still processing everything.

I left Lehututu on October 14th and moved to Gaborone to start my “3rd year”

My closest friends went back to America to continue on with their lives while I remained behind. You know that empty feeling when you break up with your significant other? I felt like that. I just broke up with 20 people all at one time.

As I was struggling to adjust to “city life” my friends were struggling to adjust to life back in America. We were all in dark places just on different sides of the ocean. In my mind, my transition wasn’t going to be that hard--I was still in Botswana--so how much adjusting is needed?

So long hiking spot! 

I was completely wrong, my life was turned up side down. For the first month, I wished I hadn’t extended....Then things started to change, I bought a bike, joined a gym and found some footing in my new job. We put on a summer camp for 60 plus kids and I made new friends....

My new bike! 

 I am on my month long home leave, in this past month, I feel that I have lost everything that I worked hard to build. This time 7 days from now, I will be on my way back to Botswana. I don’t know how I am going to muster the strength to get on that plane. This trip home has been wonderful and horrible all at the same time. I have had meaningful conversations with old friends and cried in bathrooms over things that will be funny in a few years.








I do have exiting things in my life--like my new shower head. Ain’t she a beauty! Hot water too! Even a pool! And I don’t have to go outside to go to the bathroom...or even pee in a bucket anymore!

Gaborone is beautiful too...in its own way. I don’t have chickens waking me up at 3am on the dot every morning. I can go have coffee with friends or happy hour on Fridays, watch movies or go shopping with out lugging my months worth of groceries home. With all the wonders of city life, I am no longer Bonolo, leaving behind that identity was (and is) bittersweet.

A letter to my students

I would like to take this opportunity to say goodbye. I will always remember the two years I have spent in Lehututu. All of you have a special place in my heart. 

Before I go, I would like to say a few words. 

First off you are all special. All of yuh are special and unique creatures of God. Never let anyone tell you otherwise. I pray that one day you can recognize the abilities and strengths that lie in you all. 

Secondly, I ask that you keep on dreaming. No matter what your dreams may be--be it a taxi driver, artist or lawyer. Do not let anyone tell you that your dreams are trivial or stupid. Never stop working towards your dreams, they won't come to fruition over night but never stop trying. 

Lastly, I would like to remind you that you have control over your life. YOU. Not your mother, uncle or friends. It may not seem like it now, but you have the power to make your life what you want it I be. If someone calls you stupid or demeans your dreams, don't let it deter you. Just know that those words were spoken from their own insecurities. Only you can determine your destiny. 

Go with God. 

Goodbyes....

Its been two years. Well almost two years, roughly 670 days. Two years is a Masters program, or two pregnancies and then some...

Two years is a long time.

But in hindsight it was nothing.

Time is wrapping up in Lehututu, I am leaving on October 14th. October 14th, the day, it seems like it will be here in a blink of an eye.

I am trying to process the wealth of emotions I am feeling on a daily basis right. The thought of leaving is hard, my best friends in the village are all under the age of 5, it breaks my heart to realize that they won’t remember me. It breaks my heart to know that a new PCV is coming in and I will be no more.

But at the same time. Being replaced and saying goodbye is part of the cycle. Kind of like breathing and dying. I am being replaced by a man. Which I am thrilled about, my students and other men in the village need a positive male role model. My heart is lightened that since being a man, the constant comparisons won’t happen--or I should say. The comparisons will be less than if it was a female. As a male, more doors are opened too! He can do things that I never could as a female.

I get a little type-A at times, saying goodbye is an exercise in letting go. I have been working on letting go. Which is easier said than done! Will the new volunteer keep up my garden, but most importantly, will he let my babies water it every day with him? Will he give out all the hugs a kid could need every Monday at the pre-school? Will he spend evenings on sitting side by side my neighbor letting her feed him and making animal sounds together? Will he just be present in the students lives?

Coming into Peace Corps I always said that I never was going to be the volunteer who built 100 pit latrines, I was going to build relationships instead. I have spent the past 670-odd days building relationships. I won’t be leaving structural impacts behind, I am leaving memories and feelings. I have given students an opportunity to be respected, valued, heard. Students will remember how I made them feel not the lessons I have taught them.

Can you handle this cuteness??? 

Reflections on two years

My time in Lehututu is coming to a close, I recently contributed an article to our PC-Botswana newsletter. I thought I would share it on my blog. 

When I signed up for the Peace Corps, I was prepared mentally for pooping in a hole and living in a hut. Well, I almost have that. I certainly don’t have “posh corps.” And if this is considered posh corps—I want to know what the authentic Peace Corps experience is! 

During our site placement meetings in PST, we were asked about what we wanted. I was honest and vocal in saying what I wanted out of my service. I wanted rural. I didn’t need to be around other PCVs. I didn’t mind not having electricity. I was ready for the challenge. I wanted to prove to myself and to my family that I could do it. In America I had hundreds of shoes in my closet, months full of outfits, kitchen gadgets coming out my ears and update my candles and table decorations on a seasonal (okay monthly) basis (feel free to judge me, I don’t mind). I vowed to myself that I could live simply for my time here. 

Let me paint a picture of my life. I live in Lehututu, as the guide books call it “its little more than a sandy spot on the road”  in a little cinderblock house with a flat tin roof-no ceiling, just rafters and tin protecting me from the outside world. My house was built in the early 90s and is slowly crumbing around me. I can see the night sky if I sit at different spots in my house. I have bats that keep me company at night—who needs noise machines when you have the sounds of bats flapping and squeaking around you at night? My water supply is off and on, albeit not as near as bad as other PCVs out there. The entrance to my bathroom is outside, so I usually pee in a bucket instead of making the trip outside. At least I have a bathroom and not a pit latrine. 

My shopping village-where the nearest ATM/Bank and grocery store is about 400 kilometers away from me—thats a 4-5 hour bus ride. I plan my week around when the produce truck comes. It comes on Wednesdays, which means Wednesday afternoons or Thursday is the only time to get produce. Let me use the word produce lightly. Weeks its only potatoes, questionable apples, onions. Good weeks will include wrinkled bell peppers, iffy tomatoes, maybe some bananas, butternut, you can hope for carrots and beets. If you don’t buy produce within 24 to 36 hours of the trucks arrival, you wont be able to buy anything aside from the left over veg which no one wants to buy. Get while the getting is good. 

On the up side we have two bulk food stores in Hukuntsi that cater to the surround settlements. Having the bulk food stores allows us to purchase bulk supplies of canned veggies, rice and pasta—items which are often absent from the shelves of our general dealer. I have to admit, the lady who runs our general dealer will order feta and cheddar cheese for us! Which has been my saving grace these past 20something months. Up until a month ago we were the only subdistrict in Botswana not to have a grocery store and a bank! About a month ago a small Shoppers opened about 100km away! We are still waiting on the bank….  

I also don’t have electricity-not even solar panels. Not having electricity has forced me to be alone with my thoughts in the silence of my house. Back home, I would usually be listening to NPR, podcasts or have music playing in the background. Unless I was busy focusing on school work, there was always noise. I also always had roommate for companionship as well. Never in my life have I been so alone. 

Transportation is always a sticky situation. In the past five months we have had consistent petrol shortages at the nearest petrol station. Leaving the next closest station 100ks away. I am fortunately have a kombi that runs semi regularly to Hukuntsi, the next largest village 15km away, where the general deal is.  We have three buses that go to Gabs daily at 6am, 7am and 11am. I am the second bus stop, more times than I can count I have been at the bus stop and the bus has sailed on by because not one more person could physically fit on it. More times than I can count, I have had to stand for the entire 7+ hour bus ride or site with the driver its been so full. At month end, its impossible to leave my village unless you arrange a ride with a private vehicle. 

Neighboring PCVs….well, I can count them on one hand. Very few of them actually complete their two years for varying reasons…Its like the Kgalagadi spits you out after a while. I don’t know what life is like in the rest of Botswana, but I feel like the Kgalagadi is the forgotten district. That mentality is reflected in every aspect of life. Villagers try and cling to traditional values and practices which clash with government values and programs. Education for example, there is no value in obtaining an education, instead children and parents would prefer to be at the cattle post leading semi-nomadic lifestyles with their cattle. You in fact can still barter livestock for material goods! Why should children sit in English or Setswana class? 

Looking back on my service, I am unspeakably thankful that I have faced these challenges. The ability to be alone with your thoughts is something that I feel most Americans lack. It is certainly not a skill I feel that is honed in my generation. There are weeks that I have had nothing to eat but butternut, onions and beans. This isn’t my own choice, just because there is nothing to be found in the general dealer. I have never had to face a situation like that before. I have always budgeted my money, but I have never before budgeted the cash I had in my wallet to last me until the next time I can make the trek to an ATM. 

I have had my share of bad days, today for instance, tears were in my eyes as I took walked the 3 kilometers from my house to school. The thought of leaving my house to charge my phone and computer were unbearable. I have the ability to say that when I finally leave this place-I will come out stronger. I have done it. I have met my battles head on with little complaining and succeeded. 

Meerkats!

Meerkats. I am obsessed with them.

What really can be cuter? 

We were becoming friends, alas he couldn’t leave his family and start a new colony at my house

I wouldn’t mind being a meerkat in my next life, meerkats are altruistic animals! 

A group of meerkats is called a “mob” or “gang” or “clan” (the original gangsters)