Week 27: Finding Meaning in My Work

I feel like I am finally settling down and finding meaning in my work. I am the self-designated librarian at my school. There are fourteen classes who each have an assigned library time. With the standard one students we sing the alphabet, do our numbers, colors, shapes, and other fun things like that. Although they understand approximately ten percent of what I say, their smiles and enthusiasm are priceless and motivating to me. With the older grades I have them read to me in English, which can be like pulling teeth, but in my mind I am helping the students unlock a larger world and I love it. Who knows that they are thinking, but it is probably not quite the enlightenment that I have in mind. However, I think we are capable of creating our own reality and that is the reality I have created for myself and since it does not appear to be harming anyone I will continue to believe that.

Just when I feel like I am getting comfortable something throws me for a loop like the electricity going out, I wipe out while doing yoga (I did not realize that was possible, but now I have the bruises to show that it is), or my shoe breaks in the middle of the day at work. Life in Moshana is a constant roller coaster, but as of now I am enjoying the ride.

Week 26: Day in the Life

Wake up at 6am empty my pee bucket, I couldn’t decide if this was too much information and in the absence of a second opinion, I opted to include this since it is a regular part of my life here that I do not even give a second thought to, but was very strange for me when I arrived the pit latrine is not to be used after dark. I then fill up my water storage containers. Make metogo (a soft porridge made of sorghum meal), bath, read a bit of Pema Chodron on meditation, and walk to school. Make my rounds of hellos. Remind a teacher it is her library time, she does not appear. Remind other teachers of ongoing projects. I then do a bit of typing for the guidance and counseling department, of which I am a part of. Then go to the kgotla for a men’s sector meeting/presentation on multiple concurrent partners, safe sex practices, and safe male circumcision. Before attending the meeting I make my rounds of hellos at the police office and the agricultural office. Get a chair from the ag office and a friend who will hopefully translate for me. Arrive late to the meeting; my friend puts our chairs up front. My friend disappears, they talk about me in Setswana, but unfortunately all I catch is my name. Walk back to school in the torrential downpour because I have a class coming to the library, I have the students read to me one at a time in English. Lastly I have a meeting with my supervisor and counterpart at the school.

Go home for lunch its just after 2:30 at this point. Heat up some dikobe from the other day (beans and samp) and watch the first episode of Orange is the New Black. My landlady stops by informing me that the water will be off for the next couple of days. Walk around the community, run into friends here and there, am told I am fat, am told I am fit, am told I am a good African woman, everyone has a different opinion. Hear that one of my friends is going to go back to school I am very happy for her and another friend has enrolled in driving school, yay! Visit a neighbor to chat and encourage the kids to stay in school.

Back at home, I read, “Why America Slept” take pictures of the sunset and journal. Then settle into some lovely acai tea that was sent in a care package (thanks Ellen its delicious!) popcorn and another episode of Orange is the New Black, I guess I am hooked. Interrupted by my favorite neighbors who need help with their homework.

Every day is different, but this was my Thursday.

Week 25: Learning to Dance

I have finally discovered why I cannot dance.  Three weeks ago my friends little girl was barely walking then this week I return to Moshana and she is not only walking but dancing. As she toddles back and forth between the couch and the chair she is encouraged to do a victory dance each time. Now these dances are not like my dances but complete with rhythm and a beat provided by her mother. At how ever many months, I can safely say that she has already surpassed my dancing abilities, however, I am at peace with this since I now know why.

Week 24: Training Week Two

I am ready to go home. By home I mean my two room house in Moshana sans amenities. It has been nice living the high life, but it has turned into a strange vortex of in between.

Unfortunately apathy is a universal emotion. For every hard working and dedicated employee there are also apathetic ones. This week the apathetic public employees I encountered out shinned the hard working and dedicated ones. This is not related to country or culture but I believe a reality everywhere.

Training was beneficial and I am ready to bring the new tools and resources I have learned about back to Moshana.

Week 23: Living in Luxury

 

After three months at site with limited contact with other Americans I know find myself surrounded by my whole intake group (Bots 14). It has been three months of rural village life where internet is only available in the neighboring village. Emails can take up to a half hour to send at the public library by me but this week I am at a hotel with strong enough bandwidth that I can stream Macklemore on youtube (that is if I am willing to have frequent interruptions in the streaming, waiting for it to load). This is because I am in the capital for training. Peace Corps has a variety of trainings through out in country service and my intake group is currently going through IST or In Service Training. This means two weeks of decadence. The hotel room I am sharing with my dear friend is bigger then both of our peace corps houses, we have air conditioning, a pool, and get fed numerous times a day never having to do the dishes. I love my village and I did not move to Botswana to live in luxury, but I am not going to lie, taking a daily hot shower has been nothing short of blissful.

Week 22: The Aerobics Class

fter three months at site I discovered there is an aerobics class in my village. Excited by the fitness enthusiasm and invited by one of the teachers I went to the aerobics class this week. What the teacher failed to mention is that I would be teaching the class. My aerobics history involves playing in the basement in a leotard, while my mother did step aerobics, clearly I am a very qualified teacher. Luckily this teaching opportunity also coincided with a recent half hearted motivation to work out which usually ended with me laying on my floor while Jillian Michaels workout videos played. In the moment I felt lazy for not working out but in hindsight I now realize that I was simply preparing for my new aerobics teaching. Lunges and squats may not be stereotypical “aerobic” moves, but if they work for Jillian Micheals then they are good enough for the aerobics class in Moshana.

I may have never envisioned myself as an aerobics teacher or class attendee however that has been the highlight of my week. Squats have never been so fun as I find myself squatting all the way down to the ground and collapsing with laughter based on the varied interpretations of what a “squat” means and looks like. I am sure that I look just as funny as the other participants, however since there are no mirrors I can only see the ridiculousness of what my classmates look like. Including the open interpretation of butt kicks to mean fist pumping and taking photos of themselves, hey we all work out in different ways. After one week of classes I think my abs may have gotten a better work out from all of the laughter then my body did from the “aerobics.”

Week 21: Happy New Year

“Lesego, you need to put pants on” This was the only direction I was given before going to “dikwaere.” How does one get ready for an all night choir in the Bush? I had no idea, but apparently pants were a must. So I donned my yoga pants, figuring I might as well be comfortable while being confused and off we went into the Bush. To give you a little picture it is 10:30pm on January 1^st and let me tell you this is an hour that I do not usually see, let alone leave my house for, but this was no ordinary day. After an hour walk on a “path” that I had no idea existed, we came upon the dikwaere. There were many people gathered to hear the two choirs sing and dance the night away. Quite literally the choirs rotate singing all night and into the morning. Let me reiterate that 10:30 is past my bedtime and I knew that there was no way I was making it to the wee hours of the morning. Lucky for me I ran into our local councilor at around 1:30am and he offered to drive me home, I was very excited about this since I was now understanding the “wear pants” directive, as the weather was shifting  and I was clearly not dancing enough to retain my body heat. Around 2am I started dancing a little bit more both to dance my way out of conversations with highly intoxicated men and to warm up as I could not find the councilor anywhere. 2:30 I decide that next year I am going with a friend who owns a pick up truck, bringing lots of blankets, and snacks. 3am the councilor reappears and I happily hop in his truck and promptly fall asleep, there were briefly muttered goodbyes and then stumbling into my own bed where I had a new appreciation for my blanket. At that moment I could understand Linus’ attachment to his blanket, blankets are the best.

Dikwaere are a tradition in southern Botswana and are held for Christmas, New Years, and Independence Day (September 30^th).