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.
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