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.
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