Dec 23rd-29th Week 20: Happy Christmas!

 I traveled up to Serowe to my Motswana family for the holidays. Although I only lived with them for two months, I am with out a doubt a member of the family, and it felt good to be home and see my Motswana siblings. We traveled to their farm for Christmas where I spent my days relaxing under the shade, eating fresh bread, and learning how to play piggy in the middle with the children who live on the farm.

I saw my first black mamba, which is a deadly snake found in Botswana, however, as with most creatures it is only harmful when it is harassed. The black mamba leaped down from a tree branch only inches away from where one of the farm hands was standing, however, upon landing it quickly slithered away into the bush. Black mambas can grow up to seven feet tall, however this was have been a young one and was maybe half that size. According to my brother, ducks keep the snakes away so if you do not like the company of snacks just hang out near the ducks.

I feel really lucky to have spent the holidays with a family who cares about me and who I care about. It was remote in the sense that there was no cell phone coverage, no electricity, and about two hours into the bush on a sandy “road” (the road was nothing like roads I am used to). However, it was very international since I munched on Turkish delight from Turkey (my brother travels frequently for work and was only just in Turkey a few days before making the Turkish delight quite fresh!), chatted with their neighbor on the farm who used to work for the UN, and discussed international politics.

It may not have been a white Christmas as I am used to but it was definitely a Christmas well spent. I send my love to everyone Stateside, in Switzerland, and where ever else the holiday season took you.

Happy Holidays!

Dec 16th-22nd Week 19: A Narration of a Pleasant Afternoon

This time of year is called the festive season, which makes me happy and feels fitting to the mood around the village. Moshana is filling up with all the family members who work in other parts of the country but are coming home for the holidays.

Some days are long and challenging but then other days make it all worth it. It was rainy and cool the other day so I spent the morning with a cup of tea and being productive typing up a report. Then I went over to a friends house where I taught her kids some yoga, shelled peanuts and I tried to explain American Baseball and became nostalgic for a past that I don’t really have, drank coffee, and discussed Motswana dating practices. Then she showed me how to eat a “prickly pear” the fruit from the cactus, which may also be in the States but not where I am from so it was quite exciting. I then went to another friends house and on the way ran into some of my running buddies who regardless of the fact that I was not running ran at me gave me a big group hug and we then promptly ran down the middle of the road and I felt like there was some epic movie music playing in my head as the breeze caught my hair. Moments later this image was shattered by the fact that there was a combi behind us trying to get by haha but the kids still loved it. Upon arriving at my friends house I came across my two favorite three year olds who I was concerned were mistreating each other since one had a rope in his mouth and was running while the other was holding the edge of the rope. I then quickly realized that this was in fact a game between two consenting parties and was a simulation of a donkey cart, genius. My friend was plaiting her sisters hair as her seven month old son was sitting on a mat patting his belly. He was doing this in the most jolly way making himself laugh every time. I was reminded that we have so much to learn from children particularly about joy. My friend then shared dinner with me giving me a traditional vegetable that they picked from the bush and paleche, which dare I say it, I think I am starting to like. The vegetable is called tepe and to an untrained eye (aka mine) it looks like a weed. Paleche is one of the staple foods here and is a porridge made of finely ground maize meal.

Blog Week 18: Careful Oh Careful What You Wish For

The more time I spend here the more it becomes clear that I have a problem with guilt. I think this stems from my old perfectionist days and a belief that anything less then perfect is not enough. One of the things I feel guilty about is when I spend the afternoon in my house and not out in the community. This makes me feel like a bit of a slacker, particularly when I am watching American television on my laptop. I recently became hooked on the Netflix series, “House of Cards” and this last week felt a much stronger urge to watch an episode instead of making a fool of myself around the village.  I felt as if my computer was hindering my community integration. Then low and behold I was in town getting groceries and was caught in a torrential downpour. My computer was nestled in its case with an extra bag over it for protection and I thought it was safe. Until I returned home to discover that it would not turn on.

I was not a happy camper. Although earlier in the day I felt that my computer use was hindering me, when it would not turn on, I felt like my right arm had been chopped off. Peace Corps days of yore involved some training in the States a flight to your new country where a staff member handed you car keys and the name of your counterpart as well as the name of your village and did not communicate with the volunteer until they left the country(this is according to a returned Peace Corps Volunteer, who is back again for round two in Botswana). However, this has shifted dramatically and now as PCVs we are expected to be reachable 24/7 through our phones, promptly respond to emails and submit reports on a regular basis. Not only does my computer serve my mental health, it also is a big part of my job.

After a few calls to my IT savvy friends, I went on my favorite run/walk in the bush. This particular path has seen my leaps of joy at realizing I live in a beautiful place, my despair at children’s hunger and realizing I am only one person, as well as most recently my frustrations over the computer situation. This path never fails to have a calming and grounding effect on me.

However, luck lucky me a day and a half later my computer turned on again, and now I never want to turn it off again. My computer has reminded me not to take anything for granted.

Week 17: A Random Smattering of Thoughts from this Week

I would like to personally thank fans, rugs, cheese, and broccoli. This may seem like a bizarre list but all of these things have improved my quality of life immensely. Buying a fan seemed like a complicated frivolous purchase until this week. After an epic combi ride and various people’s assistance my fan and I have made it safely home and despite some touch and go moments we are both in one piece (as is everyone else who was on the combi).

Things I do not think about anymore, how many people can fit in a combi and where will everyone sit, my lap as my own personal space, holding other people’s babies, and upon people’s realization that I am the youngest suddenly being commanded to serve all those older then me (I really must start lying about my age). Something that does still bother me is people’s assumption that I am incomplete because I do not “have a man” and their attempts to remedy the situation.

Koko (knock Knock in Setswana). Who is at my door and why? It is so late! I then open the door to my land lady handing me the phone saying Kgosi. After a brief chat with the Kgosi and a proper greeting to my land lady, I retire back inside my house to realize it is in fact just after 8pm, not quite the late night call I thought it was.

Thwak! That would be the point when the sole of my shoe makes contact with my wall and hopefully my newest bug roommate. I do not frequently kill the bugs in my home, however, there are a few I have no tolerance for and always seem to go about their extermination with a little too much umph. As a result I have three clearly defined shoe prints in various points through out my home… oops!

Week 16: Gnocchi for Dinner

The Peace Corps places a huge emphasis on community integration. The first three months at site we are not supposed to leave our villages and our main task is to gain the trust and respect of those around us by living in the same manner. This was one of the main draws for me to peace corps, before I left the states, community was a buzz word for me and I had a whole slew of romanticized images of what “community” meant, looked like, and how it made people feel. Combined with my people pleasing tendencies, I jumped into my new home whole-heartedly with both feet. I was no longer Dawn, but Lesego fela (only). After six weeks, I miss Dawn and I have come to the realization that I really don’t like full cream milk. I have been a vegetarian for over six years and although I was not vegan I never liked milk and only drank soy milk. Since I arrived in Moshana, I have eaten intestines, sheep, and other unidentified meats as well as drank the ever present full cream milk. I found soy milk in select stores but felt ridiculous buying it, after all drinking expensive soy milk was not “living in the same manner as my new community.” This weekend I realized that living with out water, in a rural village, where I cannot even use the pit latrine without saying hello to someone that I think I am allowed some small comforts and can still consider myself true to the peace corps mission. Usually I have some version of rice and beans for dinner, today I ate gnocchi with whole made cinnamon butternut squash chips and gave Lesego a rest while Dawn watched an American TV show, needless to say it was a quality evening.

Other Lesego highlights of the week include singing and dancing in a world AIDS day march which I am fairly certain made it on national television, alas I do not have a TV to confirm this fact. Celebrating Thanksgiving by eating Megwinya (Fatcakes) and when I tried to explain that it was an American Holiday I was met with the response “We are cleaning.” This conversation was all in Setswana and I was quite proud I understood what she said, but can only assume that something was lost in my Setswana explanation of the holiday.  

Week 15: Apparently there are a few leaks in my house...

Its late afternoon on Thursday, I just came back from my run and I notice my land lady is home. I figured I would pop in tell her my plan for tomorrow and see if we were still visiting her friend today. She is showing another friend wedding pictures so we all start looking together, I am excited that I recognize people from the village. Then there is a deafening roar of rain and hail. The roof is tin which exaggerates the already raging storm and the house is not quite finished so we are getting pelted with hail stones through the cracks. Realizing I left my windows open, I sprint over to my place only to discover that it is irrelevant that my windows were open because my house appears to be in no way water proof. My initial reaction was to move my belongings to higher ground until I realized that my bed was saturated and the only safe place may be the fridge. You can bet I put everything in the fridge that would fit (and seemed vaguely appropriate to find in a fridge). Then I realized all I could do was laugh. Botswana is in a drought so really the rain was a gift and I decided that singing and dancing with my mop was a capital way to handle the situation. As soon as the rain let up my land lady came by to see how I faired and discovered the flood, naturally she immediately took the mop from me and set to work. I think my house is the cleanest it has been since I got here thanks to the deep cleaning provided by the rain, there is no dirt/dust in sight for once. My fridge is back to its usual contents and this was the final straw to get me to wash my sheets.

The storm was a good reminder to not get to attached to any plans or possessions. There is never a guarentee how the evening will go and what will be left. Also my landlady is the best and had the holes patched the next day!

Other discoveries of this week include childrens and young adult books. I have found the best way to deal with a frustrating conversation before tea break is to sneak away to the library where it is possible to discover books from childhood like Sarah, Plain and Tall. At 58 pages it is the perfect tea break treat and even provided me with some wisdom. For those who are not familiar with the novel, it is about a father and his two kids who live in rural USA in the late 1800s. The mother died in childbirth wuth the second child and now many years later the father puts an advertisement in the papers for a new wife. Sarah from Main responds and although everyone gets along swimmingly the kids are afraid she will leave because she misses the sea. Sarah in all her wisdom responds that she will always miss the sea but she is happy here with her new family and she would miss them if she left. This rang true for me as I miss home and I think I always will when I am away but if I never leave home there is so much of life I will miss and when it is time for me to leave Botswana I am sure I will miss my life here as well. Emotions are complex. 

Fun fact did you know that donkeys make noise? I might be the last person to realize this, but it caught me by surprise this week. Unfortunately the donkeys have not been inclined to discuss their affinity for parfaits vs. onions however they do like to occasionally make a noise that reminds me of a train whistle that is on the fritz. I can assure you I was quite alarmed the first time I heard it and it took me awhile to realize where and what the noise was coming from.

Week 14: Lesegggggggggggggooooooooo, Welcome to Africa

I like to run to keep myself centered, have a little alone time, and enjoy the beautiful scenery. This also happens to be the kids favorite thing “Ya a gyma?” I have learned to appreciate this and no longer anticipate alone time. I now envision myself as imparting healthy habits which will build a foundation for good life choices. Now that may be a stretch but besides my alone time being compromised I cannot think of a downside to the kids running with me. There was one day this week where I felt like I could get away with taking a new route and have a little time to myself. I turned off the main road and started dodging low hanging branches enjoying a moment to myself when my thoughts were interurrupted by 13 children screaming my name “Lesegggggggggggggoooooooooooo” and running at full speed towards me. It started with three or four and kept multiplying as everyone heard the news, Lesego is approaching. The humor of the situation was not lost on me and by the time the kids met up with me they had already succeeded at melting my heart, how could I be angry with so many happy faces that were excited to see me, impossible.

My other favorite tidbit of this week involved a sun soaked kgotla meeting. The kgotla is a stone walled structure with no roof and thus as one is sitting in the kgotla you are exposed to the sun. After a warm meeting I stepped outside and was exchanging my cardigan for a lighter scarf and my new friend was walking past and all he said was “Welcome to Africa.” This cracked me up and I could not help but agree cardigans are not a great idea in Africa.

Week 13: Motogo and Masimo

Motogo is a soft porridge made of sorghum meal, which is a softer creamier version of oatmeal (it is not very much like oatmeal but its what I eat for breakfast now instead of oatmeal and serves as a great vehicle for cinnamon and sugar). When I first arrived my land lady made me motogo before I was able to go to a grocery store, then when I started making my own motogo it was terribly lumpy and quite sad. However, during a particularly long wait at the bus renk I was able to pick up the trick, (mix the sorghum meal with water before you add it to the boiling water) and now I am eating a delicious bowl of motogo with almond essence and sugar that is lump free. This is a good indicator of my time in Moshana. The little things are starting to demand less energy of me, like bucket baths, pit latrines, and breakfast, and I feel just a little more Motswana.

A bit of a wrench was thrown into my new level of comfortability as the water went out this week for a few days. I have a stand pipe on my compound which went out but just up the road there is a boar hole with water that the cattle use. Thus my landlady and I went with our empty buckets in hand and came back with them full on our heads. She was of course balancing hands free while I felt a bit precarious and did not dare to remove my hand, a few more days without water and I am sure I will be a champ as well. In the end I was only with out water for two and a half days which is not long, however, not knowing when it was going to come back was what worried me.

Botswana has a three land system where many people have a home village, a cattle post, and lands (masimo in Setswana). This weekend I went with a friend to her masimo. It was just a bit of a walk outside of Moshana and I learned about boroku along the way. Since I was born and raised in the city of Chicago I do not know the American equivalent and perhaps we don’t have boroku exactly but it’s a type of tree sap and tasty treat. The boroku crystallizes as it saps out of the tree and you can just peel it off and enjoy! Although truthfully I did not particularly care for the taste, (it was not sweet enough to satisfy my taste buds) it was a magical moment to have snacks on the way provided by the trees. Less magical was learning more about the drought in Botswana and how this is killing the animals and consequently peoples livelihoods.

To close out the week, I woke up at 2am on Saturday and was confused, was I still dreaming what is that noise? Then again at 3, nope this is not a dream I am having, I definitely hear people. At 4am, I am not curious enough to get out of bed, but still confused. Finally at 5am, encouraged by the sun I get out of bed mosey to the pit latrine and finally understand the noise was simply the all night prayers complete with full body singing that my neighbors were holding, naturally why didn’t I guess. Botswana is a Christian nation and there is a heavy religious influence. Most meetings or events will start with a prayer and the all night prayer vigil that caught my attention is not uncommon and another friend of mine attended a different such vigil that same evening.

Week 12: Constantly Readjusting to a New Norm

I live in a beautiful country with a wide expanse of sky. My friend was walking me home the other afternoon and I said “Ke rata loapi” (I like/love the sky). This is not only something I am able to say in Setswana, but also something that I feel on a daily basis. The sky here never fails to fill my heart with joy, as I wake it glows with a gentle yellow and by the time I have made tea it is an intense orange. Through out the day it never losses its power over me with its seemingly never ending reach. Some days a glance at the sky is my saving grace and other days it is simply the cherry on top of a heaping delicious sunday. To my Setswana, my friend replied, “AH it is because you are new, because you are not from here.” This may be true, but I hope that this deep awe of the sky at any given moment never wares off. I may be constantly adjusting to a new normal but I never want to see the sky as just whats above me but instead to take it in and enjoy it for the privilege it is.

Not all of my interactions here are as poetic and another norm I am adjusting to is the lack of anonymity I have. Previously I was a resident advisor at my University and on occasion I would introduce myself to someone and they would say, “I know who you are.” This always struck me as a bit funny however now I am surprised when this is not the response I receive. I can take people’s actions personally and need to remember that the world does not revolve around me (and as my friend would say “everyone had a morning” which is dictating how they are acting). However, here I have to ask myself if the action was related to me, and more often then not I find out it was.

I had a frustrating afternoon the other day and on top of it all I was out of vegetables and on my last piece of fruit. This would just not do so I decided to go on a vegetable hunt, aka go to Kanye my shopping village to pick up some groceries. The combi (bus) does not have a set schedule and I was in no mood to wait so like the insolent child I was feeling I starting walking. Soon after a teacher friend of mine driving past picked me up and took me to just outside of Kanye where I then decided to walk to the grocery store instead of taking a taxi. This walk was refreshing and I finally felt a little anonymity, not everyone I was passing knew who I was, and this felt good. Although not everyone who passed me knew me that did not mean that a fair number did and the next day I was asked where I was going? Why I was walking? And a slew of other questions. I guess it was a false sense of anonymity, but in the moment it was what I needed. Other lessons learned included: walking an hour to the grocery store is a bad idea because then all I want to buy are cold sweet things, never be too tired to be polite because the next man to approach you may not be harassing you but instead the Kgosi coming over to see how you are, and although you may not understand the conversations on the combi, they are probably about you and someone may tell your land lady who will then tell you. All in all I now have fruits and vegetables in my fridge, know that I was proposed to yesterday, and all of Moshana knows that I went for a long walk yesterday, I feel content.

Week 11: Botho (Respect)

 I used to be worried that I would not be respected in the school I was placed in because of my age. I was worried that people would not take me seriously. Upon arrival I have come to terms with the fact that instead of being perceived as a nieve twenty-something as I am in the states, most people now guess my age to be around 16. At first I thought I was just encountering the vocal outliers, I could not look 16, at 16 I was not nearly as cool as I am now nor would I have moved to Botswana. However, as time passes and I chat with more people I am realizing that although some accurately guess my age range (I am 21)  many people time and time again guess I am in my teens. I was acutely aware of my age in terms of respect, however that was not necessary. I have come to realize that as a white American in Botswana I am afforded immense respect. This may be due in part to being a volunteer and the specific people I encounter, but it has happened too many times for me to think it is only specific people.

In other news my anxieties and pure shock of last week has worn off. I feel myself becoming more and more comfortable in Moshanang. I can now pronounce the name of my land lady, I have friends who check me, and I am similar to the pied piper when I walk down the street with a constant slew of children in-tow. The Ministry of Education is supposed to provide simple furnishings for Peace Corps Volunteers in schools, I have the basics but no table, which I mentioned to my landlady and the next day a friend stopped by and told me to come with her, her mother was giving me a table. This is only one example of the way that Moshanang has wrapped me up it its arms. I am continually shown immense kindness and learning more about Motswana culture. One day I thought I was inviting a fellow teacher to sit with me at tea time which to my confusion eneded with her serving me her own personal coffee with biscuits as she went back to class to teach. I was quite confused by how these events transpired and worried I offended her and appeared demanding. Upon chatting later I realized that she was excited  to share with me and inquired weather or not I liked that style of biscuit. This is Motswana kindness at play.

As my good friend and fellow PCV, Botho said, “Confusion, it is our new norm.” This could not be more true.

Week 10: Making a Home

I am officially a Peace Corps Volunteer, Woohoo

Day one of Peace Corps Volunteer began, finished packing and told my mother there was no time to boil eggs for my lunch.

Me: “I am concerned about transport, we are leaving first thing, I don’t want to miss my ride”

Host Mom: “Ah Batswana they are late you will need a snack”

And she was right, It was all rather unclear and every source gave me new and conflicting details but it seemed like there was a chance I was leaving at 7am, just kidding. I ended up leaving Serowe after 5pm, I guess I could have spent 10 minutes boiling eggs in the morning.

Due to the late departure I rolled into my new home just after 11pm at night, briefly met my land lady, put sheets on my bed, laughed, and crawled into bed. As a result when I laid my head on my pillow I had no idea where I could get water and where the toilet was, a new level of vulnerability.  My new rooster neighbor friend was sure to welcome me at all hours of the night (it is a myth that roosters only crow at dawn, I believe they suffer from insomnia and are bitter about this and share their pain with others) and thus as soon as it was light I ventured out of my new home and quickly saw the stand pipe (aka my water source for the next two years) and the pit latrine just behind my house. Now on to my next dilemma, how will I bathe, I didn’t have a chance to pick up a large basin and what will I eat? Of course I had nothing to be concerned about I am among Batswana. At 6:30am, my land lady knocked on my door with a large basin and a small bucket of hot water for my bath, and then again at 7 with Motogo (soft porridge) for breakfast, and again at 7:30 saying we are going to the Kgotla.

This was all a bit overwhelming and comforting. My land lady showed me that I would always be cared for here as well as the fact that my host mother, the woman I had been living with during training called to see if I made it okay. On the other hand, I had gotten only a few hours of sleep, had no idea where I was or how to get anywhere, and kept telling myself that I was home, which was incredibly frightening since everything was so foreign to me. My application for the peace corps took about a year and I had been dreaming of this moment the whole time. One of my favorite games during this year was to picture myself in what ever country I was sent living with a new community. However, now that I was here, I was overwhelmed about how I would connect my gas stove to the gas tank (will I accidently poison myself and not tighten it enough, why was this not a bigger part of training?), will I be able to talk to anyone, will anyone want to be my friend, if this is home why do I feel so alone?

Luckily my time at the Kgotla and my tour of the village came to an end and I was able to put pictures on my walls, hang up my tapestry, call my mother, and I felt a degree of normalcy. The two rooms I moved into only a few hours before is not my home but I am sure before my two years are over it will be. The creation of a home is a process, it is not a snap of the fingers, but comes about through little moments. The hanging up of my favorite tapestry, having a dance party by myself to celebrate the little victories,  and meeting some lovely Batswana women who understand the importance of sisters and tell me they will be mine for the next two years while I am far away from mine. These are the moments that make a home and as the days pass and moments increase, I know I am making a home for myself here and the next two years become a little less daunting.

My House

To give everyone a little picture, my house is two spacious rooms with electricity and no running water. I have a fridge (with a freezer), a gas stove (with a large gas cylinder), a bed, a chest of drawers, and two chairs. This leaves a lot of space for dance parties and yoga. My house is on the compound of my land lady who lives here with two of her grandchildren.

Week 9: Understanding Just Enough Setswana

It’s the final week of Pre-Service Training and I have been reflecting on what I have learned and the little moments, which used to be cultural exchanges and I now accept as the norm. A prime example is the fact that I used to underestimate the places that my mom could take her pick-up truck. I would be a little nervous every time I thought we were off roading, however, I have come to realize that is the road and its fine that’s why she drives a pick-up. Don’t get me wrong driving with my host mom is always an adventure and one never knows where we will end up. Just the other day we left to pick up milk and ended up at a relatives, where I was warmly greeted with a pat on the rump and based on my Setswana understanding something along the lines of, “Ah you are Motswana.” The women of Serowe are known for having large behinds and consequently there is a song about the women of Serowe pulling tractors behind them, I can only surmise that this relative was referring to such. I will take this as a compliment on my cultural integration skills, look I blend in!

I am grateful for my ability to pick up on context clues as I was in my language Proficiency test and told to describe what had been stolen from me in the fictitious scenario I was given. Naturally I promplty respond with hair, because I get hair and dress confused luckily due to my testers face I quickly realized my error and remedied the situation.

Other highlights include cracking a bottle of wine with my host mom on Thursday night and then both of us knocking out around 8:30, she never ceases to surprise me. Other things I have learned are to never underestimate the comforts of cookie backing on a Friday night with friends. Or in this case cookie frying/not cooking in a pan on a gas stove top, I will not be deterred by a lack of oven or the heat, cookie making will prevail!

In three days I will move to a new village and I am incredibly excited and a bit anxious. I have grown comfortable in my home and neighborhood here, however more exciting adventures await. My posts may become less frequent due to limited internet access but I will continue to write.

Week 8: Happy Independence Day Botswana

September 30^th is Botswana’s Independence Day and we celebrated by going to the Kgotla in the morning. As previously discussed the Kgotla is a traditional meeting place in villages that is presided over by a Kgosi who is the leader. Issues or any concerns may be brought before the Kgosi and the whole community at the Kgotla. I am sure that my understanding of Kgotla’s will increase with my time in Botswana. At the Independence celebration there were a variety of speeches given, dances performed, and poems recited. While sitting in the Kgotla I felt extremely privileged to be a part of this moment. I have never pictured myself sitting in a Kgotla on Botswana’s Independence day, I only recently learned what a Kgotla was however it was an aweinspiring moment.

MmeMalebogo is the oldest daughter to my host mother and a phenomenal person. She has been in town for the holiday weekend and has enlightened me on a variety of topics related to Botswana as well as enriched my days with conversations of US politics. MmeMalebogo, means mother of Malebogo, which is her oldest child. It is common for both the mother and the father to be called by their eldest child’s name with either mother or father in front of it. MmeMalebogo is an extremely loving, patient, and kind mother, not only did I learn more of the history of Botswana but also a thing or two about patience. Also family dynamics are always fun to watch, no one can call you out on your ridiculousness the same way a family member can.

 I like to maintain a hobbit life style here since usually after I eat breakfast my host mother likes to bring me second breakfast. As I was on my way out the door one day this week my host mother brings me a legwinya (the singular version of Magwinya or fat cake) that she heated in the microwave. Now this was no 10 second warm up but instead a five minute cooking, thus turning the legwinya into a hard-tack situation. I was trying as delicately as I could to soften the bread in my coffee and discreetly gnaw on it, however I was foiled by MmeMalebogo who saw this happen and called out her mother for misuse of the microwave. Her mother then proceeded to defend herself with the logic that she grew up at the cattle post where there were no microwaves and all they ate/drank was milk (the old “uphill both ways” story). These efforts were unsuccessful with the simple math that the eleven years at the cattle post did not compare with the other 62 years spent elsewhere. The whole scenario ended with her quietly giggling to herself and all of us laughing quite heartily, like I said no one can call you out like a family member can.

One day this week I thought I would mix up my morning run and deviate from the tarred road, according to my host mother there are only three tarred roads in Serowe. As a result I took a series of impulse turns, wound up atop a hill and was greeted by the glorious sight of Serowe tucked in between plateaus and hills with the sun beginning to kiss the sky. Naturally in awe I begin to sing to myself, “Some people wait a lifetime for a moment like this.” I am shameless in my cheesy reactions to things that make me happy and that view made me smile all day.

Pre-Service Training is coming to an end and its bitter sweet. I will not miss sitting in a room with 60 personalities for 9 hours listening to power points but I will really miss some of those people. I will also miss my host mother. I know the feeling is mutual since she said she will throw stones at the person who comes to pick me up and not allow them to take me. Although I cannot picture her beating up someone I can picture her trying to get into the car as well, so we shall see what happens. It will be nice to return to the autonomy I am used to, however, my host mom is an amazing woman and I am extremely grateful for the time we spent together. Her and her family have welcomed me with open arms and make me feel at home in Botswana. No matter where I am I know that I have a home in Serowe.

Week 7: Lesego Goes to a Wedding

Week 7: Lesego Goes to a Wedding

There was singing, dancing, eating, community, and marriage. This weekend there were 36 weddings in Serowe (a village of roughly 58,000). My cousin was one of the lucky grooms and thus I was able to take part in the festivities. This weekend is a holiday weekend, with Independence Day on Monday and thus many people are home for the holidays,  making it a prime wedding weekend. As a close relative my host mom left before 5am the morning of the wedding to attend to last minute details. Due to my Setswana class I arrived around 2 and since I was at cultural capacity, I left around 7:30, however my host mom was still there. Attending the wedding was a highlight of my time here and it was lovely to realize how many Batswana I know here and to feel welcomed by everyone. However, I hit a point where my brain could not soak up any more Setswana or culture and I knew I needed a moment to myself and thus the phrase cultural capacity has entered my vernacular.

The food was cooked in sixteen three-legged cast iron pots (aka caldrons) over hot wood coals. I am very impressed by the women who cooked seswa (pounded meat), samp (maize kernels), rice, leputshi (squash), soft porridge with melon, beets, potato salad, and other meats. Not to mention my favorite addition to the feast the ginger drink! I am unclear what it is made of but I do know that there was a vat of it and if I was left alone with the vat I could have drank all of it. Recipe coming soon, compliments of my host mother’s daughter. The mosadi mahalo (old women) are served first, then the men, and then other people are able to get in line for food. I helped served the food and luckily got out of doing dishes.

Traditional weddings are a whole day affair and I am sure vary from family to family. After only attending one I don’t think I can confidently say anything about Motswana weddings.

Rewind to earlier in the week, I went to a town called Orapa, to see one of the county’s diamond mines. Diamonds account for 70 percent of Botswana’s export earnings and are a huge part of the economy thus allowing for education to be widely available as well as ARVs, among other things.

Ga ke je nama (I do not eat meat) is a frequent sentence of mine and part of many of my conversations here. Meat is a staple food in Botswana so it makes sense that people are confused why I would not eat it. Also fun fact Botswana is one of only two African countries that is allowed to export beef to the EU. I am always down for this cultural exchange, and am met with a variety of reactions Sunday I was standing around and eating a carrot while I made myself dinner. My host mom’s five year old grandson asked what it was and if he could have one. I excitedly obliged and to my delight as well as his parent’s him and his 2 year-old sister ate the carrot. They then proceeded to eat the vegetables and beans I had made for dinner. Inspiring a love of vegetables into the hearts of small children would have to be the highlight of my week. I think my work here is done.

Week 6: Pula Pula Pula (Rain Rain Rain)

In a little over three weeks I will move to a small village of roughly 600 people to teach in their primary school and I could not be more thrilled. Moshaneng will be my home for the next two years and I am sure many adventures await me there (Will I lovingly pat strangers like I know them? Will I be able to find my way home?). Due to the size of the village I will travel 20K (12.5miles) to Kanye to do my grocery shopping. My potential house has electricity and a stand pipe on the compound thus I will not have to go far for water. Outside of this I know very little about Moshaneng and what the next two years will look like, however, all of the current volunteers and staff say that your time here is what you make of it. With this being said, it does not seem to matter whether or not I have plumbing but instead how I spend my days, the people I interact with, and most importantly my attitude.

I am very passionate about individual empowerment and self-confidence and this week was a good lesson in practicing what I preach. We received the results for our first language test this week and my score was higher then I anticipated. Instead of congratulating myself I was determined that there was some discrepancy. My language teacher then assured me that had she given me a score based on my performance in class she would have given me the same score. That conversation was reassuring as well as a friendly reminder that perhaps I need to practice what I preach and have a little more confidence in my own abilities and myself.

Although a little more confidence would be a good idea, it is best not to take myself too seriously. Sometimes when I interact with groups of children they want to be my best friend other times they just look at me and laugh. Depending on the day this is hard for me to handle but then I remember that although I think I am a Setswana maven what I actually sound like is probably closer to, “HELLO, H o w a r e YOU.” So if I was a 7 year old native Setswana speaker I would laugh at myself too.

People may remember the delicious Magwinya recipe I shared a couple weeks back, well this week was quite Magwinya heavy and I told my host mom that I should eat less Magwinya. She proceeded to teach me the word for fat and I thought we reached an understanding. Until moments later I told her a friend would be dropping by after class and she said, “Great I’ll make Magwinya!” Needless to say I don’t think my Magwinya consumption will be decreasing until I am on my own and I am okay with that. Bring on the Magwinya!

Today was cloudy, windy, and 60 degrees, which is a rarity. The forecast called for rain, which did not come, however, it is much needed and fingers crossed it will come tomorrow.

Pula! Pula! Pula!

Fun Fact

The currency in Botswana is also called Pula and before a traditional wedding the women in the grooms family go to the bride-to-be’s house and say, “Re kopa metsi” “We are asking for water” Needles to say water and rain has a very high value here!

Mail has been taking about a month to arrive so from here on out please address all mail to:

Dawn Bangert

c/o Modisi Primary School

P.O. Box 177

Kanye, Botswana

And a shout out to all who have written me letters, I have loved everyone of them!

Week 5: Oh the People You Meet

After four weeks of training the 59 Bots 14 were sent all around the country for shadowing. This meant that 5am Sunday I was picked up by the Peace Corps van and taken to the bus rank (terminal) along with 35 other Peace Corps Trainees who all boarded a bus to Gaborone (Gabs). In Gabs my amazing host, Terri met me and I found the rus rank to be far less intimidating then I thought it would be. Ah, traveling by bus, no problem its affordable and convenient. I felt like a Botswana travel maven, until I realized I did not complete any aspect of this journey on my own, someone was holding my hand the entire trip (since I was traveling with Americans and not Batswana I do not mean this literally). Although I do not deserve the credit for a smooth trip I do feel prepared for my next bus endeavor. Flash to the return trip which ended with me peeling myself off the person sitting next to me since our combined leg sweat fused us together from the waist down, yep still feel like a Botswana bus maven.

Kanye is a little less then two hours outside of the capital and is a village of approximately 50,000. I was shadowing at a senior secondary school which includes form four and form five, roughly the equivalent of junior and senior year of high school in the States. Due to various life complications this meant that some of the students were as old as 25 and consequently a few years my senior. As a Peace Corps Life Skills volunteer I will be placed with a counter part who is in the guidance department and could be co-teaching classes on life skills ie goal setting, self-confidence, etc. However, as with all Peace Corps activities this all depends on my location, but this is the reality for my host.

At the school I was introduced during the all school assembly. This included all 1,800 students thus leading me to smile and I hoped look mature or more accurately foolish in front of all of the student body. I am not sure how well the whole mature” look worked for me since many people then continued to ask how old I was (still baby Bangert no matter where I go).  Student’s guesses ranged between 13 and 30. Mind you the students guessing my age were between 16 and 20 with a handful in their mid-twenties. I am going to chalk the 13 year-old guesses up to a language barrier and misunderstanding the question. Right? I may have a baby face but 13…

Terri’s counter part in the guidance department is a very progressive thinker and a genius at what he does. I was privileged enough to watch him have conversations with various individuals about extremely rough topics where I would have lost my cool and been ineffective. He was firm yet graceful in all of these conversations. Unfortunately problems of male chauvinism and sexual assault are not unique to the states and happen around the world. The conversations I was privy to in the guidance office in Kanye were all to familiar to me and resembled conversations I had on my college campus.

This week has reminded me of the power of positive people. Terri is an amazing woman with her fair share of struggles that she talks candidly about thus sharing her strength. It has been incredibly empowering to have an example of a woman who has over came hardship and continues to push herself. Also she makes a mean grilled cheese, which was all the more delicious because cheese is hard to come by.

Also keep an eye out for a video of me doing aerobics in sandals with socks, yep I am a classy lady!  Where might you find this video? Good question, since it was taken by a passerby I have no idea. However, I can tell you that for the extremely coordinated like myself an aerobics class is the perfect way to be humbled, have a good laugh, meet really cool Batswana ladies, and get a heart pounding workout. Next time I make it to a class I may even come prepared with gym shoes.

My Homestay

Week 4: Rhino Time and History Lesson

My Labor Day was spent with some of the only rhinos in Botswana, as well as a giraffe, a few Zebras, and a whole host of Impala. Khama Rhino Sanctuary protects most if not all of the rhinos left in Botswana. A Rhino’s tusk is very valuable in the eyes of poachers and thus the rhinos in Botswana have been hunted to near extinction. However, the remaining ones are being protected and were part of my very first “safari” experience. Finally my experiences match one of the stereotypes people have of my time in Africa and admittedly the day reminded me of the Lion King and I couldn’t help but keep my eye out for Timone and Pumba. A wart hog did run across our path and I have no doubt it was some relation of Pumba’s. The whole experience was a bit surreal and I am continuously in awe of the landscape, which I find breath taking.

Monday morning may have been devoid of animals but it was full of culture and a very knowledgeable man from the Serowe Museum. For 30 Pula (around 4 USD) I was able to get the inside scoop on Serowe, the current president of Botswana (Ian Khama), the British-Botswana relationship, and a whole host of other interesting tidbits. As a recent history grad, I was nerding out and loving every minute. My next step is to become best friends with this man so I can learn more. In the mean time since I think history is so important here are a few fun bits. This is all based on my notes from the Museum and I have not fact checked any of it so take it with a healthy dose of skepticism as all historical “facts” should be digested.

In 1895 a delegation from Botswana went to Britian to ask for protection. In 1885 Britian declared Botswana a protectorate. Clearly something does not add up here however, it appears that the British and Batswana had an overall positive relationship. The British were in Botswana to protect the country not to develop it. Then in 1966 the British peacefully left Botswana and only a few years later diamonds were discovered. One can only imagine how peaceful the evacuation of the British would have been if the diamonds were discovered a few years earlier. According to my host mom this signifies how good god is. I on the other hand think a handful of people were sitting on some important information biding their time… but that’s just speculation.  On another note I was able to see the author Bessie Head’s type writer and learn more about her. I recommend looking her up since she is one impressive lady.  Botswana may not conjure images of being a world player, however, in 1920 Botswana gave food aid to countries in eastern Europe who were experiencing famine, including Serbia and Poland. The tour guide was a fountain of knowledge and among some of my favorite bits of his wisdom included, “I don’t know why men make war, it always brings ugly things.” Although that is simplistic I find myself in agreement with him, perhaps that’s why I am in the Peace Corps.

I feel a little daunted by the use of possessives in Setswana but hopefully that will be abetted with time or I will simply denounce all of my possessions because I do not know how to say they are mine, at least in a timely fashion.

Personal space has a different meaning here and lends itself to some interesting situations. My host mom and a handful of her relatives were visiting the grave site of her parents so we all pilled into my host mom’s pick up.  I found myself in the backseat with her son-in-law, his three year old son, and my host mom’s sister. Although there were seats for all of us, with the three year old on his dads lap, we were definitely cozy. My host moms sister was on my right and would fluctuate from holding my hand and inadvertently( or perhaps lovingly) stroking/tickling the inside of my knee. Space was at a premium so it may have just been where her hand fell but I have my suspicions it was meant in a loving way, regardless it was quite difficult not to kick and laugh but instead smile back as she continued to cuddle me. My personal bubble is definitely getting smaller.

Week 3: Just Keep Laughing and Eat More Magwinya

I want to give an accurate portrayal of what I’m up to. The foolishness I’ve gotten myself into this week, the joys, the rough bits, and the rich culture but one post a week simply cannot capture the complexity and the nuance. In many ways my life is the same here as it is back in the states, I wear scarves and big earings and when I am so happy I don’t know how to contain my joy I have a dance party when no one is looking (Botswanaswanaswana). However, at the same time I can acutely feel how far away I am from my support networks and if this week taught me anything, its that no matter where I am I still like to talk about my feelings.

Most things I thought I knew last week have proven to be incorrect, but I now think that’s just how life is. Peace Corps is about expecting the unexpected and laughing along the way.

Sunday of last week was hard because we had another person ET (early terminate) and leave for the states. This shook me up and made me question my decision to be living in Botswana. So Monday I was going to get back on track and learn to cook dinawa (beans), cheers to more protein and less starch. However then I come home to B (the housekeeper/ my sister) being sick and my host mom and I taking her to the hospital. As I understood more, I realized she probably had the equivalent of the flu and that I could stop stressing over her like a mother hen. In the mean time my host mom is stressing over me and is concerned that I might be hungry and that I have homework, so she has her daughter pick me up from the hospital on their way into town, mind you have I have yet to meet this daughter and her family. This means that moments later I am being sheparded into the back seat of a car where I thought I would be kickin’ it with a three year old, but instead found myself on the lap of someone I had yet to meet. Did I mention greetings are really important in Batswana culture? Because they are. Luckily after arriving home and tumbling out of the vehicle, I formally met Sheila who is the nanny for the three year old I was expecting, and the rest of the family. Luckily Sheila is one of the most loving people I have ever met and I don’t think she is holding my lack of greetings against me.

The more time I spend here the more I realize that what I think know about Batswana culture is probably not true. What I am sharing are a fraction of the experiences I am having that are filtered through my world view and depend on my mood while I am writing. So what is Batswana culture? Good question. Hopefully in 27 months I might have some insight and if nothing else I can guarantee a slew of stories.

No matter what language you speak, laughter is a powerful tool. There is a noise/inflection that Batswana throw into conversation that cracks me up, so one night I tried my hand at working it into the conversation. My host mom and Sheila were surprised and delighted by my choice and needles to say we were laughing for hours.

To keep me centered I have started to meditate each morning with a handful of other volunteers and I am extremely grateful for this. It makes 9.5 hours of power points more bearable. Sometimes training seems quite long but when I actually think about it I am grateful to be receiving this training, it is encouraging to be in a room full of Peace Corps staff who want you to succeed.

All in all the week went well and despite the rocky beginning it ended on a high note as B, taught me how to make Magwinya, the long awaited fat cakes! I can safely say I am a fan. It is basically a doughnut with out the sugar.

Magwinya Recipe

(according to me watching B)

Flour 1 Kg

Sugar 6 Tbs

Salt 1Tbs

Backing Powder 1Tbs

Yeast ½ Tbs

Warm Water 2 Cups

Mix, Knead. Rise (1 hour), Deep Fry till golden brown (turning once)

Enjoy!

Week II: Adapting to a New Lifestyle

Life is becoming more routine, Its funny how fast that can happen. The first two months in Botswana are Pre-Service Training (PST) before Peace Corps Trainees (PCT) are sworn in as Peace Corps Volunteers (PCV) for two years with the potential to extend. In PST PCTs  (The Peace Corps loves their acronyms) live with a host family and have a structured schedule Monday-Friday 8-5, with either Setswana or another activity on Saturdays. These first two months are quite different then how I anticipate the next two years to be. The days are long but the weeks are short. Some days begin with a session on Diarrhea, where as others take place at the Kgotla, which is a local meeting place and at the heart of community life.

Although it is very dusty here you would not be able to tell by looking at a Motswana. It is common to “bath” twice a day here. This may seem strange for a region experiencing a drought, however, I am definitely using less water in my two baths combined then one shower in the States. Batswana take great pride in their appearance. Women frequently wear heels and everyone’s cloths are freshly pressed. Of course this is a culture full of many different types of people and what is true for some of the population is not true for all. However bathing twice a day is not uncommon here and chances are the Motswana next to you looks better then you do.

 I am fascinated by the remnants of the British, who were here until the 1960s, juxtaposed with Botswana traditions. Come 10:30am its Tea time, however there is no PG tips in sight, Five Roses appears to be the black tea of choice. Additionally Bush Tea (Rooibos) and Ricoffey (an instant coffee with chicory) can be found as well as a plethora of sugar. I am not sure if diabetes is a problem nation wide or just within the demographic that my host mom’s friends are in, however based on what I have seen of people’s diets, I wouldn’t be surprised.  Meat, Starch, and Sugar appear to be the main food groups, which could arguably be said about America as well. According to my host mom hyper-tension and diabetes are a large problem in Botswana. Lucky for me my host mom is aware of these things and embraces my meat free diet and takes note of how much salt I do or do not put on my food as well as my sugar intake, what she doesn’t see is the American Chocolate in my room… but I suspect she eats differently when I’m at school as well.

My host mom is extremely loving and welcoming, she makes me feel like I have family here. Also she is in her 70s and well off yet I, with my 55 pounds of luggage feel like I have a ridiculous amount of stuff in comparison. I feel like Batswana in general have less stuff, however, this is not rooted in anything except what I see and how I feel.

This may have been the first official week of training but already it feels like I have been in Botswana for months. I feel like I know how to deal with the water going out, I expect tea by 10:30am, and at 7pm I watch the news in Setswana usually falling asleep before the news in English is finished at 8:30. I would argue I am integrating into my community by adopting the life style of my 74 year old host mom, however then she makes me look bad by going to bed later then I do. Well you can’t win ‘em all and in the mean time I am going to continue my newly adopted sleep patterns.

 

Random Botswana Facts

Botswana (Prounounced “Boatswana”) is the Country

Batswana are the people (Plural)

Motswana is one person (singular)

Serowe is the largest Village in Botswana with over 57,000 people however it is still considered a village because of the way of life.

3 of the 4 Presidents of Botswana have hailed from Serowe

Week 1: Dumela, Ke bidewa Lesogo Hello, my name is Lesogo (Lesego means good fortune and is the name my host mom gave me upon arrival)

After an epic journey to Botswana including 7 hours in JFK, a 14 four flight that was just long enough for me to question why I was flying 8640 Km (5369 miles) to a place where I knew no one, and a beautiful African proverb “Go alone and you will go fast, go alone and you will go far,” I had arrived in Botswana to the warm greetings of current Peace Corps Volunteers and staff. Immediately the fact that I had only slept a handful of hours in the last three days and the fact that I was not entirely sure what day it was, ceased to matter. I was home.

Tim Hartman is the Country Director for Peace Corps Botswana and a name to know. He came to greet all 60 of us “Bots 14” at the airport and continued to be personally involved in our adjustment to the country. Although I now find myself in a completely different part of the world I have been given the tools to not only adjust to, but embrace the culture and the world around me. There will be days when I wonder why I am here, and hopefully I can think back to this day for support.

After two days in Gaborone (the capital) it is off to Serowe to meet our homestay families. When my name was called a dancing cheering woman greeted me and immediately draped a shawl over me. The shawl became a little more alarming to me later when my host mom whispered “this means you will be daughter-in-law” however as she later said it was meant more to make me stick out so she could recognize me, “since you all look the same.” Later when we were in the parking lot trying to sort through the luggage we got disconnected but luckily I spotted her just a few paces away from where I left her, so I went and lovingly patted her arm, there is a lot of physical contact in Batswana culture, only to have the woman stare confused at me. Yes, I had just stroked some random woman’s arm and even in Botswana that is strange, but I felt okay knowing that both my host mom and I had an equally hard time recognizing each other that first night. I am happy to say that now that we have seen each other in the day light we are both good to go. Although I cannot say as much for finding my way home.

I have never felt so incompetent in my life. I am 21 years old yet I cannot find my way home from training/School. The pink house on the hill where I live is a 10 minute walk from the Serowe College of Education or TTC where I have my training. On my first day it took me an hour and a half to get home and led many people to worry about me. During my adventure home I had also managed to turn off my phone without the password I needed to turn it on again. Although I was a little stressed during my unplanned adventure and felt guilty for having people worry about me the reality is I gave my host mom and her neighbors something to laugh about for weeks. In turn I got a ride from a Peace Corps Staff member and was able to watch one of the most beautiful sunsets I have seen in my life with a light breeze hitting my face.