Getting from Serowe to Shakawe was no easy feat. In fact,
it took three days, a good dose of frustration, and a whole lot of anticipatory
energy. We were supposed to leave early Thursday morning, but our driver
decided to spend Wednesday night in Maun, a village very far from where we were
supposed to meet. Needless to say, we didn’t end up departing until Friday.
After loading our things into the flatbed of a truck, two other PC volunteers
and myself piled into the cramped cab of a car bound north.
The drive was actually nice—we got to see a lot of the
country that we had yet to see. We passed by a few diamond mining towns, a big
salt pan, and a very flat and grassy part of the country with very little
vegetation. The first time we saw elephants on the drive, I asked our driver
(Mbango) if we were passing through a game reserve of some sort. He responded
with, “No, they are just there.” Upon seeing our excitement over the eles, he
veered off the tar road and into the bush to get us a closer view. Luckily we
managed not to lose any luggage in the expedition through the thorn trees! When
we were driving through the flat grassy part of the country I mentioned
earlier, we saw three more elephants. We pulled over to the side of the road
and watched as they advanced towards us and passed behind the car. No matter
how many wild elephants I will see in my life, I could watch the movements of
this animal endlessly.
passing behind the car with all our things packed tightly in
We finally made it to Maun, a big village on the apex of
the delta. It was about 2:30 by this point, and we stopped for some food at a
grocery store. The driver had gotten a call from his supervisor telling him to
stop by the Toyota dealer in Maun to see if the car needed a tune-up. In fact,
it did. It needed “major service.” They said they wouldn’t be done with it
until 4:30 or 5:00 that evening. Suddenly all of the progress and
elephant-happy hours we had spent in the car seemed all for naught. I clearly
wasn’t going to make it to my village today. I couldn’t help but feel my heart
sink. Was I ever going to get there? Maybe I was being a little melodramatic,
but to be honest, I had never felt this kind of frustration before: the
complete inability to get somewhere that you wanted to be so badly. In America,
you can find a way….a friend will drive you, or maybe the Metro is going that
direction, or you could even rent a car. But with my couple big bags of pots
and dishes and my belongings for the next two years, I was stuck sitting in the
car dealership for several hours. We finally got back on the road around 6:15.
As the sun set and night began to fall, it was very clear
why driving at night is a big no-no for Peace Corps volunteers. There were
donkeys and cows that seemed to come out of nowhere from the bush. Not to
mention the pot holes and parts of the road that narrowed to less than the
width of a one lane road. At one point, our driver had to stop the car and take
a damp piece of paper to wipe the bugs off the windshield because it was
impossible to see out, and the wipers only smeared the buggy mess. The air was
so thick with the insects that while we were driving, if you closed your eyes,
it sounded like it could have been drizzling. The other two PCVs and I could
only look at each other and start laughing, wondering what we had gotten
ourselves into by requesting to be in a part of the country where we could
conduct malaria projects (we later learned that they were not mosquitoes, just
a cloud of some other flying insect…a little bit of a relief?).
As we were driving, we passed the first sign that had
“Shakawe” on it. I honestly don’t know what came over me, but after a few longs
days of anticipation and traveling and frustration, I started crying. A lot.
Good thing that after spending all day in close quarters with a group of
people, any embarrassment I would have otherwise felt was long gone. I was
overcome with the realization that after over two years of fighting Peace Corps
Headquarters to become a PCV, I was almost to my new home. Seeing that sign and
watching the kilometers left to go decrease with each passing sign sent through
me a totally unexpected wave of emotion. I am doing this. And I am almost
there.
After a brief stop in Gunmare, we continued on to Etsha
6, where the closest of the three of us would be living. We were dropped off
and it was all we could do not to collapse upon opening her front door. And
after the initial excitement of seeing her new little house, we did just that.
Mosquito nets are a must up here (whether you can hang it or not). Can you spot the tired PCV?
The next morning was both wonderful and a test of my
patience. The three of us made breakfast consisting of scrambled eggs with
cheese and bread with Nutella. It may not sound like much, but it was a feast
and a perfect inaugural meal for the house. I knew transportation was coming to
pick me up, but I was unsure when exactly it would be, so I took a chair
outside and practiced being patient…again. Finally finally finally, I spotted a
vehicle turn the corner with the words “SHAKAWE MOBILE CLINIC” proudly
displayed across the side. I promise I am not being overly dramatic when I say
that in that moment, I started to get extremely light headed and felt like I
was going to pass out. I took several deep breaths, put my head between my
knees, and collected myself. It was finally time to go home.
I was dropped off at my house in Shakawe, about
11km from the Namibian border, and upon entering my house I quickly realized there was no furniture other than a mattress. I had no stove,
no refrigerator, no gas, nada, and no guarantee of when they would come. I’m
not going to lie, I sat on the floor in the middle of my empty living room for
about 15 minutes, unsure of what to do next. It was the first time I had felt
completely alone in almost three months. I simultaneously loved and
(unexpectedly) hated it. But I finally got my wits about me and made a plan. I remember
telling myself—“I am a Girl Scout and a Peace Corps Volunteer. I can do this.”
I started gathering fire wood from my yard to use later to boil some water. In
the process I met the woman who lives on the same compound as me and mentioned
my situation to her. About 20 minutes later, she showed up to my door with a
heaping plate of food. I almost cried from her kindness. With a full belly, I gathered my backpack, wallet, and some
water and decided to set out to find the grocery store to buy some
non-refrigerated food to tide me over until my fridge decided to show up…not
exactly sure where the store was or how far away. At about that moment, my supervisor
pulled up to my house with an electric hot plate to hold me over until the gas
situation was worked out. I felt like I could breathe out a little bit.
My refrigerator arrived the next day. As I write this a
week later, I finally have a propane cylinder in my house, but my stove and the rest of my furniture is
still sitting in a trailer at the clinic. For now the floor is my table, my chair, my couch, and my stove top. Stay tuned, folks.
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