6 August 2011
As I prepare to go home for my brother’s wedding in a week I can’t help but wonder how much I have changed since I arrived in Botswana almost 16 months ago. There have been many ups and downs; some days it seems like even more downs. However, the beauty of this place is that the good days or hours or sometimes even just minutes can seem to outweigh the long, difficult and depressing times. I know I have gone through many painful moments, many scary scenarios and have seen many things I wish I hadn’t. I also know I have been blessed to have gone through many beautiful moments, many uplifting scenarios and have seen many things that will forever remain in my heart. The changes have been hard; both physical and emotional. I look different and I feel different. I wonder how my family and friends will view me once I set foot back in America. I look and feel considerably older. At 28 years old I look at myself and see an old face. I see a face that has gone through a lot, too much I would say at times. I see my white hairs and I don’t see the product of wisdom, I see the outcome of stress and hardship. When you don’t recognize yourself you begin to wonder what happened and why? Mostly, I can answer why. I’ve seen pain and suffering and I’ve experienced sadness and fear.
These things are all part of life, I know. And I truly believe God doesn’t give us anything more than we can handle though sometimes I question why He challenges us the way He does. I can only imagine that one day we will understand but until then I try to pursue the beauty and hope in the most darkest of places. Sometimes that beauty and hope lies within the light: In the smile of a child, in the voice of an old woman, in the handshake of a wise man. And then there is the beauty and hope that lies within the darkness: Burying a 6 year old girl in the village but listening to the whole community sing her to rest, a student being beaten over the maximum 5 strokes but rising above and speaking out against the injustice, a child who cannot afford to come to school unknowingly gets support from her fellow classmates who are raising money for her school fees. There is beauty and hope everywhere.
Though I feel changed in ways I wish I wasn’t, I am grateful for the changes that have gotten me this far. As I reflect on these past 16 months I realize that the pain and sadness I have felt were a way to show me what needed to be seen. As I prepare for the remaining 10 months I realize that there is still so much to be seen and to be felt, both good and bad. I am as ready as one can be I believe.
Saturday, August 6, 2011
Tuesday, May 17, 2011
UPDATE!
Update on the violence surrounding the strike in Botswana:
The deaths were rumors apparently, sorry if that scared anyone but that's the only information that was being stated at the time. When people in your village (students, teachers and friends) and other Peace Corps Volunteers are all saying stories about deaths and violence, what they've seen and/or heard and you have no real way to get correct information, sometimes you tend to believe what is being said. Also, miscommunication between Volunteers and Peace Corps can also cause major problems.
We are awaiting more information but we have been told everything is ok and we are not in any harm here. The strike however is still on going and the violence did in fact occur so still praying for things to be resolved.
The deaths were rumors apparently, sorry if that scared anyone but that's the only information that was being stated at the time. When people in your village (students, teachers and friends) and other Peace Corps Volunteers are all saying stories about deaths and violence, what they've seen and/or heard and you have no real way to get correct information, sometimes you tend to believe what is being said. Also, miscommunication between Volunteers and Peace Corps can also cause major problems.
We are awaiting more information but we have been told everything is ok and we are not in any harm here. The strike however is still on going and the violence did in fact occur so still praying for things to be resolved.
Monday, May 16, 2011
Deaths, riots, violence? Peaceful country?
There has been a civil service strike in Botswana for 5 weeks now. Teachers, nurses, etc have been striking to get a raise. Students have been left in empty classrooms and are expected to pass exams at the end of the year, with no guidance. On Friday, the students finally got fed up with teachers not being at school so they decided to counterstrike. Unfortunately this has led to violence on that day and continued today.
Today Botswana government shut down all schools in Botswana. Apparently, the riots have gotten out of control since Friday. Students being tear gassed, students beating teachers with bricks, one teacher was stabbed in Gaborone which is only 25K from my village. Police cars lit on fire, school's trashed...and it's only Monday. Of course, rumors can spread like wildfire and no one is sure as to what is true and what isn't.
Deaths, riots, and vandalism? If so, my safety is in jeopardy, the safety of fellow volunteers are in jeopardy, the safety of students, teachers and innocent by standers are in jeopardy. I feel crippled.
Though I feel safe I live close to Gaborone and Molepolole where the violence has been the worst. Who is to say that the people in my village will not react just as the others in surrounding places have been acting. Students were told to go home today and that schools are closed indefinitely, they were told to go peacefully. Now, all over Botswana there are students who will not be in school, students who are frustrated that their education has been stripped from them and we expect that they will just stay silent? One can only hope that they make the right choice and stay calm but the worry is that they will follow suit and become violent like the students in other villages have been.
I will stay safe by laying as low as I possibly can. However, I was due to go to Gaborone to get much needed groceries tomorrow. I have 1 apple, about 2 cups of rice and half a jar of peanut butter.
I hope the students and civil servants find a way to make their points without violence. I hope the police learn how to stop all this destruction and madness. I hope we all remain safe. I hope.
Today Botswana government shut down all schools in Botswana. Apparently, the riots have gotten out of control since Friday. Students being tear gassed, students beating teachers with bricks, one teacher was stabbed in Gaborone which is only 25K from my village. Police cars lit on fire, school's trashed...and it's only Monday. Of course, rumors can spread like wildfire and no one is sure as to what is true and what isn't.
Deaths, riots, and vandalism? If so, my safety is in jeopardy, the safety of fellow volunteers are in jeopardy, the safety of students, teachers and innocent by standers are in jeopardy. I feel crippled.
Though I feel safe I live close to Gaborone and Molepolole where the violence has been the worst. Who is to say that the people in my village will not react just as the others in surrounding places have been acting. Students were told to go home today and that schools are closed indefinitely, they were told to go peacefully. Now, all over Botswana there are students who will not be in school, students who are frustrated that their education has been stripped from them and we expect that they will just stay silent? One can only hope that they make the right choice and stay calm but the worry is that they will follow suit and become violent like the students in other villages have been.
I will stay safe by laying as low as I possibly can. However, I was due to go to Gaborone to get much needed groceries tomorrow. I have 1 apple, about 2 cups of rice and half a jar of peanut butter.
I hope the students and civil servants find a way to make their points without violence. I hope the police learn how to stop all this destruction and madness. I hope we all remain safe. I hope.
Tuesday, March 22, 2011
My apologies for never blogging....found this in a word document that I guess I never posted...
12 January 2011
I’ve never seen so much strength in children. Resilience is an understatement. These children deal with death at every corner of their lives, they live in poverty, they take care of sick and dying relatives, they put up with extreme abuse from not only strangers but family and through all this they strive for excellence. They strive for a better life. They desire to succeed. I am utterly amazed everyday, completely blown away and touched. They inspire me and give me hope for this nation.
~This evening I went for a walk out into the lands (a secluded area of land where Batswana have plots to plow and harvest) and it was so peaceful. I was alone with my thoughts and watched the sun setting in front of me. The best part however was not the quiet but the swarm of children as I almost reached home. There were 7 of them and they playfully fought to hold my hand and walk me back to my house. I couldn’t stop smiling as they babbled to me in Setswana. I had no idea what they were saying but neither I nor them seemed to care. What a great ending to my day.
14 January 2011
It was pouring rain outside but I wanted to go for a walk and just be alone so I ventured out. As I got further and further away I started to feel at ease. That is until I heard roaring thunder! Even while blasting Destiny’s Child on my ipod I could hear the thunder rumbling above me. Now, normally I wouldn’t be scared but let me tell you...when you live in the desert there are not many trees or buildings to distract the lightning bolts from hitting you. I nervously turned around and started a light jog. Then, BOOM! thunder rolled again, sounding like it was directly over me. My jog turned into a sprint and me being the only tall thing around at a staggering 5‘4“ my heart was pounding! I wish I could say I was cool enough to get struck by lightning and live to tell about it, but boring me made it home safely, drenched and laughing at my almost (but not really) near death encounter.
15 January 2011
GO PATRIOTS! I hope that when I post this the Patriots will have beat the Jets and moved on to another Playoff game. However, if they lose then this could be viewed as I jinxed the whole game...I will be wearing my Mike Vrabel jersey and pretending that I am watching the game as I sit in my living room and stare at the wall. Here’s hoping.
25 January 2011
The roads here in Botswana are very dangerous. There are many drunk drivers, no street lights and many large animals on the side of the roads ready to cross when they see headlights approaching. Last week I was driving home with a teacher from a meeting we attended in a near by village. We passed a car that was surrounded by people and clearly had been in an accident. There was glass everywhere and the cars front end was smashed in. We parked up the road and walked towards the wreckage. The teacher I was with began asking what had happened but since it was in Setswana I could only catch a few words here and there. I understood that they had a collision with a ‘beast’ a.k.a. a cow. The windshield was broken but completely inside the car and I wondered if anyone was sitting in the passenger seat because if they had been they must have been severely injured. I asked the teacher to ask if anyone was hurt and that led us to a women who was quietly standing near the car, at least 6 months pregnant and obviously in pain. We used our phone lights to assess the damage. She was bleeding from many small cuts caused by the shattered glass all over her back and shoulder. Also, she was covered in cow dung. I still don’t know how it happened but the poor thing was covered. There was glass stuck to her body and in her hair. She was shaking and spitting up glass. I ran back to the car and grabbed my water bottle and cardigan. We started to clean her off gently. I asked her where it hurt and I immediately grew scared when she held her belly and said “here”. The police finally came and took her to the clinic and I can only hope that she is ok today. As we walked back to the car I heard a low groan. I looked to my right and there in a ditch off the side of the road was the cow. He was still alive and in so much pain. I asked if the police were allowed to shoot the cow to put it out of it’s misery but the teacher said no. I was sick to my stomach and silent the rest of our trip home.
~Today I received my second batch of letters from the CCI kids! I loved reading their responses to my letter! I told them that I plan on reading 250 books while I am here as a personal goal and they loved it and almost all their letters were telling me I can do it (even though I think that maybe 250 books is a little much) I’m only at around 40 in 9 months but maybe their support will get me to speed up my reading! I can’t wait to hang up their letters and pictures in my house, it is things like that that keep me trucking on when the days get tough! Thanks Kelly and CCI!:)
~The next group is coming in April, Bots10. I am so excited to meet them and be at the point where a new group is coming! I remember thinking to myself, ‘Just get to the point where the newbies come, just get there, just get there!’ Now that it is just around the corner I can’t help but think how fast it has gone. Yes, I have missed so many things back home that I never thought I’d be emotionally able to miss. For example, my sister getting pregnant. It feels strange to have missed her whole pregnancy and the next time I see her she’ll be a mother and there will be a new addition to our family. Also, my brother got engaged and he will have his wedding most likely in August 2011 but thankfully I will be going home for that! Nothing could make me miss his wedding! My Godson’s first steps. My friends getting engaged...Kelly and Nate who will marry in October, I am so unbelievably sad I will have to miss it but I know it will be beautiful! Jasmin and Ben who will tie the knot in April 2012 in England, I’m still hoping to make their American celebrations whenever those might be! People moving, people getting new jobs, people kicking butt at Harvard (My home girl Jules). Though it is incredibly difficult to not be a part of their successes and happiness I am still there with them in some ways. Not a day goes by where my family and friends are not in my thoughts! As my one year mark approaches I am thrilled and proud to have made it to where I have. I hope the next 17 months are filled with great learning experiences, love, growth, happiness and above all else strength to get through the difficult times.
Peace and Love, Mary “The Dinkster” Duggan
12 January 2011
I’ve never seen so much strength in children. Resilience is an understatement. These children deal with death at every corner of their lives, they live in poverty, they take care of sick and dying relatives, they put up with extreme abuse from not only strangers but family and through all this they strive for excellence. They strive for a better life. They desire to succeed. I am utterly amazed everyday, completely blown away and touched. They inspire me and give me hope for this nation.
~This evening I went for a walk out into the lands (a secluded area of land where Batswana have plots to plow and harvest) and it was so peaceful. I was alone with my thoughts and watched the sun setting in front of me. The best part however was not the quiet but the swarm of children as I almost reached home. There were 7 of them and they playfully fought to hold my hand and walk me back to my house. I couldn’t stop smiling as they babbled to me in Setswana. I had no idea what they were saying but neither I nor them seemed to care. What a great ending to my day.
14 January 2011
It was pouring rain outside but I wanted to go for a walk and just be alone so I ventured out. As I got further and further away I started to feel at ease. That is until I heard roaring thunder! Even while blasting Destiny’s Child on my ipod I could hear the thunder rumbling above me. Now, normally I wouldn’t be scared but let me tell you...when you live in the desert there are not many trees or buildings to distract the lightning bolts from hitting you. I nervously turned around and started a light jog. Then, BOOM! thunder rolled again, sounding like it was directly over me. My jog turned into a sprint and me being the only tall thing around at a staggering 5‘4“ my heart was pounding! I wish I could say I was cool enough to get struck by lightning and live to tell about it, but boring me made it home safely, drenched and laughing at my almost (but not really) near death encounter.
15 January 2011
GO PATRIOTS! I hope that when I post this the Patriots will have beat the Jets and moved on to another Playoff game. However, if they lose then this could be viewed as I jinxed the whole game...I will be wearing my Mike Vrabel jersey and pretending that I am watching the game as I sit in my living room and stare at the wall. Here’s hoping.
25 January 2011
The roads here in Botswana are very dangerous. There are many drunk drivers, no street lights and many large animals on the side of the roads ready to cross when they see headlights approaching. Last week I was driving home with a teacher from a meeting we attended in a near by village. We passed a car that was surrounded by people and clearly had been in an accident. There was glass everywhere and the cars front end was smashed in. We parked up the road and walked towards the wreckage. The teacher I was with began asking what had happened but since it was in Setswana I could only catch a few words here and there. I understood that they had a collision with a ‘beast’ a.k.a. a cow. The windshield was broken but completely inside the car and I wondered if anyone was sitting in the passenger seat because if they had been they must have been severely injured. I asked the teacher to ask if anyone was hurt and that led us to a women who was quietly standing near the car, at least 6 months pregnant and obviously in pain. We used our phone lights to assess the damage. She was bleeding from many small cuts caused by the shattered glass all over her back and shoulder. Also, she was covered in cow dung. I still don’t know how it happened but the poor thing was covered. There was glass stuck to her body and in her hair. She was shaking and spitting up glass. I ran back to the car and grabbed my water bottle and cardigan. We started to clean her off gently. I asked her where it hurt and I immediately grew scared when she held her belly and said “here”. The police finally came and took her to the clinic and I can only hope that she is ok today. As we walked back to the car I heard a low groan. I looked to my right and there in a ditch off the side of the road was the cow. He was still alive and in so much pain. I asked if the police were allowed to shoot the cow to put it out of it’s misery but the teacher said no. I was sick to my stomach and silent the rest of our trip home.
~Today I received my second batch of letters from the CCI kids! I loved reading their responses to my letter! I told them that I plan on reading 250 books while I am here as a personal goal and they loved it and almost all their letters were telling me I can do it (even though I think that maybe 250 books is a little much) I’m only at around 40 in 9 months but maybe their support will get me to speed up my reading! I can’t wait to hang up their letters and pictures in my house, it is things like that that keep me trucking on when the days get tough! Thanks Kelly and CCI!:)
~The next group is coming in April, Bots10. I am so excited to meet them and be at the point where a new group is coming! I remember thinking to myself, ‘Just get to the point where the newbies come, just get there, just get there!’ Now that it is just around the corner I can’t help but think how fast it has gone. Yes, I have missed so many things back home that I never thought I’d be emotionally able to miss. For example, my sister getting pregnant. It feels strange to have missed her whole pregnancy and the next time I see her she’ll be a mother and there will be a new addition to our family. Also, my brother got engaged and he will have his wedding most likely in August 2011 but thankfully I will be going home for that! Nothing could make me miss his wedding! My Godson’s first steps. My friends getting engaged...Kelly and Nate who will marry in October, I am so unbelievably sad I will have to miss it but I know it will be beautiful! Jasmin and Ben who will tie the knot in April 2012 in England, I’m still hoping to make their American celebrations whenever those might be! People moving, people getting new jobs, people kicking butt at Harvard (My home girl Jules). Though it is incredibly difficult to not be a part of their successes and happiness I am still there with them in some ways. Not a day goes by where my family and friends are not in my thoughts! As my one year mark approaches I am thrilled and proud to have made it to where I have. I hope the next 17 months are filled with great learning experiences, love, growth, happiness and above all else strength to get through the difficult times.
Peace and Love, Mary “The Dinkster” Duggan
Saturday, February 5, 2011
"Without suffering there would be no compassion."
I want to tell a story that is filled with pain, fear, frustration, anger and love. I will tell it exactly how it happened in my eyes only leaving out the real names of the others who were involved. Those who are in Peace Corps Botswana with me will know who I am writing about but out of respect for their families who may not know what occurred I ask that you do not post their names here or on any other public site.
This story has both a tragic and a happy ending. Five women were part of a scary robbery, five were exposed to HIV+ blood and are now on PEP (Post Exposure Prophylaxis) and five are forever tied together.
On Friday the 28th of January four friends and myself went out to the capital for an Indian dinner. We had won a costume contest back in October dressed as the Ghostbusters and were treated to a night of good food, good laughs and good friendship but ‘M’ who hosted the Halloween bash. The dinner was full of all those for mentioned things. We ate too much but didn’t care, we laughed so hard our cheeks hurt and we enjoyed each others company to the fullest. Sometimes great moments are shattered. There is a quote I hate to love because it rings true too often and it says, “I think I'm afraid to be happy because whenever I get too happy something bad always happens."-Charlie Brown. As we all walked out of the restaurant we planned to head back to M’s house and have a good old slumber party. On our way to the combi stop we talked and laughed. I was walking ahead a few steps with C while M, K, and R gossiped and giggled behind us about life. There was a moment of silence to which C said, “Mary, there’s a guy” meaning I should move out of the way so he could pass. As I moved to my right I turned and was face to face with a man. I knew in that split second that something wasn’t right. His face was covered in shadow but I could feel his look of cowardness. He immediately grabbed my purse which was slung over my shoulder. I moved away while holding on tight to my bag but his second violent tug ripped my purses strap and as I screamed he ran off into the tall grass with my bag. R and M ran a little ways on the sidewalk after him but soo realized that it wasn’t worth it. I began to cry, not because I was hurt but because of how he made me feel; anger, vulnerable and helpless. As I paced back and forth screaming “Legodu! Legodu!” which means thief in Setswana he still continued to run into the night. I can’t recall who exactly called th police but someone did. I was too upset to do anything but cry and pace. I am thankful for my friends who took charge and made the necessary phone calls to the police and to Peace Corps. The man who grabbed my purse was still in sight while we were on the phone with the police. He was waving his phone light and yelling to us. We stood there in disbelief that this man had the nerve to be calling to us for something. He was about 50 yards away, right off the main road where there were 4 lanes of traffic rushing by. All I remember screaming was “What??! What do you want you have EVERYTHING?!?! EVERYTHING!” R walked a few feet into the grass to try and hear what he was saying and then we all heard him say “Give me 200 Pula!” I absolutely couldn’t believe that he had my purse with p400, my digital camera, my phone, my I.D. and my credit cards and he had the nerve to ask for more money! Anger was seeping out through every pore. C and K helped me calm down because I was yelling “You have EVERYTHING Rra (which mean Sir), everything, just take it and go, leave us alone!” but he kept coming closer and asking for more money. At this point M and R were telling him to give the purse back. I remember R was saying “Do the right thing Rra, do the right thing, give her the purse with the I.D. in it and take everything else. Just leave it there and go.” He kept asking for more money and R said she would give him p200 if he gave her the purse back. I kept begging them to not go near him and bargain, my purse wasn’t worth it. I was so confused and angry that they would risk their lives for my stupid bag. C and K just kept telling me that M and R wouldn’t put themselves in danger and that there’s nothing I could do to stop them. I was freaking out because I didn’t understand why they were bargaining with a man who was potentially dangerous. I paced and watched as the man took off his shirt to hide in the night from all the car lights rushing past. He approached R and M slowly and held out the purse but told them to come closer to him. When they both said they would not come closer he said he would stab them if they tried anything. He said “I don’t trust you two” and I laughed at the idiocy of this man who said that he didn’t trust US. He was shaking and nervous and clearly a coward. The three stepped slightly closer to each other and switched the purse for the money. Then he ran off again into the night. When they handed my purse back to me there was my wallet, no cash but it had all my credit cards, my bank cards and my I.D. He stole my phone, my camera and my money but left everything else down to my chapstick and cosmetic mirror. The police called us back and told us they couldn’t find us anywhere so they wanted us to cross the street to the gas station. Why they couldn’t find us was beyond me...we were in the middle of a busy city, right near a mall and two gas stations standing under a brightly lit billboard and they had been given all this information. All in all from the moment we called the police until R and M made the switch with the man it had been about 25 minutes. I truly believe that if they had shown up on time they would have got there to catch the man who was dumb enough to hang around and bargain.
When we got to the gas station we were waiting about 10 minutes when a police truck pulled in. They were driving really slow and didn’t seem to be in a hurry. M flagged them down and they gave a wave and a smile. We were confused. They drove slowly by and said “Hey ladies, how are you?” Our jaws dropped. They were hitting on us. M was enraged. She went over to the truck and asked them if they were here to help us and they looked all confused saying “No, we didn’t know, we’re out patrolling for muggers.” To which M said “WE JUST GOT MUGGED! Help US!” They said they couldn’t assist us but other officers were most likely on the way if we called it in and then they drove off. We all stood there stunned. M called the police and screamed at them for taking so long. R decided to call my phone that had been stolen just to see if the idiot would pick up and he did. I will not try to write down exactly what was said because I was not a part of the conversation but in short the man said if we didn’t get the police involved he would put the camera in a bag, drop it off somewhere near the police station and then call us to tell us where he put it after he was long gone. After 50 minutes since our first call to the police they showed up at the the gas station. They said, “Get in the back of the truck” which was a pickup truck with a cover. Simultaneously we said “NO!” The fact that the first thing they said to us was get in the back of a truck that is clearly where they put prisoners after waiting as long as we did for help was outrageous. There was no ‘How are you girls doing?’, ‘Are you ok?’ or any other type of comforting words, just ‘Get in the back of the truck and we’ll take you to the station.’ R told them that she had just been on the phone with the mugger and that he said he was going to drop off the camera by the gas station. When she said this all three officers laughed in our faces. One said, “No, no ladies how could you believe him, he’s a thief.” Another said, “Of course he told you that, he was just trying to fool you.” Their smiles continued. I forget who but someone said, “How could you be laughing at us right now?!” Looking back on it now of course we realize that maybe the man was just telling us what we wanted to hear but at the time, after just being robbed and humiliated we believed him and we expected the police to be comforting not condescending. Although every instinct told us not to get in that truck with them we knew we had no other choice. We were scared, they were the police so it had to mean something, right?
At the police station I filled out a police report while the girls helped me remember all the details. Since R gave her p200 in exchange for my purse she also had to fill out a written statement. The female officer laughed at her handwriting and other officers stared and laughed at the 5 of us who were clearly angry, vulnerable and distraught. We were their entertainment of the night. Peace Corps told us not to leave the station without a copy of the police report but when we asked for it they said they couldn’t give us one then, we had to come back on Monday morning. There was some back and forth about the ridiculousness of them not giving us a copy but they still refused. They said it was a new policy that they needed the report to be stamped and registered before they could release it to us and the person who does that only works Monday thru Friday 7:30-4:30. We had lost another battle that night. Feeling defeated, humiliated and tired beyond belief we insisted they give us a ride back to M’s house. Thankfully they agreed. If they hadn’t I am not sure what havoc we would have wreaked in that station.
Waiting for our transport a man walked into the police station asking for someone to help his friend who was waiting outside the station doors. In actuality there were no doors, just an open bay. From where we were sitting we could see a man bleeding from his right arm. He had a piece of cloth wrapped around the wound but it clearly wasn’t stopping the bleeding that was spilling onto the pavement outside. C said “That sound can’t be his blood hitting the floor can it?” I replied, “No, it sounds like rain, there’s no way...” C stood up to look over the counter and when she looked back at me she said, “Mary, it is his blood.” C went around the counter to the man and was miming to him how to hold pressure on his wound. He didn’t seem to quite understand so instead he was squeezing the open gash and blood was going everywhere. She kept repeating and showing him on her own arm how to do it properly. While C was trying to help him M, R, K and myself were begging and pleading for the officers to assist him and get him transport to a hospital as soon as possible. I wish I could explain it better than this but the best way I can describe how the police responded was complacent. They didn’t care, they moved slow, they seemed heartless. I joined C over by the man who was growing weaker and weaker and bleeding more and more. We screamed for a chair and I don’t even remember who brought a chair over but thankfully someone did. In my opinion he wouldn’t have lasted standing much longer with the amount of blood he had already lost. We were finally able to get him to hold his wound correctly and above his heart but the blood was continuously flowing through his fingers and onto the floor. I can’t speak for the others but I felt helpless. Everything inside me wanted to help him but in all honesty my mind couldn’t see past all the facts I have learned about HIV here in Botswana. My heart was screaming for me to help but my mind was stopping me and keeping my feet planted on the ground, I was ashamed because if I had been in America I wouldn’t have hesitated in helping him. Would that be stupid? Yes it would, but watching someone bleed to death when you have the knowledge and ability to stop it is worse. As I wrestled with what to do in my head K came over to C and I and handed us a zip lock bag full of latex gloves that she always carries in her purse. I looked at C and she looked and me and in that moment we both knew we were thinking the same thing, ‘Lets go.’ We put on our gloves and immediately I held pressure on his wound. The gash was so long and barely visible through all the blood that I couldn’t tell where all the blood was coming from. It was still pouring onto the floor. R took off her shirt because she had an undershirt on as well and offered it to us. C wrapped his arm tightly with the shirt. This seemed to stop the constant bleeding although I continued to hold his arm above his heart with one hand and over the wound with the other. It seemed like only seconds later the blood came spilling out again. C and I, who both have medical backgrounds, were frustrated that nothing was working. We were puzzled as to if the blood was coming from his arm or if it was just coming off the soaked shirt and bandage. I looked down at the puddle of blood on the floor and realized my feet had many little drops of blood on them. I’ll never forget looking up at C and whispering, “C, look at my feet...shit.” She said, “Ok, ok, I’ll get some water, it’s ok.” I felt that she was scared too. She came back with water and subtly doused my feet but it was too late, the splattered blood was all over my ankles as well. I said, “It’s ok, what’s done is done, shit.” to her and then to the officers standing around watching the show, “He needs to go to the fucking hospital NOW!” One of them replied “The transport is coming” to which of of us yelled “WHEN?!!??!”
After about 35-40 minutes from the moment the injured mans friend walked into the station asking for help, transport arrived. We were told by an officer that “This is also your ride home. We will drop the man off at the clinic and then give you a ride home.” I said, “Is someone going to take this mans arm from me?!?!” there was no response so I said “Can someone help me take this man to the car, I can’t do it by myself!” and again no response or movement to help. As the man stood up his friend thankfully helped me take him to the car. We were all thinking the ‘transport’ that was coming to help this man would be an ambulance or police car but we were shocked to see it was a white pickup truck, no cover. I asked C to take the mans arm and continue to hold pressure while I climbed into the back of the truck with the injured man. A pool of blood had already formed in the bed of the truck next to the man and mine and C’s glove covered hand prints were all over the tailgate and inside the truck walls. Three officers climbed into the back with me, the injured man, his friend and C, R, K and M. Right as we were all getting situated the driver floored it and I flew back into the tailgate slamming my back into my own bloody handprints that I had left from climbing in. I was wearing a tank top, white shorts and flip flops. My entire backside I would learn later was covered in blood. The driver then slammed on the brakes before he pulled into traffic and I was catapulted into the man, slamming my knee into the bed of the truck and into the pool of blood that had formed by his side. Everyone else in the back of the truck was sliding around but all I remember was my left knee bent in a pool of blood and directly under the mans right injured arm watching his flowing blood pour all over my legs. There was nothing I could do to stop the flow of blood. I was holding as much of his forearm as I could but the cut was so large that no matter what I did I couldn’t cover his whole gash. Literally his blood was spilling onto my legs and feet and the way I had been thrown into him I couldn’t move without slipping or losing grip on his arm which I felt was the most important part. I closed my eyes and prayed that I hadn’t made a mistake by helping this man and I immediately felt I was answered. Of course we did the right thing and again I felt ashamed but this time I felt that way for even thinking that what I did was wrong. This man would have bled to death. Plus, how could I discriminate against someone for having or not having HIV? Everyone is equal and that’s what I am here for, not to stigmatize, not to judge, but to love no matter who the person!
We arrived at the clinic and when I asked for someone to help the man off the truck none of the officers even glanced my way. I told the man that on the count of 3 we were jump together and he nodded. “1, 2, 3..” and then we hit the ground, his knees almost coming out from underneath him but thankfully he was strong enough to hold himself up. A wheelchair was brought outside for him and while I still held his arm he was wheeled through the waiting room. He left a trail of blood throughout the entire path and my bloody legs rubbed against one another. Once a trained person took over C and I were told to follow a woman into a room to wash up. C had blood on her feet and some on her arms as well and we both silently washed ourselves over a drain in the room with a bucket of warm water and gauze. R helped scrub the back of my legs and the places I couldn’t reach. At that moment as I watched the blood seep down the drain I felt sick. I felt sick for the way the police treated us, how they ignored the injured man, how the night had turned from fun to scary to heartbreaking. R called Peace Corps medical and our Doctor was sending a driver to pick us up and take us to the medical office. We waited out in the parking lot and shared our fears along with nervous laughter and jokes to hide the tears. R decided she needed for her own sanity to go back in the clinic and ask if the man would reveal his HIV status or be willing to take a rapid HIV test. She had also gotten some spattered blood on her feet and had a few bug bites and an open cut. K also had blood on her jeans and t-shirt and although M wasn’t aware if she had gotten any blood on her, we were all close enough that anything was possible. R came back with the news that we all feared but didn’t think possible. The man was HIV positive. I broke down in that very moment. I had been swimming in this mans blood, with bug bites and a couple small recently healed cuts around my ankle. The mans face flashed before my eyes. His kind and thankful eyes. Did we save his life and take our own?
If you’ve read this far then I hope you continue because like I said this story is a tragic story but also a happy one.
Currently myself and the 4 others girls are taking a drug called Combivir as a precaution in case any of us were infected with his blood. For two the drug makes their muscles ache and gives them headaches, for the other two it makes them incredibly exhausted and for me I have crippling nausea and fatigue. It has been a week and a day since the incident occurred and I have had many different feelings. I have wanted to go home, I have wanted to cry, I have wanted to scream. I have laid on the couch on my back in hopes that my nausea would go away only to lay there for hours with no relief. I have slept for 14 hours and when awoke still couldn’t get out of bed. After all this I am still here. I am still replaying that night in my head. This is what I think and if you don’t believe in God then you may think what I’m about to write is crazy but I’d love for you to read it anyways. I have been thinking, ‘What if I wasn’t robbed that night? Would anyone have helped that man? Would he have been left to die?’ So with those thoughts I have looked to God and I have thanked Him for putting me where I needed to be that night. I needed to be at that police station and I needed to look into that mans eyes and know that it was now or never for his life. If helping that man means I need to take medication that makes me tremendously sick for 28 days, then I will do it and I will do it proudly. I do not regret one second of that night. I am sorry that the night was filled with so much pain for me, for my friends, for that man and now for my family and friends back home that know what happened but I am not sorry for what we all did. Life is filled with suffering but sometimes I think “Without suffering there would be no compassion.”
To C, R, K ,and M: You are angels. If we weren’t already going to be in each others hearts before January 28th, 2011, we are now. You’re bound to me and I to you. Thank you for everything you are and represent and don’t ever forget that you’re heroes.
This story has both a tragic and a happy ending. Five women were part of a scary robbery, five were exposed to HIV+ blood and are now on PEP (Post Exposure Prophylaxis) and five are forever tied together.
On Friday the 28th of January four friends and myself went out to the capital for an Indian dinner. We had won a costume contest back in October dressed as the Ghostbusters and were treated to a night of good food, good laughs and good friendship but ‘M’ who hosted the Halloween bash. The dinner was full of all those for mentioned things. We ate too much but didn’t care, we laughed so hard our cheeks hurt and we enjoyed each others company to the fullest. Sometimes great moments are shattered. There is a quote I hate to love because it rings true too often and it says, “I think I'm afraid to be happy because whenever I get too happy something bad always happens."-Charlie Brown. As we all walked out of the restaurant we planned to head back to M’s house and have a good old slumber party. On our way to the combi stop we talked and laughed. I was walking ahead a few steps with C while M, K, and R gossiped and giggled behind us about life. There was a moment of silence to which C said, “Mary, there’s a guy” meaning I should move out of the way so he could pass. As I moved to my right I turned and was face to face with a man. I knew in that split second that something wasn’t right. His face was covered in shadow but I could feel his look of cowardness. He immediately grabbed my purse which was slung over my shoulder. I moved away while holding on tight to my bag but his second violent tug ripped my purses strap and as I screamed he ran off into the tall grass with my bag. R and M ran a little ways on the sidewalk after him but soo realized that it wasn’t worth it. I began to cry, not because I was hurt but because of how he made me feel; anger, vulnerable and helpless. As I paced back and forth screaming “Legodu! Legodu!” which means thief in Setswana he still continued to run into the night. I can’t recall who exactly called th police but someone did. I was too upset to do anything but cry and pace. I am thankful for my friends who took charge and made the necessary phone calls to the police and to Peace Corps. The man who grabbed my purse was still in sight while we were on the phone with the police. He was waving his phone light and yelling to us. We stood there in disbelief that this man had the nerve to be calling to us for something. He was about 50 yards away, right off the main road where there were 4 lanes of traffic rushing by. All I remember screaming was “What??! What do you want you have EVERYTHING?!?! EVERYTHING!” R walked a few feet into the grass to try and hear what he was saying and then we all heard him say “Give me 200 Pula!” I absolutely couldn’t believe that he had my purse with p400, my digital camera, my phone, my I.D. and my credit cards and he had the nerve to ask for more money! Anger was seeping out through every pore. C and K helped me calm down because I was yelling “You have EVERYTHING Rra (which mean Sir), everything, just take it and go, leave us alone!” but he kept coming closer and asking for more money. At this point M and R were telling him to give the purse back. I remember R was saying “Do the right thing Rra, do the right thing, give her the purse with the I.D. in it and take everything else. Just leave it there and go.” He kept asking for more money and R said she would give him p200 if he gave her the purse back. I kept begging them to not go near him and bargain, my purse wasn’t worth it. I was so confused and angry that they would risk their lives for my stupid bag. C and K just kept telling me that M and R wouldn’t put themselves in danger and that there’s nothing I could do to stop them. I was freaking out because I didn’t understand why they were bargaining with a man who was potentially dangerous. I paced and watched as the man took off his shirt to hide in the night from all the car lights rushing past. He approached R and M slowly and held out the purse but told them to come closer to him. When they both said they would not come closer he said he would stab them if they tried anything. He said “I don’t trust you two” and I laughed at the idiocy of this man who said that he didn’t trust US. He was shaking and nervous and clearly a coward. The three stepped slightly closer to each other and switched the purse for the money. Then he ran off again into the night. When they handed my purse back to me there was my wallet, no cash but it had all my credit cards, my bank cards and my I.D. He stole my phone, my camera and my money but left everything else down to my chapstick and cosmetic mirror. The police called us back and told us they couldn’t find us anywhere so they wanted us to cross the street to the gas station. Why they couldn’t find us was beyond me...we were in the middle of a busy city, right near a mall and two gas stations standing under a brightly lit billboard and they had been given all this information. All in all from the moment we called the police until R and M made the switch with the man it had been about 25 minutes. I truly believe that if they had shown up on time they would have got there to catch the man who was dumb enough to hang around and bargain.
When we got to the gas station we were waiting about 10 minutes when a police truck pulled in. They were driving really slow and didn’t seem to be in a hurry. M flagged them down and they gave a wave and a smile. We were confused. They drove slowly by and said “Hey ladies, how are you?” Our jaws dropped. They were hitting on us. M was enraged. She went over to the truck and asked them if they were here to help us and they looked all confused saying “No, we didn’t know, we’re out patrolling for muggers.” To which M said “WE JUST GOT MUGGED! Help US!” They said they couldn’t assist us but other officers were most likely on the way if we called it in and then they drove off. We all stood there stunned. M called the police and screamed at them for taking so long. R decided to call my phone that had been stolen just to see if the idiot would pick up and he did. I will not try to write down exactly what was said because I was not a part of the conversation but in short the man said if we didn’t get the police involved he would put the camera in a bag, drop it off somewhere near the police station and then call us to tell us where he put it after he was long gone. After 50 minutes since our first call to the police they showed up at the the gas station. They said, “Get in the back of the truck” which was a pickup truck with a cover. Simultaneously we said “NO!” The fact that the first thing they said to us was get in the back of a truck that is clearly where they put prisoners after waiting as long as we did for help was outrageous. There was no ‘How are you girls doing?’, ‘Are you ok?’ or any other type of comforting words, just ‘Get in the back of the truck and we’ll take you to the station.’ R told them that she had just been on the phone with the mugger and that he said he was going to drop off the camera by the gas station. When she said this all three officers laughed in our faces. One said, “No, no ladies how could you believe him, he’s a thief.” Another said, “Of course he told you that, he was just trying to fool you.” Their smiles continued. I forget who but someone said, “How could you be laughing at us right now?!” Looking back on it now of course we realize that maybe the man was just telling us what we wanted to hear but at the time, after just being robbed and humiliated we believed him and we expected the police to be comforting not condescending. Although every instinct told us not to get in that truck with them we knew we had no other choice. We were scared, they were the police so it had to mean something, right?
At the police station I filled out a police report while the girls helped me remember all the details. Since R gave her p200 in exchange for my purse she also had to fill out a written statement. The female officer laughed at her handwriting and other officers stared and laughed at the 5 of us who were clearly angry, vulnerable and distraught. We were their entertainment of the night. Peace Corps told us not to leave the station without a copy of the police report but when we asked for it they said they couldn’t give us one then, we had to come back on Monday morning. There was some back and forth about the ridiculousness of them not giving us a copy but they still refused. They said it was a new policy that they needed the report to be stamped and registered before they could release it to us and the person who does that only works Monday thru Friday 7:30-4:30. We had lost another battle that night. Feeling defeated, humiliated and tired beyond belief we insisted they give us a ride back to M’s house. Thankfully they agreed. If they hadn’t I am not sure what havoc we would have wreaked in that station.
Waiting for our transport a man walked into the police station asking for someone to help his friend who was waiting outside the station doors. In actuality there were no doors, just an open bay. From where we were sitting we could see a man bleeding from his right arm. He had a piece of cloth wrapped around the wound but it clearly wasn’t stopping the bleeding that was spilling onto the pavement outside. C said “That sound can’t be his blood hitting the floor can it?” I replied, “No, it sounds like rain, there’s no way...” C stood up to look over the counter and when she looked back at me she said, “Mary, it is his blood.” C went around the counter to the man and was miming to him how to hold pressure on his wound. He didn’t seem to quite understand so instead he was squeezing the open gash and blood was going everywhere. She kept repeating and showing him on her own arm how to do it properly. While C was trying to help him M, R, K and myself were begging and pleading for the officers to assist him and get him transport to a hospital as soon as possible. I wish I could explain it better than this but the best way I can describe how the police responded was complacent. They didn’t care, they moved slow, they seemed heartless. I joined C over by the man who was growing weaker and weaker and bleeding more and more. We screamed for a chair and I don’t even remember who brought a chair over but thankfully someone did. In my opinion he wouldn’t have lasted standing much longer with the amount of blood he had already lost. We were finally able to get him to hold his wound correctly and above his heart but the blood was continuously flowing through his fingers and onto the floor. I can’t speak for the others but I felt helpless. Everything inside me wanted to help him but in all honesty my mind couldn’t see past all the facts I have learned about HIV here in Botswana. My heart was screaming for me to help but my mind was stopping me and keeping my feet planted on the ground, I was ashamed because if I had been in America I wouldn’t have hesitated in helping him. Would that be stupid? Yes it would, but watching someone bleed to death when you have the knowledge and ability to stop it is worse. As I wrestled with what to do in my head K came over to C and I and handed us a zip lock bag full of latex gloves that she always carries in her purse. I looked at C and she looked and me and in that moment we both knew we were thinking the same thing, ‘Lets go.’ We put on our gloves and immediately I held pressure on his wound. The gash was so long and barely visible through all the blood that I couldn’t tell where all the blood was coming from. It was still pouring onto the floor. R took off her shirt because she had an undershirt on as well and offered it to us. C wrapped his arm tightly with the shirt. This seemed to stop the constant bleeding although I continued to hold his arm above his heart with one hand and over the wound with the other. It seemed like only seconds later the blood came spilling out again. C and I, who both have medical backgrounds, were frustrated that nothing was working. We were puzzled as to if the blood was coming from his arm or if it was just coming off the soaked shirt and bandage. I looked down at the puddle of blood on the floor and realized my feet had many little drops of blood on them. I’ll never forget looking up at C and whispering, “C, look at my feet...shit.” She said, “Ok, ok, I’ll get some water, it’s ok.” I felt that she was scared too. She came back with water and subtly doused my feet but it was too late, the splattered blood was all over my ankles as well. I said, “It’s ok, what’s done is done, shit.” to her and then to the officers standing around watching the show, “He needs to go to the fucking hospital NOW!” One of them replied “The transport is coming” to which of of us yelled “WHEN?!!??!”
After about 35-40 minutes from the moment the injured mans friend walked into the station asking for help, transport arrived. We were told by an officer that “This is also your ride home. We will drop the man off at the clinic and then give you a ride home.” I said, “Is someone going to take this mans arm from me?!?!” there was no response so I said “Can someone help me take this man to the car, I can’t do it by myself!” and again no response or movement to help. As the man stood up his friend thankfully helped me take him to the car. We were all thinking the ‘transport’ that was coming to help this man would be an ambulance or police car but we were shocked to see it was a white pickup truck, no cover. I asked C to take the mans arm and continue to hold pressure while I climbed into the back of the truck with the injured man. A pool of blood had already formed in the bed of the truck next to the man and mine and C’s glove covered hand prints were all over the tailgate and inside the truck walls. Three officers climbed into the back with me, the injured man, his friend and C, R, K and M. Right as we were all getting situated the driver floored it and I flew back into the tailgate slamming my back into my own bloody handprints that I had left from climbing in. I was wearing a tank top, white shorts and flip flops. My entire backside I would learn later was covered in blood. The driver then slammed on the brakes before he pulled into traffic and I was catapulted into the man, slamming my knee into the bed of the truck and into the pool of blood that had formed by his side. Everyone else in the back of the truck was sliding around but all I remember was my left knee bent in a pool of blood and directly under the mans right injured arm watching his flowing blood pour all over my legs. There was nothing I could do to stop the flow of blood. I was holding as much of his forearm as I could but the cut was so large that no matter what I did I couldn’t cover his whole gash. Literally his blood was spilling onto my legs and feet and the way I had been thrown into him I couldn’t move without slipping or losing grip on his arm which I felt was the most important part. I closed my eyes and prayed that I hadn’t made a mistake by helping this man and I immediately felt I was answered. Of course we did the right thing and again I felt ashamed but this time I felt that way for even thinking that what I did was wrong. This man would have bled to death. Plus, how could I discriminate against someone for having or not having HIV? Everyone is equal and that’s what I am here for, not to stigmatize, not to judge, but to love no matter who the person!
We arrived at the clinic and when I asked for someone to help the man off the truck none of the officers even glanced my way. I told the man that on the count of 3 we were jump together and he nodded. “1, 2, 3..” and then we hit the ground, his knees almost coming out from underneath him but thankfully he was strong enough to hold himself up. A wheelchair was brought outside for him and while I still held his arm he was wheeled through the waiting room. He left a trail of blood throughout the entire path and my bloody legs rubbed against one another. Once a trained person took over C and I were told to follow a woman into a room to wash up. C had blood on her feet and some on her arms as well and we both silently washed ourselves over a drain in the room with a bucket of warm water and gauze. R helped scrub the back of my legs and the places I couldn’t reach. At that moment as I watched the blood seep down the drain I felt sick. I felt sick for the way the police treated us, how they ignored the injured man, how the night had turned from fun to scary to heartbreaking. R called Peace Corps medical and our Doctor was sending a driver to pick us up and take us to the medical office. We waited out in the parking lot and shared our fears along with nervous laughter and jokes to hide the tears. R decided she needed for her own sanity to go back in the clinic and ask if the man would reveal his HIV status or be willing to take a rapid HIV test. She had also gotten some spattered blood on her feet and had a few bug bites and an open cut. K also had blood on her jeans and t-shirt and although M wasn’t aware if she had gotten any blood on her, we were all close enough that anything was possible. R came back with the news that we all feared but didn’t think possible. The man was HIV positive. I broke down in that very moment. I had been swimming in this mans blood, with bug bites and a couple small recently healed cuts around my ankle. The mans face flashed before my eyes. His kind and thankful eyes. Did we save his life and take our own?
If you’ve read this far then I hope you continue because like I said this story is a tragic story but also a happy one.
Currently myself and the 4 others girls are taking a drug called Combivir as a precaution in case any of us were infected with his blood. For two the drug makes their muscles ache and gives them headaches, for the other two it makes them incredibly exhausted and for me I have crippling nausea and fatigue. It has been a week and a day since the incident occurred and I have had many different feelings. I have wanted to go home, I have wanted to cry, I have wanted to scream. I have laid on the couch on my back in hopes that my nausea would go away only to lay there for hours with no relief. I have slept for 14 hours and when awoke still couldn’t get out of bed. After all this I am still here. I am still replaying that night in my head. This is what I think and if you don’t believe in God then you may think what I’m about to write is crazy but I’d love for you to read it anyways. I have been thinking, ‘What if I wasn’t robbed that night? Would anyone have helped that man? Would he have been left to die?’ So with those thoughts I have looked to God and I have thanked Him for putting me where I needed to be that night. I needed to be at that police station and I needed to look into that mans eyes and know that it was now or never for his life. If helping that man means I need to take medication that makes me tremendously sick for 28 days, then I will do it and I will do it proudly. I do not regret one second of that night. I am sorry that the night was filled with so much pain for me, for my friends, for that man and now for my family and friends back home that know what happened but I am not sorry for what we all did. Life is filled with suffering but sometimes I think “Without suffering there would be no compassion.”
To C, R, K ,and M: You are angels. If we weren’t already going to be in each others hearts before January 28th, 2011, we are now. You’re bound to me and I to you. Thank you for everything you are and represent and don’t ever forget that you’re heroes.
Sunday, January 9, 2011
Witchcraft, Contaminated Water and Beaches
It’s been a while, my apologies! There’s really no excuse to not be writing especially because I am just wrapping up my schools summer break which was 6 weeks long. I was surprisingly busy which in Peace Corps is a great and sometimes rare thing! I’ll begin with my time spent at the Bobirwa Youth Forum:
Early December- A Youth Forum takes place a few times a year in different regions in the country. Students are chosen from surrounding schools in the chosen region and invited to participate in a week long program which focuses on empowering youth. When I arrived I felt like I was back in my familiar territory, a camp-like setting. I was happy to see kids running around and playing! For that week I stayed in a hostel with some students and a teacher. I was given the oldest girls hostel and we all immediately bonded. The language barrier was quite a challenge because I was in the Eastern region of Botswana where the children’s’ English is not as good as it is in my village being so close to Gaborone, the capital. Although the girls were older they had trouble communicating with me but I found a way to connect with them anyways!
Boy was it HOT up there! I woke up every morning drenched in sweat and covered in dead bugs...yeah gross. I actually don’t even know what kind of bugs they were, not mosquitos because they’re somewhat yellow but they fly around the lights but when the lights turn off they fall to the ground and seem to die...I don’t know but let me tell you, disgusting. It didn’t help that I was on a top bunk right above the light. Heat rising, bugs falling...perfect.
Ok...so on to the craziness that was my witchcraft encounter, no joke. No one told us that Bobirwa district was a ‘witchcraft’ district. Of course if they had told me it wouldn’t have actually mattered because I would have brushed it off like I always respect but don’t believe all the stories about witches (Botswana and a lot of the African continent have strong beliefs in witchcraft) Anyways, in another hostel there was a little girl about 7 years old with a few other children and adults. One night the little girl was claiming to be called by her ancestors to come outside. Now this is a common belief of Batswana that ancestors sometimes come and take you away for celebrations and/or duties and then bring you back...eventually. When I say ancestors I mean dead ones and when I say come and take you I mean literally you go with them and disappear into another realm or world. Clearly I am no expert in explaining the belief in ancestry or witchcraft but this is the only way I can explain it in terms you’ll understand...who am I kidding I still don’t even fully understand. Ok, so back to the little girl. She said that her ancestors wanted to take her but there was too strong of a conflicting presence in the room. It turns out the conflicting presence was one of the adults who was a Christian and was wearing a glow in the dark rosary. The ancestors could not cross the threshold to take the little girl away because of the strong energy of Christianity. Are you still with me? After speaking with multiple Batswana at the youth forum about what was happening I was told not to worry because we can’t interfere with the energies. When I asked, “Why isn’t the little girl scared of being taken by ghosts or spirits or whatever they are?” The reply was that “ancestors aren’t bad spirits and people want to be taken because it’s their duty to go. They are always returned back to their lives in a matter or days or months.” Yes, I said months. According to belief a lot of people just poof, disappear and are returned a month later. Golly gee I just don’t know.
Without going on and on about this I will tell you a story that a child told about what happened to him:
One 14 year old boy said (and I am paraphrasing here but this is pretty close to exact words) “Three weeks ago 6 albino mongaloids came into my room and put a piece of red carpet on the floor. They told me to poop on it. They told me I couldn’t poop again until they came back to get more. I can’t go to the bathroom anymore and it hurts.” Now, I asked a few of the people working with me at the forum, “Why doesn’t someone give him laxatives to help him go so he’s not in pain?” To which they replied, “Oh no, no we can’t interfere with the ancestors! He has to wait until they come back to collect.” I knew right at that moment that I was in way over my head with this ancestor/witchcraft business. If grown adults believe that this young boy has to sit in pain for weeks and weeks not going to the bathroom because he must wait for the spirits to come back I was lost. The seriousness in beliefs are strong and who am I to interfere...I mean even if I wanted to that wouldn’t be right, right? I thought that I was over the culture shock of it all but after that week and learning so much about the beliefs and customs I was thrown back on my butt and splashed with a cultural wake-up call! Do I believe in witchcraft? Well I don’t think so but at the same time seeing and hearing what I did I can’t say for sure now. At first when I arrived in my village people would tell me that their parent or friend died and when I said, “oh I’m so sorry, how did they die?” I would get a lot of this, “Well, the witches got him.” I kind of used to think oh geez, am I in the twilight zone or what? How do you tell someone “No, the witches didn’t kill your Dad, he must have died from something else” Who do I think I am if I were to do that?! I wouldn’t but that doesn’t mean I don’t think their thoughts may be a little deluded...but then again how would I know? Call me confused because that’s what I am when it comes to witchcraft and things that I can never begin to understand.
Well....in short (I know, I know, that’s not possible with me) the youth forum was great. Tiring, hot, a lot of emotional draining things which I don’t have the heart to mention now, but it was amazing to see the children transform and leave with some great skills. I will for sure go to the next one and I am curious if it will be as interesting as my witch adventure!
Mid December- This will be shorter I promise! Another volunteer organized an Alcohol Awareness Youth Camp in her village which is in the Western part of the country. Her village is called New Xade and it is a settlement where many of the residents were taken from the CKGR (Central Kalahari Game Reserve) and made to relocate there because of mining for diamonds and such. I won’t get into the politics of it but it is sad to see people taken from their homes, uprooted and placed somewhere else. The togetherness and strength these Batswana have is beautiful.
A few volunteers were invited to bring some of their skills to the program, me being one of them. I did a team building activity that went well, or the best it could have gone seeing that the language barrier was the toughest I’ve run into. In New Xade they do not speak Setswana. In fact it was the first time I heard the “clicks” that is so stereotypical when people think of African language. I thought Setswana was hard...heck no, not compared to the clicks. I even tried and tried but my mouth just won’t allow me to do it!
I am so happy I got to travel to these other villages in different parts of the country because I have been somewhat stuck in my South East region for the past 8 months. A change in venue is sometimes what’s needed!
Late December/Early January- VACATION! Firstly, I’ll say that though Christmas is gone I still don’t feel like I missed it or that it even exists here. Sure, the holidays are just as important to Batswana as they are to Americans but it’s just different. The weather is scorching and it doesn’t feel right to be wearing a tank top and shorts and sweating. Well, maybe that feels normal to someone from Arizona but not me from Massachusetts where Christmas time means snow, hot chocolate and frozen limbs. Don’t get me wrong I DO NOT wish I was freezing and having to wait for my car to heat up just to survive but I missed the 'feeling’ of a real Christmas. In a way it made being away from family easier because it didn’t feel like it was even occurring. The downside of that however is seeing pictures and knowing that yes, indeed Christmas time DID happen...and it happened without me. How rude!
Anyways...I had an amazing Indian dinner with about 40 other volunteers on Christmas Eve and awoke Christmas morning only to put on my bathing suit and go to a pool at a hotel with all of them and sizzle in the sun! So though it didn’t feel like Christmas, it felt good to be around people and enjoying basking in the rays!
One the 29th of December my friend Caitlin and I began our adventure to Mozambique. Did I mention we bused it the whole way there...not cool. The first bus ride was from 6am-1pm and we got to Johannesburg and began our wait for the next bus that was leaving at 10pm (yes, overnight busing it) We were wondering the streets trying to find a place to grab lunch. During lunch this couple who was eating there was nice enough to give us pointers as to what we should see while we had a day in the South African capital. It turns out that this couple (Michelle and Grant) wanted to do more for the clearly confused and tired American travelers that were Caitlin and I. They took us to their house and let us put our heavy packs down and then Michelle took us for the grand Jo’burg tour around the city in the her. We saw the botanical gardens and we even went to the top of this ridge and saw the most amazing view of the whole city! It was breathtaking and something I would have never seen otherwise. We met up with Grant again later and we went for dinner and drinks and talked about traveling and such. It was a great day that was supposed to be filled with wondering aimlessly for hours probably not seeing anything cool to meeting two great people who showed us great sights and did I mention let us shower at their house! Cheers to them!
We boarded our overnight bus and I was attempting to be drugged up on sleeping pills but it was a bummer to have o stop at the border in my sleeping stupor. We arrived in Maputo, Mozambique in the morning and needed to haul butt to ATM’s to get Meticais (their currency) and figure out where we get the bus to our final destination. After a confusing encounter with a man named Roberto who was nice enough to give us a ride to the bus which actually turned out to be the wrong bus depot, we arrived at the Maputo bus rank otherwise known as my hell. Ok, it wasn’t that bad but I was tired and just wanted to get a seat by a window because though Botswana is HOT it is not humid and let me tell you Mozambique is freaking HUMID! Not only did we NOT get good seats on the bus but we actually got the worst two seats available! The way back of the bus in a row made for 4 but if you’ve ever been to Africa they love to shove people in so we were there with 3 other grown adult men and a child...one man was drinking whiskey (did I mention it was 10am?) So, there we were 6 people in a 4 seater in the blazing heat for 10 HOURS! No joke. The bus would pull over every now and then for bathroom stops...those bathroom stops consist of the side of the rode and a bush. Needless to say I held my bladder for the whole ride.
We arrived in Tofo at 10pm and dropped our bags off at Bamboozi lodge and searched for some much needed drinks and food after that ride. Nothing was serving food except a place on the side of the beach called “The Bread Shack”. We asked the man, “Are you still serving food?” He said, “Yeah.” We said, “Ok, what kind of food do you have?” To which he said, “Well, I can put food in bread.” Caitlin and I looked at one another and simultaneously thought ‘ok, food is food, right?’ We grabbed a beer and waited a few minutes. The man came out with two plates. Both consisted of the same: a literal loaf of bread cut in half and turned upright. There was a hole in the loaf and it was stuffed with some chicken stew concoction. Oh “Bread Shack”, how we were thankful for not the food but the laugh!
The next day we awoke to Heaven. Beaches. We had made it. The next couple of days were filled with sun, ocean, good food and friends. Some other volunteers were already there so we met up with them and rung in the New Year on the beach with fireworks and a unexpected, fully clothed swim in the ocean! 2011 started off with a bang! On the 2nd of January Caitlin and I ventured North to Vilunculous to spend our remaining days in Mozambique in a fisherman’s village where we spent our time pool side, restaurant side and snorkeling out on the islands! Of course to get there we needed to take another bus which we never managed to catch so we hitched (very normal and necessary) This hitch was unique to say the least. There are sketchy men all over the world and we landed in the back with Mr. Creep himself. The things that came out of his mouth were hilariously grotesque. Hmmmm...should I say one of his lines or is it too inappropriate? Ok, you pulled my leg. He was talking to us about the bender of a night he just came off of with his friends at the beach (mind you it is 5:30 am as we’re in the truck) and he says while referring to his lack of ‘getting any’ that previous night and what he says to women to try and persuade them, “I may have an ugly face but I have a sweet dick.” I almost died right there but composed myself to reply, “and that line didn’t work, go figure.” So although the guy was Mr. Sketch he was harmless but Caitlin and I decided to ditch the hitch when the truckload of men decided to stop on a road at 6am and have a beer with a bunch of other people drinking heavily as the sun was still coming up! “Just one beer and then we’ll be on our way again” they said but we couldn’t get out of there fast enough! We hoped on a ferry to a place called Maxixe and then got on a combi to our final destination. A combi is supposed to legally fit 15 people but most of the time they squeeze 18 which isn’t too bad. This was a 4 hour ride so you can imagine my ultimate disbelief when we rode the majority of the way with 28 people inside the combi...YES I SAID 28 PEOPLE IN A 15 PASSENGER VEHICLE! There are many times when I say to myself 'if I can just get through this I’ll be able to laugh in the end’...this was definitely one of those times! Man oh man the good old African continent knows how to keep me on my toes!
Oh I almost forgot...you’re not supposed to drink the water in Mozambique. Well, would it be a Mary Duggan adventure if I didn’t do something stupid? No. So, what did I do? It was hot, majorly hot outside and Caitlin and I were walking around in the market place desperately searching for a place to buy water but we couldn’t find a place. We walked past this little house and it looked like they were selling things and I saw a fridge so I asked for “agua” (In Mozambique they speak Portuguese) The woman said “Si, Si” and came back with a pitcher of water and poured us a glass to share. Caitlin said, “Mary, we shouldn’t drink this, we don’t know where it came from.” To which I said, “I bet it’s fine, I mean right? I think it came from the fridge so it’s probably ok.” We stared at the glass for what seemed like ages and Caitlin said “You first” so of course my stubborn self took a big gulp and Caitlin followed with a smaller sip. Don’t listen to Peer Pressure kiddies because come the next day we had to deal with the repercussions. I don’t care how thirsty you get, DON’T DRINK MYSTERY WATER! For the last days of our vacation we weren’t doing too well. Thankfully Caitlin’s sickness subsided before mine but my body was punishing me for taking a monster sized gulp of the contaminated water. My stomach felt like a very small man was hiding inside and stabbing my every now and then with a dull knife and trying his best to escape through my belly button...this lasted up until a few hours until we got back to Botswana. Let me tell you...riding three buses (all 7-11 hours in length) over 2 days while having to run to the bathroom or cripple over holding my stomach is not my idea of a good time. Now I am safe back in Kumakwane with only very minimal aftershocks and the little man in my stomach is dormant. Thank God for clean water from the tap!
That’s all for now. I will really try harder to update more frequently so I don’t bore you with a million pages of ranting!
Oh...yesterday was my sister Amy’s baby shower so I wish her and little unborn Jace the best! Love you!
Peace and Love,
Dinks
Early December- A Youth Forum takes place a few times a year in different regions in the country. Students are chosen from surrounding schools in the chosen region and invited to participate in a week long program which focuses on empowering youth. When I arrived I felt like I was back in my familiar territory, a camp-like setting. I was happy to see kids running around and playing! For that week I stayed in a hostel with some students and a teacher. I was given the oldest girls hostel and we all immediately bonded. The language barrier was quite a challenge because I was in the Eastern region of Botswana where the children’s’ English is not as good as it is in my village being so close to Gaborone, the capital. Although the girls were older they had trouble communicating with me but I found a way to connect with them anyways!
Boy was it HOT up there! I woke up every morning drenched in sweat and covered in dead bugs...yeah gross. I actually don’t even know what kind of bugs they were, not mosquitos because they’re somewhat yellow but they fly around the lights but when the lights turn off they fall to the ground and seem to die...I don’t know but let me tell you, disgusting. It didn’t help that I was on a top bunk right above the light. Heat rising, bugs falling...perfect.
Ok...so on to the craziness that was my witchcraft encounter, no joke. No one told us that Bobirwa district was a ‘witchcraft’ district. Of course if they had told me it wouldn’t have actually mattered because I would have brushed it off like I always respect but don’t believe all the stories about witches (Botswana and a lot of the African continent have strong beliefs in witchcraft) Anyways, in another hostel there was a little girl about 7 years old with a few other children and adults. One night the little girl was claiming to be called by her ancestors to come outside. Now this is a common belief of Batswana that ancestors sometimes come and take you away for celebrations and/or duties and then bring you back...eventually. When I say ancestors I mean dead ones and when I say come and take you I mean literally you go with them and disappear into another realm or world. Clearly I am no expert in explaining the belief in ancestry or witchcraft but this is the only way I can explain it in terms you’ll understand...who am I kidding I still don’t even fully understand. Ok, so back to the little girl. She said that her ancestors wanted to take her but there was too strong of a conflicting presence in the room. It turns out the conflicting presence was one of the adults who was a Christian and was wearing a glow in the dark rosary. The ancestors could not cross the threshold to take the little girl away because of the strong energy of Christianity. Are you still with me? After speaking with multiple Batswana at the youth forum about what was happening I was told not to worry because we can’t interfere with the energies. When I asked, “Why isn’t the little girl scared of being taken by ghosts or spirits or whatever they are?” The reply was that “ancestors aren’t bad spirits and people want to be taken because it’s their duty to go. They are always returned back to their lives in a matter or days or months.” Yes, I said months. According to belief a lot of people just poof, disappear and are returned a month later. Golly gee I just don’t know.
Without going on and on about this I will tell you a story that a child told about what happened to him:
One 14 year old boy said (and I am paraphrasing here but this is pretty close to exact words) “Three weeks ago 6 albino mongaloids came into my room and put a piece of red carpet on the floor. They told me to poop on it. They told me I couldn’t poop again until they came back to get more. I can’t go to the bathroom anymore and it hurts.” Now, I asked a few of the people working with me at the forum, “Why doesn’t someone give him laxatives to help him go so he’s not in pain?” To which they replied, “Oh no, no we can’t interfere with the ancestors! He has to wait until they come back to collect.” I knew right at that moment that I was in way over my head with this ancestor/witchcraft business. If grown adults believe that this young boy has to sit in pain for weeks and weeks not going to the bathroom because he must wait for the spirits to come back I was lost. The seriousness in beliefs are strong and who am I to interfere...I mean even if I wanted to that wouldn’t be right, right? I thought that I was over the culture shock of it all but after that week and learning so much about the beliefs and customs I was thrown back on my butt and splashed with a cultural wake-up call! Do I believe in witchcraft? Well I don’t think so but at the same time seeing and hearing what I did I can’t say for sure now. At first when I arrived in my village people would tell me that their parent or friend died and when I said, “oh I’m so sorry, how did they die?” I would get a lot of this, “Well, the witches got him.” I kind of used to think oh geez, am I in the twilight zone or what? How do you tell someone “No, the witches didn’t kill your Dad, he must have died from something else” Who do I think I am if I were to do that?! I wouldn’t but that doesn’t mean I don’t think their thoughts may be a little deluded...but then again how would I know? Call me confused because that’s what I am when it comes to witchcraft and things that I can never begin to understand.
Well....in short (I know, I know, that’s not possible with me) the youth forum was great. Tiring, hot, a lot of emotional draining things which I don’t have the heart to mention now, but it was amazing to see the children transform and leave with some great skills. I will for sure go to the next one and I am curious if it will be as interesting as my witch adventure!
Mid December- This will be shorter I promise! Another volunteer organized an Alcohol Awareness Youth Camp in her village which is in the Western part of the country. Her village is called New Xade and it is a settlement where many of the residents were taken from the CKGR (Central Kalahari Game Reserve) and made to relocate there because of mining for diamonds and such. I won’t get into the politics of it but it is sad to see people taken from their homes, uprooted and placed somewhere else. The togetherness and strength these Batswana have is beautiful.
A few volunteers were invited to bring some of their skills to the program, me being one of them. I did a team building activity that went well, or the best it could have gone seeing that the language barrier was the toughest I’ve run into. In New Xade they do not speak Setswana. In fact it was the first time I heard the “clicks” that is so stereotypical when people think of African language. I thought Setswana was hard...heck no, not compared to the clicks. I even tried and tried but my mouth just won’t allow me to do it!
I am so happy I got to travel to these other villages in different parts of the country because I have been somewhat stuck in my South East region for the past 8 months. A change in venue is sometimes what’s needed!
Late December/Early January- VACATION! Firstly, I’ll say that though Christmas is gone I still don’t feel like I missed it or that it even exists here. Sure, the holidays are just as important to Batswana as they are to Americans but it’s just different. The weather is scorching and it doesn’t feel right to be wearing a tank top and shorts and sweating. Well, maybe that feels normal to someone from Arizona but not me from Massachusetts where Christmas time means snow, hot chocolate and frozen limbs. Don’t get me wrong I DO NOT wish I was freezing and having to wait for my car to heat up just to survive but I missed the 'feeling’ of a real Christmas. In a way it made being away from family easier because it didn’t feel like it was even occurring. The downside of that however is seeing pictures and knowing that yes, indeed Christmas time DID happen...and it happened without me. How rude!
Anyways...I had an amazing Indian dinner with about 40 other volunteers on Christmas Eve and awoke Christmas morning only to put on my bathing suit and go to a pool at a hotel with all of them and sizzle in the sun! So though it didn’t feel like Christmas, it felt good to be around people and enjoying basking in the rays!
One the 29th of December my friend Caitlin and I began our adventure to Mozambique. Did I mention we bused it the whole way there...not cool. The first bus ride was from 6am-1pm and we got to Johannesburg and began our wait for the next bus that was leaving at 10pm (yes, overnight busing it) We were wondering the streets trying to find a place to grab lunch. During lunch this couple who was eating there was nice enough to give us pointers as to what we should see while we had a day in the South African capital. It turns out that this couple (Michelle and Grant) wanted to do more for the clearly confused and tired American travelers that were Caitlin and I. They took us to their house and let us put our heavy packs down and then Michelle took us for the grand Jo’burg tour around the city in the her. We saw the botanical gardens and we even went to the top of this ridge and saw the most amazing view of the whole city! It was breathtaking and something I would have never seen otherwise. We met up with Grant again later and we went for dinner and drinks and talked about traveling and such. It was a great day that was supposed to be filled with wondering aimlessly for hours probably not seeing anything cool to meeting two great people who showed us great sights and did I mention let us shower at their house! Cheers to them!
We boarded our overnight bus and I was attempting to be drugged up on sleeping pills but it was a bummer to have o stop at the border in my sleeping stupor. We arrived in Maputo, Mozambique in the morning and needed to haul butt to ATM’s to get Meticais (their currency) and figure out where we get the bus to our final destination. After a confusing encounter with a man named Roberto who was nice enough to give us a ride to the bus which actually turned out to be the wrong bus depot, we arrived at the Maputo bus rank otherwise known as my hell. Ok, it wasn’t that bad but I was tired and just wanted to get a seat by a window because though Botswana is HOT it is not humid and let me tell you Mozambique is freaking HUMID! Not only did we NOT get good seats on the bus but we actually got the worst two seats available! The way back of the bus in a row made for 4 but if you’ve ever been to Africa they love to shove people in so we were there with 3 other grown adult men and a child...one man was drinking whiskey (did I mention it was 10am?) So, there we were 6 people in a 4 seater in the blazing heat for 10 HOURS! No joke. The bus would pull over every now and then for bathroom stops...those bathroom stops consist of the side of the rode and a bush. Needless to say I held my bladder for the whole ride.
We arrived in Tofo at 10pm and dropped our bags off at Bamboozi lodge and searched for some much needed drinks and food after that ride. Nothing was serving food except a place on the side of the beach called “The Bread Shack”. We asked the man, “Are you still serving food?” He said, “Yeah.” We said, “Ok, what kind of food do you have?” To which he said, “Well, I can put food in bread.” Caitlin and I looked at one another and simultaneously thought ‘ok, food is food, right?’ We grabbed a beer and waited a few minutes. The man came out with two plates. Both consisted of the same: a literal loaf of bread cut in half and turned upright. There was a hole in the loaf and it was stuffed with some chicken stew concoction. Oh “Bread Shack”, how we were thankful for not the food but the laugh!
The next day we awoke to Heaven. Beaches. We had made it. The next couple of days were filled with sun, ocean, good food and friends. Some other volunteers were already there so we met up with them and rung in the New Year on the beach with fireworks and a unexpected, fully clothed swim in the ocean! 2011 started off with a bang! On the 2nd of January Caitlin and I ventured North to Vilunculous to spend our remaining days in Mozambique in a fisherman’s village where we spent our time pool side, restaurant side and snorkeling out on the islands! Of course to get there we needed to take another bus which we never managed to catch so we hitched (very normal and necessary) This hitch was unique to say the least. There are sketchy men all over the world and we landed in the back with Mr. Creep himself. The things that came out of his mouth were hilariously grotesque. Hmmmm...should I say one of his lines or is it too inappropriate? Ok, you pulled my leg. He was talking to us about the bender of a night he just came off of with his friends at the beach (mind you it is 5:30 am as we’re in the truck) and he says while referring to his lack of ‘getting any’ that previous night and what he says to women to try and persuade them, “I may have an ugly face but I have a sweet dick.” I almost died right there but composed myself to reply, “and that line didn’t work, go figure.” So although the guy was Mr. Sketch he was harmless but Caitlin and I decided to ditch the hitch when the truckload of men decided to stop on a road at 6am and have a beer with a bunch of other people drinking heavily as the sun was still coming up! “Just one beer and then we’ll be on our way again” they said but we couldn’t get out of there fast enough! We hoped on a ferry to a place called Maxixe and then got on a combi to our final destination. A combi is supposed to legally fit 15 people but most of the time they squeeze 18 which isn’t too bad. This was a 4 hour ride so you can imagine my ultimate disbelief when we rode the majority of the way with 28 people inside the combi...YES I SAID 28 PEOPLE IN A 15 PASSENGER VEHICLE! There are many times when I say to myself 'if I can just get through this I’ll be able to laugh in the end’...this was definitely one of those times! Man oh man the good old African continent knows how to keep me on my toes!
Oh I almost forgot...you’re not supposed to drink the water in Mozambique. Well, would it be a Mary Duggan adventure if I didn’t do something stupid? No. So, what did I do? It was hot, majorly hot outside and Caitlin and I were walking around in the market place desperately searching for a place to buy water but we couldn’t find a place. We walked past this little house and it looked like they were selling things and I saw a fridge so I asked for “agua” (In Mozambique they speak Portuguese) The woman said “Si, Si” and came back with a pitcher of water and poured us a glass to share. Caitlin said, “Mary, we shouldn’t drink this, we don’t know where it came from.” To which I said, “I bet it’s fine, I mean right? I think it came from the fridge so it’s probably ok.” We stared at the glass for what seemed like ages and Caitlin said “You first” so of course my stubborn self took a big gulp and Caitlin followed with a smaller sip. Don’t listen to Peer Pressure kiddies because come the next day we had to deal with the repercussions. I don’t care how thirsty you get, DON’T DRINK MYSTERY WATER! For the last days of our vacation we weren’t doing too well. Thankfully Caitlin’s sickness subsided before mine but my body was punishing me for taking a monster sized gulp of the contaminated water. My stomach felt like a very small man was hiding inside and stabbing my every now and then with a dull knife and trying his best to escape through my belly button...this lasted up until a few hours until we got back to Botswana. Let me tell you...riding three buses (all 7-11 hours in length) over 2 days while having to run to the bathroom or cripple over holding my stomach is not my idea of a good time. Now I am safe back in Kumakwane with only very minimal aftershocks and the little man in my stomach is dormant. Thank God for clean water from the tap!
That’s all for now. I will really try harder to update more frequently so I don’t bore you with a million pages of ranting!
Oh...yesterday was my sister Amy’s baby shower so I wish her and little unborn Jace the best! Love you!
Peace and Love,
Dinks
Saturday, November 20, 2010
"Change is gonna do you good"
20 November 2010
~I live in a world where my television is replaced by a world map and I love it. In fact, I discover new countries all the time. I was never a great student, especially when learning important things like geography. Nothing ever stuck. I never knew where Tunisia was and here I am sharing the same continent. Life is simple now. I enjoy reading book after book, strolling throughout the village just saying "Dumelang" to my neighbors and new friends. I look forward to my guitar lessons with myself and my "idiots guide" and sitting on my little porch talking the late afternoon away with Richard and 'our kids'. Life is hard here, sure, but life is beautiful here.
~I found out yesterday at a doctor's appointment that I have lost 30lbs here. Holy crap.
~Here is a lesson learned story:
I remember before I even set foot on the plane to come to Botswana people were saying, "Mary, you're going to meet your husband there!" and I can't say I didn't have those words stored in the back of my mind. My dream since I was thirteen was to come to somewhere in Africa and be in Peace Corps and maybe, just maybe meet an amazing African man who I would love forever. However it didn't take long after I landed in Botswana to harbor major stereotypes and bad thoughts about the men here. I do believe that most stereotypes derive from some sort of truth and that's where all my thoughts against Batswana men came from...truth. If you've been reading my blog from the beginning you already know that I've said the men here are cheaters by cultural standards. Also, the women are as well but they're better at hiding it. Of course when I say things like that I am not saying ALL men and women are. It's a gross clumped stereotype that is shared by not just me and other PCV's but by Batswana as well. The many Batswana I have spoken to have been hurt by someone who has cheated. This however does not make it right to say. Anyways, let me get to the point of why I'm even saying these things. MCP (Multiple Concurrent Partnerships) is a cultural, could I use the word 'practice' here in Botswana? Trying to stop MCP is a job Peace Corps is here to do and it's one of the most important ones at that. Having many partners at once is spreading H.I.V. considerably fast here. It is very unfortuante.
Arriving in Botswana and learning about the MCP problem and hearing Batswana women tell me "No, no, men here are cheaters and beaters and they are bad!" made me slide down a slippery slope of stereotypical judgement. I did not come here to judge people or make assumptions and I am sad to say that without even realizing it I was doing those very things. Do I think that men here are cheaters? Yes! However, I have learned from getting to know some men that this is of course not the case for all men but once you start to judge some men you slowly lump them all in the same category. I knew this from the start but I was fogged by what I saw and heard. When you are constantly approached by men who are asking to sleep with you, say that they love you or both and the whole time they are wearing their wedding rings or telling you about their children it can poison your thoughts. I was getting so irritated and frustrated that these men were disrespecting their partners and me.
Something that helped unfog my mind was a friendship I made with a guy in my village the first week I arrived at site about 5 months ago. I was very weary of him and cautious because of all the things I had heard but he slowly showed me that he was genuine. After about 3 months of seeing him around and saying our hello's we started to hang out. We would talk for hours about our different cultures, I would go to his football matches and teach him how to use a computer and it was just nice. He didn't creep me out like the countless guys I pass everyday. He was my friend. To help him in the 'good guy' points department he works at a counseling center as a volunteer MCP counselor. Bonus! This fact didn't make me swoon just yet, here even Pastors preach about love and faithfulness while they themselves are sleeping with many women at once behind their wives back.
Our friendship kept growing and it got to a point where I wanted something more but I struggled with the thoughts and stereotypes I had. I spoke with a good friend back in the states (Princess C!) who told me, "Mary, if he treats you well, if he appreciates you don't hold back, just let it flow" and so after some thought I decided she was right. So for the past two months I have enjoyed getting to know this great guy. He is sweet and loving, not to mention a smile to die for! I really like him. I still have my guard up for the time being but it is slowly crumbling down. Are we dating? Hmmmm...how do you date here in Botswana? A picnic at the cattle post? I like to say we're together and learning from each other. I like not being so defined mainly because I don't want to get hurt. He likes to talk about the future, I don't. It's too scary. So, for now I am happy with him and he tells me "Mary, you are in every sunrise" which I still don't know if I should laugh at or smile like a girl would in a cheesy, romantic movie. Those of you who know me know that I thrive off humor so believe me it was VERY hard not to laugh right in his face when he said that! You also know that I've been waiting for a "Noah Calhoun" type to say things like that to me so when it actually happened I didn't expect it or know what to do but smile. Oh man, I am swooning now.
Don't worry Mom, I'm not going to stay a day longer here than I have to but don't get your hopes up either for me bringing home an African husband! Our families are too important to us so it will end. It will be dreadfully sad but I am sure I will be thankful for all that we taught each other and the time we shared. Man, I am a cheese ball to the MAX today! Oh, his name is Omphile but he goes by Fila. His friends call him Soldier (Destiny's Child would give me a pat on the back for that one.)
I didn't even think I would be blogging about a relationship on a public space but I had to share that I have learned that even when I think I'm not judging I am and I need to watch myself. Stereotypes are dangerous and they can lead you the wrong way and you can miss out on the greatness of people.
More to come.
Peace and Love,
Dintle
~I live in a world where my television is replaced by a world map and I love it. In fact, I discover new countries all the time. I was never a great student, especially when learning important things like geography. Nothing ever stuck. I never knew where Tunisia was and here I am sharing the same continent. Life is simple now. I enjoy reading book after book, strolling throughout the village just saying "Dumelang" to my neighbors and new friends. I look forward to my guitar lessons with myself and my "idiots guide" and sitting on my little porch talking the late afternoon away with Richard and 'our kids'. Life is hard here, sure, but life is beautiful here.
~I found out yesterday at a doctor's appointment that I have lost 30lbs here. Holy crap.
~Here is a lesson learned story:
I remember before I even set foot on the plane to come to Botswana people were saying, "Mary, you're going to meet your husband there!" and I can't say I didn't have those words stored in the back of my mind. My dream since I was thirteen was to come to somewhere in Africa and be in Peace Corps and maybe, just maybe meet an amazing African man who I would love forever. However it didn't take long after I landed in Botswana to harbor major stereotypes and bad thoughts about the men here. I do believe that most stereotypes derive from some sort of truth and that's where all my thoughts against Batswana men came from...truth. If you've been reading my blog from the beginning you already know that I've said the men here are cheaters by cultural standards. Also, the women are as well but they're better at hiding it. Of course when I say things like that I am not saying ALL men and women are. It's a gross clumped stereotype that is shared by not just me and other PCV's but by Batswana as well. The many Batswana I have spoken to have been hurt by someone who has cheated. This however does not make it right to say. Anyways, let me get to the point of why I'm even saying these things. MCP (Multiple Concurrent Partnerships) is a cultural, could I use the word 'practice' here in Botswana? Trying to stop MCP is a job Peace Corps is here to do and it's one of the most important ones at that. Having many partners at once is spreading H.I.V. considerably fast here. It is very unfortuante.
Arriving in Botswana and learning about the MCP problem and hearing Batswana women tell me "No, no, men here are cheaters and beaters and they are bad!" made me slide down a slippery slope of stereotypical judgement. I did not come here to judge people or make assumptions and I am sad to say that without even realizing it I was doing those very things. Do I think that men here are cheaters? Yes! However, I have learned from getting to know some men that this is of course not the case for all men but once you start to judge some men you slowly lump them all in the same category. I knew this from the start but I was fogged by what I saw and heard. When you are constantly approached by men who are asking to sleep with you, say that they love you or both and the whole time they are wearing their wedding rings or telling you about their children it can poison your thoughts. I was getting so irritated and frustrated that these men were disrespecting their partners and me.
Something that helped unfog my mind was a friendship I made with a guy in my village the first week I arrived at site about 5 months ago. I was very weary of him and cautious because of all the things I had heard but he slowly showed me that he was genuine. After about 3 months of seeing him around and saying our hello's we started to hang out. We would talk for hours about our different cultures, I would go to his football matches and teach him how to use a computer and it was just nice. He didn't creep me out like the countless guys I pass everyday. He was my friend. To help him in the 'good guy' points department he works at a counseling center as a volunteer MCP counselor. Bonus! This fact didn't make me swoon just yet, here even Pastors preach about love and faithfulness while they themselves are sleeping with many women at once behind their wives back.
Our friendship kept growing and it got to a point where I wanted something more but I struggled with the thoughts and stereotypes I had. I spoke with a good friend back in the states (Princess C!) who told me, "Mary, if he treats you well, if he appreciates you don't hold back, just let it flow" and so after some thought I decided she was right. So for the past two months I have enjoyed getting to know this great guy. He is sweet and loving, not to mention a smile to die for! I really like him. I still have my guard up for the time being but it is slowly crumbling down. Are we dating? Hmmmm...how do you date here in Botswana? A picnic at the cattle post? I like to say we're together and learning from each other. I like not being so defined mainly because I don't want to get hurt. He likes to talk about the future, I don't. It's too scary. So, for now I am happy with him and he tells me "Mary, you are in every sunrise" which I still don't know if I should laugh at or smile like a girl would in a cheesy, romantic movie. Those of you who know me know that I thrive off humor so believe me it was VERY hard not to laugh right in his face when he said that! You also know that I've been waiting for a "Noah Calhoun" type to say things like that to me so when it actually happened I didn't expect it or know what to do but smile. Oh man, I am swooning now.
Don't worry Mom, I'm not going to stay a day longer here than I have to but don't get your hopes up either for me bringing home an African husband! Our families are too important to us so it will end. It will be dreadfully sad but I am sure I will be thankful for all that we taught each other and the time we shared. Man, I am a cheese ball to the MAX today! Oh, his name is Omphile but he goes by Fila. His friends call him Soldier (Destiny's Child would give me a pat on the back for that one.)
I didn't even think I would be blogging about a relationship on a public space but I had to share that I have learned that even when I think I'm not judging I am and I need to watch myself. Stereotypes are dangerous and they can lead you the wrong way and you can miss out on the greatness of people.
More to come.
Peace and Love,
Dintle
Sunday, November 7, 2010
When it gets too hard, open your eyes, there's beauty in everything.
When you're looking at the world with nothing but negatives then nothing but negatives come your way. It's all about hope that one day things will shift, even for a moment but that moment will be perfect. That moment will make you smile. That moment gives you hope to get through the next obstacle. I am trying to live my life this way because if I don't I will get stuck in a dangerous place. A place where nothing seems hopeful. A place where only sorrow and pain stay. I believe I am doing a good job so far...at least for today. At least for this particular moment in time. I could sink deep into a dark hole if I let it overtake me, the sadness that creeps in from time to time.
I woke up this morning to a blazing hot day, just shy of 95 degrees before 9am. As I turned on the faucet to brush my teeth there was no glorious flow of water...yet again I was left with the thought of 'when will my water come back? An hour, a day, a week?' My previous incident with no water for 5 days almost broke me like I mentioned in a prior blog and I took a second to take a breath and think. Thank God for that moment of clarity. I could feel the sadness trying to come, trying to take me to where it has so many times in the 7 months I have been here. Not this time, not today. I may not be able to live without water for too many days at 100 degrees but I know I'd find a way. Somehow. So, I turned on my sink faucet in the morning just in case my water decided to come back on.
As I sat in my sitting room thousands and thousands of miles away from the only comfort I've ever known I felt blessed. I felt as though I am not alone. Reason being? Would you even understand if I said I felt so happy in that moment because of the weather, because of Mother Nature? Probably not but I will try and explain. There was just an amazing (if ever so short) rain storm. I opened my windows and curtains and let the cool wind flow through my house like a literal breath of fresh air. It felt magnificent, especially after hours of heat pouring into my house and no immediate way to cool off without water available. I was more then pleased to not only hear the rain BUT hear my sink turn on! Granted the pressure was terrible but I ran to the bathroom and took the opportunity to take a cool shower. Though it took a little extra time to get the shampoo out of my hair due to the lack of water coming from the showerhead I felt refreshed! As if on cue, as I finished in the shower the water again stopped. However, my smile didn't.
Positivity. That's my new outlook. Even though I've always stood by the saying, "Life won't give you anything you can't handle" I have struggled a little with it here. I am doing my best to turn that struggle into understanding and I believe it's working.
As of right now I am still listening to the thunder roll across the sky and I hear the children come out to play now that the rain has ceased to fall. The dark clouds take over the sky but the light of the sun pushes through as best as it can. The world is so quiet and yet so loud. Quiet with its stillness of the Earth but loud with its singing of birds and laughter of children.
I am happy. Do I get sad? Yes, everyday but I don't want to let the sadness win anymore.
Ok, so I know I'm clearly a little wack-a-do here with emotions but y'all still love me!
In a bit I'll have some funny stories but some students are coming over to my house in ten minutes so I can't write them down...stay tuned!
Peace and love,
Dinkles (as my fellow Bots 9ers call me)
I woke up this morning to a blazing hot day, just shy of 95 degrees before 9am. As I turned on the faucet to brush my teeth there was no glorious flow of water...yet again I was left with the thought of 'when will my water come back? An hour, a day, a week?' My previous incident with no water for 5 days almost broke me like I mentioned in a prior blog and I took a second to take a breath and think. Thank God for that moment of clarity. I could feel the sadness trying to come, trying to take me to where it has so many times in the 7 months I have been here. Not this time, not today. I may not be able to live without water for too many days at 100 degrees but I know I'd find a way. Somehow. So, I turned on my sink faucet in the morning just in case my water decided to come back on.
As I sat in my sitting room thousands and thousands of miles away from the only comfort I've ever known I felt blessed. I felt as though I am not alone. Reason being? Would you even understand if I said I felt so happy in that moment because of the weather, because of Mother Nature? Probably not but I will try and explain. There was just an amazing (if ever so short) rain storm. I opened my windows and curtains and let the cool wind flow through my house like a literal breath of fresh air. It felt magnificent, especially after hours of heat pouring into my house and no immediate way to cool off without water available. I was more then pleased to not only hear the rain BUT hear my sink turn on! Granted the pressure was terrible but I ran to the bathroom and took the opportunity to take a cool shower. Though it took a little extra time to get the shampoo out of my hair due to the lack of water coming from the showerhead I felt refreshed! As if on cue, as I finished in the shower the water again stopped. However, my smile didn't.
Positivity. That's my new outlook. Even though I've always stood by the saying, "Life won't give you anything you can't handle" I have struggled a little with it here. I am doing my best to turn that struggle into understanding and I believe it's working.
As of right now I am still listening to the thunder roll across the sky and I hear the children come out to play now that the rain has ceased to fall. The dark clouds take over the sky but the light of the sun pushes through as best as it can. The world is so quiet and yet so loud. Quiet with its stillness of the Earth but loud with its singing of birds and laughter of children.
I am happy. Do I get sad? Yes, everyday but I don't want to let the sadness win anymore.
Ok, so I know I'm clearly a little wack-a-do here with emotions but y'all still love me!
In a bit I'll have some funny stories but some students are coming over to my house in ten minutes so I can't write them down...stay tuned!
Peace and love,
Dinkles (as my fellow Bots 9ers call me)
Friday, October 15, 2010
There is too much death, too much sadness.
After months and months of sadness but no tears I finally broke down. Every week here in Botswana there is a funeral, every single week. There is too much death, too much sadness.
As I sit here and write I desperately try and think of how I will put into words the sadness I feel for a student at my school. On Sunday October 10th his Mother passed away from being "sick". I put the word "sick" in quotations because it is the word often used to describe someone living with HIV or AIDS. I do not know if this particular woman died from complications of the disease but I can only wonder. His father already passed a couple of years ago and he is left with an older and younger brother. He himself is 15.
This evening I attended the prayer service which occurs the night before the burial. He lives quite close to me so I made my way to his families house. Batswana women are expected to wear certain attire to funerals so I put on a dress, something to wear around my shoulders and a scarf to cover my head. When I arrived I went to where the females sit because there is a place for men to be and a separate place for women. We all sat and waited for the body to be brought from the capital of Gaborone. Some sat in silence while others spoke softly to one another. When the body arrived everyone stood. As the coffin was unloaded from the car a low, beautiful murmur of a song began to be sung all around. Though the song was sung in Setswana and I couldn't understand the words it didn't matter because I felt the beauty in my heart. I watched as the coffin was brought passed us and placed inside the house. While a pastor prayed inside the house with some relatives everyone outside continued to stand and silently listen to his words through apen door and windos. I turned to the people standing around me and I noticed the boy from my school standing next to a younger boy who I took to be his brother. I couldn't help but watch him. A woman inside the house was sobbing loudly and though I couldn't see a tear among anyone else in the crowd I saw the boy's eyes. They were filled with tears but not once did one drop.
As the relatives and pastor exited the house the singing began again, this time it was louder and filled with heartache. My eyes became blurry but I held back tears, though it would have been ok it just didn't feel right to be crying among people who were not. Especially because my tears would have been for the boy because I never met the Mother. After a prayer some people began to disperse while others waited around for food to be served. I waited a few minutes but I felt out of place and too vunerable so I stood up and started home. I heard my name as I walked past a neighboring home on the compound, "Miss Duggan..." and when I turned to look I saw the boy. He was standing in a doorway with his hand on the younger boys shoulders and he smiled and waved. It was a sad smile, an appreciative smile. I smiled back and softly waved. I will hold his smile in my mind forever. Here is a boy who lost his Mother. Here is a boy who lost both his parents. Here is a boy standing with his younger brother at their Mother's prayer service, being strong, brave, and smiling. Behind that smile there is a lost and scared boy. Behind that smile there is a broken heart. Behind that smile there is a boy who is forced to become a man.
There is to much death, too much sadness.
If you believe in God, say a prayer for Maogisi Koko and his brothers.
After months and months of sadness but no tears I finally broke down. Every week here in Botswana there is a funeral, every single week. There is too much death, too much sadness.
As I sit here and write I desperately try and think of how I will put into words the sadness I feel for a student at my school. On Sunday October 10th his Mother passed away from being "sick". I put the word "sick" in quotations because it is the word often used to describe someone living with HIV or AIDS. I do not know if this particular woman died from complications of the disease but I can only wonder. His father already passed a couple of years ago and he is left with an older and younger brother. He himself is 15.
This evening I attended the prayer service which occurs the night before the burial. He lives quite close to me so I made my way to his families house. Batswana women are expected to wear certain attire to funerals so I put on a dress, something to wear around my shoulders and a scarf to cover my head. When I arrived I went to where the females sit because there is a place for men to be and a separate place for women. We all sat and waited for the body to be brought from the capital of Gaborone. Some sat in silence while others spoke softly to one another. When the body arrived everyone stood. As the coffin was unloaded from the car a low, beautiful murmur of a song began to be sung all around. Though the song was sung in Setswana and I couldn't understand the words it didn't matter because I felt the beauty in my heart. I watched as the coffin was brought passed us and placed inside the house. While a pastor prayed inside the house with some relatives everyone outside continued to stand and silently listen to his words through apen door and windos. I turned to the people standing around me and I noticed the boy from my school standing next to a younger boy who I took to be his brother. I couldn't help but watch him. A woman inside the house was sobbing loudly and though I couldn't see a tear among anyone else in the crowd I saw the boy's eyes. They were filled with tears but not once did one drop.
As the relatives and pastor exited the house the singing began again, this time it was louder and filled with heartache. My eyes became blurry but I held back tears, though it would have been ok it just didn't feel right to be crying among people who were not. Especially because my tears would have been for the boy because I never met the Mother. After a prayer some people began to disperse while others waited around for food to be served. I waited a few minutes but I felt out of place and too vunerable so I stood up and started home. I heard my name as I walked past a neighboring home on the compound, "Miss Duggan..." and when I turned to look I saw the boy. He was standing in a doorway with his hand on the younger boys shoulders and he smiled and waved. It was a sad smile, an appreciative smile. I smiled back and softly waved. I will hold his smile in my mind forever. Here is a boy who lost his Mother. Here is a boy who lost both his parents. Here is a boy standing with his younger brother at their Mother's prayer service, being strong, brave, and smiling. Behind that smile there is a lost and scared boy. Behind that smile there is a broken heart. Behind that smile there is a boy who is forced to become a man.
There is to much death, too much sadness.
If you believe in God, say a prayer for Maogisi Koko and his brothers.
Sunday, October 10, 2010
6 months of change
10 October 2010
This entry is just going to be full of random things from as far back as early September...mainly because I haven't been good about keeping up (unless I'm miserable;)...apparently I'm real good at that)
I'll start with an amazing success story that I had. If you know me from pre-peace corps you know that I had the amazing opportunity to work at Crossroads for Kids for many years and develop team building and leadership facilitation skills. When I was accepted into Peace Corps I was hoping for the chance to bring what I have learned over the years to the people of Botswana. I was able to do that in early September. A volutneer from Bots 8 (the group who have been here a year prior to our arrival) heard that I had a background in leadership and team building so she asked me to come to her school and run a Leadership workshop for her school's Prefects (Student school monitors)
I was extremely excited! I asked a volunteer named Kelli in my own group if she would be a co-facilitator with me. I developed a 1.5 day workshop plan and when we arrived at the school I was both nervous and excited to begin. There were about 25 students who participaed in the 1.5 day workshop. In the beginning it was hard to get them to open up. Sometimes even back in the states it is hard to get children (especially teenagers) to open up in front of their peers and take a leadership role , but here it was more difficult then I imagined or ever experienced. By the end of the first day I knew these students were changing in front of our eyes. They were becoming more confident and unafraid to speak up. They were showing us they had a voice and wanted to be heard which is extremely inmportant for youth here in Botswana. A lot of times the students are overlooked and misunderstood. They need to be cared for and looked after but there is a big gap in pyscho social support for children. It is something I have become very passionate about. If you read an earlier blog I wrote about a young girl who was almost raped by other students you remember that the support she got about her situtation was minimal. Very minimal in fact. When it comes to emotions here, things are swept under the rug. A lot of people do not want or know how to give the support needed in terrible situations like that.
By the completion of the workshop Kelli and I saw a noticeable difference. The students had learned how working together as a team to have their voices heard was important if not absolutely necessary. Here is some of what they had to say about the workshop from a feedback form we handed out:
- "I learned how to cooperate and talk to other people in a good way."
- "I learned how to lead people. I should respect people so that they can respect me too. I have to be cooperative."
- "Working together as a team makes tasks very easy. How to respect my peers and cooperate well with them."
- "I learned how to lead other students and to work peacefully with others."
- "I learned so much because we were taught how to stand for ourselves and speak out without fear or concerns, to be cooperative,working together as one team to make a change as leaders."
- "I learned that with cooperation and respect you can succeed in anything you want to."
- "From now on I am not going to give up on anything I do."
And here are some things theywrote about us as facilitators:
- "They are awesome and loving ladies. They were very cooperative and never gave up even if we seemed like we were tired."
- "They teach us how to work with others and to cooperate with them"
- "Facilitators were kind, friendly, loving, and also caring because they didn't want us to get hurt. They were amazing, fabulous, great and I liked them"
- "They respected us."
- "They were lovely, nice and also caring people. They opened up to me."
- "They were passionate and understanding. Encouraging you to keep on doing that!"
- "They were good and kind to us. They didn't get angry at us."
This is why I am here, I just know it.
Kelli and I have already been in talk with our own schools and other volunteers to bring the workshop to other students and teaching and administration staff as well! Success!
On to other things:
~At one point I had no water for 5 days. It was one of the worst experiences of my life. Picture living in a cement house which is directly in the sun ALL DAY just baking. It is 95 degrees outside and you are thirsy and sweaty and you have NO WAY of cooling down. I didn't have enough storage water to last me 2 days let alone 5. Those 5 days broke me in a way. I would never wish that feeling of thirst on anyone, ever. I have a new respect for water that I never knew was even possible.
Just yesterday I was out of water and thankfully it was only for 1 day and half of the night. I had my shower turned on and when I heard the water start up at 12:34am I jumped up out of bed and I stood under the cold, cool shower and cried with happiness.
~My bother Jimmy proposed to his girlfriend Cali at The Grand Canyon! I am thrilled for them! Wait for me though you punks!
~In my village there was the annual Toyota 1000k Desert Race. It is the biggest sporting event in Botswana and this was the first year it was taking place in Kumakwane. Racers from all over Southern Africa come to compete and spectators from all over come to camp out and party the whole weekend. My village is about 4,500 people but with the race there were over 30,000 people here to watch. 10,000 alone were camping! I had people over for the whole weekend in my teeny tiny house and we watched motor bikes, quads, these cool looking futuristic cars which names I forget and trucks! We were splashed with obscene amounts of dirt and sand and we loved every second of it!
When I got back to school that Monday the teachers were talking about how fun it was. One said, "I love the race but I hate how the next day there are all these used condoms around." I really, really wanted to say "Hey, at least they were using condoms" but I kept my mouth shut. Is it weird that when I did see all the used condoms throughout my village I smiled and thought to myself, 'good work people, good work...wrap it up!'? Welcome to Botswana...you get happy at the strangest things.
~It is offcially Summer here now and it has been consistently 95+ everyday. Yesterday it hit 100 and I wanted to die sitting in my brick oven house. It's strange because all day the house is heated up so it is terrible trying to fall asleep. I actually think I may just pass out every night it's so hot and I just claim I 'fell asleep naturally'. Anyways, it's strange because by morning I am under my sheets because it still gets a bit cold. However, by 8 am it is back to grotesquely hot.
With summer comes bugs. BUGS EVERYWHERE! I don't even know what these bugs are. I think some must be only in Botswana and Hell. Even the flies seem to be on steroids and they fly around bashing into the walls and even me. They are crazy and HUGE! I know I have mentioned the bug killer DOOM before...well let me just say that I have gone through 2 cans in 1.5 days. The cockroaches are the biggest things I have ever seen and they just don't die! I sprayed 6 with DOOM one night and woke up to them on their backs STILL MOVING! I used a whole can on just those 6, a whole can and they still had the nerve to be alive!
Also, there is still an array of Flatsies but there is this new species of spider that moves like the dickens as well. These spiders have these gross antennas and they are seriously evil. In fact, I think every bug here is evil. I am starting to pray for only lizards. Even the crickets have turned against me and I have had to turn to killng them. They throw themselves AT ME sometimes!
I'm sick and tired of knocking on doors in my own house before I enter a room in hopes that whatever is in the room scurries away.
I had a cockroach in bed with me the other night. I freaked out (obviously) and the only reason I was able to fall back asleep after I killed it was because I think the heat made me pass out, no joke.
~Ok,I can't keep typing right now...I have to go stand under the cold shower again...second time today. It's only 2pm.
I truly believe I may be living on the surface of the Sun and not on Earth anymore.
This entry is just going to be full of random things from as far back as early September...mainly because I haven't been good about keeping up (unless I'm miserable;)...apparently I'm real good at that)
I'll start with an amazing success story that I had. If you know me from pre-peace corps you know that I had the amazing opportunity to work at Crossroads for Kids for many years and develop team building and leadership facilitation skills. When I was accepted into Peace Corps I was hoping for the chance to bring what I have learned over the years to the people of Botswana. I was able to do that in early September. A volutneer from Bots 8 (the group who have been here a year prior to our arrival) heard that I had a background in leadership and team building so she asked me to come to her school and run a Leadership workshop for her school's Prefects (Student school monitors)
I was extremely excited! I asked a volunteer named Kelli in my own group if she would be a co-facilitator with me. I developed a 1.5 day workshop plan and when we arrived at the school I was both nervous and excited to begin. There were about 25 students who participaed in the 1.5 day workshop. In the beginning it was hard to get them to open up. Sometimes even back in the states it is hard to get children (especially teenagers) to open up in front of their peers and take a leadership role , but here it was more difficult then I imagined or ever experienced. By the end of the first day I knew these students were changing in front of our eyes. They were becoming more confident and unafraid to speak up. They were showing us they had a voice and wanted to be heard which is extremely inmportant for youth here in Botswana. A lot of times the students are overlooked and misunderstood. They need to be cared for and looked after but there is a big gap in pyscho social support for children. It is something I have become very passionate about. If you read an earlier blog I wrote about a young girl who was almost raped by other students you remember that the support she got about her situtation was minimal. Very minimal in fact. When it comes to emotions here, things are swept under the rug. A lot of people do not want or know how to give the support needed in terrible situations like that.
By the completion of the workshop Kelli and I saw a noticeable difference. The students had learned how working together as a team to have their voices heard was important if not absolutely necessary. Here is some of what they had to say about the workshop from a feedback form we handed out:
- "I learned how to cooperate and talk to other people in a good way."
- "I learned how to lead people. I should respect people so that they can respect me too. I have to be cooperative."
- "Working together as a team makes tasks very easy. How to respect my peers and cooperate well with them."
- "I learned how to lead other students and to work peacefully with others."
- "I learned so much because we were taught how to stand for ourselves and speak out without fear or concerns, to be cooperative,working together as one team to make a change as leaders."
- "I learned that with cooperation and respect you can succeed in anything you want to."
- "From now on I am not going to give up on anything I do."
And here are some things theywrote about us as facilitators:
- "They are awesome and loving ladies. They were very cooperative and never gave up even if we seemed like we were tired."
- "They teach us how to work with others and to cooperate with them"
- "Facilitators were kind, friendly, loving, and also caring because they didn't want us to get hurt. They were amazing, fabulous, great and I liked them"
- "They respected us."
- "They were lovely, nice and also caring people. They opened up to me."
- "They were passionate and understanding. Encouraging you to keep on doing that!"
- "They were good and kind to us. They didn't get angry at us."
This is why I am here, I just know it.
Kelli and I have already been in talk with our own schools and other volunteers to bring the workshop to other students and teaching and administration staff as well! Success!
On to other things:
~At one point I had no water for 5 days. It was one of the worst experiences of my life. Picture living in a cement house which is directly in the sun ALL DAY just baking. It is 95 degrees outside and you are thirsy and sweaty and you have NO WAY of cooling down. I didn't have enough storage water to last me 2 days let alone 5. Those 5 days broke me in a way. I would never wish that feeling of thirst on anyone, ever. I have a new respect for water that I never knew was even possible.
Just yesterday I was out of water and thankfully it was only for 1 day and half of the night. I had my shower turned on and when I heard the water start up at 12:34am I jumped up out of bed and I stood under the cold, cool shower and cried with happiness.
~My bother Jimmy proposed to his girlfriend Cali at The Grand Canyon! I am thrilled for them! Wait for me though you punks!
~In my village there was the annual Toyota 1000k Desert Race. It is the biggest sporting event in Botswana and this was the first year it was taking place in Kumakwane. Racers from all over Southern Africa come to compete and spectators from all over come to camp out and party the whole weekend. My village is about 4,500 people but with the race there were over 30,000 people here to watch. 10,000 alone were camping! I had people over for the whole weekend in my teeny tiny house and we watched motor bikes, quads, these cool looking futuristic cars which names I forget and trucks! We were splashed with obscene amounts of dirt and sand and we loved every second of it!
When I got back to school that Monday the teachers were talking about how fun it was. One said, "I love the race but I hate how the next day there are all these used condoms around." I really, really wanted to say "Hey, at least they were using condoms" but I kept my mouth shut. Is it weird that when I did see all the used condoms throughout my village I smiled and thought to myself, 'good work people, good work...wrap it up!'? Welcome to Botswana...you get happy at the strangest things.
~It is offcially Summer here now and it has been consistently 95+ everyday. Yesterday it hit 100 and I wanted to die sitting in my brick oven house. It's strange because all day the house is heated up so it is terrible trying to fall asleep. I actually think I may just pass out every night it's so hot and I just claim I 'fell asleep naturally'. Anyways, it's strange because by morning I am under my sheets because it still gets a bit cold. However, by 8 am it is back to grotesquely hot.
With summer comes bugs. BUGS EVERYWHERE! I don't even know what these bugs are. I think some must be only in Botswana and Hell. Even the flies seem to be on steroids and they fly around bashing into the walls and even me. They are crazy and HUGE! I know I have mentioned the bug killer DOOM before...well let me just say that I have gone through 2 cans in 1.5 days. The cockroaches are the biggest things I have ever seen and they just don't die! I sprayed 6 with DOOM one night and woke up to them on their backs STILL MOVING! I used a whole can on just those 6, a whole can and they still had the nerve to be alive!
Also, there is still an array of Flatsies but there is this new species of spider that moves like the dickens as well. These spiders have these gross antennas and they are seriously evil. In fact, I think every bug here is evil. I am starting to pray for only lizards. Even the crickets have turned against me and I have had to turn to killng them. They throw themselves AT ME sometimes!
I'm sick and tired of knocking on doors in my own house before I enter a room in hopes that whatever is in the room scurries away.
I had a cockroach in bed with me the other night. I freaked out (obviously) and the only reason I was able to fall back asleep after I killed it was because I think the heat made me pass out, no joke.
~Ok,I can't keep typing right now...I have to go stand under the cold shower again...second time today. It's only 2pm.
I truly believe I may be living on the surface of the Sun and not on Earth anymore.
Tuesday, October 5, 2010
"I've been down so long that the end must be drawing near."
October 5, 2010
Ok, I know that lately I haven't been writing and when I do it is usually me writing about my frustrations and how angry and sad I get. Having said that, I just have one more thing to say and then I'll tell you some good tings...if there are any...
I haven't really cried here. In fact I feel like crying a lot but for some reason I just don't. Back in the states I would cry during a baby commercial for goodness sake. I don't know if its because here I feel like I need to be strong or if I have lost that part of me. Some would say maybe it's good that I don't cry as much but I disagree. Crying is a release and one that I used often before to keep my spirits high and be able to laugh. I used to be able to get my sadness out and move on. Here, I am fading. Fading into someone I don't recognize. Someone who is angry all the time. Someone who gets so frustrated but wears a smile to hide it.
I laugh, I joke, I smile but it's not the same. The dark times consume me and yet I don't acknowledge them the way I should. Am I depressed? I don't think so. I think I am just changing. Becoming synical but synical with a smile on my face so noone knows. Of course fellow PCV's know what I am going through because I lean on them when it's unbearable and they lean on me. It's a simple give and take. One day I will be the one saying, "Don't give up, it's supposed to be like this, feel like this." The next day I will be the one saying, "I can't do this, it's too hard. I can't change these behaviors. We're in over our heads."
Today was one of those days that I needed help. Help to understand why I'm here. Help to understand why people are the way they are. Though I want to cry and scream and hide, I am still here because of the support I have here. However sometimes I wish that I hadn't made these connections; not just with other PCV's but with Batswana as well(especially the children). It would be easy to go home if I didn't care. It would be easy to abandon if I didn't see hope. It would be easy to hate. It IS easier to hate, but I don't let myself go down that road...not now and hopefully not ever. I struggle to love the way I thought was easiest because there is so much anger inside me. I am not comfortable feeling angry. I am not comfortable with me.
I don't even know if writing what happened today will really show what it's like here somedays, some hours, some minutes. In fact, I am certain that when I am finsihed with my service noone but other Botswana PCV's will understand and that makes me feel alone. I could write and write and I woudn't be able to express the way my heart aches for the students who are neglected. There is an immense pain growing within me and it is tearing me down. I don't think I will try to explain. I will say that there must be good there. There must be a reason I feel so strongly. The pain I feel is not even an ounce compaed to the suffering I see daily. If I didn't stay, if I didn't care so much, who would? That is what allows me to smile, to laugh, to play and to continue my journey of self-discovery. To challenge myself to push past this anger that is so foreign to me, to push beyond the hurt and to love. Plain and simple.
Keep me and the people I share my life with here in your thoughts.
Peace and Love,
Dintle
Ok, I know that lately I haven't been writing and when I do it is usually me writing about my frustrations and how angry and sad I get. Having said that, I just have one more thing to say and then I'll tell you some good tings...if there are any...
I haven't really cried here. In fact I feel like crying a lot but for some reason I just don't. Back in the states I would cry during a baby commercial for goodness sake. I don't know if its because here I feel like I need to be strong or if I have lost that part of me. Some would say maybe it's good that I don't cry as much but I disagree. Crying is a release and one that I used often before to keep my spirits high and be able to laugh. I used to be able to get my sadness out and move on. Here, I am fading. Fading into someone I don't recognize. Someone who is angry all the time. Someone who gets so frustrated but wears a smile to hide it.
I laugh, I joke, I smile but it's not the same. The dark times consume me and yet I don't acknowledge them the way I should. Am I depressed? I don't think so. I think I am just changing. Becoming synical but synical with a smile on my face so noone knows. Of course fellow PCV's know what I am going through because I lean on them when it's unbearable and they lean on me. It's a simple give and take. One day I will be the one saying, "Don't give up, it's supposed to be like this, feel like this." The next day I will be the one saying, "I can't do this, it's too hard. I can't change these behaviors. We're in over our heads."
Today was one of those days that I needed help. Help to understand why I'm here. Help to understand why people are the way they are. Though I want to cry and scream and hide, I am still here because of the support I have here. However sometimes I wish that I hadn't made these connections; not just with other PCV's but with Batswana as well(especially the children). It would be easy to go home if I didn't care. It would be easy to abandon if I didn't see hope. It would be easy to hate. It IS easier to hate, but I don't let myself go down that road...not now and hopefully not ever. I struggle to love the way I thought was easiest because there is so much anger inside me. I am not comfortable feeling angry. I am not comfortable with me.
I don't even know if writing what happened today will really show what it's like here somedays, some hours, some minutes. In fact, I am certain that when I am finsihed with my service noone but other Botswana PCV's will understand and that makes me feel alone. I could write and write and I woudn't be able to express the way my heart aches for the students who are neglected. There is an immense pain growing within me and it is tearing me down. I don't think I will try to explain. I will say that there must be good there. There must be a reason I feel so strongly. The pain I feel is not even an ounce compaed to the suffering I see daily. If I didn't stay, if I didn't care so much, who would? That is what allows me to smile, to laugh, to play and to continue my journey of self-discovery. To challenge myself to push past this anger that is so foreign to me, to push beyond the hurt and to love. Plain and simple.
Keep me and the people I share my life with here in your thoughts.
Peace and Love,
Dintle
Tuesday, September 21, 2010
"One has to face fear or forever run from it"-Hawk
Then why do I continue to run?
21 September 2010
The second time in my 3 months at site I have walked out of school with absolute anger flooding my bones. Where do I start?
A student walked into the guidance office today and asked to speak with the guidance counselor. They talked for a while and because they were speaking Setswana I didn't know what was being said, only that the young girl was distraught and scared. After she left I asked if she was ok. I was told that last night she had been cornered by 3or more male students (from the same school) and they attempted to rape her by pulling her into "the bush". Thankfully she was strong enough to sit down and begin
to scream until the boys ran away. After hearing why the girl came in to talk I began to get extremely angry because I recalled some of the words that she was told, mostly because here in Botswana people speak in Setswana with English words thrown in. She was told not to say anything to her friends and to go back to class while they figured things out (whatever that means). The part that angers me is that the 3 male students who were invloved are still in school and this female student who was
attacked by them was sent BACK to class!
I am mostly mad at myself. I should have said something but the thing is I am not intergrated enough in my community to tamper with subjects like this. It is probably hard to understand if you have never had an experience in another country trying to live in another culture completely different from anything you've ever known. I can't even understand it sometimes. If I had said something it could have angered my co-workers and I would have lost the trust I am trying to build. The problem in my opinion is that that shouldn't matter when it comes to serious issues like this. But here I am, sitting at home, so angry, so frusrated, so sad and I feel lost. I wanted to hug the student and tell her eveything would be taken care of and that she should be picked up by someone and taken home. I wanted to go to the classrooms of all the boys and look them in the eye and ask them why? Why her? Why anyone? I wanted to tell the people in charge to step it up, get the boys out of the school, get the police here as soon as possible to file a report and to have an assembly letting the other students know that what happened is NOT OK! But I did nothing. It's no their fault for how they're handling it, it's mine for not speaking up. But I am so afraid to ruin my work so far. I am so afraid that I will cause an issue that forces me to not be as involved with the children as I hope to be and as I am beginning to be. I live in fear here. Not for my on safety but fear of stepping on toes, of losing trust, of letting people slip through my fingers. I need their trust to move forward with any ideas and plans I have but how can I be silent and watch when I need to act. Do I need to act? I feel beyond lost, beyond hope, beyond change.
I don't know where I stand. This is the hardest emotional journey I have ever been on.
"One has to face fear..." I have to face fear "...or forever run from it."
21 September 2010
The second time in my 3 months at site I have walked out of school with absolute anger flooding my bones. Where do I start?
A student walked into the guidance office today and asked to speak with the guidance counselor. They talked for a while and because they were speaking Setswana I didn't know what was being said, only that the young girl was distraught and scared. After she left I asked if she was ok. I was told that last night she had been cornered by 3or more male students (from the same school) and they attempted to rape her by pulling her into "the bush". Thankfully she was strong enough to sit down and begin
to scream until the boys ran away. After hearing why the girl came in to talk I began to get extremely angry because I recalled some of the words that she was told, mostly because here in Botswana people speak in Setswana with English words thrown in. She was told not to say anything to her friends and to go back to class while they figured things out (whatever that means). The part that angers me is that the 3 male students who were invloved are still in school and this female student who was
attacked by them was sent BACK to class!
I am mostly mad at myself. I should have said something but the thing is I am not intergrated enough in my community to tamper with subjects like this. It is probably hard to understand if you have never had an experience in another country trying to live in another culture completely different from anything you've ever known. I can't even understand it sometimes. If I had said something it could have angered my co-workers and I would have lost the trust I am trying to build. The problem in my opinion is that that shouldn't matter when it comes to serious issues like this. But here I am, sitting at home, so angry, so frusrated, so sad and I feel lost. I wanted to hug the student and tell her eveything would be taken care of and that she should be picked up by someone and taken home. I wanted to go to the classrooms of all the boys and look them in the eye and ask them why? Why her? Why anyone? I wanted to tell the people in charge to step it up, get the boys out of the school, get the police here as soon as possible to file a report and to have an assembly letting the other students know that what happened is NOT OK! But I did nothing. It's no their fault for how they're handling it, it's mine for not speaking up. But I am so afraid to ruin my work so far. I am so afraid that I will cause an issue that forces me to not be as involved with the children as I hope to be and as I am beginning to be. I live in fear here. Not for my on safety but fear of stepping on toes, of losing trust, of letting people slip through my fingers. I need their trust to move forward with any ideas and plans I have but how can I be silent and watch when I need to act. Do I need to act? I feel beyond lost, beyond hope, beyond change.
I don't know where I stand. This is the hardest emotional journey I have ever been on.
"One has to face fear..." I have to face fear "...or forever run from it."
Wednesday, September 15, 2010
Sour Patch Kids, Goldfish and Flip Flops. 11 August 2010
Today I received TWO packages! One was from my family and it consisted of clothes I asked them to send, heels (yes, even though I live in a desert I tend to look like a hobo in my flats compared to Batswana women who wear heels constantly), flip flops galore, goldfish, Rice a Roni, a National Enquirer magazine which cover story read, “Oprah’s Secret Life as a TEENAGE PROSTITUE!” (Riveting), East Mac ‘n Cheese (although it’s microwavable and I’m pretty sure I’ll go 2 years without seeing a microwave), and a beautiful “Krama” which my brother and his girlfriend got for me while traveling throughout Asia (it’s a scarf). Oh, how could I forget about the Grow Creatures they sent as well? The village kids are going to go bazurk! They are safari animals too, bonus!
The second package was from some friends at home. I almost died because they sent TAMPONS, which is incredible! Ha! Also, there was an array of toothpaste, bug repellent wipes, aloe vera goo, hair bands, sunscreen, sour patch kids, mentos, gum, a book, spices and my favorite part: LETTERS from all of them! Here in Botswana, since I only get to check my email about once every 3 or 4 weeks I am completely out of the loop as to what’s going on at home with them and current events. Although their letters dated back as early as June 6th I LOVED reading what they’ve been up to! I miss them all so much. At least I get to speak with my family every once and a while so I get the family scoop/gossip but with my friends I have to solely rely on a casual viewing of a facebook status here and there. Getting these letters made me feel like I am somewhat caught up in their lives again.
Thank you all so much for making my day AMAZING! I can’t wait to get started on my letters back to you!
~On a side note: I have been here for 4 months and a day! That is absolutely insane in my opinion. I feel weird when I think about calling Botswana my home. I don’t like that realization yet but at least I am not miserable anymore. Plus, instead of hating certain things about the country or the job I just hate that I miss everyone back home…so that’s good, right? There are things that are just starting to fit, slowly but surely and I’m finally excited about the possibilities.
Well, hello Mr. President! 12 August 2010
Today I met the President of Botswana, Ian Khama. What a great experience. I was able to shake his hand and then sit with him and eat traditional Setswana food; seswaa (pounded meat) and dinawa (beans). When we arrived in Mmankgodi where he was visiting, Richard (a Bots 8 Volunteer) and I stood in the back of the crowd while the president and other important people spoke to the residents of the village. I could not understand a word of what was being said because it was all in Setswana but that didn’t take away from the experience. While standing in the back I was trying to go unnoticed as the only white person present, I failed miserably. All the young children turned from listening to the president and stared at me. I smiled and tried to not feel so awkward but it’s hard when you’re staring straight ahead and the people in front of you are turned around staring at you in wonder. Richard was joking around that I was causing a scene…Richard is African American so he tends to blend in from time to time. Needless to say I felt a little strange getting so much attention while the president was there! What can I say? I’m kind of a big deal! Yeah right, if they only knew me personally they wouldn’t take so much interest! Overall it was a very cool experience and I’m glad I was able to have the opportunity to meet him.
Another funny Lekgoa (white person) moment today was when I got on a packed bus with Richard to head to Mmankgodi. There was a man standing in the front and he wouldn’t move to the back like you’re supposed to. The conductor asked him to move to the back so we could all be out of the way of the exit but he just turned to me and said I needed to move to the back…me, not Richard or anyone else. Richard kept laughing hysterically that this guy was telling me that I needed to go to the way back of the bus. I couldn’t help but laugh as well. Just call me Rosa “Dintle” Parks…I stood my ground!
~ I was attending a “Young Women’s Empowerment MCP workshop” which was also primary conducted in Setswenglish, so I can understand the main points but I get lost most of the time. Anyways, some of the girls were asking a question and I kept hearing the word “discharge” amongst the Setswana words. I had no idea what they were talking about exactly but I had an idea. One of the facilitators said, “Dintle, these girls have a question that I think you’d be better to answer. She says her brother told her that if you have yellow discharge as a female it means you need to have sex with a man and then it will turn the healthy white color after sex. Is this true because the other girls say they have been told this by men as well?” I know that this is probably WAY too much information to be writing about on a public blog but I also feel as though you can get a better understanding of how the myths and misconceptions about sex here in Botswana really increase the spread of HIV/AIDS. I gave them the correct answer and hopefully helped them realize that they shouldn’t believe everything they hear and it was great that they were asking these questions. Hearing a question like that initially made me want to laugh and say “hellll no, that’s not true, come on girls!” Unfortunately a lot of Batswana have many questions that may seem silly and ridiculous to me but to them they are very real questions and concerns that if they go unanswered or unquestioned they may make an uninformed decision that could seal their fate negatively. It’s hard to hear things like, “Having sex with a virgin means you can be cured of HIV/AIDS, or as long as you are faithful to both of your girlfriends you don’t have to wear a condom” but I hope that every question I answer I am helping one person realize that they should change their way of thinking even just slightly. Who knows but all I can do is continue to be present at important workshops and make myself available in the village to answer even the littlest of questions.
~If you don’t like Celine Dion then you would certainly go insane living in Botswana. Once a day you hear someone blasting Celine Dion from their house, car or the bar as if she just released a new hit! Someone should tell these Batswana that “My Heart Will Go On” is over 10 years old. Plus it just brings back bad memories of when stupid Rose said; “I’ll never let you go, Jack” as she ripped his frozen hand from hers and watched him sink to the bottom of the Atlantic. Also, she was the one with the lifejacket on, how come SHE got to lie on the floating door? I always hated her.
Today I received TWO packages! One was from my family and it consisted of clothes I asked them to send, heels (yes, even though I live in a desert I tend to look like a hobo in my flats compared to Batswana women who wear heels constantly), flip flops galore, goldfish, Rice a Roni, a National Enquirer magazine which cover story read, “Oprah’s Secret Life as a TEENAGE PROSTITUE!” (Riveting), East Mac ‘n Cheese (although it’s microwavable and I’m pretty sure I’ll go 2 years without seeing a microwave), and a beautiful “Krama” which my brother and his girlfriend got for me while traveling throughout Asia (it’s a scarf). Oh, how could I forget about the Grow Creatures they sent as well? The village kids are going to go bazurk! They are safari animals too, bonus!
The second package was from some friends at home. I almost died because they sent TAMPONS, which is incredible! Ha! Also, there was an array of toothpaste, bug repellent wipes, aloe vera goo, hair bands, sunscreen, sour patch kids, mentos, gum, a book, spices and my favorite part: LETTERS from all of them! Here in Botswana, since I only get to check my email about once every 3 or 4 weeks I am completely out of the loop as to what’s going on at home with them and current events. Although their letters dated back as early as June 6th I LOVED reading what they’ve been up to! I miss them all so much. At least I get to speak with my family every once and a while so I get the family scoop/gossip but with my friends I have to solely rely on a casual viewing of a facebook status here and there. Getting these letters made me feel like I am somewhat caught up in their lives again.
Thank you all so much for making my day AMAZING! I can’t wait to get started on my letters back to you!
~On a side note: I have been here for 4 months and a day! That is absolutely insane in my opinion. I feel weird when I think about calling Botswana my home. I don’t like that realization yet but at least I am not miserable anymore. Plus, instead of hating certain things about the country or the job I just hate that I miss everyone back home…so that’s good, right? There are things that are just starting to fit, slowly but surely and I’m finally excited about the possibilities.
Well, hello Mr. President! 12 August 2010
Today I met the President of Botswana, Ian Khama. What a great experience. I was able to shake his hand and then sit with him and eat traditional Setswana food; seswaa (pounded meat) and dinawa (beans). When we arrived in Mmankgodi where he was visiting, Richard (a Bots 8 Volunteer) and I stood in the back of the crowd while the president and other important people spoke to the residents of the village. I could not understand a word of what was being said because it was all in Setswana but that didn’t take away from the experience. While standing in the back I was trying to go unnoticed as the only white person present, I failed miserably. All the young children turned from listening to the president and stared at me. I smiled and tried to not feel so awkward but it’s hard when you’re staring straight ahead and the people in front of you are turned around staring at you in wonder. Richard was joking around that I was causing a scene…Richard is African American so he tends to blend in from time to time. Needless to say I felt a little strange getting so much attention while the president was there! What can I say? I’m kind of a big deal! Yeah right, if they only knew me personally they wouldn’t take so much interest! Overall it was a very cool experience and I’m glad I was able to have the opportunity to meet him.
Another funny Lekgoa (white person) moment today was when I got on a packed bus with Richard to head to Mmankgodi. There was a man standing in the front and he wouldn’t move to the back like you’re supposed to. The conductor asked him to move to the back so we could all be out of the way of the exit but he just turned to me and said I needed to move to the back…me, not Richard or anyone else. Richard kept laughing hysterically that this guy was telling me that I needed to go to the way back of the bus. I couldn’t help but laugh as well. Just call me Rosa “Dintle” Parks…I stood my ground!
~ I was attending a “Young Women’s Empowerment MCP workshop” which was also primary conducted in Setswenglish, so I can understand the main points but I get lost most of the time. Anyways, some of the girls were asking a question and I kept hearing the word “discharge” amongst the Setswana words. I had no idea what they were talking about exactly but I had an idea. One of the facilitators said, “Dintle, these girls have a question that I think you’d be better to answer. She says her brother told her that if you have yellow discharge as a female it means you need to have sex with a man and then it will turn the healthy white color after sex. Is this true because the other girls say they have been told this by men as well?” I know that this is probably WAY too much information to be writing about on a public blog but I also feel as though you can get a better understanding of how the myths and misconceptions about sex here in Botswana really increase the spread of HIV/AIDS. I gave them the correct answer and hopefully helped them realize that they shouldn’t believe everything they hear and it was great that they were asking these questions. Hearing a question like that initially made me want to laugh and say “hellll no, that’s not true, come on girls!” Unfortunately a lot of Batswana have many questions that may seem silly and ridiculous to me but to them they are very real questions and concerns that if they go unanswered or unquestioned they may make an uninformed decision that could seal their fate negatively. It’s hard to hear things like, “Having sex with a virgin means you can be cured of HIV/AIDS, or as long as you are faithful to both of your girlfriends you don’t have to wear a condom” but I hope that every question I answer I am helping one person realize that they should change their way of thinking even just slightly. Who knows but all I can do is continue to be present at important workshops and make myself available in the village to answer even the littlest of questions.
~If you don’t like Celine Dion then you would certainly go insane living in Botswana. Once a day you hear someone blasting Celine Dion from their house, car or the bar as if she just released a new hit! Someone should tell these Batswana that “My Heart Will Go On” is over 10 years old. Plus it just brings back bad memories of when stupid Rose said; “I’ll never let you go, Jack” as she ripped his frozen hand from hers and watched him sink to the bottom of the Atlantic. Also, she was the one with the lifejacket on, how come SHE got to lie on the floating door? I always hated her.
Tuesday, August 10, 2010
“MORE COWBELL!!!!” 13 July 2010
Today when I was walking home from school I heard a cowbell. Now, this is not unheard of here in Botswana. There are cows all over the place and a lot of them have bells on. Anyways, I didn’t think much of it because I hear it so often so I kept on walking without even turning around; you see one cow you’ve seen them all, right? The cowbell’s dinging started to speed up all of a sudden which caught my attention. I turned around to see the before unseen cow running down the road, directly towards me. I froze and watched it bombarding at me! The noises coming from the crazy cow snapped me back into reality because it was clearly running for its own life with no regard to any innocent bystanders. Therefore I started running myself. Why is it that when people are running from something they run in a straight line? They should clearly run in a zigzag formation to make it harder for the attacker to catch them like I did today. When I looked back I realized the cow had made a right turn into a field and all I saw was the dust it left in its wake and some small children in absolute hysterics. Apparently I, the Lekgoa, looked like an idiot running all over the road. I gave them an ashamed wave and turned to continue walking home only to step in the biggest pile of donkey crap I have ever seen. God does have a sense of humor.
On the same subject of cows, the other day I was walking from the Primary School by myself and I passed a bunch of cows grazing and lounging just off the road. One cow looked up at me and I said out loud, “Sup Dikgomo” with a head nod in their direction. ‘Dikgomo’ means ‘Cows’ in Setswana…don’t worry I’m well aware I am getting closer and closer to being committed to an insane asylum. I think speaking ‘gangsta’ to cows in a language you barely know is one step away from a straight jacket.
Today my brother and his girlfriend will be arriving back in America from a year in and around China where they were teaching English and traveling. I am so happy they get to be home! It is also a great feeling to know that a year may not in fact seem as long as I thought. It seems like only a couple of months ago I was saying goodbye to them. Maybe it feels a little different because I spent a month with them in China this past October but even that feels like it was yesterday! 23 months to go and I can handle that…right?
Like an idiot I didn’t bring my hair straightener even though all the blogs said to. For some odd reason I decided to bring a curling iron though and let me tell you, it’s great to have 2 choices in hair style: The big frizz ball or the curled up Prom Queen…
I witnessed a goat giving birth to three little goat babies (‘kids’ I guess). I don’t know why people insist on saying childbirth (or animal birth?) is a beautiful thing to see. It is nothing short of the most painful and brutal thing to ever cross my sight! The babies were so cute though. They couldn’t quite stand and were just wobbling until they decided to sit in the sun and rest. Adorable.
A teacher asked where I was from today. When I said the United States she said, “Oh, my cousin is in America.” When I asked what state she replied, “Belize.” Hmmmmm…
“Water, water everywhere yet not a drop to drink.” 20 July 2010
By ‘water’ I mean men and by ‘not a drop to drink’ I mean I’d rather go thirsty. Boy does that water look good though. I think Tyra Banks should come to Botswana and have “Botswana’s Next Top Male Model” because she would have plenty of gorgeous men to choose from…too bad most of them just seem to stare directly into your soul and try and will all your clothes off, or ask you to be their wife, or ask to come ‘check you’ which I don’t even need to explain. Men all over the world probably think the same when it comes to the matter of women and what they want to do to them, but here the men seem to have this crazy confidence that allows them to actually SAY what’s on their mind…let me tell you it gets tiring.
It is starting to get warmer during the day here. I am scared. Coming from New England I know what hot is, but normally you can always find refuge in an air-conditioned house or car. Or, even better you can jump in a pool or the ocean and cool off. Here there is minimal hope for any of those luxuries. On top of that, the mode of transportation is bus or khombi. On either of these you feel like a bunch of sardines and there is always someone who smells like they haven’t ever used a stick of deodorant in their lives. Sweaty, smelly sardines…if sardines weren’t already smelly enough.
A few neighborhood kids came over my house the other day. I taught them how to play a few card games: Spoons, Old Maid, Memory and Slap Jack. We had a blast but the best part was I decided to put on some music. I chose Michael Jackson which the kids proceeded to dance just like the King of Pop himself, it was fantastic. I think next time I will have to get a video of it because they were actually really good! Mini- Michaels! They also love Beyonce and knew the ‘Single Ladies’ dance by heart, brilliant.
~This is going to be completely random and unrelated to my experience in Peace Corps but I just have to ask because I was watching a movie the other night and was bothered by it: Why is it that in movies and on TV everyone always knows how to dance? “Would you like to dance?” One character will say to their date. “Oh no, I’m not a good dancer.” The date will answer, most likely blushing. “But I insist.” He or She will playfully beg as they take each others hand. They enter the dance floor and start dancing better then trained dancers themselves whether it is the salsa, tango or a form of swing. I hate that. I really, really hate that. Ok, that’s my little rant for the day.
~I had my first hard boiled egg ever. Oh how Peace Corps has opened my eyes.
22 July 2010
~This morning, just to spice up my daily routine, I added Bran Flakes AND Cheerios together. My excitement for the creation was way better than my appreciation for the taste.
I just finished washing 42 articles of clothing by hand. Let me tell you, it is not fun. Mainly because I had to wash my whites first with hot water which is a process and then washing the darks in cold water but having to change the water several times because of the running colors and dirty water. Next time you are all tossing your load of laundry into the washing machine and pressing start, think of Dintle bent over in the bathroom scrubbing out stains and dirt one by one. Now I wait for them to dry in the African sun, who needs a dryer? This is life at its best!
28 July 2010
Walking home I passed a child playing with a tire which is the most popular form of playing I may add. He said, “Good, how are you?” I said, “Good, how are you?” and he answered, “Hello.” Sometimes the little things make my day, even if those little things are laughing to myself at a 5 year old who can’t speak English properly…but the reason I’m allowed to get a laugh out of his lack of knowledge is because daily I am laughed at (to my face I may add) at the terrible use of my Setswana. At least I kept my laughter hidden.
~I am down to my last razor cartridge. I refuse to buy a 4 pack of Venus razors for 150 pula (We are only paid about 60 pula per day) so I am holding out for a package from friends. This should be rather interesting, and hairy…
~I can now add lizards and beetles to the insects that are taking over my house, and it’s not even bug season yet! There’s one lizard or gecko that lives in my bathroom and often scares me by scattering from behind the sink to behind the toilet. I’ve come close to a heart attack when he does that. I say ‘he’ because I’ve named him Peter. I thought Peter and I had an understanding that he needs to stay behind the sink or toilet while I bath or brush my teeth but apparently not. I’m not afraid that Peter or any of the other lizards (nameless at this point) will hurt me. It’s the Flatsies that scare me. What’s a ‘flatsy’ you ask? Well, a flatsy is a spider that haunts my every waking moment here. They can be small or freaking HUGE and they stay flat against the wall with their creepy eight legs protruding out of their bodies, hence the name flatsies. With a normal spider you could hit it with a shoe and it would die. With a flatsy you can’t even move fast enough to hit it. A flatsy is so smart that it knows what you’re thinking. It zigzags as fast as a bullet when you try to kill it making it nearly impossible to kill. Today I bought “Doom” which is an insect killer and once one of those flatsies shows itself I am going to doom the hell out of it. However, I have heard horror stories that even “Doom” can’t end their reign. We’ll see flatsies, we’ll see.
29 July 2010
~THIS JUST IN: I KILLED A FLATSY!!!!!!!!!!! Is it sad that this rivals the time I read that students raps as the best thing that has happened to me yet? Man that was amazing! I may have used ¼ of the can of “DOOM” but what the hell, victory is mine Flatsy! SUCKA
2 August 2010
On Saturday the 31 of July I was invited to a Teen Club meeting in Gaborone with a few other volunteers. The Teen Club is a club strictly for teenagers who are HIV positive. When we got there I was both saddened and amazed by the children. Though they are HIV positive they do not seem to let it take over their lives, they continue to be children and smile, laugh and play. I believe a lot of the reasons they are able to accept their status and go on in a positive manner are because of the amazing people who work at the Baylor Clinic and the Teen Club that they are able to be a part of. The clinic is a pediatric center and mainly does work with children living with HIV/AIDS. It’s hard for me to imagine being so young and having HIV. Most of the children in the program contracted the virus through their parents so though it is sad when ANYONE contracts the virus, it is extra hard to learn that most of these younger teenagers had no control and played no role in their outcome whatsoever. However, their strength, happiness and ability to just be children is incredible. Of course they have stress and they don’t always understand but I have faith that if they continue in this club with the great people who help out they will strive! The club takes place the last Saturday of each month so I am going to do my best to attend them when I can. I feel in love with the children, the staff of Baylor and the other volunteers immediately.
Today was a marvelous day. Two Bots 8 volunteers and I went shopping with raised money to buy books and other little things for the center that helps with Orphans and Vulnerable Children. The money was raised by students at a private school in Gaborone by picking up litter to help the environment and knowing that the money would go to a literacy project for the less fortunate. We all took a bus to the OVC center and brought over 120 books, some mats and pillows, a rug and a table to create a book corner. The private school students read books with the orphans for a bit while we put together the corner. We were unable to finish it all today but will be back later this week to put the final touches on the room. The children were so excited to see the new and donated books that were brought for them.
~The other night I took a hot shower for the first time since our orientation at The Big 5 Lodge in mid- April. Just when I was getting used to freezing cold showers that literally take my breath away I was teased with this luxury. Oh the finer things in life.
5 August 2010
News of a volunteer in our group being transferred to Mali was a shock and quite saddening. We don’t even get to say goodbye to people when they leave. So far two have ET’d (Early termination), two have resigned but remain in country pursuing jobs and now this latest one being transferred. At first I was a bit envious that the others quit, were let go or were transferred because they got to go home. But now, even though it is hard and I miss home I am in it to stay. It is very scary knowing that this will be my life for two years. However, the relationships I am making within the community feel as though they are long-lasting and genuine. That of course doesn’t mean my stalker neighbor. He’s just annoying and his “I miss you”, “you’re my only friend” and “sometimes men kill women for not loving them and it’s ok because it’s how they feel” is just ridiculous. Don’t get too scared for me, I think he’s just lonely…but of course those could be the last words I write because he could be outside my window ready to cut out my heart and devour it to make us one. Was that a little overboard? In all seriousness, I don’t feel threatened by him; he has the maturity of a 12 year old. I think I wrote about him before…he thinks he predicts the future through his dreams…so if he tells me he had a dream he might kill me then I’ll get scared. Still a little overboard? Sorry, I’m having fun with my own silly scenarios.
6 August 2010
~Another Flatsy dead! This time it was a baby Flatsy, but don’t let its perceived innocence blind you from its evil ways. I almost killed Princess Lilly in the process (another lizard I have decided to name) because I didn’t know she was behind the mop head. I would have been saddened by her loss if it had occurred but equally grossed out if I had to pick up her dead lizard body. And I met King Tut today. He is a very large lizard who also lives in my bathroom. He has yellow stripes on his body. With my luck these lizards are poisonous and here I am making light of my infestation.
Yes, that is all I want to write about today…if you have any problems with that then you can fly to Botswana and take it up with me…but bring some bug killer, would ya? The good stuff.
That's all for now! Inservice training this Sunday for two weeks!
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