“We propose to call the age of development that particular historical period which began on 20 January, 1949, when Harry S. Truman for the first time declared, in his inauguration speech, the Southern hemisphere as ‘underdeveloped areas’. The label stuck and subsequently provided the cognitive base for both arrogant interventionism from the North and pathetic self-pity in the South.”
-Wolfgang Sachs, The Development Dictionary
Yes, it’s been a long time. I won’t bother making excuses. :)
Things at the clinic have been slow. The contract for BONEPWA, the NGO that was contracted to assist with our PMTCT program, expired in mid-September, leaving Amy and Edith out of a job (I still smile that so many people here take on an English name). In panic, Amy quickly started applying for all kinds of jobs – to be cleaner at a school, to do construction, etc. It was really upsetting. Here is someone – one of the few, really – who not only LIKES what she does, but is good at it, and is actually passionate about it. Many health workers and counselors here are either burnt out, apathetic, lazy, or only in it for the money. But Amy likes this work – and someone like that needs to stay in it. I told her I refused to let her clean toilets in the Primary School when she has a passion for something that not everyone is good at. But her response, of course, was: “But Kagiso, what can I do? I have to survive.”
After making some phone calls, I discovered that another NGO, BOCAIP, is going to take over – though the question of ‘when’ is always an issue here. However, the transition seems to be happening fairly quickly (so far). As soon as I heard that BOCAIP would be coming, I made sure to contact them and highly recommend that both Amy and Edith be reinstated. Unfortunately, they were only going to be funding the position that was formerly filled by Amy, while the equivalent of Edith’s position was going to be consolidated and based in Tutume, 50 kilometres away. After a letter and several phone calls (and upon meeting her), they agreed to keep Amy on as the Peer Mother (the one with whom I do home visits and community outreach). Edith – who is more educated and experienced - began applying for jobs elsewhere, and after I wrote her a zealous letter of recommendation for Harvard’s Botswana research team, she managed to get an interview and secure a position with them in Francistown. It is a really big upgrade for her, both professionally and financially (it’s HARVARD!), so I hope she does well but I already miss her here.
Supposedly Amy will go for training in two weeks and begin two weeks after that, but I told her not to hold her breath. For now she is having trouble making ends meet with many young brothers and sisters (some of who are sick), her sick mother (and by “sick” I mean HIV positive), her baby, and her disabled teenaged son... not to mention her own health. As many of you know, it’s hard to watch people you love struggle – especially when they are putting forth the effort and they’re not frivolous with the money they do have. So I’ve been trying my best to keep her and her family afloat until the job begins, but in the process I too am spreading myself a little thin, with another month to go until the end of our financial quarter (we’re “paid” quarterly here, and even that is only a local wage). Luckily, I have a post-Great Depression mentality when it comes to food so I tend to have an excessive amount of things like rice, beans, and lentils stored for such occasions. There’s an expression here that translates roughly to mean: “Invite your neighbors, and dinner will make itself.” In other words, “never fret about feeding your loved ones, the food will manage to be enough.”
When we arrived two Aprils ago we were given a table dissecting each year of our service into quarters, with each quarter detailing the average or “normal” issues we would face and subsequent behaviors/reactions for that time. Currently, in the 17-20 month phase, we are dealing with “hyperactivity or apathy, procrastination, self-recrimination, resignation, disappointment, downgrading of achievements, [and/or] over identification in behavior.”
This seems to be fairly accurate.
But a good break came this past week. I have been hassling our 3 primary schools for months to come and assist them – either with teaching English, after school activities, etc. I’ve mostly received no response, but last week a teacher from our “bush” school asked if I would come and help his Standard 6 students (about 12-13 year-olds) with English for they take their examinations this upcoming Friday. Schools here run on trimesters, beginning in January, so the last trimester is closing in the next few weeks, depending on the grade. I was a little disappointed that he waited until the final two weeks of the term to ask, but I figured something was better than nothing.
So this past week I started making the 90+ minute-each-way journey first thing in the morning into the bush to help with English. This teacher has 60+ Standard 6 kids, divided into two classes of roughly 30. While one class learns, the other class sits silently in another room doing assignments. The kids were of course ecstatic to see a white man at their school – many of them knew my name, either from word-of-mouth, from having been to the clinic, or from seeing me at the mobile clinics we do in the bush. But I was surprised at the percentage that said it was their first time seeing a white man (probably about 10% of them).
When I walked in, the kids were copying from the board (in English) about classical musical instruments – “A violin has four strings”, and “The keys in a piano cause vibrations…” I was shocked that they “knew” this, but the teacher assured me they did. He and I went through some of the objectives for Std 6 students so that I could get an understanding of where they needed to be with English. He insisted they knew a lot, but they just needed help with tenses and writing one-page compositions (what we know as 3-paragraph essays), as they will have to write one on an unknown topic this upcoming Friday. As soon as I began the class I realized that they actually knew very little; what they “knew” was how to copy from the board. And this is the problem with many education systems in Africa – they’re not relevant to the students. They’ll probably never see a violin in their lives, so of what use is it to a kid in the bush to learn that a violin has 4 strings??? Hell, that hasn’t even been of use to me and I am familiar with and enjoy Bach’s “Double Violin Concerto” or Bartok’s “Concerto for Orchestra”. But these things are remnants of the colonial system, and are still taking time to dissolve.
I’m reminded of a line from a favorite book of mine, The Paternalism of Partnership: “It is impossible to plant an alpine flower in the savanna. It will not grow. You have to plant a flower which is adapted and suited to the living conditions here and give it the proper nutrition.”
Anyway, class went fairly well – it’s hard because I am not supposed to speak Kalanga – I wouldn’t say it’s ‘illegal’ but it’s certainly not allowed. Kids are beaten for speaking it, and teachers would be at least scolded if they spoke it. There are even signs on most school grounds saying, “We follow a strict language policy: Please speak Setswana and English only.” This is largely political and, according to some, part of a quiet governmental attempt to squash minority cultures. So these kids are being taught a third language in their second language, which is itself another separate lesson later in the day. When I was noticing a road block, I would try and use Kalanga to explain or compare, and some of the kids would shoot eyes to the teacher to see how he was reacting. He mostly breathed heavily, but towards the end I think he wasn’t very happy. He’s a Kalanga himself, so he is a little more lenient, but I think he is worried about his own butt more than the rule. I talked to him about it after class. I said, “Is the goal for these kids to learn English or not? Because I can be an ok teacher using English only or I can be a great teacher using some Kalanga.” His job performance is largely evaluated on the performances of his pupils in examinations so he had an interest in relinquishing, under the agreement that I am not to write Kalanga on the board and that the kids are not to speak it to ask or answer any questions. I agreed.
We went through the 3 parts of a composition: Introduction, Body, Conclusion (which they knew pretty well). I stressed that the introduction should tell the reader the When, Who, What, and Where of the story (I told them to remember it as “LYIN,” an acronym for the interrogative pronouns’ Kalanga equivalents: Lini, Yani, Ini, and Ngai.)
I wanted us to ‘write’ a composition orally, as a class. I chose the topic “My First Journey to Francistown”. After about 3 minutes I realized we had a problem. I said, “Raise your hand if you have never been to Francistown” … almost 50% of the class raised their hands. Can you imagine? Can you imagine having never left your rural life? Having never been 2 hours away to the nearest urban area? Having never entered a store or seen a sidewalk or a street light? And then having to learn about violins. I felt a little foolish for making the assumption – particularly because I know a lot of these kids don’t even know their own birthday or what they look like in a mirror, but most people here are fairly mobile. Then again, I was at the bush school. I could tell there was also confusion with trying to do something orally that they had only done manually. They were confused.
I switched gears.
In half Kalanga and half broken English, I told them lets pretend I was their mother or their grandmother, whoever they stayed with. They laughed at this of course. They were to pretend that it was the end of the day and they were going home to tell their guardian about the new white teacher at school. I asked them, “What would you tell your grandmother about today”?
One boy said, “Today a white man came to teach at school” (Right there he said the ‘when’ and ‘who’ ‘where’ and ‘what’). They went on “It was my first time to see a white man,” “He was wearing a black shirt,” “He was very good in English and Kalanga,” etc. etc. etc. Their English was not as good as I am transcribing, so we had to work through each thought, but after a few minutes I asked them, “And what would you say about all of that?” (sneakily getting them to say what would be their conclusion about the day). They said “I was happy because the teacher was beautiful” (Haha, someone wanted extra credit!). “It was nice because I learned a lot.” “It was a very good day.”
“Great,” I said. “You just wrote a composition and passed your examination.” Most of them just blinked heavily. The smarter ones understood: they had just done a full composition. I told them, “You ‘write’ compositions all day every day, using your mouth. You tell people stories, starting with When, Who, What, and Where the story takes place, followed by what happened, and you finish with thoughts of the experience. That is a composition. The only difference is on Friday you have to write one.”
I gotta say, it was a breakthrough moment for them. Even the teacher’s eyes were big. Their homework assignment was to write two compositions – one about their first day with the new teacher and one on their first day of school several years ago.
The next day was a great improvement. Each student stood up and read his/her account of the first day with the new teacher. It was sad that nearly 25% of them said something along the lines of, “It was a good day because Mr. Kagiso did not beat us” or “I was happy when I gave a wrong answer and Mr. Kagiso didn’t hit me” and “I know Mr. Kagiso is a good man because he did not beat me when my shoe was not tied.” But they overwhelmingly had holistic introductions and good conclusions, which was the point.
I asked the teacher if I could be the one to mark their books as I wanted to see where they lacked and where they excelled, so that I could in turn teach to their needs the next week. Of course he agreed, as it was 60 less books for him to mark. The books have been really heartbreaking to read. Not for the errors, which are predictable, but for statements on how badly they are treated at school. Some excerpts from their first day at school (about 5 or 6 years ago):
“When we got into the class our teacher asked us our name. When she asked me my name I don’t speak to her because I was don’t hear what she saying. The children laugh to me. The teacher beat me with a stick saying you come to school to eat food only. Then I started crying after crying I told her in Kalanga that I don’t hear what she say. The teacher shouted shut up here is not at your home. Stop speaking Kalanga in class…. I was unhappy because the teacher beat me until I bleed.”
“When we got in class our teacher asked name. When she asked my name I didn’t speak because I didn’t hear what she saying. The children laugh at me. The teacher asked me us kyashen [a question]. Then I don’t not speak because I was not a Setswana I speak Kalanga. She beat me with a stick I cried and cried then she beat me for cry. I like school because are important you can pass you go to jobs.”
I read 60 of these, almost all parallel. From there I extracted common mistakes and on Monday we are going to go over their own sentences together. I’d like to get a few minutes with each student one-on-one, but with 60 kids… you do the math.
Other than that things are fine. I was asked to come down to Gaborone this week. As some of you may have heard, violence in Guinea (West Africa) has continued so Peace Corps decided to evacuate its volunteers there. As a result, we are getting 5 transfer volunteers – “refugees” as I like to call them. :) Peace Corps asked me to come down to help orient them and be a source of support. I’ll head down Tuesday after class – it will make for a long day (and week), as Gabs is 8+ hours away. I’ll stay for two days then head 8+ hours back with hopes that the kids did well on their examinations.
I remember when I was applying two years ago, I told my recruiter and my mother that if they offered me a position teaching English, I would refuse. I didn’t want to spend two years of my life teaching ABCs to kids – I wanted to do something that I thought would make a difference: I wanted to work with HIV/AIDS. Interestingly enough, two years later, I’d say the exact opposite. Even with relation to HIV/AIDS, I think I would be making a much greater impact if I had full-time access to kids in a controlled environment like a school. I haven’t the time to express (nor you the patience to read) the extent to which I think that the school system here is perpetuating poverty and directly inhibiting the fight against AIDS. I see it every day and it is the hardest thing to digest, even more than all of the deaths. And it just goes past you like the wind, something you can feel but cannot touch.
Monday, November 2, 2009
Tuesday, July 28, 2009
Hello Again
“…so here the archangel paused,
Betwixt the world destroyed and world restored”
~John Milton, Paradise Lost
Once again, it’s been a long while. Though time is racing by, it seems that very few noteworthy events happen, which makes blog-writing seem a bit futile. Winter is here in full force (weather is always the default topic for Americans, isn’t it?), which of course I dread. In June it seemed to get colder and colder every day for about 10 days, though admittedly July has softened a bit. Winter will extend until early September, with August being our windiest month so I am bracing myself for that.
In early July we had our belated one-year training in Molepolole. We receive a new cohort every April, as previously mentioned, so their arrival this past April obviously delayed our one-year training. Though we’ve lost about 20% of our original group for various reasons, it was nice to those who remain. The heating at the lodge was temperamental, and we were frequently without water. That made for a very interesting training. Many of us travel a long distance from our already-rural environments, void of heat (and for some of us, void of water); thus we all look forward to plush lodging, so that was a bit of a disappointment. But for me it wasn’t a very big deal. We talked a bit about preparing for our departure and how we should be beginning to have conversations about it with those to whom we are closest – particularly the children – so that they are not as shocked when the time comes. This, in conjunction with the discussion of applying for jobs, was kind of a kick in the face. I have 10 months left… how did this happen?
I am sure many of you are wondering about my youngest ‘son’, Kabelo. I am too. I haven’t really seen him in well over a month now. He’s gotten himself in a lot of trouble, both in and out of the school, in various incidents and it seems his guardian is keeping him on a tight leash. I know he was due to go and see a traditional doctor to “sort him out”, and I do not know if he has gone or what came of such a visit. While people here are largely “Christian,” witchcraft and traditional influences – particularly with respect to medicine – still play a large role in people’s lives. It is believed that someone may have put some sort of spell on Kabelo, or that he may be possessed by an ancestor who is angry about something. Needless to say, I haven’t seen him.
But life is made full from other people. I guess I’m finally developing “friends”, though my definition of the word isn’t exactly applicable here. For one, it’s so difficult with language. While the Kalanga is going very, very well and it’s a language that I truly enjoy and admire, 16 months is not enough time to develop the skills necessary to have deep, meaningful conversations. That being said, I am always amazed at just how much I am able to communicate with people. The other day I was in line at a supermarket in Francistown getting take-away food, and I noticed the lady was giving everyone spoons (most people eat with their hands or with spoons, not with forks), and then she gave me a fork. So I said with a smile, “Ini u mpa bathu bose ligwana ngono wa ndimpa foroko? A no kumbula makhuwa abato da ligwana?” (Why did you give all those people a spoon but you gave me a fork? Do you think white people don’t like spoons?). After catching up with her shock, she belted a big laugh and said that, yes, white people tend to prefer forks. It was a nice moment.
It will be hard to leave some people here, particularly my ‘best’ friend – who is an HIV-positive adolescent. I know I’ve mentioned him before, the 14 year old (nearly 15 now) who looks 9. His name is Batundu or Kemmonye, but I call him Khuwa – which means white person – because he has a really light complexion. When I first arrived I had trouble remembering so many foreign names, so I gave nicknames to a lot of the kids, which made it easy for me and fun for them. Interestingly enough, 16 months later I know all of their real names but still call many of them by their original nicknames, and they even use them amongst themselves, which I enjoy. Khuwa speaks very little English, though I have been working on him. In fact, I think my presence has encouraged him to give more attention to English class in school. When I came back from my training this month, I was shocked to hear him speaking English left and right (simple sentences), and I said,
“Waka zwidiya Ikhuwa lini?!?” (“When did you learn English?!?”)
To which he responded – in slow English: “I… have to… speak English.”
“Ne kutini?” (Why?”) I asked.
“Because... I… am… Khuwa”
I nearly fell over with laughter. It was so unexpected and well played, and remains one of my favorite moments here. I’ll miss Khuwa the most, and Amy of course.
Amy is doing ok. The hut she uses for her kitchen burnt down, so she is struggling to find the money to build a new one. Amy is truly one of those people you meet once every 10 years or so – if you’re lucky – and if it weren’t for her I probably would have packed up and left by now. Her health is still quite volatile, but this week she discovered that her CD4 count has gone up (as a reminder, in layman’s terms, the CD4 cells are the kind that decrease as HIV progresses, and are linked to the general well-being of the immune system). This week she said to me, “Ahh, Kagiso, when you go I am going to think of you and be sad and my CD4 is going to be low.” It was such a cute, but sad, compliment that I had to laugh to avoid tearing up. She is the lowest paid person at the clinic, and still the hardest working, while everyday having an inspirational attitude. While always a joy to meet such people, it’s also bittersweet; as I know that she will never have the life she deserves and will always struggle with money and her health.
Things at the clinic are ok. I’m at a point where I feel as though I am on a plateau, but I think that’s normal. We just compiled our 2nd quarterly report for the year, which revealed that 22% of the people who tested for HIV were found positive. That percentage is really no higher or lower than any other quarter, and it continues to put us among the highest in the world. The virus excludes no one: this quarter we had an 8-year-old boy and a 78-year-old woman test positive. There’s a world of its own behind all of this, but I wont go in to it here.
The good news is, some good news exists. Every year in Botswana 15,000 HIV-positive women give birth (a number that is increasing). Without the PMTCT program, about 35% (5,000+) babies would be born infected. But with the program, we are finding that less than 4%, or 600, are being born positive. Statistics like that remind me that the work I am involved in is indeed valuable. While of course the big challenge will be staying negative throughout their lives, it’s still comforting to know that a whole generation is more-or-less starting with a clean slate.
Shifting gears, on my walk to work the other day my 22 yr old neighbor was being cut down from the tree from which he apparently hung himself. No one seems to know why, although his younger brother has been under supervision as he confessed that they were supposed to do it together. The suicide rate is alarmingly high here; there have been several in my village in the past year, but no one seems to mention it as an issue. Personally I think this is a chronically depressed country, and the depression manifests itself in so many other facets of their lives.
“Any idiot can face a crisis; it is this day-to-day living that wears you out.” –Chekhov
I extend a major thank you to those who have been keeping in contact with me. Your correspondence is so greatly appreciated. For the record, I am little backed up on books-to-read, so unless you stumble upon something absolutely amazing I am probably ok without books for a while. But please do at least let me know the titles of any books I may find amusing and I’ll add them to my ever-growing list of books to read later. I am doing a lot of reading – in fact, I am arguably more intellectually stimulated here than I have been at any other point in my life. I am currently reading 3 books, forwarded subscriptions of The New Yorker, Men’s Health, and Harper’s Magazine, as well as other publications you all send me (I love Songlines, hint-hint, nudge-nudge). On top of Kalanga, I am studying other languages, exercising, doing yoga, and make a point to write – either something fictional or not – on a weekly basis. This is a very rich time in my life and I value it.
Here I have become so aware of how many hours there really are in a day. At home I know we always wonder where the time goes, and how little we feel we’ve accomplished at the end of the day. But in the absence of most of the major time-consumers – hours spent watching vapid TV programs, browsing every corner of the internet, cleaning our 2,500+ sq. foot abodes, etc. – I am astounded at just how many things I can do in a day. In fairness, that’s mostly because there really isn’t anything to do! On weekends, I often think “I should be doing something” only to remind myself that there isn’t too much to do. I can’t peruse Wal-Mart. I can’t catch a flick at the local theatre or have a cocktail with a friend. So I mostly read, read, read, and visit people in the community. The quiet life is good for me at this stage.
I guess that’s all. I’ll leave you with some updated suggestions for sending things. Thanks again to you all.
Things I have enough of:
Writing pads
Razors / razor blades
Shaving Cream
Sunscreen
Facial Soap & Bar Soap
Hand sanitizer
Post-shaving cream
Anything mosquito-related
Toothbrushes
Things I’m Still Loving
Anything Cheezy
Febreeze
Granola / Power / Snack bars
Healthy snack foods (trail mixes, almonds, etc.)
Facial Toner
Black beans
Olive Oil
Amazon Gift Certificates!
Good pens
Candy for the kids (ok, I admit, and for me)
Letters and Photos
I would also love a bag of tortilla chips. Ooh I miss their salty goodness.
Betwixt the world destroyed and world restored”
~John Milton, Paradise Lost
Once again, it’s been a long while. Though time is racing by, it seems that very few noteworthy events happen, which makes blog-writing seem a bit futile. Winter is here in full force (weather is always the default topic for Americans, isn’t it?), which of course I dread. In June it seemed to get colder and colder every day for about 10 days, though admittedly July has softened a bit. Winter will extend until early September, with August being our windiest month so I am bracing myself for that.
In early July we had our belated one-year training in Molepolole. We receive a new cohort every April, as previously mentioned, so their arrival this past April obviously delayed our one-year training. Though we’ve lost about 20% of our original group for various reasons, it was nice to those who remain. The heating at the lodge was temperamental, and we were frequently without water. That made for a very interesting training. Many of us travel a long distance from our already-rural environments, void of heat (and for some of us, void of water); thus we all look forward to plush lodging, so that was a bit of a disappointment. But for me it wasn’t a very big deal. We talked a bit about preparing for our departure and how we should be beginning to have conversations about it with those to whom we are closest – particularly the children – so that they are not as shocked when the time comes. This, in conjunction with the discussion of applying for jobs, was kind of a kick in the face. I have 10 months left… how did this happen?
I am sure many of you are wondering about my youngest ‘son’, Kabelo. I am too. I haven’t really seen him in well over a month now. He’s gotten himself in a lot of trouble, both in and out of the school, in various incidents and it seems his guardian is keeping him on a tight leash. I know he was due to go and see a traditional doctor to “sort him out”, and I do not know if he has gone or what came of such a visit. While people here are largely “Christian,” witchcraft and traditional influences – particularly with respect to medicine – still play a large role in people’s lives. It is believed that someone may have put some sort of spell on Kabelo, or that he may be possessed by an ancestor who is angry about something. Needless to say, I haven’t seen him.
But life is made full from other people. I guess I’m finally developing “friends”, though my definition of the word isn’t exactly applicable here. For one, it’s so difficult with language. While the Kalanga is going very, very well and it’s a language that I truly enjoy and admire, 16 months is not enough time to develop the skills necessary to have deep, meaningful conversations. That being said, I am always amazed at just how much I am able to communicate with people. The other day I was in line at a supermarket in Francistown getting take-away food, and I noticed the lady was giving everyone spoons (most people eat with their hands or with spoons, not with forks), and then she gave me a fork. So I said with a smile, “Ini u mpa bathu bose ligwana ngono wa ndimpa foroko? A no kumbula makhuwa abato da ligwana?” (Why did you give all those people a spoon but you gave me a fork? Do you think white people don’t like spoons?). After catching up with her shock, she belted a big laugh and said that, yes, white people tend to prefer forks. It was a nice moment.
It will be hard to leave some people here, particularly my ‘best’ friend – who is an HIV-positive adolescent. I know I’ve mentioned him before, the 14 year old (nearly 15 now) who looks 9. His name is Batundu or Kemmonye, but I call him Khuwa – which means white person – because he has a really light complexion. When I first arrived I had trouble remembering so many foreign names, so I gave nicknames to a lot of the kids, which made it easy for me and fun for them. Interestingly enough, 16 months later I know all of their real names but still call many of them by their original nicknames, and they even use them amongst themselves, which I enjoy. Khuwa speaks very little English, though I have been working on him. In fact, I think my presence has encouraged him to give more attention to English class in school. When I came back from my training this month, I was shocked to hear him speaking English left and right (simple sentences), and I said,
“Waka zwidiya Ikhuwa lini?!?” (“When did you learn English?!?”)
To which he responded – in slow English: “I… have to… speak English.”
“Ne kutini?” (Why?”) I asked.
“Because... I… am… Khuwa”
I nearly fell over with laughter. It was so unexpected and well played, and remains one of my favorite moments here. I’ll miss Khuwa the most, and Amy of course.
Amy is doing ok. The hut she uses for her kitchen burnt down, so she is struggling to find the money to build a new one. Amy is truly one of those people you meet once every 10 years or so – if you’re lucky – and if it weren’t for her I probably would have packed up and left by now. Her health is still quite volatile, but this week she discovered that her CD4 count has gone up (as a reminder, in layman’s terms, the CD4 cells are the kind that decrease as HIV progresses, and are linked to the general well-being of the immune system). This week she said to me, “Ahh, Kagiso, when you go I am going to think of you and be sad and my CD4 is going to be low.” It was such a cute, but sad, compliment that I had to laugh to avoid tearing up. She is the lowest paid person at the clinic, and still the hardest working, while everyday having an inspirational attitude. While always a joy to meet such people, it’s also bittersweet; as I know that she will never have the life she deserves and will always struggle with money and her health.
Things at the clinic are ok. I’m at a point where I feel as though I am on a plateau, but I think that’s normal. We just compiled our 2nd quarterly report for the year, which revealed that 22% of the people who tested for HIV were found positive. That percentage is really no higher or lower than any other quarter, and it continues to put us among the highest in the world. The virus excludes no one: this quarter we had an 8-year-old boy and a 78-year-old woman test positive. There’s a world of its own behind all of this, but I wont go in to it here.
The good news is, some good news exists. Every year in Botswana 15,000 HIV-positive women give birth (a number that is increasing). Without the PMTCT program, about 35% (5,000+) babies would be born infected. But with the program, we are finding that less than 4%, or 600, are being born positive. Statistics like that remind me that the work I am involved in is indeed valuable. While of course the big challenge will be staying negative throughout their lives, it’s still comforting to know that a whole generation is more-or-less starting with a clean slate.
Shifting gears, on my walk to work the other day my 22 yr old neighbor was being cut down from the tree from which he apparently hung himself. No one seems to know why, although his younger brother has been under supervision as he confessed that they were supposed to do it together. The suicide rate is alarmingly high here; there have been several in my village in the past year, but no one seems to mention it as an issue. Personally I think this is a chronically depressed country, and the depression manifests itself in so many other facets of their lives.
“Any idiot can face a crisis; it is this day-to-day living that wears you out.” –Chekhov
I extend a major thank you to those who have been keeping in contact with me. Your correspondence is so greatly appreciated. For the record, I am little backed up on books-to-read, so unless you stumble upon something absolutely amazing I am probably ok without books for a while. But please do at least let me know the titles of any books I may find amusing and I’ll add them to my ever-growing list of books to read later. I am doing a lot of reading – in fact, I am arguably more intellectually stimulated here than I have been at any other point in my life. I am currently reading 3 books, forwarded subscriptions of The New Yorker, Men’s Health, and Harper’s Magazine, as well as other publications you all send me (I love Songlines, hint-hint, nudge-nudge). On top of Kalanga, I am studying other languages, exercising, doing yoga, and make a point to write – either something fictional or not – on a weekly basis. This is a very rich time in my life and I value it.
Here I have become so aware of how many hours there really are in a day. At home I know we always wonder where the time goes, and how little we feel we’ve accomplished at the end of the day. But in the absence of most of the major time-consumers – hours spent watching vapid TV programs, browsing every corner of the internet, cleaning our 2,500+ sq. foot abodes, etc. – I am astounded at just how many things I can do in a day. In fairness, that’s mostly because there really isn’t anything to do! On weekends, I often think “I should be doing something” only to remind myself that there isn’t too much to do. I can’t peruse Wal-Mart. I can’t catch a flick at the local theatre or have a cocktail with a friend. So I mostly read, read, read, and visit people in the community. The quiet life is good for me at this stage.
I guess that’s all. I’ll leave you with some updated suggestions for sending things. Thanks again to you all.
Things I have enough of:
Writing pads
Razors / razor blades
Shaving Cream
Sunscreen
Facial Soap & Bar Soap
Hand sanitizer
Post-shaving cream
Anything mosquito-related
Toothbrushes
Things I’m Still Loving
Anything Cheezy
Febreeze
Granola / Power / Snack bars
Healthy snack foods (trail mixes, almonds, etc.)
Facial Toner
Black beans
Olive Oil
Amazon Gift Certificates!
Good pens
Candy for the kids (ok, I admit, and for me)
Letters and Photos
I would also love a bag of tortilla chips. Ooh I miss their salty goodness.
Wednesday, April 22, 2009
HAPPY ANNIVERSARY TO BRENT & BOTSWANA
This is my life; it’s not what it was before
And these are my dreams that I’ve never lived before
Somebody shake me ‘cause I, I must be sleeping
~Aaron Lewis
Ok, so maybe our relationship isn’t quite one of romantic love, but it has definitely come to be my home which became very clear on my return from holiday. South Africa -> Mozambique -> Swaziland was perfect! We spent the first night with my good South African friend who lives in Johannesburg. We originally met in England, when we were both pursuing the same course for our Master’s. I had actually last seen her in DC when she was there for a conference. So now seeing her on her home turf, in South Africa, meant that we had now seen on each other on three different continents! We laughed at how blessed we both are. She’s a gem of a human and I’m always happy to see her.
Whenever I arrive in a new place, I like to give off an err as if I know what I am doing in order to avoid releasing victimizing energy. So when I got off the bus in Johannesburg - which by the way is known for its crime; I think it leads the word in violent crimes per year. I was bombarded by men asking where I was going and if I needed a taxi. Knowing very well that a lot of these men aren’t even taxi drivers, I just said “Don’t worry, I stay just there” as I pointed to the neighborhood in front of me. The men paused, a few laughed and one said, “You don’t stay there.” I insisted, “I DO.” He laughed, “They’ll kill you over there! That’s Hillborough!” Whoops! Hillborough is one of the worst neighborhood in Jo’Burg, making it one of the worst in the world. So I said “Ooops, Ok, I don’t live there… but I also don’t need a taxi!” Haha. Thankfully my friend was waiting for us with her car, in the opposite direction of Hillborough, of course. So we met her and made our way out to Sandton, a very wealthy suburb. On the way I rolled down my window hoping for some fresh air, which freaked the heck out of my friend. “OH MY GOD, ROLL UP YOUR WINDOW!” she screamed, “This is Jo’Burg!” We just don’t have to worry about these things in Botswana.
Anyway, so we spent two days in Jo’Burg which was SUCH a blast. Most of the rich suburbs are quite new and the architecture is very modern – it reminded me so much of southern California – so many mansions that would put those in Hollywood to shame. Seriously. The suburbs of Jo’Burg were a whole other world, as is the case in many cities, particularly those in the developing world. So I was able to enjoy cocktails and sushi (yes, SUSHI! It wasn’t amazing, but it was enough to make me tear up lol), and all just a stone throw’s away from those suffering from chronic poverty. And that’s the other thing South Africa is known for – one of the greatest disparities of wealth. But I liked Jo’Burg - even the poor centre in which I admittedly didn’t spend much time had a nice energy to it. I like cities that offer diversity, and Jo’Burg has some of Africa’s richest and poorest. I’d like to go again and spend more time. Our second night we were to catch an overnight bus into Mozambique, before which we went to a concert where I met a famous South African soap star who I manage to catch on Botswana TV from time to time. That was exciting. Then we hit the bus and made our way to Mozambique.
Talk about heaven! Maputo, the capital, was such a lovely city. Despite Mozambique having a brutal war 15-or-so years back, you would never get that vibe. Maputo felt so safe, and there was a lightness in the air. It’s situated on many hills adjacent to a bay, and the architecture – though old and dilapidating – has that Mediterranean charm as a result of their Portuguese colonization. We didn’t spend much time there before we had to trek 9+ hours to Tofo, a beachside village. The place is largely immune to tourists, but is well known in the surfer community so other than hardcore surfers and a few vacationing South Africans we were alone. In fact many days we were literally the only ones on the beach, as the surfers tend to go out very early morning and late afternoon. It was complete heaven – the air temperature was perfect, the water was perfect, our room (i.e. straw hut) backed up to the ocean so the waves were the last thing I would hear before I fell asleep and the first thing in the morning. Now that’s relaxing!
I spent the week eating nothing but fresh fish and fresh fruit, as these things are in abundance. I had never had calamari straight from the sea before – wow, I didn’t know what I was missing! And things were so cheap:
Fresh cashew nuts: $2 per kg
Coconut: 50c
Prawns (Shrimp): $3 per kg
Calamari: $3 for whole squid
Passion fruit: 50c for 3 or 4
Accommodation: $6 a night
Local rum: $1.50 for a bottle
I managed to make friends with some local old ladies, as I always do, who agreed to cook us local food for $2 a meal (which I know was still more than the local price, but I couldn’t complain. The agreement was mutually beneficial). So some days we brought her our own seafood and other days she provided. The Mozambicans sure know good food! The sauces they made to accompany the fish and rice was stellar. Typically speaking, African food is nothing to write home about. But Mozambican food is, and that’s why I am writing home about it
So we spent a good week there, doing less than nothing. We then took a 12+ hour journey to Swaziland, where we were meeting 3 other friends who were on their way to Mozambique. We rented a car and were able to enjoy all of Swaziland in two days. It’s very very small lol. But I was really stunned by the beauty of the place. It looks like Switzerland or Scotland – particularly during the first day as it was very misty – dramatic, green mountains, winding roads. People there seem to be doing quite well. I don’t recall seeing any shantytowns or overtly-poor looking people. And they were so friendly, far more so than the Batswana and even the South Africans, who I guess have much more cultural baggage than the Swazis. Anyway, it was a nice 2 day journey after which we drove 12+ hours back into Botswana.
So I’ve just been getting myself back in the groove. The new cohort has arrived in the country, marking my 50% point. It feels like a year – not an exceptionally fast or slow one; just a year. But I am consistently told that the second year transpires significantly faster than the first. We’ll see. The next few months will certainly be busy, so I don’t doubt it.
In three weeks one of the new guys will come and shadow me for 5 days. Following that, I’ll spend a week in mid-May assisting with the training of the new guys in Molepolole. It will be nice to have some fresh energy here. I’ll also pop in and see my host family – I’m not sure if they are hosting a another person this year.
My son is well. I walked by his house upon my return and he saw me and dropped his toys (i.e. stones) and came runnin’ for me. He came to my house and we had lunch, then I sent him on his way which of course made him cry. Bless him.
Things are busy at the clinic. We’ve reached 100 clients (that is 100 positive women who are currently pregnant and enrolled in the program. Of course there are for more pregnant and positive women than this). Additionally, I have been trying to incorporate negative women into our program (what’s that saying? – an ounce of prevention is worth a pound of treatment?), but it’s hard to make time for them and some co-workers are resistant to doing things outside of their mandate. Job descriptions here are taken literally, too literally, so that people feel almost as if they are not allowed to go above and beyond the call of duty. It can be frustrating.
And these are my dreams that I’ve never lived before
Somebody shake me ‘cause I, I must be sleeping
~Aaron Lewis
Ok, so maybe our relationship isn’t quite one of romantic love, but it has definitely come to be my home which became very clear on my return from holiday. South Africa -> Mozambique -> Swaziland was perfect! We spent the first night with my good South African friend who lives in Johannesburg. We originally met in England, when we were both pursuing the same course for our Master’s. I had actually last seen her in DC when she was there for a conference. So now seeing her on her home turf, in South Africa, meant that we had now seen on each other on three different continents! We laughed at how blessed we both are. She’s a gem of a human and I’m always happy to see her.
Whenever I arrive in a new place, I like to give off an err as if I know what I am doing in order to avoid releasing victimizing energy. So when I got off the bus in Johannesburg - which by the way is known for its crime; I think it leads the word in violent crimes per year. I was bombarded by men asking where I was going and if I needed a taxi. Knowing very well that a lot of these men aren’t even taxi drivers, I just said “Don’t worry, I stay just there” as I pointed to the neighborhood in front of me. The men paused, a few laughed and one said, “You don’t stay there.” I insisted, “I DO.” He laughed, “They’ll kill you over there! That’s Hillborough!” Whoops! Hillborough is one of the worst neighborhood in Jo’Burg, making it one of the worst in the world. So I said “Ooops, Ok, I don’t live there… but I also don’t need a taxi!” Haha. Thankfully my friend was waiting for us with her car, in the opposite direction of Hillborough, of course. So we met her and made our way out to Sandton, a very wealthy suburb. On the way I rolled down my window hoping for some fresh air, which freaked the heck out of my friend. “OH MY GOD, ROLL UP YOUR WINDOW!” she screamed, “This is Jo’Burg!” We just don’t have to worry about these things in Botswana.
Anyway, so we spent two days in Jo’Burg which was SUCH a blast. Most of the rich suburbs are quite new and the architecture is very modern – it reminded me so much of southern California – so many mansions that would put those in Hollywood to shame. Seriously. The suburbs of Jo’Burg were a whole other world, as is the case in many cities, particularly those in the developing world. So I was able to enjoy cocktails and sushi (yes, SUSHI! It wasn’t amazing, but it was enough to make me tear up lol), and all just a stone throw’s away from those suffering from chronic poverty. And that’s the other thing South Africa is known for – one of the greatest disparities of wealth. But I liked Jo’Burg - even the poor centre in which I admittedly didn’t spend much time had a nice energy to it. I like cities that offer diversity, and Jo’Burg has some of Africa’s richest and poorest. I’d like to go again and spend more time. Our second night we were to catch an overnight bus into Mozambique, before which we went to a concert where I met a famous South African soap star who I manage to catch on Botswana TV from time to time. That was exciting. Then we hit the bus and made our way to Mozambique.
Talk about heaven! Maputo, the capital, was such a lovely city. Despite Mozambique having a brutal war 15-or-so years back, you would never get that vibe. Maputo felt so safe, and there was a lightness in the air. It’s situated on many hills adjacent to a bay, and the architecture – though old and dilapidating – has that Mediterranean charm as a result of their Portuguese colonization. We didn’t spend much time there before we had to trek 9+ hours to Tofo, a beachside village. The place is largely immune to tourists, but is well known in the surfer community so other than hardcore surfers and a few vacationing South Africans we were alone. In fact many days we were literally the only ones on the beach, as the surfers tend to go out very early morning and late afternoon. It was complete heaven – the air temperature was perfect, the water was perfect, our room (i.e. straw hut) backed up to the ocean so the waves were the last thing I would hear before I fell asleep and the first thing in the morning. Now that’s relaxing!
I spent the week eating nothing but fresh fish and fresh fruit, as these things are in abundance. I had never had calamari straight from the sea before – wow, I didn’t know what I was missing! And things were so cheap:
Fresh cashew nuts: $2 per kg
Coconut: 50c
Prawns (Shrimp): $3 per kg
Calamari: $3 for whole squid
Passion fruit: 50c for 3 or 4
Accommodation: $6 a night
Local rum: $1.50 for a bottle
I managed to make friends with some local old ladies, as I always do, who agreed to cook us local food for $2 a meal (which I know was still more than the local price, but I couldn’t complain. The agreement was mutually beneficial). So some days we brought her our own seafood and other days she provided. The Mozambicans sure know good food! The sauces they made to accompany the fish and rice was stellar. Typically speaking, African food is nothing to write home about. But Mozambican food is, and that’s why I am writing home about it
So we spent a good week there, doing less than nothing. We then took a 12+ hour journey to Swaziland, where we were meeting 3 other friends who were on their way to Mozambique. We rented a car and were able to enjoy all of Swaziland in two days. It’s very very small lol. But I was really stunned by the beauty of the place. It looks like Switzerland or Scotland – particularly during the first day as it was very misty – dramatic, green mountains, winding roads. People there seem to be doing quite well. I don’t recall seeing any shantytowns or overtly-poor looking people. And they were so friendly, far more so than the Batswana and even the South Africans, who I guess have much more cultural baggage than the Swazis. Anyway, it was a nice 2 day journey after which we drove 12+ hours back into Botswana.
So I’ve just been getting myself back in the groove. The new cohort has arrived in the country, marking my 50% point. It feels like a year – not an exceptionally fast or slow one; just a year. But I am consistently told that the second year transpires significantly faster than the first. We’ll see. The next few months will certainly be busy, so I don’t doubt it.
In three weeks one of the new guys will come and shadow me for 5 days. Following that, I’ll spend a week in mid-May assisting with the training of the new guys in Molepolole. It will be nice to have some fresh energy here. I’ll also pop in and see my host family – I’m not sure if they are hosting a another person this year.
My son is well. I walked by his house upon my return and he saw me and dropped his toys (i.e. stones) and came runnin’ for me. He came to my house and we had lunch, then I sent him on his way which of course made him cry. Bless him.
Things are busy at the clinic. We’ve reached 100 clients (that is 100 positive women who are currently pregnant and enrolled in the program. Of course there are for more pregnant and positive women than this). Additionally, I have been trying to incorporate negative women into our program (what’s that saying? – an ounce of prevention is worth a pound of treatment?), but it’s hard to make time for them and some co-workers are resistant to doing things outside of their mandate. Job descriptions here are taken literally, too literally, so that people feel almost as if they are not allowed to go above and beyond the call of duty. It can be frustrating.
Thursday, March 26, 2009
Heading to the Sea
Emancipate yourself from mental slavery
None but ourselves can free our minds
~B.Marley
I’ve been in Botswana for nearly 11 months now, and today – for the for the first time – the dog I have been feeding since day one has allowed me to pet her. When I arrived she looked rough – her saggy udders swinging from side to side, tail eternally tucked between her legs – but after some good ol’ fashioned guilt-induced feeding I’ve managed to help her look like a dog again, albeit still a fairly ugly one (as 99% of the dogs here are). It took about 9 months to get her to even wag her tail at me, so I was actually quite shocked today when she tucked her tail between her legs, slowly got down on all fours and then rolled over on her back with her tucked-tail swaying slowly in the dirt. 11 months. And in dog-time that’s, what?- more than 6 years? LOL. They say dogs are unforgiving but it took this dog ‘6 years’ to ‘forgive’ what previous people had done and to trust again.
Of course this small incident rippled into a whole day of thought – as things tend to do here – and still has me awake at near midnight on a Tuesday, which I think is the latest I have ever been awake in Maitengwe. It took a dog (a creature incapable of reflection, logic, and long-term memory) that long to ‘get over’ its conditionings and here I am working on “behavior change” in a community with a history older than my own and an educational system younger than me. So of course, I had to wonder – how colonized is the mind?
Colonize (v):
• to settle among and establish political control over
• to appropriate (a place or domain) for one's own use.
• to establish itself in an area*
Establish (v):
• to set up on a firm or permanent basis
• to achieve permanent acceptance for (a custom, belief, practice, or institution)
The thought of the day, I guess. But it surely makes working with human behavior change, particularly sexual behavior change, a very daunting task.
Well, it happened. I’ve moved into my new house, and am enjoying its luxuries. I have a lot more privacy in addition to the amenities. Although I have to admit, I am enjoying it a bit less than I thought I would – which makes me even happier, knowing that my accommodation really isn’t that big of a deal; I’d hate to think my happiness depends on hot water and black tile flooring! Haha.
My son has found the new house and we’ve continued breakfast as usual. Gosh, he is growing. There is so much less need in his actions (for instance he no longer cries when I drop him at school) which I admit I selfishly miss a bit, but it’s nice to see him progress. The teacher at the orphanage gave me such a wonderful compliment the other day – one that wasn’t necessarily designed to be a compliment (as the best ones usually are). She told me that when he first came to the school, she was scared for him; that he was just lifeless and fragile, and that now he looks so healthy and lively. “You brought him to life,” she said, in broken English. Just hearing that alone makes these 27 months worth it. Then this yesterday afternoon he walked into the clinic after school and said in English: "Kagiso, I love you," as if rehearsed. But it was so cute I had to die. I guess he had learned it in school that day.
But not much is new in the work department. I want to branch out of the clinic and start getting involved in the schools, so I am going to make that a project in the upcoming months. Apparently our secondary school has an active Drama Club, so I may try to put my hand in and see what we can do together.
At the end of this week I will be going to Mozambique and Swaziland (you may have heard of the former, but I bet you haven’t heard of the latter lol) for holiday. I want to soak up the sun before winter hits. Mozambique is known for excellent beaches, fish, and amazing calamari – not to mention Portuguese-speaking Africans. It will also be my first time seeing the Indian Ocean, which is an interesting little tidbit to look forward to. Swaziland is one of the continent’s smallest countries, and one of the world’s few remaining monarchs. The King has 20-something wives and picks a new one each year. It’s with no surprise, then, that Swaziland has perhaps the highest rate of HIV in the world (it ‘competes’ with Botswana for the highest prevalent rate… it all depends on who you read). Anyway, small as it is, it’s said to be quite an experience so I am looking forward to it.
Until then, be well.
None but ourselves can free our minds
~B.Marley
I’ve been in Botswana for nearly 11 months now, and today – for the for the first time – the dog I have been feeding since day one has allowed me to pet her. When I arrived she looked rough – her saggy udders swinging from side to side, tail eternally tucked between her legs – but after some good ol’ fashioned guilt-induced feeding I’ve managed to help her look like a dog again, albeit still a fairly ugly one (as 99% of the dogs here are). It took about 9 months to get her to even wag her tail at me, so I was actually quite shocked today when she tucked her tail between her legs, slowly got down on all fours and then rolled over on her back with her tucked-tail swaying slowly in the dirt. 11 months. And in dog-time that’s, what?- more than 6 years? LOL. They say dogs are unforgiving but it took this dog ‘6 years’ to ‘forgive’ what previous people had done and to trust again.
Of course this small incident rippled into a whole day of thought – as things tend to do here – and still has me awake at near midnight on a Tuesday, which I think is the latest I have ever been awake in Maitengwe. It took a dog (a creature incapable of reflection, logic, and long-term memory) that long to ‘get over’ its conditionings and here I am working on “behavior change” in a community with a history older than my own and an educational system younger than me. So of course, I had to wonder – how colonized is the mind?
Colonize (v):
• to settle among and establish political control over
• to appropriate (a place or domain) for one's own use.
• to establish itself in an area*
Establish (v):
• to set up on a firm or permanent basis
• to achieve permanent acceptance for (a custom, belief, practice, or institution)
The thought of the day, I guess. But it surely makes working with human behavior change, particularly sexual behavior change, a very daunting task.
Well, it happened. I’ve moved into my new house, and am enjoying its luxuries. I have a lot more privacy in addition to the amenities. Although I have to admit, I am enjoying it a bit less than I thought I would – which makes me even happier, knowing that my accommodation really isn’t that big of a deal; I’d hate to think my happiness depends on hot water and black tile flooring! Haha.
My son has found the new house and we’ve continued breakfast as usual. Gosh, he is growing. There is so much less need in his actions (for instance he no longer cries when I drop him at school) which I admit I selfishly miss a bit, but it’s nice to see him progress. The teacher at the orphanage gave me such a wonderful compliment the other day – one that wasn’t necessarily designed to be a compliment (as the best ones usually are). She told me that when he first came to the school, she was scared for him; that he was just lifeless and fragile, and that now he looks so healthy and lively. “You brought him to life,” she said, in broken English. Just hearing that alone makes these 27 months worth it. Then this yesterday afternoon he walked into the clinic after school and said in English: "Kagiso, I love you," as if rehearsed. But it was so cute I had to die. I guess he had learned it in school that day.
But not much is new in the work department. I want to branch out of the clinic and start getting involved in the schools, so I am going to make that a project in the upcoming months. Apparently our secondary school has an active Drama Club, so I may try to put my hand in and see what we can do together.
At the end of this week I will be going to Mozambique and Swaziland (you may have heard of the former, but I bet you haven’t heard of the latter lol) for holiday. I want to soak up the sun before winter hits. Mozambique is known for excellent beaches, fish, and amazing calamari – not to mention Portuguese-speaking Africans. It will also be my first time seeing the Indian Ocean, which is an interesting little tidbit to look forward to. Swaziland is one of the continent’s smallest countries, and one of the world’s few remaining monarchs. The King has 20-something wives and picks a new one each year. It’s with no surprise, then, that Swaziland has perhaps the highest rate of HIV in the world (it ‘competes’ with Botswana for the highest prevalent rate… it all depends on who you read). Anyway, small as it is, it’s said to be quite an experience so I am looking forward to it.
Until then, be well.
Monday, February 23, 2009
It's been a while...
...you would think I was in southern Africa or something!
You would also think that after over a dozen inquiries into why my blog has been silent since December I would have finally updated it, but apparently it took an email from a random unknown individual in Oregon expressing his nostalgia for an update for me to mobilize and write again. So we thank you, Random Unknown Individual in Oregon, for your readership and mobilizing email. It’s amazing how these things get found, passed around, etc.
Anyway, the reasons for the brief hiatus are at least three fold: one, the holiday season kept me away and, like most habits (at least the healthy ones), staying away is easier than going back. Secondly, nothing has really happened since December… or should I say nothing of significance? Or should I say nothing of what seems like significance? Finally, sometimes it’s just a thorn in my side
But anyway here we are. And for those of you who sincerely missed my blog for the past two months, you’re likely to feel satisfied as I am in the mood to make this a long one.
The holidays were spent very low key, mostly around my village and some small time in Francistown, enjoying the luxuries of “urban” life. I really did nothing exciting. My son is still coming every morning, like clockwork, and we have breakfast together. There isn’t a morning that passes that I am not thankful for him. He is such a great way to start the day. He’s grown so much the past 6 months; in part I am sure to the excessive amount of calories I shove down his throat every morning. For those of you who have kids or who want them, I don’t know how you do it. This kid isn’t even my blood, yet watching him grow up pierces me with this twisted pain/pleasure combination that I can’t describe. It’s like you want them to stay that young and innocent forever but you’re also so happy and thankful to see them growing into something they weren’t when you first knew them. He’s learned so much from me, and me from him, and that is really remarkable to witness. He’s significantly less vacant and much more vibrant. But at the same time… ouch, ouch, ouch. Soon he will be so big I wont even be able to carry him to school anymore. And very soon after that, he will be a grown adult in the middle of a very difficult environment, where the bad choices of a generation create cycles of poverty that reproduce a generation that will make bad choices.
On a lighter note, my mother and little sister came to visit me just a few weeks ago! We rented a car (thank God; I missed driving) and spent the first few days in Moleps, where I trained, meeting the host family and some other colleagues of mine who are serving in surrounding areas. It was really nice for my two moms to meet! My real mom (and my favorite one, don’t worry SK…) brought gifts that were certainly enjoyed. Then we spent a few days in my village, where they saw my day-to-day and met my co-workers. I think a few days here was enough haha. It’s interesting because I have become accustomed to such a slow pace of life, which is not at all me in the US. I am a “gas ass,” in the words of my mother, and am always going here and there. But in Africa you learn how to sit still, and how to do nothing without feeling guilty about it, and those lessons take a lot of time. You see, in the US our value is defined by our productivity – if you aren’t producing, you’re useless (i.e. you’re fired). This is logical and acceptable in terms of our intense capitalism, which is a system inherently dependent on growth for survival. However, the problem is this mentality seeps into our mindset as people and we begin to define ourselves by what we do rather than who are are, and you don’t realize things like this until you’re in environments such as these. It’s taken me the whole 10 months I’ve been here to realize why the heck I constantly feel so down: I am under-producing and judging myself for it. And the real irony is, I am the only one noticing. But the fact is, systems are different here, work is different here, time is different here, standards are different here, etc. – and therefore one’s mindset must be too. It takes a lot adjusting, a heck of a lot of patience, a good bit of understanding, and a whole lot of humility.
Anyway, so having two American-mode Americans come and visit an African-mode American was quite exhausting for me, and I think at times very boring for them. Thankfully, once the restlessness set in, we were off to Kasane (KAH-SAH-NEE), which is in the very northeastern part of the country and known for it’s prevalent wildlife. On the road we saw several elephants and some giraffes. (I think a direct quote from my mother, as I was driving 70 mph, was “Giraffes, HOLY SHIT!!!” following by me safely slamming the breaks for a photo op… pictures coming soon, by the way).
Kasane was just breathtaking. We enjoyed a lovely boat ride on the river our first evening where we saw dozens of hippos, baboons, khudu, impala, some crocs, and at least 70 elephants scattered about – eating, bathing, etc. The weather was fabulous and the setting sun and the sky were both indescribable. It was really one of the moments where you’d have be a complete ass to complain about anything; life was just at it’s best on that boat, and moments like that make me wonder why I ever think of leaving this continent (sorry Mom, I know that was not what you were hoping to get out of the ride).
The next day we trekked to Victoria Falls, one of the 7 natural wonders of the world. It wasn’t the best time of the year to do so, as the volume of water was at its highest being the end of the rainy season, making the mist from the falls so intense that you could hardly see the falls themselves. This, coupled with periodic drizzle from the sky, made it feel like it was raining from both above and below (I was reminded of Forest Gump when he is serving in Vietnam and comments on the rain coming from both directions). Consequently the three of us were thoroughly soaked, despite our raincoats (pictures of that, coming soon too). But we had a great time and I think we managed to snap a few decent photos while still preserving the integrity of our cameras. Thank God for plastic bags. We were certainly able to see enough to digest the magnitude of the falls, and hopefully I will have a chance to go back on a sunnier day to see them again. It’s not the drop of the falls that is so remarkable, but for how long they actually extend. It just goes on, and on, and on. Google Image: ‘Victoria Falls’ and you will see for yourself.
So the visit was a success and I’ll look forward to my father and other sister coming at some point late this year.
Meanwhile, I have some news regarding my housing. Since I live in government housing, I am technically ‘entitled’ to a geyser (American translation: hot water heater) in my house free of charge. So I have spent the last 6 months hassling the district on a weekly basis to come and install one for me. It took three months for someone to come and fit it to the wall (they attach them to the wall here), and an additional 3 months to convince them to send an electrician to connect it. Apparently they prefer to train people to do one small task rather than have a do-it-all task force. Excellent. Anyway, the geyser arrived and I was FINALLY enjoying hot water, which is one of the things I always miss most when away from the US. Alas, I felt as if I was content with my living situation – it’s modest, yes, but certainly comfortable now and still well above average when compared to my neighbors. So the next day I go to the clinic and my supervisor tells me, “Kagiso, you are being evicted.” Thaaaaaanks. Sure enough, our ARV clinic opening in March 2008 (which it never did) caused the district to hire 4 extra nurses. I guess “if you build it, they will come” may be true, so long as “build” doesn’t mean “finish”. Anyway, all of the nurses are to live in government housing on the clinic compound so that they are close to the clinic on nights when they are on-call. This is indeed very good logic, I just wish this had transpired a few weeks before I did the Macarena in my newly hot shower. And apparently someone was going to come to my house by the weekend and so my departure was to be soon. Sometimes you feel like nothing good happens fast here but everything bad happens before you’re ready… and in all honesty that’s something you grow to love.
So my supervisor – whom I adore, might I add – had three houses lined up for us to go and see. Impressed with her planning, but slightly offended at being left out of the process, we hopped in the vehicle and went to look at Potential Future Home #1. The house was made of 4 concrete walls, with a concrete floor, and while I didn’t notice – I’d wager that it had a concrete ceiling too. There was a hole in the floor where a toilet might have been or may go later, a pipe with running water outside, and that’s it. I think there may have been a window or two. While this is actually what I pictured when applying to the Peace Corps, when one was just blessed with gift of a geyser, one does not want to be pooing in a shallow hole next to where one eats. (Isn’t there a proverb like that of some sort?) So, Potential Future Home #2: 3 rooms total, 3 external doors, all rooms connecting on the inside (like a cheap hotel). Nice windows, nice exterior… no… kitchen? Yeah. Just three empty concrete rooms and a small, attached bathroom with a toilet & bath (gasp!)… but no water. They can’t figure out why the water won’t run to the house. So the first house had water (outside) but no toilet, the second house had a toilet but no water. I was beginning to feel like I was in the game Clue and was looking for one more piece to the puzzle of why this could not get any funnier. So, Potential Future Home #3: we didn’t see it because the current inhabitant (the owner) was not around, but it’s said to be nice. He’s willing to move out but he wants to keep his computer in the house and use it at his will, because the house he would move to won’t have electricity. I would really rather not be responsible for someone else’s computer in my house, nor would I like to have my landlord keying in unexpectedly to watch God-knows-what at any hour of the day, so I was ok not seeing that one.
Feeling a bit discouraged, and already mourning the loss of my beloved geyser, I told my supervisor: “Give me two hours and I’ll find a house.” So off I went with the help of some of my boys. I met an old lady whose sister owns the house next to hers. From the back it looked big – too big, 3 bedrooms – but I did notice a geyser so I was interested. We phoned the owner (who stays in Francistown) and she agreed to reduce the rent to a reasonable price if I agreed to only use the living areas and one bedroom and allowed her to use the other two bedrooms as storage rooms that would remain locked. That seemed fair enough so she arranged for me to go and see the interior the next morning. I went home and told my Zambian neighbor about it and he said, “What about the front?”. Oh… right. I got so excited about seeing a geyser that I forgot that houses have more than one wall, or at least that they should. He kindly reminded me that houses are like women: sometimes the back can be great, but it’s not until you see the front that you know what you’re getting. What a life lesson, thanks, I’ll hold on to that one. Anyway, I got anxious and went back to take a peak. WOW. If this house were a lady, I’m glad she turned around LOL. The house is surrounded by a barbed wire gate (Peace Corps will be happy) that is mostly covered by nice hedges and the yard has several beautiful trees (I think one may in fact be an orange tree). There is also a really nice front porch… I love front porches! Sure enough the old lady saw me and came over with the keys, and while I told her I was coming in the morning with my supervisor, she told me just to come and look anyway. Holy Moly. If Peace Corps has a clause on houses being too nice, mine probably is against regulation. BIG living room with black tile floors. Two chandeliers. Large kitchen with two refrigerators, microwave. Hot water. Bathtub. Fully furnished. Modern artwork on the walls. Where the heck am I? I don’t think I’m in Maitengwe anymore, Toto. And all for just barely more than the other places we were looking previously. I guess what they say is true, if you want something done right, do it yourself. I’m sure, knowing my luck, that the house will catch on fire and burn to the ground as I am writing this, but if not I think I am due for a very significant upgrade.
Then, of course, came the Peace Corps guilt:
“Kagiso, do you really need such a nice house when you were doing fine in the one you had?”
“Kagiso, how do you feel having this nice place when you’ll be surrounded by mud huts and people boiling water over outdoor fires?”
“Kagiso, why do you like such nice things?”
“Kagiso, now people are going to think you are even more rich that they already do.”
“Kagiso, Kagiso, Kagiso…”
Oh back off already, self! Denying myself black tile flooring and two chandeliers isn’t going to enable me to cure AIDS, and whether I bathe my dirty body in a hot bath or a cold bucket isn’t going to affect the work I do. So why not take advantage of a good opportunity? If anything, two chandeliers will give me better lighting under which to read client files and a hot bath is going to reduce my personal stress and increase my professional productivity during the day… right?!? The way I see it, the whole community benefits.
In all seriousness, it will be nice to be off the clinic compound. While the convenience of living there is great, I have felt fairly removed from the community. Yes, nearly everyone knows my name. But few know me, and I don’t know much about them either. Because my current neighbors are all clinic employees, they are of a different educational background and therefore enjoy a different status and lifestyle. Moving off of the compound, even if to nicer conditions, puts me in the middle of the community and my day-to-day life will be closer to them. The only downside, and it’s a serious one, is my son. His coming to my house every morning is a direct result of my house being adjacent to the orphanage. Because the new house is a good 5+ minutes away from the school in the opposite direction of his home, he is unlikely to come every morning – if even at all. That part pinches, a lot. But, in real terms, I am not far from the orphanage or his house, and am significantly closer than the other houses we looked at.
I am due to move in by 1 March, but based on how things operate here - I'll believe it when I lock my new front door.
I hope all is well at home (even though I've received enough magazines to know that it's not). But, it's not all doom and gloom. Wé're resilient people and we've bounced back from a lot before. As long as there is gas at the pumps and food on the shelves, we're ok. Don't let the media induce too much fear! They thrive on that... I realize that every time I leave the US - that we are so fear-filled, and fear-motivated. Turn off the TV & don't let it get to you!
You would also think that after over a dozen inquiries into why my blog has been silent since December I would have finally updated it, but apparently it took an email from a random unknown individual in Oregon expressing his nostalgia for an update for me to mobilize and write again. So we thank you, Random Unknown Individual in Oregon, for your readership and mobilizing email. It’s amazing how these things get found, passed around, etc.
Anyway, the reasons for the brief hiatus are at least three fold: one, the holiday season kept me away and, like most habits (at least the healthy ones), staying away is easier than going back. Secondly, nothing has really happened since December… or should I say nothing of significance? Or should I say nothing of what seems like significance? Finally, sometimes it’s just a thorn in my side
But anyway here we are. And for those of you who sincerely missed my blog for the past two months, you’re likely to feel satisfied as I am in the mood to make this a long one.
The holidays were spent very low key, mostly around my village and some small time in Francistown, enjoying the luxuries of “urban” life. I really did nothing exciting. My son is still coming every morning, like clockwork, and we have breakfast together. There isn’t a morning that passes that I am not thankful for him. He is such a great way to start the day. He’s grown so much the past 6 months; in part I am sure to the excessive amount of calories I shove down his throat every morning. For those of you who have kids or who want them, I don’t know how you do it. This kid isn’t even my blood, yet watching him grow up pierces me with this twisted pain/pleasure combination that I can’t describe. It’s like you want them to stay that young and innocent forever but you’re also so happy and thankful to see them growing into something they weren’t when you first knew them. He’s learned so much from me, and me from him, and that is really remarkable to witness. He’s significantly less vacant and much more vibrant. But at the same time… ouch, ouch, ouch. Soon he will be so big I wont even be able to carry him to school anymore. And very soon after that, he will be a grown adult in the middle of a very difficult environment, where the bad choices of a generation create cycles of poverty that reproduce a generation that will make bad choices.
On a lighter note, my mother and little sister came to visit me just a few weeks ago! We rented a car (thank God; I missed driving) and spent the first few days in Moleps, where I trained, meeting the host family and some other colleagues of mine who are serving in surrounding areas. It was really nice for my two moms to meet! My real mom (and my favorite one, don’t worry SK…) brought gifts that were certainly enjoyed. Then we spent a few days in my village, where they saw my day-to-day and met my co-workers. I think a few days here was enough haha. It’s interesting because I have become accustomed to such a slow pace of life, which is not at all me in the US. I am a “gas ass,” in the words of my mother, and am always going here and there. But in Africa you learn how to sit still, and how to do nothing without feeling guilty about it, and those lessons take a lot of time. You see, in the US our value is defined by our productivity – if you aren’t producing, you’re useless (i.e. you’re fired). This is logical and acceptable in terms of our intense capitalism, which is a system inherently dependent on growth for survival. However, the problem is this mentality seeps into our mindset as people and we begin to define ourselves by what we do rather than who are are, and you don’t realize things like this until you’re in environments such as these. It’s taken me the whole 10 months I’ve been here to realize why the heck I constantly feel so down: I am under-producing and judging myself for it. And the real irony is, I am the only one noticing. But the fact is, systems are different here, work is different here, time is different here, standards are different here, etc. – and therefore one’s mindset must be too. It takes a lot adjusting, a heck of a lot of patience, a good bit of understanding, and a whole lot of humility.
Anyway, so having two American-mode Americans come and visit an African-mode American was quite exhausting for me, and I think at times very boring for them. Thankfully, once the restlessness set in, we were off to Kasane (KAH-SAH-NEE), which is in the very northeastern part of the country and known for it’s prevalent wildlife. On the road we saw several elephants and some giraffes. (I think a direct quote from my mother, as I was driving 70 mph, was “Giraffes, HOLY SHIT!!!” following by me safely slamming the breaks for a photo op… pictures coming soon, by the way).
Kasane was just breathtaking. We enjoyed a lovely boat ride on the river our first evening where we saw dozens of hippos, baboons, khudu, impala, some crocs, and at least 70 elephants scattered about – eating, bathing, etc. The weather was fabulous and the setting sun and the sky were both indescribable. It was really one of the moments where you’d have be a complete ass to complain about anything; life was just at it’s best on that boat, and moments like that make me wonder why I ever think of leaving this continent (sorry Mom, I know that was not what you were hoping to get out of the ride).
The next day we trekked to Victoria Falls, one of the 7 natural wonders of the world. It wasn’t the best time of the year to do so, as the volume of water was at its highest being the end of the rainy season, making the mist from the falls so intense that you could hardly see the falls themselves. This, coupled with periodic drizzle from the sky, made it feel like it was raining from both above and below (I was reminded of Forest Gump when he is serving in Vietnam and comments on the rain coming from both directions). Consequently the three of us were thoroughly soaked, despite our raincoats (pictures of that, coming soon too). But we had a great time and I think we managed to snap a few decent photos while still preserving the integrity of our cameras. Thank God for plastic bags. We were certainly able to see enough to digest the magnitude of the falls, and hopefully I will have a chance to go back on a sunnier day to see them again. It’s not the drop of the falls that is so remarkable, but for how long they actually extend. It just goes on, and on, and on. Google Image: ‘Victoria Falls’ and you will see for yourself.
So the visit was a success and I’ll look forward to my father and other sister coming at some point late this year.
Meanwhile, I have some news regarding my housing. Since I live in government housing, I am technically ‘entitled’ to a geyser (American translation: hot water heater) in my house free of charge. So I have spent the last 6 months hassling the district on a weekly basis to come and install one for me. It took three months for someone to come and fit it to the wall (they attach them to the wall here), and an additional 3 months to convince them to send an electrician to connect it. Apparently they prefer to train people to do one small task rather than have a do-it-all task force. Excellent. Anyway, the geyser arrived and I was FINALLY enjoying hot water, which is one of the things I always miss most when away from the US. Alas, I felt as if I was content with my living situation – it’s modest, yes, but certainly comfortable now and still well above average when compared to my neighbors. So the next day I go to the clinic and my supervisor tells me, “Kagiso, you are being evicted.” Thaaaaaanks. Sure enough, our ARV clinic opening in March 2008 (which it never did) caused the district to hire 4 extra nurses. I guess “if you build it, they will come” may be true, so long as “build” doesn’t mean “finish”. Anyway, all of the nurses are to live in government housing on the clinic compound so that they are close to the clinic on nights when they are on-call. This is indeed very good logic, I just wish this had transpired a few weeks before I did the Macarena in my newly hot shower. And apparently someone was going to come to my house by the weekend and so my departure was to be soon. Sometimes you feel like nothing good happens fast here but everything bad happens before you’re ready… and in all honesty that’s something you grow to love.
So my supervisor – whom I adore, might I add – had three houses lined up for us to go and see. Impressed with her planning, but slightly offended at being left out of the process, we hopped in the vehicle and went to look at Potential Future Home #1. The house was made of 4 concrete walls, with a concrete floor, and while I didn’t notice – I’d wager that it had a concrete ceiling too. There was a hole in the floor where a toilet might have been or may go later, a pipe with running water outside, and that’s it. I think there may have been a window or two. While this is actually what I pictured when applying to the Peace Corps, when one was just blessed with gift of a geyser, one does not want to be pooing in a shallow hole next to where one eats. (Isn’t there a proverb like that of some sort?) So, Potential Future Home #2: 3 rooms total, 3 external doors, all rooms connecting on the inside (like a cheap hotel). Nice windows, nice exterior… no… kitchen? Yeah. Just three empty concrete rooms and a small, attached bathroom with a toilet & bath (gasp!)… but no water. They can’t figure out why the water won’t run to the house. So the first house had water (outside) but no toilet, the second house had a toilet but no water. I was beginning to feel like I was in the game Clue and was looking for one more piece to the puzzle of why this could not get any funnier. So, Potential Future Home #3: we didn’t see it because the current inhabitant (the owner) was not around, but it’s said to be nice. He’s willing to move out but he wants to keep his computer in the house and use it at his will, because the house he would move to won’t have electricity. I would really rather not be responsible for someone else’s computer in my house, nor would I like to have my landlord keying in unexpectedly to watch God-knows-what at any hour of the day, so I was ok not seeing that one.
Feeling a bit discouraged, and already mourning the loss of my beloved geyser, I told my supervisor: “Give me two hours and I’ll find a house.” So off I went with the help of some of my boys. I met an old lady whose sister owns the house next to hers. From the back it looked big – too big, 3 bedrooms – but I did notice a geyser so I was interested. We phoned the owner (who stays in Francistown) and she agreed to reduce the rent to a reasonable price if I agreed to only use the living areas and one bedroom and allowed her to use the other two bedrooms as storage rooms that would remain locked. That seemed fair enough so she arranged for me to go and see the interior the next morning. I went home and told my Zambian neighbor about it and he said, “What about the front?”. Oh… right. I got so excited about seeing a geyser that I forgot that houses have more than one wall, or at least that they should. He kindly reminded me that houses are like women: sometimes the back can be great, but it’s not until you see the front that you know what you’re getting. What a life lesson, thanks, I’ll hold on to that one. Anyway, I got anxious and went back to take a peak. WOW. If this house were a lady, I’m glad she turned around LOL. The house is surrounded by a barbed wire gate (Peace Corps will be happy) that is mostly covered by nice hedges and the yard has several beautiful trees (I think one may in fact be an orange tree). There is also a really nice front porch… I love front porches! Sure enough the old lady saw me and came over with the keys, and while I told her I was coming in the morning with my supervisor, she told me just to come and look anyway. Holy Moly. If Peace Corps has a clause on houses being too nice, mine probably is against regulation. BIG living room with black tile floors. Two chandeliers. Large kitchen with two refrigerators, microwave. Hot water. Bathtub. Fully furnished. Modern artwork on the walls. Where the heck am I? I don’t think I’m in Maitengwe anymore, Toto. And all for just barely more than the other places we were looking previously. I guess what they say is true, if you want something done right, do it yourself. I’m sure, knowing my luck, that the house will catch on fire and burn to the ground as I am writing this, but if not I think I am due for a very significant upgrade.
Then, of course, came the Peace Corps guilt:
“Kagiso, do you really need such a nice house when you were doing fine in the one you had?”
“Kagiso, how do you feel having this nice place when you’ll be surrounded by mud huts and people boiling water over outdoor fires?”
“Kagiso, why do you like such nice things?”
“Kagiso, now people are going to think you are even more rich that they already do.”
“Kagiso, Kagiso, Kagiso…”
Oh back off already, self! Denying myself black tile flooring and two chandeliers isn’t going to enable me to cure AIDS, and whether I bathe my dirty body in a hot bath or a cold bucket isn’t going to affect the work I do. So why not take advantage of a good opportunity? If anything, two chandeliers will give me better lighting under which to read client files and a hot bath is going to reduce my personal stress and increase my professional productivity during the day… right?!? The way I see it, the whole community benefits.
In all seriousness, it will be nice to be off the clinic compound. While the convenience of living there is great, I have felt fairly removed from the community. Yes, nearly everyone knows my name. But few know me, and I don’t know much about them either. Because my current neighbors are all clinic employees, they are of a different educational background and therefore enjoy a different status and lifestyle. Moving off of the compound, even if to nicer conditions, puts me in the middle of the community and my day-to-day life will be closer to them. The only downside, and it’s a serious one, is my son. His coming to my house every morning is a direct result of my house being adjacent to the orphanage. Because the new house is a good 5+ minutes away from the school in the opposite direction of his home, he is unlikely to come every morning – if even at all. That part pinches, a lot. But, in real terms, I am not far from the orphanage or his house, and am significantly closer than the other houses we looked at.
I am due to move in by 1 March, but based on how things operate here - I'll believe it when I lock my new front door.
I hope all is well at home (even though I've received enough magazines to know that it's not). But, it's not all doom and gloom. Wé're resilient people and we've bounced back from a lot before. As long as there is gas at the pumps and food on the shelves, we're ok. Don't let the media induce too much fear! They thrive on that... I realize that every time I leave the US - that we are so fear-filled, and fear-motivated. Turn off the TV & don't let it get to you!
Saturday, December 6, 2008
And Life Just Keeps on Running
We create the pain and the suffering
And the beauty in this world
Heaven’s here on Earth –
In our faith in humankind
And our respect for what is Earthly
And our unfaltering belief in peace, and love, and understanding.
Ordinary people living ordinary lives
Filled with love, compassion, forgiveness, and sacrifice
Heaven’s in our hearts
I’ve seen spirits, I’ve met angels
Touched creations beautiful and wondrous
I’ve been places where I question all I think I know
And I believe, oh I believe, that this could be heaven
Heaven’s here on Earth
~Tracy Chapman
2 – Outreach & education at bars, workshops, the border, the police station, and community events.
3 – Designing the schedule and curriculum for the daily health talks in the clinic that we have recently begun (and convincing each staff member that she is more than capable to deliver the information well… a massive task in itself. I think the fear of public speaking may be the only absolutely universal fear)
4 – Assisting Maitengwe Home Based Care with all their fund-raising and awareness needs. Eish.
2 – Not comparing
3 – Remembering to check my shoes every day for scorpions
4 – Counting how many times a day I hear donkeys squeal (it makes me laugh EVERY time)
5 – Counting mosquito corpses in the morning
6 – Youth development
7 – A book every two weeks (a major feat for me)
I'm now writing this from
On brighter news, a few of us have started a Teen Club in
If you're interested in writing them letters, sending pictures, etc. that can be arranged - they're city kids so for most of them their English is so-so.
That's all for now - hope you are well!
Sunday, November 23, 2008
Almost at 30%!
“The statistics on sanity are that one out of every four Americans is suffering from some form of mental illness. Think of your three best friends. If they are okay, then it's you.”
-Rita Mae Brown
-Rita Mae Brown
Things are moving along here, quickly. I am still having some minor complications from my surgery as well as a lovely sty on my eye that appeared yesterday morning. Ironically, all of my ailments are or have been on my left side... (Yes, the appendix is on the right side, but the infected scar is on the left). The weather has been alarmingly cool (which to me feels cold). We’ve been getting rain every day for about 8 or 10 days, and the sky is mostly cloudy when it’s not raining. The day temperatures are quite nice, sometimes requiring long sleeves and the nights have actually been requiring blankets. But the greenery has made Maitengwe look like a whole new place – it’s stunning!
We’ve replaced our PMTCT counselor and I am really enjoying my new counterpart. I didn’t realize how excluded I was from a lot of the work until the new girl came in. Our new counselor is 27. Her first child died of unknown causes within the first year, her second child was still-born, her third child was born deaf, and her fourth child was born healthy (so far) – but it was during this final pregnancy that she became HIV positive. Talk about a bad run, eh? So she is currently 87 pounds, and not incredibly short, but has incredible motivation and dedication. I am enjoying working with her.
Assuming the connection is good when I upload this, I’ll put up some random photos from the past few weeks. There are several of the colors the sky makes in the evenings.
I don’t have PhotoShop, not to mention I am not photographer, so pardon the flaws of the photos. There are also some of the kids cooking Nyeza (these small flying cockroach-type bugs) on a fire in my backyard. Yes, I ate some. What did it taste like? A bug covered in salt and oil.
Here's a video of the kids and their homemade foosball table... innovative little boogers aren't they?
Finally, with the help of two old ladies, I build a bench around my lovely tree out of cow dung, dirt, and water. It was quite an experience – we woke up at the crack of dawn and follow cows around the village, as you have to collect the dung when it’s fresh. And with the right proportions of dirt and water, it becomes very hard. I’ll post a photo. Hope you enjoy.
Other than that, not much is new - reading a TON of books and really learning and growing. I could go on forever about the details of our home visits but that may just be a downer lol. I hope you all enjoy Thanksgiving. I’ll be spending it with fellow volunteers; I’m baking cookies and cornbread! Scary, I know…
Wednesday, November 5, 2008
Thursday, October 30, 2008
Hilarious!
I spoiled the election...
Send to your friends, especially those who are not voting!
Brent Keener Spoils Presidential Election
Send to your friends, especially those who are not voting!
Brent Keener Spoils Presidential Election
Rantings & Updates
“When I give money to the poor, they call me a saint. When I ask why the poor have no money, they call me a communist.” — Dom Helda Camara
"Tell me what you think about money, and I can tell you what you think about God." -Billy Graham
I’m back! So the infection isn’t anything to worry about, at least not at this point. However, they want to keep me in Gaborone for a few days for “observation” – completely against my will – but I guess the last experience ruined their trust in my body :)
As for America, I am so glad to not be there right now! Haha. Generally speaking, I miss my country (and leaving it is the best way to realize how much you love it), but my oh my elections bring out the worst in us. Why are Americans so hostile about politics? Why are both sides tearing down signs and yelling and resorting to slimy TV ads? C’mon guys, really. Our country so immature in this regard. Both sides consistently resort to emotion-based campaigning rather arguments based on logic, facts, or reason. Barack, with his pretty adjectives and poetic prose and McCain with his never-ending suggestions that if - you - vote - for - the - socialist - black - Muslim - we’re - going - to - be - the - next - Syria - because - the - A - Rabs - will - take - over. It’s ridiculous. And what’s even more ridiculous is how people fall for it, on both sides. How many people can lay out reasons, based on policy, why they support or do not support a candidate? Too few. Too many are voting for Obama because they hate Bush, and even more are voting for McCain because they are scared of Obama (which, let’s be honest – a lot of that stems from his color and his name. A recent NEWSWEEK poll showed that a large number Americans STILL think he is Muslim. C’mon people – he met his Muslim father ONCE in his life, and was mostly raised by his Christian [and white, if that matters to you] grandparents.)
But, wow, the Republicans are really fumbling aren’t they? They’re like a cube of ice on a hot stove – sliding in the wake of their own mess. Unfortunately, in my opinion, their whole school of thought has our country in a very uncomfortable place. Corporations are becoming more powerful than the Government (many of them are so rich they could BUY countries if they wanted to… is that where we want our future? Wal-Mart buying Bangladesh?), poverty in the US is at it’s highest in decades while our global reputation is at its lowest – even among European states, who have historically been our closest allies. Even internally, our divisions are becoming hostile. And, to me, the current administration’s largest shame is how dichotomized they’ve made us – how at one point you couldn’t criticize the war and still call yourself patriotic, how you can’t support talks with Iran without being a terrorist-appealer, how you can’t try to mediate the fact that the rich are getting richer and the poor are getting poorer without being a socialist, how if you say you are embarrassed at some of our country’s behavior that somehow means you are un-American or un-patriotic, and how you can’t possibly believe in God and vote Democratic. It’s a shame really. Manufacturers are losing jobs to China, India, etc. so that the big dogs can make a bigger profit – and that’s all very ironic, since these small-town people tend to vote Republican, when that party overwhelming encourages and makes it easier for outsourcing to occur. Same with small-town farmers – they tend to vote Republican when that party – particularly this administration – has favored ‘factory’ farms over Farmer Joe.
And I know a lot of people are weary about having such a ‘radical’ candidate running for office, but it’s merely a response to 8 years of radicalism from the right. When you have 8 years of total disregard for separation of powers, checks and balances, and even international law, you’re bound to have an opposition candidate with a more multilateral view of the world.
“If this were a dictatorship, it would be a heck of a lot easier, just so long as I'm the dictator” -George W. Bush, December 2000
But, I guess our country suffers from the same tension that most places do, and the same tension that we endure as individuals – the painful tension of trying to move forward while at the same time holding on to what we were.
“I look at my environment and wonder where the fire went – what happened to everything we used to be?” -Lauryn Hil
Anyway, a lot has been going on at the clinic. My good friend, and the person with whom I work the most closely, is being forced to step down. She is our PMTCT counselor, is HIV-positive, and she has become pregnant (upon accepting her job, she was required to sign a document saying that she will not become pregnant). Since she is HIV-positive and part of her job is to discourage positive women from becoming pregnant, in the Government’s eyes her pregnancy is hypocritical and therefore unacceptable. I have mixed feelings on the issue. In my opinion, the sole purpose of PMTCT is so that women can live a normal life – i.e. become pregnant and still have HIV-negative babies. Additionally, telling HIV-positive women that they should not have babies essentially means the Government is discouraging more than 50% of Botswana’s women from becoming pregnant. And in many developing countries, economic growth is strongly correlated to (or at least heavily influenced by) population growth. Consequently, the issue is quite complex and I see both sides’ arguments. But of course, on a personal level, I am quite disappointed.
The rains have come! Well, just once, but it’s a start. And when it rains here, it isn’t a drizzle – it’s like gray sheets of water slamming down from the sky… so enjoyable, unless you’re in transit. The negative side of the rain, of course, is that now is when all the creatures come out to play. So mosquitoes and bugs in general have been worse, and snakes and scorpions are rearing their ugly heads. A snake has been slithering its way around the clinic compound at night, which is worrying many people as the tracks are quite large. Our doctor killed one at his house last week, and the theory goes that once you kill one the others start to come. Many of the snakes in this area are quite harmless, but Botswana is home to some of the world’s deadliest, including adders. So it may be a long rainy season.
My ‘son’ is doing ok – he and his younger brother are still consistently underweight when they come in for their monthly weigh-ins, but not much seems to be happening as a result. His father is doing very well and has been exceptionally pleasant lately. I’m trying to build a positive relationship with him so that when my Kalanga is good enough, I can politely request he bring the kids in for testing without him wanting to kill me. Wish me luck on that! Having your kids tested seems like Parenting 101 to us, but a lot of men – self included – tend to avoid medical settings at all cost, and of course culture plays a large role here.
"Tell me what you think about money, and I can tell you what you think about God." -Billy Graham
I’m back! So the infection isn’t anything to worry about, at least not at this point. However, they want to keep me in Gaborone for a few days for “observation” – completely against my will – but I guess the last experience ruined their trust in my body :)
As for America, I am so glad to not be there right now! Haha. Generally speaking, I miss my country (and leaving it is the best way to realize how much you love it), but my oh my elections bring out the worst in us. Why are Americans so hostile about politics? Why are both sides tearing down signs and yelling and resorting to slimy TV ads? C’mon guys, really. Our country so immature in this regard. Both sides consistently resort to emotion-based campaigning rather arguments based on logic, facts, or reason. Barack, with his pretty adjectives and poetic prose and McCain with his never-ending suggestions that if - you - vote - for - the - socialist - black - Muslim - we’re - going - to - be - the - next - Syria - because - the - A - Rabs - will - take - over. It’s ridiculous. And what’s even more ridiculous is how people fall for it, on both sides. How many people can lay out reasons, based on policy, why they support or do not support a candidate? Too few. Too many are voting for Obama because they hate Bush, and even more are voting for McCain because they are scared of Obama (which, let’s be honest – a lot of that stems from his color and his name. A recent NEWSWEEK poll showed that a large number Americans STILL think he is Muslim. C’mon people – he met his Muslim father ONCE in his life, and was mostly raised by his Christian [and white, if that matters to you] grandparents.)
But, wow, the Republicans are really fumbling aren’t they? They’re like a cube of ice on a hot stove – sliding in the wake of their own mess. Unfortunately, in my opinion, their whole school of thought has our country in a very uncomfortable place. Corporations are becoming more powerful than the Government (many of them are so rich they could BUY countries if they wanted to… is that where we want our future? Wal-Mart buying Bangladesh?), poverty in the US is at it’s highest in decades while our global reputation is at its lowest – even among European states, who have historically been our closest allies. Even internally, our divisions are becoming hostile. And, to me, the current administration’s largest shame is how dichotomized they’ve made us – how at one point you couldn’t criticize the war and still call yourself patriotic, how you can’t support talks with Iran without being a terrorist-appealer, how you can’t try to mediate the fact that the rich are getting richer and the poor are getting poorer without being a socialist, how if you say you are embarrassed at some of our country’s behavior that somehow means you are un-American or un-patriotic, and how you can’t possibly believe in God and vote Democratic. It’s a shame really. Manufacturers are losing jobs to China, India, etc. so that the big dogs can make a bigger profit – and that’s all very ironic, since these small-town people tend to vote Republican, when that party overwhelming encourages and makes it easier for outsourcing to occur. Same with small-town farmers – they tend to vote Republican when that party – particularly this administration – has favored ‘factory’ farms over Farmer Joe.
And I know a lot of people are weary about having such a ‘radical’ candidate running for office, but it’s merely a response to 8 years of radicalism from the right. When you have 8 years of total disregard for separation of powers, checks and balances, and even international law, you’re bound to have an opposition candidate with a more multilateral view of the world.
“If this were a dictatorship, it would be a heck of a lot easier, just so long as I'm the dictator” -George W. Bush, December 2000
But, I guess our country suffers from the same tension that most places do, and the same tension that we endure as individuals – the painful tension of trying to move forward while at the same time holding on to what we were.
“I look at my environment and wonder where the fire went – what happened to everything we used to be?” -Lauryn Hil
Anyway, a lot has been going on at the clinic. My good friend, and the person with whom I work the most closely, is being forced to step down. She is our PMTCT counselor, is HIV-positive, and she has become pregnant (upon accepting her job, she was required to sign a document saying that she will not become pregnant). Since she is HIV-positive and part of her job is to discourage positive women from becoming pregnant, in the Government’s eyes her pregnancy is hypocritical and therefore unacceptable. I have mixed feelings on the issue. In my opinion, the sole purpose of PMTCT is so that women can live a normal life – i.e. become pregnant and still have HIV-negative babies. Additionally, telling HIV-positive women that they should not have babies essentially means the Government is discouraging more than 50% of Botswana’s women from becoming pregnant. And in many developing countries, economic growth is strongly correlated to (or at least heavily influenced by) population growth. Consequently, the issue is quite complex and I see both sides’ arguments. But of course, on a personal level, I am quite disappointed.
The rains have come! Well, just once, but it’s a start. And when it rains here, it isn’t a drizzle – it’s like gray sheets of water slamming down from the sky… so enjoyable, unless you’re in transit. The negative side of the rain, of course, is that now is when all the creatures come out to play. So mosquitoes and bugs in general have been worse, and snakes and scorpions are rearing their ugly heads. A snake has been slithering its way around the clinic compound at night, which is worrying many people as the tracks are quite large. Our doctor killed one at his house last week, and the theory goes that once you kill one the others start to come. Many of the snakes in this area are quite harmless, but Botswana is home to some of the world’s deadliest, including adders. So it may be a long rainy season.
My ‘son’ is doing ok – he and his younger brother are still consistently underweight when they come in for their monthly weigh-ins, but not much seems to be happening as a result. His father is doing very well and has been exceptionally pleasant lately. I’m trying to build a positive relationship with him so that when my Kalanga is good enough, I can politely request he bring the kids in for testing without him wanting to kill me. Wish me luck on that! Having your kids tested seems like Parenting 101 to us, but a lot of men – self included – tend to avoid medical settings at all cost, and of course culture plays a large role here.
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