When Naked Isn't Naked Enough

Before we get into what promises to be a wildly entertaining and masterfully written blog post, I would like to say that I am well aware that I could have been posted in a country that has even higher temperatures in the summer...but I tell you what, it certainly doesn’t feel that way right now.

Right now it feels like I am in the butt crack of the earth, if the earth had been sitting on a tour bus of the grand canyon for the past 4 hours...in June...after the air conditioning gave out. Look at my candle:

Wanna know why my candle looks like that? It looks like that because it’s sad that it has to live in Botswana in the summer. But seriously, it was straight when I bought it and looked like that when I got home today which should be some indication of the heat (or possibly the quality of candles in Africa.)

People, I am a northern girl. I was born and raised in Michigan and when normal families went south for the winter, we spent New Years Eve in Canada because Ann Arbor just ain’t cold enough. I see salt and I wonder where the nearest icy driveway is, I see a big hill and I wonder how fast I could sled down it, I don’t have issues driving in anything less than four feet of snow and flip flops are perfectly acceptable in 20 degree weather.

So African summer pretty much makes me want to peel off my skin because naked isn’t naked enough.

Zo: you get to meet this dude when I come home

It’s so hot here that the water coming out of my tap is warm, and stays that way. I seriously considered putting my bucket into the fridge before bathing the other day, or maybe just bathing in the fridge...What kills me is that it never cools down, there is nowhere to hide; my roof is made of tin so that even at night my house still radiates heat. My landlady has taken to sleeping outside which would be great if we didn’t have the Discovery Channel running around everywhere:

Couldn't save this guy from my cat :(

killed this sucker and then trapped him under a yogurt cup for a month

Just chillin in the sink...

Mr Squiggles had babies!

Mr. Squiggles :) My suicidal bathroom lizard

       

There have been so many beetles out lately, that there were beetles eating beetles the other day. If cannibalistic bugs can’t help from eating their own kind, what do you think they will do to me? Not to mention it would seem as if November is donkey mating season and the amorous trysts of the locals have been incredibly loud, and that is with a concrete wall between them and myself.

So what is a girl to do aside sit around and pray for winter? I don't know if this post is going to have some sort of point, so I am just going to leave it at that for now. It is hot, my brain is all melty and whatnot, and for some reason or another I am going north to the Delta for Thanksgiving, which just means I'm going to spend 8hrs on a bus to get closer to the equator...because I'm an idiot. 

Much love, stay cool, 

Claire   

Me looking sad and oh-so-very attractive with my frozen water bottle (this is what I image my candle would look like if it were a person)

Dehydration

There is a lot in my life that I have learned to appreciate due to my time here in Botswana. I have learned to appreciate personal cars by having to ride in over crowded, over heated kombis, or through hitching in the back of trucks with basadi bogolos. I have learned to appreciate different types of foods, and the ease of access that we have to them in the US, by eating some variation of rice/lentils/pasta and beans/carrots/cabbage for weeks on end. I have learned to appreciate different languages and those that are able to speak many of them, by struggling through conversations and meetings in Setswana.

But there is nothing I appreciate more, at this very moment, than the precious gift of water and all that comes with it.

Last Friday, sometime in the afternoon, my water went out. This is not an entirely shocking occurrence in Botswana, and it is not my first time experiencing this in Ramokgonami. In fact, one of the first warnings I ever received from my co-workers is that I should be careful to store up enough water because shortages are a part of life here. This means that on any given day in my house I have my entire filter (about a gallon) full, 5 wine bottles, 3 two liters, 1 five gallon camping drum and at least a bucket full of water. This is rotated occasionally in order to make sure things don't start to get moldy and is used for drinking, doing dishes, washing clothing, or flushing the toilet.

Anyways, I wasn't too alarmed when the water went out, I had plenty stored up and would be just fine...

3 days later

The water is still not back on and I have come to find out that it isn't because there isn't any water in the village, but because there is a burst pipe in our ward and in order to fix it they have had to shut off the system. I have just had five volunteer friends stay the night for a poker weekend (which turned into a cooking, drinking and talking weekend, which happens quite often with Peace Corps events) and even though they brought a few more two liters and a big 2 gallon jug, we still had to make a trip to the community pump on the other side of the village in order to have enough to flush the toilet on the second day. When I say "flush"I don't mean plural, we trekked the village so that we could flush once.

I waved off their offers to help with the dishes, thinking that there was no way that the water wouldn't come back on the next day since the longest I've gone without at this point is about 72 hours. Besides, dirty dish water is supposed to double as a way to fill the toilet tank, and the water I used to boil the potatoes, is ine for then washing the pot they were cooked in. I'm getting a little nervous but am not too freaked, I am a Peace Corps Volunteer after all...

2 days later

The dishes are still in my bath tub, I am on my last pair of clean underwear and I have taken to flipping my socks inside out in order to get double use out of them. The whole "if it's yellow let it mellow, if it's brown flush it down" rule is now one of the ten commandments since half the water I am lugging back from the clinic goes straight into my toilet tank because I am a total wuss and still have refused to use the pit latrine. I actually took a trip to my shopping village in order to use another volunteer's shower because I haven't washed my hair or my body in nearly a week and I started waking up in the middle of the night thinking I had bugs on me, only to realize it was just my own grime shifting. I can smell myself...I mean really smell myself.

And then, this morning, something magical happens. I walk into the bathroom to find my faucet dripping! No victory dance, in the history of victory dances, has anything on the jubilant celebration I did in my bathroom but a few hours ago. Not only that, but take a look at the water I was celebrating about:

Yeah, that's right, this ain't yo momma's sweet tea, this is the water that is currently coming out of my tap...have you ever seen something more beautiful in your life?

Luckily for me I have my trusty filter to get me through and after refilling every possible basin, bucket and booze bottle I could get my hands on, I am ready to go in case I return from work to find it out again.

So the next time you turn on a tap and crystal clear, wonderous H2O flows forth into your cup/sink/shower/toilet just remember, not everyone has that luxury, and it is not something to be taken for granted.

Rata Thata,

Claire   

Quickie

Hello Interwebs, 

I just wanted to write up a quick post and thank everyone for the overwhelming love that I received on "Chunky Dunkin." It was a piece of writing I was really proud of and the fact that it got such a wonderful reception gives me confidence to keep writing...maybe for the long run? I also wanted to let you know that I am not ignoring you wonderful people, but just that I am writing a novel right now for National Novel Writing Month. I am on page 22 and have 11,735 words down. 

The book is about pirate queens...lesbian pirate queens. 

Take a moment, read it again, laugh hysterically. Since this is my first time around the block I didn't want to take on any of the much deeper topics and plot lines I have stored up in my "Novel Ideas" file on the desktop. I need something I can pound out 50,000 words for in a month, which means no editing, and no going back once a page is written. I picked something that I thought I could have fun with, without over thinking it. Thus, lesbian pirate queens. I have no doubt the movie rights will be snatched up immediately *giggle*

Hugs and smooches, 
Claire

Chunky Dunkin: A Fat Girl’s Guide to the Peace Corps

The credit for the title of this little piece goes to my good friend Jenn who is back state side. Jenn introduced me to the idea that women of our...magnitude, don’t “skinny dip,” we “chunky dunk.” Thanks Jenn! I realize this post may come off as a little self deprecating, but seeing as NaNoWriMo starts today (if you don’t know what this is there is a link at the bottom of the page), which means I might not be posting as much this month, and that this is a topic I have wanted to cover for a while, I thought now or never!

In order to promote complete transparency while simultaneously creating a space of intimacy, I’m going to start off with some personal details. I am a 23 year old, size 16, 230lb, female. WHOA! That was cathartic, now if you think that is unhealthy (which I am sure some of you are) just think about the fact that had I posted this at the beginning of my service the sentence would have been: “I am a 22 year old, size 18, 250lb, female.” I’ve lost about 20lbs since joining Peace Corps and my hope is that I lose another 30lb before this whole jig is up. Weight is something I have struggled with my entire life, and even at my most fit while rowing for Michigan State and working out 10+ hours a week, I was somewhere in the 240 range. Mind you, I could probably leg press the majority of the people reading these posts, and I could certainly kick your butt on the water.

Taking that into account, I never thought my weight would be an issue when it came to joining Peace Corps. Hell, Peace Corps was going to get me outside of the US; and once I figured out I was going to Africa, I figured I was all set! In my head I thought: African women look more like me, African society appreciates a little extra cushion for the pushin, Africa is going to be awesome because I will finally be living in a place that doesn’t worship the kind of woman I will never be; skinny. And then the paperwork arrived...

There are some special hoops a plus sized individual gets to jump through prior to even getting on the plane when it comes to the PC application process. The first is that, since my BMI sent up a red flag, I had to assure Washington that I was fit enough to serve. I believe the questionnaire asked something along the lines of whether or not I could: “carry a bag of groceries up a flight of stairs.” I filled this paper work out after a 5:30am, 2 hour rowing practice and nearly laughed my head off. At that point I was doing cardio workouts 6 days a week, and weight work outs an additional 2 days. Though I did have to bow out of running steps with my teammates due to an ankle injury, that time was replaced with ergging. For those of you that have never erged, go try it out at your local gym and let me know what you think.

Alright, so the paperwork is filled out, I’ve convinced PC I’m fit to serve, and I’m on my way to Africa! Let us take a moment to explore the forethought that needs to go into the packing of overweight luggage (get it? Because I’m overweight...and sometimes people pack too much...get it?) I was leaving for Botswana in April, which means that I was arriving in the beginning of winter for southern Africa. We are talking jeans and long sleeve weather. This period only lasts till around September though, after which is gets incredibly hot and horrible. Repeat after me: chub rub. Chub rub is that horrible chaffing that goes down when you are sweaty and your bits and pieces are rubbin together. This is something the majority of people experience but it is extra pleasant for a plumper person. I throw out jeans, not because there are holes in the knees, but because there are holes in the thighs. I CAN NOT wear skirts without some type of shorts underneath because my legs will stick together and chafe raw.

In addition to this there are what I like to call “hoover undergarments” that must be considered (unless of course you are the woman below.) These are the wonderful items that a lady puts on, in order to suck those rolling hills of fat into curvaceous contoured curves and turn her muffin top into a slim jim. Most women have these, and there are especially needed for professional or formal situations; if you are heafty you just have to bring more of them. My answer to this was actually to bring every pair of spandex shorts I own; they are comfortable, I can fit them under stuff to smooth me out, I can put them under jeans when the thigh holes have rendered them indecent, and I was used to wearing them all the time for rowing.

Lastly, the more weight you are carrying, the more heat you retain due not only to your mass but to the fact that you are physically baring down with extra pounds on your body. This causes sweating as you may or may not know. I have always been a plus pound person of unparalleled perspiration, who is persistently peering at her pits to prevent unpleasant precipitations. I’m in an alliteration kind of mood today, forgive me. This could be due to that fact that I’m plus sized, or it could be because of the sneaking suspicion I have that I’m a victim of hyper-hydrosis. Either way, my answer to this problem was to not bring antiperspirant. I am going to sweat through anything and everything, with or without smearing aluminum on my armpits. That being the case, why not give it up for two years and bank some anti-cancer credit?

Finally I got to Botswana, the land of luscious ladies (okay last one, I swear) and I figure I am in the clear. WRONG. Though I am still of the firm belief that for the most part Botswana is friendlier to a larger person, this concept is slowly leaking out of the culture. My land lady in constantly telling me I need to go “gymming” so that I can be “slim”, one of my co-workers at the clinic, upon hearing that I had lost almost 9kg, said that was good since when I first came I was so big that she thought I was a man in a skirt, and for the first couple weeks people in the village thought I was the last volunteer but that she had just gotten “very fat fat.” The difference between people saying that here and people saying it back home is that people here aren’t trying to be rude or malicious.

I have received each one of the above comments, in some form or another, in the states during my life time. I was chased around a restaurant when I was younger by a friend’s brother’s hockey team being called a “tub of lard.” There was no kindness in their words, no want for me to be healthy, no level of acceptance; all of which I find here. Though “fat” isn’t the compliment it once was in Botswana, it is not a hurling insult either, it’s just a statement of physical fact, like saying someone’s eyes are blue, or that they are wearing a sweater. People call themselves fat, they call strangers fat, and they call loved ones fat; the quicker you pick up that this is a minor cultural difference and that your neighbors love you pound for pound, the happier you will be as a big person in Peace Corps.

As I get older I find that I love myself and my body more and more each year. Though it is still a work in progress, I find that I accept whatever stage of tuning I happen to be in, more so than I did in my teens. Peace Corps is just one step I have taken in the long journey that I walk in my own skin. Your body is your primary mode of transport no matter where you are, and being slimmer would have its own set of issues here as well. Learn to love it, because there are more important challenges to tackle and when push comes to shove the only person you need to square with at the end of the day will be looking at you in the mirror.  

Rata Thata,

Claire

ps: ww.nanowrimo.org, and I will post pictures to this later

Dear Botswana

Dear Botswana,

Today, on my walk back from work, you blessed my village with one of your finest rarities; an African rainstorm. I don’t think I could have walked any slower, nor received more odd glances from my neighbors as I stuck my tongue out and grinned like an idiot. J You see I equate rain with home. When I see rain, I think storms over lakes, Michigan thunder, and the creek in my back yard flooding along with any other of the countless wonderful memories that I have from my beautiful state. And as I did my best to get as caught as I could in glorious waves of pula, I couldn’t help but feel like I was home. As the clouds rolled in, and the lightning flashed above me, I laughed out loud and threw my head back to take it all in. It was beautiful and I would be lying to say that the only thing dampening my face was the rain.

Botswana, I miss Michigan so badly sometimes. I miss the lakes, I miss the fall, I miss football games and tailgating, I miss sweatshirts and snow, I miss sledding and good beer (no offense.) I miss walking down Main Street, or driving a car, or going out to dinner. I miss karaoke at The Arena, movie nights at Phoenix, and uni parties at 404. And most importantly I miss the people that were at those places and celebrating those things with me; those wonderful people, without whom my life would not be as bright (you know who you are.) I miss my family and my friends, and my dog.

But Botswana you trick me, because just when I’m thinking of all the reasons I should go, you remind me of the reasons I need to stay. You remind me of the little kids that run full throttle out of their yards to give me a high five, or the jokes that the clinic ladies and I share. You remind me of my preschool students who are so close to learning the entire “heads, shoulders, knees and toes” song, and the basadi bogolos who come to the clinic and listen to health talks on HIV/AIDS. You remind me of the fact that every car going my way as I walked home today in the rain offered me a ride, despite the fact that I didn’t personally know any of them. You remind me of the wonderful volunteers I never would have met if I hadn’t come, and how the work they are doing inspires me everyday to be that much better so I deserve to be in their company.

Because when I go home, that will be the stuff I’m going to miss.  

Botswana you are one crazy lady to date, and the insane schizophrenic tango that we dance everyday could drive a person to madness; but when you aren't stepping on my toes, pulling out my hair, and ripping my dress, man do we look good together.

So I think I will stick around for another rain storm or two and see how this all ends up. I was warned that you would be the hardest job I ever loved, and you certainly seem to be holding up your end of the deal.

Thanks for the shower sweet cheeks.

Rata Thata,

Claire

A BIG shout out to my grandmother, who sent crayons, markers and coloring books to my preschoolers. :)

The World is My Sandbox

As of late I have been a terrible blogger, and I apologize for my lack of correspondence on this page. I am going to try and make up for it by filling you in on the last few weeks. This is going to be a long post, and I will try and insert some pretty pictures in order to keep you entertained J

Let us start off with my trip to the salt pans over Botswana Independence! A few weeks back a bunch of us realized that we had a vacation day coming up and that since those don’t come around every month, we needed to take advantage and go somewhere cool. There are about a billion cool destination spots within Botswana to take advantage of and therefore no shortage of places to go. This time around we decided to head to the Makgadikgadi Salt Pans.

On a map of Botswana you might mistake the pans for a second smaller delta, and a few generations ago you might have been right. The pans used to be a giant lake that dried up; though the water is no longer there, the deposits that rested at the bottom of the lake are.

When those deposits turn into a salty crust they look like this:   

and it breaks off in chunks that look like this:                                 

And when it gets all over your face it looks like this:                    

                                                                                                 Think of it as a salt pan farmer’s tan. 

Anyways the vacation weekend included camping out under the stars in a child’s tent I bought from Sefolana (a general store), cooking over an open fire (I can make veggie chili just as tasty without a stove top), walking around 2,000 year old baobab trees, meeting loads of cool people that were also touring around, and spent countless hours swimming in the pool and sunbathing with some of the coolest people ever. The campsite we stayed at was called Planet Baobab, and I would highly suggest it to anyone interested in pans camping that happens to be in Botswana...which I am sure is a ton of you.

You might have gathered based on the name that the site had Baobabs all over the place. I don’t know if you have ever stood under a tree that is thousands of years old but it was one of the most humbling experiences of my life. This big, towering, beautiful life force has been around for so much longer than I have, and will be around for so much longer after I am gone, after everyone who is reading this is gone, and our children, and our children’s children are gone. 

Think of what the world looked like when this tree was small:

That is my friend Lindsay standing next to one of the larger ones that were on the site. It gives you an idea of how big these things really are. We got up at the crack of butt in order to get sunrise pictures of them. I will try and get some of her better ones since my little point and shoot camera couldn't really do the scene justice. For sure on my life list of things I need as a committed nomad is a good camera and it might be something I “invest” in with my readjustment allowance

All in all it was a wonderful weekend, good times paired with even better company. At the end of the weekend we packed up our tents, gathered our pots and pans and hitched back to Nata, the closest big village. Lindsay, Hollis, Mignon and I were able to catch a ride in a thatch truck, which was a total delight where hitches are concerned.

While everyone was heading back to their homes, I was traveling south and slowly making my way to Kanye. I would like to give a big shout out to Jada and her mother for being wonderful hosts and letting me stay a night in Mahalapye. It totally makes sense that someone as wonderful as Jada would have an equally fabulous mother. J

The next stop in Claire’s whirlwind tour of half of Botswana was Kanye to meet the fabulous newbies of Bots 13. As you may have picked up from the post under this one, I am a big fan of the trainees that made their way here in September, and it’s not only because the Bots 12 are no longer the new kids on the block. The group is full of smart, funny, and overwhelmingly female people. I don’t know what it is about Botswana that Peace Corps Washington seems to interpret as needing women, but this new group has even less men than ours did. Out of 40 some volunteers there are 4 men; 2 whom are married, one in the 50+ group and one in the 20 something bracket.

Back on track, I was at the Bots 13 PST in order to help PCMO (PC Medical Office) give a presentation on tropical diseases and parasites or, as I like to call it, poop and bugs. It wasn't so much the poop and bugs that were the real point of the presentation though it was more making sure you take care of yourself and avoid situations where you might be exposed to things like schistosomiasis, malaria, scabies or ring worm. Instead of doing the standard ‘break into groups and analyze these case studies’ I decided to do a Jeopardy type dealio and then did what any popular presenter should do to win over an audience...I promised them candy.

It was a successful presentation and I got to meet these wonderful new people that, in a few months, will swear in and become fellow volunteers. I wish them a ton of luck getting through the rest of PST, and I want to thank them so much for the warm reception upon meeting them. Can’t wait to come visit everybody at their new villages!

Finally I was on my way home to Ramokgonami, and after two days so were two Bots 13 trainees. For those of you not so familiar with the PST training regimen that every volunteer must go through before swear in. Part of this whole horse and pony show is following a currently serving volunteer around for a week. I was twice as lucky and received two shadowees due to some last second budgetary issues and we had a kick booty time! Chiara and Lisset were fabulous shadows and I could not have asked for better. We walked the village, hung out with my coworkers and friends and had a wonderful tour of the junior secondary school.

Going to take another moment to thank you two wonderful people for being fabulous guests, incredible conversationalists and patient individuals willing to listen to me gab because I wasn't used to having English speakers in my house for such a long period of time; you are both tremendous and I look forward to future visits on both our parts.

Alright, so finally I am home, and I can focus on my work, right? FALSE! I show up to work Monday to discover that one of my coworkers has tested positive for TB, this of course coincides with a cold that I had developed sometime on Saturday. For those of you that know me, I want you to put this together, I give presentation on disease (which included TB), I am tired after a few weeks of bouncing around, I find out someone I spend a lot of time with has TB...I am dramatic...therefore, say it with me people, I must have TB. I take Tuesday off because I am spewing phlegm everywhere and Tuesdays are my work with the preschoolers day. Wednesday I take a half day and Thursday I have a fun conversation with PCMO about another medical issue that had come up that morning.

The PCMO decides I need to come into Gabs which means, yet again, I am leaving my village. Here is where I fill you in about this. I did not come here to bop around the country, I came here to help the community that I was placed in. Now, not only was I blessed with a job I am passionate about, I was blessed with a community that I also love and care about. I have been here for a little over 6 months, and in Rams for a little over 4 months, which means I haven’t gotten to the point where I can leave my community and still feel super ingrained even if it’s only for a few days. I feel like I have to catch up and re-ingrain.   

I don’t want this to come off as me being mad at medical, it is more that I am frustrated with how often I have had to leave my community in the last few weeks.

At the end of the day everything is fine now, and I am back in Rams and I am doing the work I came here to do. Life as a PCV was never going to be consistent so I guess it is just another step in the learning curve to be dealing with this kind of thing.

Hugs and smooches,

Claire

p.s. sorry for the abrupt ending, limited net time and I wanted to make sure I posted something, more later for sure!     

Bots 13 PST

This isn't going to be a long post, but I promise a better one within the next week. Met Bots 13 for the first time yesterday, and I must say that the wonderfully high standard of the Botswana Peace Corps Volunteers has been met. :)

Rata Thata,
Claire 

Feedback

Thoughts on white text versus grey text for the posts? Have been getting some complaints about visibility. Also, please check out www.3rdgoal.blogspot.com and let me know what you think! Its a website I'm trying to get off the ground that will let volunteers write mini lesson plans to kids back home in the US. Not much there right now but its going to get going!

Rata Thata,
Claire 

A Thank You To Tech

Dear Technology,

I think it is high time I tip my hat to you and my only regret is that it took me so long to do so. You see, I was one of "those people"; those people who thought that maybe the world was getting ahead of itself, that we needed to spend less time in front of screens and more time running out of screen doors and into the wild blue yonder, that we needed to slow down and stop focusing so much of our energy into technological advance, and maybe I was right in thinking all of those things... but then I left America.

You see not everyone in the world has gotten to the point that we, as Americans, have reached. Not everyone knows how to use a computer, or turn one on, or even what one looks like. Not everyone has a television, or spends all their time attached to a game console or a black berry, or an iPad. Sometimes the true beauty of technology can only come out when you live in a place where it is not an overwhelming presence. Kind of like how you don't know how wonderful a lake is until you are in a place that doesn't have any water.

At this point in the letter I would like to introduce you to some people: these are the kids at the village preschool and twice a week, on Tuesdays and Thursdays, I go in and teach their class for about an hour. To give you an idea of how that works, let me fill you in on what we learned today.

Today I went in and we reviewed parts of the body by singing "Head, Shoulders, Knees and Toes" a few times in English and then singing the Setswana equivalent called "Tlohko." We played a game that went over body parts not mentioned in either song and then danced around the classroom for a bit.  After that, I brought out my laptop, and used a wonderful little piece of software that allows me to download youtube videos, to show them an educational clip that has pictures of different animals and their young, with a lady that has a British accent, stating out loud each one. I played the video through once and then on the second go around had them act out each animal around the room and make the noise that, that animal makes. In order to really push the point home I plugged in my hard drive, and showed them the beginning scene of "The Lion King", pausing occasionally to ask them which animals were on the screen and what noises they made.

This is what makes technology beautiful, this is what makes technology wonderful, this is what technology should be used for. Sure, I could have taught the entire class without the use of my laptop, and in previous years, and in different sites currently, that is what any PCV would have had to do. The kids still would have learned and they still would have had a good time, but they wouldn't have seen an animated version of their country (I'm pretty sure the setting of The Lion King is a mix between Botswana and Tanzania.) And when I teach them about fish on Thursday, if I didn't have access to technology I wouldn't be able to show them a clip from "Finding Nemo" or even a picture of what a clown fish looks like.

If I didn't have technology I wouldn't be able to skype with my friends and family at home, but more importantly I wouldn't be able to set up a skype conversations between 4th graders here and 4th graders in the US. I wouldn't be able to check my facebook, but I also wouldn't be able to help a co-worker at the clinic sign up for online classes. I wouldn't be able to write this blog, and I also wouldn't be able to write www.3rdgoal.blogspot.com which is the other blog I run for classrooms of kids in the US to learn about Botswana.

So thank you technology, thank you for helping me educate, communicate, and postulate these types of thoughts. I haven't even touched all the many wonders you accomplish when it comes to health care or science or travel, but we will save that for another time. 

Love, Claire

P.S. Thank you also for creating things like spaghetti seasoning in a pouch that can be sent to me along with ipod speakers, cumin, crystal light, a day planner and a wonderful card from fabulous people like my cousin Alex. He is the shiz nit and I wish him many many fat cakes. :)

Hot Showers and Sunglasses

So I was thinking, and I came up with a really good idea (which happens more often than you would think.) Anyways, my idea was that every time someone sends me a care package, I am going to post a picture of me posing with some of its contents. This way I can give an awesome shout out to all you fabulous people who send me care packages, and I can also entice everyone else to send me stuff too! But really, I want this to be more of a thank you to those that take the time to send me packages, I know it isn’t cheap, and yall are awesome.

The first shout out goes to my good friend Rune! Thank you so much for the candy, magazines, arts and crafts and bad ass sunglasses! Your wedding was dope, your service to our country is honorable and you are the bomb diggity. May your life be full of many fat cakes.

I know there have been a ton of packages prior to this one so I also want to thank Mom and Dad, Aunt Martha, Grandy and Grandpa, Grandma and Grandpa, Aunt Beth and Uncle Bill, Mom and Dad again, and Mom, Dad, Zoe and Adam. If I have forgotten someone, please message me and let me know, it was not intentional, and I am thankful to all of you.

Moving on, I know everyone is wondering how IST went, so here is the scoop home skillets. I was in Gaborone for close to two weeks in order to attend In-Service Training. What IST entails is a lot of recap of what we went over in PST as well as additional language lessons, information on filling out paper work for Peace Corps, and a few insightful lectures on grant applications, and possible programs we can run in our communities. The more important thing though was that I got to see all my wonderful Bots 12  group members, and see how their lives were going. It seems that for the most part everyone is doing alright. There have been issues with housing, and some problems with organizations or counterparts, but to some extent that can be expected from our first few months in country. 

Can we take a moment to be shocked that in about a month I will have been here for half a year...?

So we partied like rock stars, ate food we didn't have to prepare ourselves, used toilets, and sat in the glorious hot showers for hours on end. I also had a chance to jump in the pool a few times which was fan-fricken-tastic since I miss large bodies of water. My only sadness was that the pool was not big enough to accommodate an 8+ and that Botswana doesn't have a rowing team anyways. I joined my first fantasy football tournament, which I am super pumped about. I think the majority of us aren't exactly what you would call "football fanatics" but the trash talking alone should be worth it.

After all was said and done we bid farewell to everyone until MST (next June) and promised we would do our best to get out to each other's sites. I'm going to miss the piss out of every single member of Bots 12, but I am really happy to be home in my own space. I didn't quite realize how much I love my house until I had been away from it for an extended period of time. There is a ton of stuff to tell you about the three visitors I had last weekend, as well as all the new projects and planing that is going to happen over the next four months, so I promise to post again soon and keep everyone in the loop. :)

Rata Thata, 

Claire

Rando

Hey Yall,
I totally plan on writing a nice long post about how IST went once I get back to Rams, but for now I wanted to leave you with these pictures (I will fill you in on them during my next post, that way I get to be all cliff hangery):

And let you know that even though I have been sick THIS ENTIRE FLIPPING WEEK AND A HALF, that having a shower, internet and the love and company of my fellow volunteers has still made this an absolutely wonderful experience.

Claire

Language

What up hillbillies and hobos, today’s topic for discussion is going to be language! Believe it or not this is kind of a big thing in my universe, and you won’t have any idea of how much until you live in a place where your native language doesn’t do jack diddily for the locals. Let us start out with Setswana, since that is the lingua franca, and then we can move on to English.

Setswana is a wonderful language and I am having fun trying to come to grips with even a rudimentary grasp of it. With all 14 different noun classes, things can be a real hoot! But who are we kidding? I don’t actually take into account all 14 classes, most of the time I pick one or two and just hope people understand what I am saying; it’s easier for me and just tickles the ladies I work with. But there are a few nouns that I feel particularly attached to, and ones I am now going to warn you about should you choose to take up one of the many colorful languages of the Tswana peoples.

Seytuna- this is a name and in most circumstances means “flower”, then again there are those few times when it also means....take a moment to guess right here, what could a word for flower also mean? If you said “gun” you win a prize! You did say gun right? Who wouldn’t have guessed that flower and gun are the same word??

Madi- one of the few words in the Setswana vocabulary that kinda sounds like its English translation. Madi means “money” in English and most often comes up in my day via small children holding out their hands and saying “mpha madi” which means “give me money.” In case you wanted to know, “no” works in pretty much any language. But what else could this word mean? What is the first thing that comes to mind when I say “African _____ diamonds”? Blood! Yes, madi also means “blood” which is kinda interesting when you know that the Botswana pula (currency of Bots) means “rain.”

Lastly, and this is my absolute favorite, we have lebele- Lebele is a common grain in Botswana and when you are saying it, it should sound like “lay-bell-eh” with the final “eh” going down in pitch. If you pitch that last “eh” up though you are saying “breast.” In a country where homosexual acts are illegal you can imagine how tricky it is when one is attempting to say things like “Ke rata ja lebele” which can mean “I like to eat grain” or “I like to eat boob.”

Now let us move on to English. And we aren’t talking about good ole Americana English, we are talking about the wonderful world of Motswana Accent English! My first hilarious example comes from none other than “why don’t you buy something for me because you are white” dude! I was walking to the library, minding my business, waving and saying hello to the neighbors when Why Don’t You Buy Me Something Dude approached. He then proceeded to tell me how much he needed me to buy him, what I could only interpret as “a Grandfather.” Now most of the time I can figure these out, but for the life of me I have no idea what this young man was saying. The conversation went something like this:

Guy: Hallo! Hi, yes, I have no money, I need grandfather. You will buy?

Me: Ummmmm, hi. You need what?

Guy: I need grandfather, from shop, kwa (he points behind himself at the hardware store)

Me: What? Ga ke tlhalogani (I don’t understand) You need a grandfather?

Guy: Yes grandfather, I need

Me: *very perplexed look*

Guy: Only 5 pula, I need grandfather, you buy me. Give me 2 pula

Me: I’m sorry, I don’t know what you are saying. Ga ke na madi (I have no money)

Man do I love communicating!

As enthusiastic as I am to speak Setswana, there are many children in Rams who are just as enthusiastic to speak “sekoga” or English. There are a few young ones that see me and instantly want to show off their skills. In doing so they essentially word vomit every scrap of English they have stored up in their heads. While shouting out to me from their yards, they sometimes sound like this:

Child: HELLO!

Me: Dumela!

Child: HI! THANK YOU! HOW IS YOUR MORNING? (It is 5pm)

Me: It is nice, how is your morning?

Child: (pause) THANK YOU! MY NAME IS PILOT! YOU ARE MY BEST FRIEND!

Me: Ke bidiwa Tlotlo, dumela Pilot! (My name is Tlotlo, hello Pilot)

Pilot: (pause) HELLO! ...(having run out of English)...mpha sweets! (Give me candy)

Me: Ga ke bua Setswana, ga ke tlhalogani (I don’t speak Setswana, I don’t understand you)

Pilot: (As I am walking away) HELLO!

Me: Go siame! (good bye!)

Oh what good times there are to be had in the Peace Corps J

Rata Thata,

Claire

My Brain

So there is a good chance that this particular post isn’t going to make any sense to you if you aren’t a PCV or RPCV but I’m hoping there will be some level of mild amusement for the rest of you as well.

Some random looks into the daily mental monologue of Claire P./ Tlotlo Kenalemang:

Okay, time to leave the house! Wallet, check. Sets notebook, check. Lunch, check. Keys, check. Water bottle full, check. I’m totally going to change the world!

This mosadi mogolo is totally going to come up and talk to me, stay cool, try and remember as much Setswana as possible. Oh crap, we are past the ‘hello, how is your day?’ and now I have no idea what she is saying, I will just say ‘eh’ and smile an hope she was asking me a yes or no question. Crap that didn’t work and now she is just repeating herself loudly...something about it being cold? Maybe about water? Goats?

Butt face I forgot my water bottle.

Baby weighing time! There is nothing I love more than babies. Oh crap that one is crying, but only after it saw me. This child totally thinks I am a white devil. I’m sorry small crying child; I promise I am not going to eat you. This one isn’t crying, awesome! Coochie, choochie, coo... great, now she is peeing on the floor. 

Walking to the library, man is it hot outside. Why are all of these children touching my hand? I swear to all that is good on God’s green earth if I hear one more teenager use that stupid nasally voice to say “hi” or call me lekoga I’m going to freak out and start screaming.

Facebook time, I am only going to send a few emails and see how people are doing, I swear. Oh look, someone is getting married and or engaged and or pregnant and or having a kid. ‘My life is cool, my life is cool, my life is cool.’ YES! (fill in the blank) sent me an email! I FREAKIN LOVE EMAILS!

Man I hope the water is working when I get home, I really want to be able to take a bucket bath. Hahaha who would have thought I would be having that thought a year ago?

I love it when little kids give me high fives, and most of them are starting to call me something other than lakoga...even if they are using the name of the last volunteer. All white people look alike, no biggie.

Home at last, now for the big decision: rice or lentils? Well, I had lentils yesterday...then again I had rice the day before. I’m thinking lentils, it feels like a lentils day.

Second biggest decision of the day: can I get away with going another night without a bath? Well the last time I had a bath was the same morning I ate the last of the rice crispies...good lord that was like four days ago. *sniffs self* Well I can't actually smell myself so I should be good for another day, I will just put on a hat and make sure my underwear is clean...yeah, that's pretty much the same as taking a bath.

‘Brushing my teeth, brushing my teeth, singing in my head because I’m brushing my—‘HOLY SHIT THAT IS A GIANT COCKROACH! Oh dear lord that thing is going to eat me in my sleep. Shit, and that’s a lizard, why is mother nature taking over my house?!? Alright Mr. Lizard, you can stay but only if you eat the roach.

If I pull my sleeping bag over my head the bugs cannot get to me

Dear God, take care of my friends and family at home and abroad. Watch over my actions and keep me sane enough to make it through another day. I just want to do some good in this world.

*metal giggle* I’m in Peace Corps in Africa *mental grin* 

So You Want To Be A PCV?

So you want to be a Peace Corps Volunteer?

There are going to be a few things you need to know/ know how to deal with. Here is a list:

1.       Roosters are going to be your new alarm clock…an alarm clock that you set while drunk, that has a repeat function. Be prepared to wake up at least three times, anywhere between 9pm-6am. At some point you will learn to sleep through all but the needed alarm.

2.       Your amazing super power of American efficiency only works in America, don’t try to bring it with you. A “productive day” (and you will hear this time and again) could mean sitting under a tree and counting goats.

3.       Just because people “no speak Americano” does not mean that they are stupid, in fact, they are probably smarter than you in more ways than they have the ability to tell you…because they no speak Americano.

4.       You are like Godzilla to small children, you are fun to watch and point at from far away, but scary as hell up close. Be prepared for babies and infants to break into screams and attempt to waddle away at the mere sight of you.

5.       Your name is not Claire, your name is Tlotlo, whether or not you can pronounce it correctly.

6.       Imagine that someone who is 7 feet tall and tattooed bright blue had moved into your neighborhood. You would know where that person’s house was, right? That is how everyone in your village knows where you live, and knows your name even though you haven’t met them.

7.       In my experience it’s not really about being lonely in Peace Corps; you are going to be surrounded by people who want to interact with you constantly. It’s more about the fact that you have to be “on” all the time. You get the best and worst parts of being a celebrity.

8.       At some point, and I am sure this will have a different timeline depending on how quickly you get settled in; it is going to strike you how comfortable you are in a place that was so foreign just a few months ago. You might be texting in a different language or riding in a truck through the dessert, either way it’s going to be a weird feeling.

9.       When left to your own devices (especially when those devices aren’t usually examined on a one on one basis) your brain is going to wander to places previously unknown.

a.       Favorite places to wander: past relationships, future plans, food, nostalgic ponderings over amenities no longer accessible, how you are going to spend your readjustment allowance, food, overly ambitious projects that your community probably doesn’t need nor want, food, home and food…mostly cheese.

10.   Music is universal, social etiquette is not. True story: there was a day that I woke up to Mariah Carrey and Celine Dion, which would have been great had it not been 5am in the morning on a Saturday.

11.   Things you swore you would never do, and things that you vowed to continue doing in the states will at some point get jumbled up. This includes, but is not limited to: shaving, working out, cooking, journaling, budgeting, shopping, focusing on “the moment”, internet usage, meditation, reading, and taking any and all “you” time you need so that “you” doesn’t go insane. I will let you think about which of those I’m doing and which I’m not.

12.   You are going to be a grandma when it comes to bedtime. Seriously people, I was in bed at 7:30pm last night and sleeping an hour later. Hell my grandmother stays up later than that, so we will just change it to “a grandma’s grandma.”

13.   Clean is going to take on a whole new meaning. The “pits and crotch” hand washing method, as well as the over use of baby powder in your hair to get rid of the oil are concepts you will be overly comfortable with.

14.   This is going to be the last one, but it is a big one. As determined and passionate and driven as you were to get into Peace Corps (and you are going to have to be) so is everyone you are serving with. At some point you are going to read about their accomplishments and their projects and the schools that they built and for a second you are going to feel jealous/ inferior/ inadequate... but then you are just going to feel damn proud.

I had this last one a few days ago while reading some posts on facebook. It isn’t a completely new feeling to me, and it’s something I have had a chat with a few people about, but here is what I am hoping: I am hoping that after a few hundred times about hearing about projects like that, and there will be at least a few thousand since everyone here is their own superman, my first emotion will be to be proud. I’m not a saint, and to say that I am there now would just be lying. It doesn’t mean I love my fellow volunteers any less, it doesn’t mean that I’m not confident in my own abilities to change the world (even though some days I’m not); but we have been raised to think that there is always a hidden addendum, that there is always a ladder to climb, and that has crafted my life view.

But here is the thing; Peace Corps isn’t about that, because the end game here is not to raise up one, but 

many. This means every accomplishment, every school, program and support group created by one of my amazingly smart and talented peers, is a win for me too. Reprogramming always takes a little bit of time, but I’m working on it. I want to dedicate this particular blog post to my fellow volunteers; former, current and future. You are a damn fine group of people and the caliber of your character gives me confidence in my own.

Rata Thata,

Tlotlo