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